The Clockmaker of St. Paul (1974)

 

Maigret Sets a Trap by Georges Simenon (Penguin Books 1955)

 

'What qualifications do you have?’

‘I began by doing painting, fine art.’

‘When was that?’

‘When I was seventeen.’

‘You have your baccalaureate, do you?’

‘No, when I was young I wanted to be an artist. The paintings you saw in our drawing room, they’re by me.’

Maigret had not been able to work out what they represented, but they had disturbed him by their sad and morbid character. Neither the lines nor the colours were clear. The dominant shade had been a purplish-red, combined with curious shades of green that made him think of light under water, and it was as if the oil paint had spread by itself, like an ink-stain on a blotter.

Cecile is Dead by Georges Simenon (Penguin Books 1942)

'Did you see her?’

Maigret looked surprised.

‘Who?’

‘Cécile! Now if I was Madame Maigret …’

Poor Cécile! And yet she was still young. Maigret had seen her papers: barely twenty-eight years old. But it would be difficult to look more like an old maid, to move less gracefully, no matter how hard she tried to be pleasing. Those black dresses that she must make for herself from bad paper patterns, that ridiculous green hat! It was impossible to perceive any feminine allure under all that. Her face was too pale, and she had a slight squint into the bargain.

A Man’s Head by Georges Simenon (Penguin Books 1931)

'What was going on in Radek’s mind? He had pulled off his perfect crime. It had gone smoothly down to the very last detail. Nobody suspected him.

‘It was what he had wanted: he was the only person in the entire world who knew the truth! And when he saw the Crosbys sitting round their table in the bar, he thought that one word from him would be enough to put the fear of God into them!

'And yet he wasn’t satisfied. His life was still just as dull. Nothing had changed except that two women were dead, and a poor devil was about to have his head cut off.

‘I couldn’t swear to it, but I’d bet that what weighed most heavily on him was that he had no one to admire him. No one who’d murmur as he passed by:

‘“He’s not much to look at but he committed one of the most perfect crimes imaginable! He outsmarted the police, fooled the courts and changed the course of several lives.”

‘It’s something that’s happened to other murderers. Most of them have felt the need to confide in somebody, even if it was only some tart they’d picked up.

‘But Radek was above that. Anyway, he was never much interested in women.

‘Then one morning the papers reported that Heurtin had escaped. Wasn’t this the opportunity he’d been looking for? He decided to give the cards another shuffle and take an active part once more.

'He wrote to Le Sifflet. He took fright when he saw his erstwhile accomplice watching him and delivered himself up into the hands of the police … But what he wanted was admiration … He wanted to be known as a man who played a good hand.'

The Man on the Eiffel Tower (1949)

The Glass Cage by Georges Simenon (Helen and Kurt Wolff Books 1971)

 

He did not answer.  No answer was required. He was still thinking of Fernand Lamark and that light oak coffin. One day, when he was feeling calm and clearheaded, he would make his will. In it he would give orders that he was to be cremated, for he did not want to be shut up in a box. Neither did he want people to come and see him on his deathbed or to accompany him into a church and then to the cemetery.

He would like to die without anyone's knowing. He did not want people to talk about him. He did not want them to pity him, only to forget him as soon as they left the house where his corpse lay.

Maigret by Georges Simenon (Penguin 1934)

'You have to admit,’ ventured Amadieu, tugging at his moustache, ‘that your method is impossible to apply in a case like this one. The chief and I were arguing about it earlier.’

Well, well, the chief really was taking a close interest in the case!

‘What do you mean by my method?'

'You know better than I do. Usually, you get involved in people’s lives; you try to understand their thinking and you take as much interest in things that happened to them twenty years earlier as you do in concrete clues. Here, we’re faced with a bunch about whom we know pretty much everything. They don’t even try to put us off the scent. And I’m not even sure that, in private, Cageot would even bother to deny having killed.'

Lock No. 1 by Georges Simenon (Penguin Books 1933)

Berthe gave a heavy sigh. He gave her a baleful look. It was none of her business! He was not worried about either her or his wife!

‘Do you understand, old friend? Oh, say something!’

He walked round and round Gassin, not daring to look at him directly and leaving lengthy pauses between sentences.

‘But all in all, of us two, you were the happy one!’

Despite the chill of night, he felt hot.

‘Shall I give you the dynamite back? I don’t care if I get blown up. But somebody’s got to stay with the kid, on the barge.

Georges Simenon's Maigret

Nicked from wiki. I need this to get back on board my deferred Maigret Read-a-thon. The usual rules: striked out titles means I've already read the book in the series.

List of Maigret novels with date of French-language publication as well as the Penguin reissue dates and titles.^[3]

Title	Date	Penguin UK Reissue Date	Reissue #	Reissue Title	Other English title(s)
Pietr-le-Letton	1931	7 Nov 2013	1	Pietr the Latvian	The Strange Case of Peter the Lett The Case of Peter the Lett Maigret and the Enigmatic Lett
Le Charretier de la Providence	1931	6 Feb 2014	4	The Carter of La Providence	The Crime at Lock 14 Maigret Meets a Milord Lock 14
M. Gallet décédé	1931	5 Dec 2013	2	The Late Monsieur Gallet	The Death of Monsieur Gallet Maigret Stonewalled
Le Pendu de Saint-Pholien	1931	2 Jan 2014	3	The Hanged Man of Saint-Pholien	The Crime of Inspector Maigret Maigret and the Hundred Gibbets
La Tête d'un homme (L'Homme de la Tour Eiffel)	1931	5 Jun 2014	9	A Man's Head	A Battle of Nerves Maigret's War of Nerves
Le Chien jaune	1931	6 Mar 2014	5	The Yellow Dog	A Face for a Clue Maigret and the Concarneau Murders Maigret and the Yellow Dog
La Nuit du carrefour	1931	3 Apr 2014	6	Night at the Crossroads	Maigret at the Crossroads The Night at the Crossroads
Un Crime en Hollande	1931	1 May 2014	7	A Crime in Holland	Maigret in Holland
Au Rendez-vous des Terre-Neuves	1931	5 Jun 2014	8	The Grand Banks Cafe	The Sailors' Rendezvous Maigret Answers a Plea
La Danseuse du Gai-Moulin	1931	7 Aug 2014	10	The Dancer at the Gai Moulin	At the Gai Moulin Maigret at the Gai Moulin
La Guinguette à deux sous	1932	4 Sep 2014	11	The Two-Penny Bar	Guinguette by the Seine Maigret and the Tavern by the Seine Maigret to the Rescue A Spot by the Seine The Bar on the Seine
L'Ombre chinoise	1932	2 Oct 2014	12	The Shadow Puppet	The Shadow in the Courtyard Maigret Mystified
L'Affaire Saint-Fiacre	1932	6 Nov 2014	13	The Saint-Fiacre Affair	Maigret and the Countess Maigret Goes Home Maigret on Home Ground
Chez les Flamands	1932	4 Dec 2014	14	The Flemish Shop	Maigret and the Flemish Shop The Flemish House
Le Port des brumes	1932	5 Feb 2015	16	The Misty Harbour	Death of a Harbour Master Maigret and the Death of a Harbor Master The Port of Shadows
Le Fou de Bergerac	1932	1 Jan 2015	15	The Madman of Bergerac
Liberty Bar	1932	5 Mar 2015	17	Liberty Bar	Maigret on the Riviera
L'Écluse nº 1	1933	2 Apr 2015	18	Lock No. 1	The Lock at Charenton Maigret Sits It Out
La femme rousse	1933				The Redhead
Maigret	1934	7 May 2015	19	Maigret	Maigret Returns
La Maison du juge	1942	6 Aug 2015	22	The Judge's House	Maigret in Exile
Les Caves du Majestic	1942	2 Jul 2015	21	The Cellars of the Majestic	Maigret and the Hotel Majestic The Hotel Majestic
Cécile est morte	1942	4 Jun 2015	20	Cecile is Dead	Maigret and the Spinster
Signé Picpus	1944	3 Sep 2015	23	Signed, Picpus	Maigret and the Fortuneteller
Félicie est là	1944	5 Nov 2015	25	Félicie	Maigret and the Toy Village
L'Inspecteur Cadavre	1944	1 Oct 2015	24	Inspector Cadaver	Maigret's Rival
Maigret se fâche	August 1945	3 Dec 2015	26	Maigret Gets Angry	Maigret in Retirement
Maigret à New York	March 1946	7 Jan 2016	27	Maigret in New York	Inspector Maigret in New York's Underworld Maigret in New York's Underworld
Les Vacances de Maigret	November 1947	4 Feb 2016	28	Maigret's Holiday	A Summer Holiday No Vacation for Maigret Maigret on Holiday
Maigret et son mort	January 1948	3 Mar 2016	29	Maigret's Dead Man	Maigret's Special Murder
La Première enquête de Maigret, 1913	October 1948	7 Apr 2016	30	Maigret's First Case
Mon ami Maigret	February 1949	5 May 2016	31	My Friend Maigret	The Methods of Maigret
Maigret chez le coroner	July 1949	2 Jun 2016	32	Maigret at the Coroner's
L'Amie de Mme Maigret	December 1949	4 Aug 2016	34	Madame Maigret's Friend	Madame Maigret's Own Case The Friend of Madame Maigret
Les Mémoires de Maigret	September 1950	1 Sep 2016	35	Maigret's Memoirs
Maigret et la vieille dame	December 1950	7 Jul 2016	33	Maigret and the Old Lady
Maigret au "Picratt's"	December 1950	6 Oct 2016	36	Maigret at Picratt's	Maigret and the Strangled Stripper Maigret in Montmartre Inspector Maigret and the Strangled Stripper
Maigret en meublé	February 1951	3 Nov 2016	37	Maigret Takes a Room	Maigret Rents a Room
Maigret et la grande perche	May 1951	1 Dec 2016	38	Maigret and the Tall Woman	Inspector Maigret and the Burglar's Wife Maigret and the Burglar's Wife
Maigret, Lognon et les gangsters	September 1951	5 Jan 2017	39	Maigret, Lognon and the Gangsters	Inspector Maigret and the Killers Maigret and the Gangsters
Le Revolver de Maigret	June 1952	2 Feb 2017	40	Maigret's Revolver
Maigret et l'homme du banc	1953	2 Mar 2017	41	Maigret and the Man on the Bench	Maigret and the Man on the Boulevard The Man on the Boulevard
Maigret a peur	March 1953	6 Apr 2017	42	Maigret is Afraid	Maigret Afraid
Maigret se trompe	August 1953	4 May 2017	43	Maigret's Mistake
Maigret à l'école	December 1953	1 Jun 2017	44	Maigret Goes to School
Maigret et la jeune morte	January 1954	6 Jul 2017	45	Maigret and the Dead Girl	Inspector Maigret and the Dead Girl Maigret and the Young Girl
Maigret chez le ministre	August 1954	3 Aug 2017	46	Maigret and the Minister	Maigret and the Calame Report
Maigret et le corps sans tête	January 1955	7 Sep 2017	47	Maigret and the Headless Corpse
Maigret tend un piège	July 1955	5 Oct 2017	48	Maigret Sets a Trap
Un échec de Maigret	March 1956	2 Nov 2017	49	Maigret's Failure
Maigret s'amuse	September 1956	7 Dec 2017	50	Maigret Enjoys Himself	Maigret's Little Joke None of Maigret's Business
Maigret voyage	August 1957	4 Jan 2018	51	Maigret Travels	Maigret and the Millionaires
Les scrupules de Maigret	December 1957	1 Feb 2018	52	Maigret's Doubts	Maigret Has Scruples
Maigret et les témoins récalcitrants	October 1958	1 Mar 2018	53	Maigret and the Reluctant Witnesses
Une confidence de Maigret	May 1959	5 Apr 2018	54	Maigret's Secret	Maigret Has Doubts
Maigret aux assises	November 1959	3 May 2018	55	Maigret in Court
Maigret et les vieillards	June 1960	7 Jun 2018	56	Maigret and the Old People	Maigret in Society
Maigret et le voleur paresseux	January 1961	5 Jul 2018	57	Maigret and the Lazy Burglar	Maigret and the Lazy Burglar Maigret and the Idle Burglar
Maigret et les braves gens	September 1961	2 Aug 2018	58	Maigret and the Good People of Montparnasse	Maigret and the Black Sheep
Maigret et le client du samedi	February 1962	6 Sep 2018	59	Maigret and the Saturday Caller	Maigret and the Saturday Caller
Maigret et le clochard	May 1962	4 Oct 2018	60	Maigret and the Tramp	Maigret and the Dosser Maigret and the Bum
La colère de Maigret	June 1962	1 Nov 2018	61	Maigret's Anger	Maigret Loses His Temper
Maigret et le fantôme	June 1963	6 Dec 2018	62	Maigret and the Ghost	Maigret and the Ghost Maigret and the Apparition
Maigret se défend	July 1964	3 Jan 2019	63	Maigret Defends Himself	Maigret on the Defensive
La Patience de Maigret	March 1965	7 Feb 2019	64	Maigret's Patience	The Patience of Maigret Maigret Bides His Time
Maigret et l'affaire Nahour	February 1966	7 March 2019	65	Maigret and the Nahour Case	Maigret and the Nahour Case
Le voleur de Maigret	November 1966	4 April 2019	66	Maigret's Pickpocket	Maigret's Pickpocket Maigret and the Pickpocket
Maigret à Vichy	September 1967	6 June 2019	68	Maigret in Vichy	Maigret Takes the Waters Maigret in Vichy
Maigret hésite	January 1968	2 May 2019	67	Maigret Hesitates	Maigret Hesitates
L'ami d'enfance de Maigret	June 1968				Maigret's Boyhood Friend
Maigret et le tueur	April 1969				Maigret and the Killer
Maigret et le marchand de vin	September 1969				Maigret and the Wine Merchant
La Folle de Maigret	May 1970				Maigret and the Madwoman
Maigret et l'homme tout seul	February 1971				Maigret and the Loner
Maigret et l'indicateur	June 1971				Maigret and the Flea Maigret and the Informer
Maigret et Monsieur Charles	February 1972				Maigret and Monsieur Charles

The Man Who Watched Trains Go By (1952)

Maigret and the Loner by Georges Simenon (A Harvest/HBJ Book 1971)

The door was so rotten that it would no longer serve even as firewood. It was Maigret who pushed it open. Standing on the threshold, he could see what the Police Superintendent had meant when he had promised him a surprise.

It was a fair-sized room, and the panes of both windows had been replaced with cardboard or stiff paper. The uneven floor, with gaps of more than an inch between the boards, was covered with an incredible litter of bric-a-brac, most of it broken, all of it useless.

Dominating the room was an iron bedstead on which lay, fully dressed, on an old straw mattress, a man who was unmistakably dead. His chest was covered with clotted blood, but his face was serene.

His clothes were those of a tramp, but the face and hands suggested something very different. He was elderly, with long silvery hair shot through with bluish highlights. His eyes, too, were blue. Maigret was beginning to feel uneasy under their fixed gaze, when the Superintendent closed them.

The man had a white moustache, slightly turned up at the ends, and a short Vandyke beard, also white.

Apart from this, he was close-shaven, and Maigret saw, with renewed surprise, that his hands were carefully manicured.

“He looks like an elderly actor got up as a tramp,” he murmured. “Did he have any papers on him?”

“None. No identity card, no old letters, nothing. Several of my inspectors, all assigned to this district at one time or another, came and had a look at him, but none of them recognized him, though one thought he might have seen him once or twice rummaging in trash cans.”

The man was very tall and exceptionally broad-shouldered. His trousers, which had a tear over the left knee, were too short for him. His tattered jacket, fit only for the rag bag, was lying crumpled on the filthy floor.

“Has the police doctor seen him?”

“Not yet. I’m expecting him any minute. I was hoping you’d get here before anything had been touched.”

Maigret's Boyhood Friend by Georges Simenon (Harcourt Books 1968)

The fly circled three times around his head before alighting on the top left-hand corner of the report on which he was making notes.

With pencil poised, Maigret eyed it with amused curiosity. The fly had repeated this maneuver over and over again in the past half-hour. At any rate, Maigret presumed that it was the same fly. It seemed to be the only one in the office.

Each time, it circled once or twice in a patch of sunlight, then buzzed around the Chief Superintendent’s head, and finally came to rest on the papers on his desk. And there it stayed for a while, lazily rubbing its legs together and looking at him with an air of defiance.

Was it really looking at him? And if so, what did it take this huge mound of flesh to be—for that was how he must appear to it.

He was at pains not to frighten it away. He sat motionless, with pencil still poised above his papers, until, quite suddenly, the fly took off and vanished through the open window.

It was the middle of June. From time to time a gentle breeze stirred the air in the office, where Maigret, in shirt sleeves, sat contentedly smoking his pipe. He had set aside this afternoon to read through his inspectors’ reports, and was doing so with exemplary patience.

Nine or ten times, the fly had returned to alight on his papers, always on the same spot. It was almost as though it had established a kind of relationship with him.

It was an odd coincidence. The sunshine, the little gusts of cooler air blowing through the window, the intriguing antics of the fly, all served to remind him of his schooldays, when a fly on his desk had often engaged a larger share of his interest than the teacher who had the class.

There was a discreet knock at the door. It was old Joseph, the messenger, bearing an engraved visiting card, which read: Léon Florentin, Antique Dealer.

“How old would you say he was?”

“About your age.”

“Tall and thin?”

“That’s right. Very tall and thin, with a real mop of gray hair.”

Yes, that was the man, all right. Florentin, who had been at school with him, at the Lycée Banville in Moulins, the clown of the class.

“Send him in.”

He had forgotten the fly, which, feeling slighted perhaps, seemed to have gone for good. There was a brief, embarrassed silence as the two men looked at one another. This was only their second meeting since their school days in Moulins. The first had been a chance encounter in the street about twenty years ago. Florentin, very well groomed, had been accompanied by an attractive and elegant woman.

“This is my old school friend, Maigret. He’s a police officer.”

Then, to Maigret:

“Allow me to introduce my wife, Monique.”

Then, as now, the sun was shining. They had really had nothing to say to one another.

“How are things? Still happy in your work?”

“Yes. And you?”

“Can’t complain.”

“Are you living in Paris?”

“Yes. Sixty-two Boulevard Haussmann. But I travel a good deal on business. I’ve just come back from Istanbul. We must get together some time, the two of us, and you and Madame Maigret… I suppose you’re married?”

The encounter had been something of an embarrassment to both of them. The couple’s pale green, open sports car had been parked nearby, and they had got into it and driven off, leaving Maigret to continue on his way.

The Florentin now facing Maigret across his desk was more seedy than the dashing figure he had seemed to be on the Place de la Madeleine. He was wearing a rather shabby gray suit, and his manner was a good deal less self-assured.

The Rules of the Game by Georges Simenon (Harcourt Brace Jovanovich 1955)

The vibration of the lawn mower's small motor passed into Higgins's arm, and through his arm into his whole body, giving him the feeling that he was living to the rhythm not of his own heart but of the machine. On this street alone there were three mowers, all more or less the same, all working at the same time, with the same angry sound, and whenever one of them stalled for a moment, others could be heard elsewhere in the neighbourhood.

My Friend Maigret by Georges Simenon (Penguin Classics 1949)

When the detectives had passed the yacht, Mr Pyke spoke again, slowly, with his habitual precision.

'He's the sort of son good families hate to have. Actually you can't have many specimens in France.'

Maigret was quite taken aback, for it was the first time, since he had known him, that his colleague had expressed general ideas. Mr Pyke seemed a little embarrassed himself, as though overcome with shame.

'What makes you think we have hardly any in France?'

'I mean not of that type, exactly.'

He picked his words with great care, standing still at the end of the jetty, facing the mountains which could be seen on the mainland.

'I rather think that in your country, a boy from a good family can commit some bêtises, as you say, so as to have a good time, to enjoy himself with women or cars, or to gamble in the casino. Do your bad boys play chess? I doubt it. Do they read Kant, Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, and Kierkegaard? It's unlikely, isn't it? They only want to live their life without waiting for their inheritance.'

They leant against the wall which ran along one side of the jetty, and the calm surface of the water was occasionally troubled by a fish jumping.

'De Greef does not belong to that category of bad characters, I don't think he even wants to have money. He's almost a pure anarchist. He has revolted against everything he has known, against everything he's been taught, against his magistrate of a father and his bourgeois mother, against his home town, against the customs of his own country.'

He broke off, half-blushing.

'I beg your pardon . . . '

'Go on, please.'

'We only exchanged a few words, the two of us, but I think I have understood him, because there are a lot of young people like that in my country, in all countries, probably, where morals are very strict. That's why I said just now that one probably doesn't come across a vast number of that type in France. Here there isn't any hypocrisy. Perhaps there isn't enough.'

Was he alluding to the surroundings, the world the two of them had been plunged in since their arrival, to the Monsieur Émiles, the Charlots, the Ginettes, who lived among the others without being singled out for opprobrium?

Maigret felt a little anxious, a little piqued. Without being attacked, he was sung by an urge to defend himself.

The Iron Staircase by Georges Simenon (A Helen & Kurt Wolff Book 1953)

The first note was written in pencil, on a sheet of writing paper the size of a postcard. He did not think it necessary to put the date in full.

"Tuesday: Attack at 2:50. Duration, 35 minutes. Colic. Ate mashed potatoes at lunch."

After the word "lunch," he drew a minus sign and circled it. This meant that his wife had not eaten any of the mashed potatoes. For years she had avoided starch, for fear of putting on weight.

Maigret on the Riviera by Georges Simenon (Harcourt Brace 1932)

This was unexpected. She seized the bottle and threw it on the floor, where it smashed into pieces.

“And me thinking…”

The light in the alley outside was faint through the two doors. The barman opposite could be heard putting up his shutters. It must have been very late. The streetcars had stopped ages ago.

“I can’t bear the thought of it,” she shrieked. “I can’t… I won’t… Anything but that… It’s not true… It’s…”

“Jaja!”

But the sound of her name did not calm her. She had worked herself into a frenzy. With the same impetuosity with which she had seized the bottle, she stooped and picked up something from the floor.

“Not Haguenau!… It’s not true. Sylvie didn’t…”

In all his years of service, Maigret had seen nothing like this. She had picked up a small piece of glass and, talking all the time, had cut into her wrist, right down to the artery.

Her eyes almost popped out of her head. She looked raving mad.

“Haguenau… I… It wasn’t Sylvie!”

A gush of blood spurted out as Maigret reached her. His right hand was covered with it, and it even splashed on his tie. He seized her by both arms.

For a few seconds Jaja, bewildered, helpless, looked at the blood—her own blood—as it ran down. She fainted. Maigret let her sink to the floor.

His fingers felt for the artery and pressed it. But that was no good—he must find something to tie it with. He looked around the room. Spotting an electric cord, he wrenched it free of the iron it belonged to.

As Jaja lay motionless on the floor, he wound the cord around her wrist, and tightened it. 

The Madman of Bergerac by Georges Simenon (Penguin Mystery 1932)

What he found strange was not Samuel's profession, but to find in a place like Bergerac links extending from Warsaw to Algiers.

People like this Samuel—he had dealt with hundreds in his time. And he had always studied them with curiosity that was mixed with some other feeling—not quite repulsion—as they belonged to a different species altogether from the one we call human.

You'd find them as barmen in Scandinavia, as gangsters in America, as casino owners in Holland, or else as headwaiters or theater directors in Germany, or wholesalers in North Africa.

And now they were cropping up again in this peaceful little town of Bergerac, which you would have taken for the most remote place imaginable from all the terror, sordidness, and tragedy that their doings involved.

Eastern and Central Europe between Budapest and Odessa, between Tallinn and Belgrade, an area teeming with a mass of humanity. In particular, there hundreds of thousands of hungry Jews whose only ambition was to seek a better existence in some other land. Boat-loads and trainloads of emigrants with children in their arms, and dragging their old folk behind them, resigned, tragic faces queuing at border checkpoints.

There were more Poles in Chicago than Americans . . . France alone had absorbed trainloads and trainloads. In every town in the country there were people who at every birth, death, or marriage had to spell their outlandish names letter by letter at the town hall . . . 

Some were legal emigrants, with their papers in order. Others didn't have the patience to wait, or were unable to obtain a visa.

That's where Samuel came in, Samuel and his like. Men who spoke ten languages, who knew every frontier in Europe. the rubber stamp of every consulate, and even the signatures of the officials. They could see to everything!

Their real activity would be concealed behind the façade of some other business, preferably international.

Postage stamps. What could be better?

To Mr A. Levy, Chicago.

Sir,

I am this day dispatching two hundred rare Czechoslovakian stamps with orange vignettes . . . 

There was another traffic, too, which no doubt interested Samuel, as it did most of his kind.

In the maisons spéciales of South America it was French girls who formed the quality. Their purveyors worked in Paris on the Grands Boulevards. But the smaller fry, the cheaper end of the market, came from Eastern Europe. Country girls who left home at fifteen or sixteen, returning—if ever they did—at twenty, with their dowries in their pockets.