In 1853.
Trévelé
Why did you never tell it?
Godler
In 1853 there was a Madam Duranton, who kept a shop in the rue Traversière.
Trévelé
Where may the rue Traversière be?
Godler
It was a little cross street, of compromised fame, leading from the rue St. Honoré to the rue Richelieu. Madame Duranton, a widow – one could not be more a widow – sold left-off clothes. You can imagine the rest…
Trévelé
Yes, I see, I see; make haste.
Godler
Madame Duranton, at whose house two or three friends and I went sometimes to pass the evening, and who gave us sometimes cider and chesnuts in her little back shop…
Trévelé
In 1853?
Godler
In 1853.
Trévelé
How old were you?
Godler
I was 39 years old.
Trévelé
You are old, then?
Godler
I am 66.
Trévelé
You don't look that age.
Godler
Because I get myself up very well.
Trévelé
What a good fellow! Go on.
Godler
Would you like us to make a bet?
Trévelé
No, you would gain it; Florimond has told it to me.
Godler (who is sitting down)
Very well; go and shut the window, and give me something to drink.
Trévelé
Go on.
Godler
Madame Duranton had a daughter.
Trévelé
To whom you made love?
Godler
To whom we all made love, without any good intention – you can understand. The young girl, then between 18 and 19 years old, was a beautiful creature, with naturally golden hair, like women have artificially now-a-days, with violet-blue eyes, cheeks like a rose of Bengal, and teeth and lips resembling almonds between two halves of a cherry.
(During this time Godler from time to time arranges his whiskers, and a lock of hair which falls over his forehead, with a little comb that he takes out of his pocket.)
Trévelé
One could almost wish to taste thereof. You are a poet!
Godler
That I had from my youth. At that time…