Even that little Maxime, Aristide's son, that little nine-year-old brat, pokes his tongue out at me when me meets me.

That child will some day beat his own mother, and a good job too! Say what you like, all those folks don't deserve their luck; but it's always like this in families, the good ones suffer while the bad ones make their fortunes." All this dirty linen, which Macquart washed with such complacency before his nephew, profoundly disgusted the young man.

He would have liked to soar back into his dream.

As soon as he began to show unmistakable signs of impatience, Antoine would employ strong expedients to exasperate him against their relatives.
"Defend them! Defend them!" he would say, appearing to calm down.

"I, for my part, have arranged to have nothing more to do with them.