CHEFS D'ŒUVRE

DU

ROMAN CONTEMPORAIN


REALISTS

 
Chapter XXI  Jupillon was a true Parisian: he loved to fish with a pole and line.  And when summer came they stayed there all day, at the foot of the garden, on the bank of the stream—Jupillon on a laundry board resting on two stakes, pole in hand, and Germinie sitting, with the child in her skirts, under the medlar tree that overhung the stream.

Jupillon was a true Parisian: he loved to fish witha pole and line.

And when summer came they stayed there all day, atthe foot of the garden, on the bank of the stream—Jupillonon a laundry board resting on two stakes, polein hand, and Germinie sitting, with the child in herskirts, under the medlar tree that overhung the stream.
 

BIBLIOTHÈQUE
DES CHEFS-D'ŒUVRE
DU ROMAN
CONTEMPORAIN

 

GERMINIE LACERTEUX


 
 

EDMOND AND JULES DE GONCOURT

 
 

PRINTED FOR SUBSCRIBERS ONLY BY
GEORGE BARRIE & SONS, Philadelphia


GERMINIE LACERTEUX

 

PREFACE TO FIRST EDITION

We must ask pardon of the public for offering it this[5]book, and give it due warning of what it will findtherein.

The public loves fictitious novels! this is a true novel.

It loves books which make a pretence of introducingtheir readers to fashionable society: this book dealswith the life of the street.

It loves little indecent books, memoirs of courtesans,alcove confessions, erotic obscenity, the scandal tuckedaway in pictures in a bookseller's shop window: thatwhich is contained in the following pages is rigidlyclean and pure. Do not expect the photograph ofPleasure décolletée: the following study is the clinic ofLove.

Again, the public loves to read pleasant, soothingstories, adventures that end happily, imaginative worksthat disturb neither its digestion nor its peace of mind:this book furnishes entertainment of a melancholy, violentsort calculated to disarrange the habits and injurethe health of the public.[6]

Why then have we written it? For no other purposethan to annoy the public and offend its tastes?

By no means.

Living as we do in the nineteenth century, in an ageof universal suffrage, of democracy, of liberalism, weasked ourselves the question whether what are called"the lower classes" had no rights in the novel; if thatworld beneath a world, the common people, must needsremain subject to the literary interdict, and helplessagainst the contempt of authors who have hithertosaid no word to imply that the common people possessa heart and soul. We asked ourselves whether, in thesedays of equality in which we liv

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