This time, at any rate, I've hurt no one by myself.

I'm cured of such things forever.

If you are willing to help me, Monsieur Moreau, I swear to you that the six years I must still stay a clerk before I can get a practice shall be spent without--" "Stop there!" said Moreau.

"I have three children, and I can make no promises." "Never mind, never mind," said Madame Clapart to her son, casting a reproachful glance at Moreau.

"Your uncle Cardot--" "I have no longer an uncle Cardot," replied Oscar, who related the scene at the rue de Vendome.
Madame Clapart, feeling her legs give way under the weight of her body, staggered to a chair in the dining-room, where she fell as if struck by lightning.
"All the miseries together!" she said, as she fainted.
Moreau took the poor mother in his arms, and carried her to the bed in her chamber.