Explore "The Crime of Sylvestre Bonnard" by Anatole France on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The idea that Jeanne was obliged to sweep the rooms had become absolutely unbearable.
The weather was dark and cold. Night had already begun. I rang the school-door bell with the tranquillity of a resolute man. The moment that the timid servant opened the door, I slipped a gold piece into her hand, and promised her another if she would arrange matters so that I could see Mademoiselle Alexandre. Her answer was,