When his wife died,
therefore, in 1818, he turned the intruder out of the house, and
packed him off to Paris to study law on an allowance of twelve hundred
francs for all resource, nor could any cry of distress extract another
penny from his purse. Emile Blondet would have gone under if it had
not been for his real father.
M. Blondet's house was one of the prettiest in the town. It stood
almost opposite the prefecture, with a neat little court in front. A
row of old-fashioned iron railings between two brick-work piers
enclosed it from the street; and a low wall, also of brick, with a
second row of railings along the top, connected the piers with the
neighboring house. The little court, a space about ten fathoms in
width by twenty in length, was cut in two by a brick pathway which ran
from the gate to the house door between a border on either side. Those
borders were always renewed; at every season of the year they
exhibited a successful show of blossom, to the admiration of the
public. All along the back of the gardenbeds a quantity of climbing
plants grew up and covered the walls of the neighboring houses with a
magnificent mantle; the brick-work piers were hidden in clusters of
honeysuckle; and, to crown all, in a couple of terra-cotta vases at
the summit, a pair of acclimatized cactuses displayed to the
astonished eyes of the ignorant those thick leaves bristling with
spiny defences which seem to be due to some plant disease.
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