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.
Godler.
In 1853.
Trévelé.