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    Au nom d'un certain brévet . . . .
    L' coupl' heureux n' a plus qu'un ch'vet.

[This capricious creature next receives a visit
from a neighbour, a man of real Limousin wit, who
changes this precious woman in the name of a
certain understanding. The happy couple
henceforward have only one bed.]

This state of affairs, however, does not last long,
and matters get worse instead of better:

    A present l'affair' s'embrouille,
    Que l'diable n'y verrait pas clair.
    Lafarge, à Paris, prend l'air,
    Sa femm' reste dans la houille,
    Forgeant un plan infernal,
    Mais surtout original!

[The affair now becomes so puzzling that the
devil could not see clearly through it. Lafarge, in
Paris, amuses himself, his wife remains behind,
forging an infernal, but, above all, an original
plan.]

It appears that Madame Marie possessed rare
accomplishments:

    Faut savoir qu' madam' Marie
    Est très forte d'sus l'piano,
    Chante et parle Italiano,
    Et qu'ell' fait d'la pâtisserie;
    Pour c't' art elle a un certain chic,
    C'est du sucre d'arsenic.

[You must know that Madame Marie is very
strong upon the piano, sings and talks Italian, and
makes pastry, in which art she has a certain knack;
it is sugar——of arsenic.]

She accordingly gives her husband proof of her
skill:

    A son époux elle addresse
    Sa brioch' cuite à propos
    Et sa lett' porte ces mots:
    Cher objet de ma tendresse,
    J'viens d' fair' ça pour toi, bien cuit,
    Mang' donc tout, juste à minuit.

[To her husband she addresses her cake nicely
cooked, and her letter conveys these words: "Dear
object of my tenderness, I have just made this for
thee, well baked. Eat it then all, precisely at
midnight.]

Excited by the tenderness of this letter,
Monsieur Lafarge implicitly follows his wife's
instructions:

    Le mari qu' la lettre enflamme,
    Plein d' gourmandise et d' amour,
    Croque un morceau de p'tit-four:
    Le v'là prêt à rendre l'ame.
    II sent plus en ce moment
    La coliqu' que l' sentiment.

[The husband, whom the letter inflames, full of
greediness and of love, eats a morsel from the little
oven: see, he is ready to render up his soul. He
feels more at this moment of the colic than sentiment.]

Recovering a little, he rejoins his wife, who is
profuse of affectionate demonstrations:

    Un peu r'mis le v'là qui roule
    Vers le Glandier par malheur.
    Sa femm' le r'çoit sur son cœur,
    Et lui fait vit' un lait d'poule,
    Et d'aut' boissons qui toujours
    Finiss' la fin de ses jours!

[A little better, behold him, unluckily, on his way
to Glandier. His wife receives him on her bosom,
and quickly makes him some "hen's milk," and
other drinks, which "put a finish to the end" of his
days.]

People now begin to suspect a crime, and the
neighbours are no longer tongue-tied:

    Pour lors, voilà qu'on soupçonne
    Un crime . . . . il était bien temps!
    On rappell' des faits patents
    Qui prouv' qu' à plus d'un' personne
    Ell' demanda du poison
    Pour les rats d'la maison.

[On this you see people begin to suspect a crime
. . . . it was high time! They recal patent facts
which prove that of more than one person she had
asked for poison for the rats in the house.]

Her accusers become desperately indignant, and
she retorts upon them in famous style:

    Pour lors, on lui dit: Vous êtes
    Un' femm' capable de tout;
    Rien qu' à vous voir not' sang bout . . .
    Ell' répond: Vous êt' des bêtes;
    Mon excus' . . . . c'est que j'ai de l'esprit
    Et qu' mon style est bien écrit.

[Then they say to her: "You are a woman
capable of all. Only to see you our blood boils."
. . . . She replies: "You are a pack of asses. My
excuse is that I am clever, and my style well
written."]

The public mind is now a prey to uncertainty,
opinion inclining various ways, and a strange
expedient is resorted to:

    V'là les esprits en balance,
    Par des avis si discords;
    V'là qui on fait r'bouillir le corps
    Pour découvrir la substance
    Lui fut caus' d' l'affreux trépas:
    On la trouve . . . . on n' la trouv' pas!

[Behold minds now in the balance, though
opinions so discordant; see they have the body boiled
over again to discover the substance which was the
cause of this fearful death. They find it . . . they
find it not.]

A new actor comes upon the stage:

    Dans l' doute, on allait absoudre
    La pauvre femm'! . . . . mais voilà
    L' princ' de la science, Orfila,
    Tombant d' Paris comm' la foudre;
    Il dit: J'trouv' de l'arsenic,
    V'là mélodram, c'est là l'hic!

[In doubt, they are about to absolve the poor
woman. . . . But, behold, the Prince of Science,
Orfila, falling from Paris like lightning! He says,
"I find arsenic, there's the melodrama, that's the
ticket."]

A great to-do arises, which the professor's
opinion does not succeed in calming down:

    O ciel! quelle dégringolade!
    D' poison y a donc un gros tas?
    L' savant répond: Y a p'têt pas
    D' quoi rendre un ciron malade.
    Le jury dit: C'est assez,
    J' condamne aux travaux forcés.

[Oh Heaven! what a piece of work! Of poison is
there then a large heap? The learned man replies:
"There is, perhaps, not enough to make a maggot
sick." The jury say: "That will do. We condemn
her to the galleys."]