Explore "Modeste Mignon" by Honoré De Balzac on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
An hour went by in solemn stillness broken only by the cabalistic phrases of the whist-players: "Spades! " "Trumped! " "Cut! " "How are honors? " "Two to four. " "Whose deal? " -- phrases which represent in these days the higher emotions of the European aristocracy. Modeste continued to work, without seeming to be surprised at her mother's silence. Madame Mignon's handkerchief slipped from her lap to the floor; Butscha precipitated himself upon it, picked it up, and as he returned it whispered in Modeste's ear, "Take care! " Modeste raised a pair of wondering eyes, whose puzzled glance filled the poor cripple with joy unspeakable. "She is not in love! " he whispered to himself, rubbing his hands till the skin was nearly peeled off. At this moment Exupere tore through the garden and the house, plunged into the salon like an avalanche, and said to Dumay in an audible whisper, "The young man is here! " Dumay sprang for his pistols and rushed out.
"Good God! suppose he kills him! " cried Madame Dumay, bursting into tears.