You can't say what you think, if it is true, as an illustrious author says it is, that a man must think his words before he speaks his thoughts," cried a young man, standing near, who played the part of Mephistopheles in the little town.
This ill-conditioned youth, named Goupil, was head clerk to Monsieur Cremiere-Dionis, the Nemours notary.

Notwithstanding a past conduct that was almost debauched, Dionis had taken Goupil into his office when a career in Paris--where the clerk had wasted all the money he inherited from his father, a well-to-do farmer, who educated him for a notary--was brought to a close by his absolute pauperism.

The mere sight of Goupil told an observer that he had made haste to enjoy life, and had paid dear for his enjoyments.

Though very short, his chest and shoulders were developed at twenty-seven years of age like those of a man of forty.
Legs small and weak, and a broad face, with a cloudy complexion like the sky before a storm, surmounted by a bald forehead, brought out still further the oddity of his conformation.

His face seemed as though it belonged to a hunchback whose hunch was inside of him.