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</ul>brawler more stalwart of stature and limb. That it irk'd him,Lucile_91, in truth, you at times could divine, For when low was the music,<p></p><p>jordanspacejam.com</p><p></p>, and spilt was the wine, He would clutch at the garment, as though it oppress'd And stifled some impulse that choked in his breast.<br>X.<br>What! he, . . . the light sport of his frivolous ease! Was he, too, a prey to a mortal disease? My friend, hear a parable: ponder it well: For a moral there is in the tale that I tell. One evening I sat in the Palais Royal, And there, while I laugh'd at Grassot and Arnal, My eye fell on the face of a man at my side; Every time that he laugh'd I observed that he sigh'd, As though vex'd to be pleased. I remark'd that he sat Ill at ease on his seat, and kept twirling his hat In his hand, with a look of unquiet abstraction. I inquired the cause of his dissatisfaction. "Sir," he said, "if what vexes me here you would know, Learn that, passing this way some few half-hours ago,<p></p><p>cheap jordan shoes</p><p></p>, I walk'd into the Francais,Lucile_91, to look at Rachel. (Sir, that woman in Phedre is a miracle!)--Well, I ask'd for a box: they were occupied all: For a seat in the balcony: all taken! a stall: Taken too: the whole house was as full as could be,-- Not a hole for a rat! I had just time to see The lady I love tete-a-tete with a friend In a box out of reach at the opposite end: Then the crowd push'd me out. What was left me to do? I tried for the tragedy . . . que voulez-vous? Every place for the tragedy book'd! . . . mon ami. The farce was close by: . . . at the farce me voici. The piece is a new one: and Grassot plays well: There is drollery, too, in that fellow Ravel: And Hyacinth's nose is superb: . . . yet I meant My evening elsewhere, and not thus to have spent. Fate orders these things by her will, not by ours! Sir, mankind is the sport of invisible powers."<br>I once met the Duc de Luvois for a moment; And I mark'd, when his features I fix'd in my comment, O'er those features the same vague disquietude stray I had seen on the face of my friend at the play; And I thought that he too, very probably, spent His evenings not wholly as first he had meant.<br>XI.<br>O source of the | </ul>brawler more stalwart of stature and limb. That it irk'd him,Lucile_91, in truth, you at times could divine, For when low was the music,<p></p><p>jordanspacejam.com</p><p></p>, and spilt was the wine, He would clutch at the garment, as though it oppress'd And stifled some impulse that choked in his breast.<br>X.<br>What! he, . . . the light sport of his frivolous ease! Was he, too, a prey to a mortal disease? My friend, hear a parable: ponder it well: For a moral there is in the tale that I tell. One evening I sat in the Palais Royal, And there, while I laugh'd at Grassot and Arnal, My eye fell on the face of a man at my side; Every time that he laugh'd I observed that he sigh'd, As though vex'd to be pleased. I remark'd that he sat Ill at ease on his seat, and kept twirling his hat In his hand, with a look of unquiet abstraction. I inquired the cause of his dissatisfaction. "Sir," he said, "if what vexes me here you would know, Learn that, passing this way some few half-hours ago,<p></p><p>cheap jordan shoes</p><p></p>, I walk'd into the Francais,Lucile_91, to look at Rachel. (Sir, that woman in Phedre is a miracle!)--Well, I ask'd for a box: they were occupied all: For a seat in the balcony: all taken! a stall: Taken too: the whole house was as full as could be,-- Not a hole for a rat! I had just time to see The lady I love tete-a-tete with a friend In a box out of reach at the opposite end: Then the crowd push'd me out. What was left me to do? I tried for the tragedy . . . que voulez-vous? Every place for the tragedy book'd! . . . mon ami. The farce was close by: . . . at the farce me voici. The piece is a new one: and Grassot plays well: There is drollery, too, in that fellow Ravel: And Hyacinth's nose is superb: . . . yet I meant My evening elsewhere, and not thus to have spent. Fate orders these things by her will, not by ours! Sir, mankind is the sport of invisible powers."<br>I once met the Duc de Luvois for a moment; And I mark'd, when his features I fix'd in my comment, O'er those features the same vague disquietude stray I had seen on the face of my friend at the play; And I thought that he too, very probably, spent His evenings not wholly as first he had meant.<br>XI.<br>O source of the | ||
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| + | == Mr+Jack+Hamlins+Mediation 85 == | ||
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| + | shock had passed, her old independence and pride came to her relief. She would go to the spot and examine it. If it were some trick or illusion, she would show her superiority and have the laugh on Starbuck. She set her white teeth,<p></p><p>louis vuitton outlet</p><p></p>, clenched her little hands, and started out into the moonlight. But alas! for women's weakness. The next moment she uttered a scream and almost fell into the arms of Mr. Starbuck,<p></p><p>who had stepped out of the shadows beside her.<br>"So you see you HAVE been frightened," he said, with a strange, forced laugh; "but I warned you about going out alone!"<br>Even in her fright she could not help seeing that he, too,<p></p>, seemed pale and agitated, at which she recovered her tongue and her self- possession.<br>"Anybody would be frightened by being dogged about under the trees," she said pertly.<br>"But you called out before you saw me," he said bluntly, "as if something had frightened you. That was WHY I came towards you."<br>She knew it was the truth; but as she would not confess to her vision, she fibbed outrageously.<br>"Frightened," she said, with pale but lofty indignation. "What was there to frighten me? I'm not a baby, to think I see a bogie in the dark!" This was said in the faint hope that HE had seen something too. If it had been Larry or her father who had met her, she would have confessed everything.<br>"You had better go in," he said curtly. "I will see you safe inside the house."<br>She demurred at this, but as she could not persist in her first bold intention of examining the locality of the vision without admitting its existence, she permitted him to walk with her to the house, and then at once fled to her own room. Larry and her father noticed their entrance together and their agitated manner, and were uneasy. Yet the colonel's paternal pride and Larry's lover's respect kept the two men from communicating their thoughts to each other.<br>"The confounded pup has been tryin' to be familiar, and Polly's set him down," thought Larry, with glowing satisfaction.<br>"He's been trying some of his sanctimonious Yankee abolition talk on Polly, and she shocked him!" thought the colonel exultingly.<br>But poor Polly had other things to think of in the silence of her room. Another woman would have unburdened herself to a confidante; but Polly was too loyal to her father to shatter his beliefs, and too high-spirited to take another and a lesser person into her confidence. She was certain that Aunt Chloe would be full of sympathetic belief and speculations, but she would not trust a nigger with what she couldn't tell her own father. For Polly really and truly believed that she had seen a ghost, no doubt the ghost of the murdered Sobriente, according to Larry's story. WHY he should appear with only his head above ground puzzled her, although it suggested the Catholic idea of purgatory, and he was a Catholic! Perhaps he would have risen entirely but for that stupid Starbuck's presence; perhaps he had a message for HER alone. The idea pleased Polly, albeit it was a "fearful joy" and attended with some cold shivering. Naturally, as a gentleman, he would appear to HER--the daughter of a gentleman--the successor to his | ||
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| + | == Les+Grandes+Dames 167 == | ||
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| + | plaisir, mesdames! Voil锟斤拷 le plaisir!?<br>D'Ayguesvives connaissait la comtesse Bobrinsko?, cette grande dame russe qui a apport锟斤拷 锟斤拷 Paris, avec ses marbres italiens, ses tableaux flamands et ses meubles en porcelaine de Saxe, l'art perdu des anciennes causeries. Il alla pour la voir, mais il ne trouva chez elle qu'un de ses amis, un peintre italien, Raimondo Marchio, qui ne fit pas de fa?ons pour r锟斤拷pondre aux questions du duc; il le conduisit dans le jardin qui s锟斤拷parait les deux h?tels. ?Est-ce qu'on ne se met jamais 锟斤拷 la fen锟斤拷tre, demanda d'Ayguesvives.--Jamais. Une seule fois j'ai vu trois dames que j'aurais voulu peindre, tant elles repr锟斤拷sentaient mon id锟斤拷al pour les trois vertus th锟斤拷ologales que le pape m'a demand锟斤拷es.--Ce sont donc des dames de charit锟斤拷?--Non, mais elles 锟斤拷taient group锟斤拷es avec un abandon charmant, s'appuyant l'une sur l'autre, dans la d锟斤拷sinvolture italienne; celle du milieu 锟斤拷tait la plus belle: celle-l锟斤拷 je l'ai reconnue, car elle habite les Champs-Elys锟斤拷es.--Mais qui est-ce qui habite l'h?tel.--Oh! pour cela, nous n'en savons rien. Il est d'ailleurs si peu habit锟斤拷, qu'on appelle cela un pied-锟斤拷-terre.--Ma foi, c'est un joli pied. Connaissez-vous le propri锟斤拷taire?--Oui, un original de la rue du Cherche-Midi 锟斤拷 quatorze heures; la comtesse a voulu lui acheter ce petit h?tel pour agrandir son jardin. Il lui a r锟斤拷pondu ceci, ou 锟斤拷 peu pr锟斤拷s: ?Madame, je suis au soleil et vous vous 锟斤拷tes 锟斤拷 l'ombre; je suis Diog锟斤拷ne, et vous 锟斤拷tes Alexandre, je ne vends pas mon soleil.?<br>D'Ayguesvives comprit qu'on ne saurait rien par un pareil propri锟斤拷taire. ?Croyez-vous que ces dames payent leur loyer?--Sans doute, mais je n'ai pas vu en quelle monnaie.?<br>D'Ayguesvives regarda le peintre italien. ?Mais vous 锟斤拷tes convaincu que ce sont des femmes du monde?--Oui, mais panach锟斤拷es de quelques femmes du demi-monde, car, il y a quelques jours,<p> </p>, il m'a bien sembl锟斤拷 reconna?tre une d锟斤拷esse des Bouffes, sans compter que Mlle Th锟斤拷r锟斤拷sa y a chant锟斤拷 ses chansons.--Ce doit 锟斤拷tre fort amusant,<p></p>, ce petit int锟斤拷rieur-l锟斤拷! Est-ce que ces dames ne lancent pas des invitations? Je voudrais bien m'inscrire.--Oh non! il para?t qu'on s'amuse entre soi.? Tout en regardant le petit h?tel, d'Ayguevives 锟斤拷tait de plus en plus convaincu qu'on avait bien choisi pour se cacher. Certes, ce n'锟斤拷tait pas l锟斤拷 une maison de verre: 锟斤拷 gauche et 锟斤拷 droite un pignon sans fen锟斤拷tre; au nord un jardin 锟斤拷tranger, celui de la comtesse, mais masqu锟斤拷 par la serre au rez-de-chauss锟斤拷e et les persiennes du premier 锟斤拷tage; au midi une fa?ade visible, mais au bout d'un jardin inaccessible.<br>D'Ayguesvives s'en alla comme il 锟斤拷tait venu,<p></p><p></p><p></p>, sans se vanter 锟斤拷 ses amis qu'il avait si bien cherch锟斤拷 pour ne rien trouver. ?C'est 锟斤拷gal, se disait-il avec impatience, je ne d锟斤拷sesp锟斤拷re pas d'avoir le mot de cette 锟斤拷nigme.?<br>Il alla voir Mme de Montmartel pour poser des points d'interrogation. Mais, de m锟斤拷me qu'il avait tourn锟斤拷 autour de l'h?tel sans pouvoir y entrer, il tourna autour de la belle railleuse. Elle lui dit: ?Vous connaissez le mot du bon Dieu: ?Frappez et on vous ouvrira,? mais moi je ne suis pas le bon Dieu: on frappe et je n'ouvre pas.--Oh! oh! si c'锟斤拷tait Parisis, vous ouvririez!--Parisis! dit Messaline blonde, celui-l锟斤拷 ne frappe pas, car il passe par la fen锟斤拷tre.?<br><br>XVIII<br>LES INS锟斤拷PARABLES<br>Alors on parlait beaucoup de deux soeurs fort belles, une brune et une blonde: Mme de N锟斤拷ers et Mme de Montmartel. La brune aimait l'锟斤拷glise; la blonde aimait les f锟斤拷tes. Aussi Mme de Montmartel fut-elle surnomm锟斤拷e Messaline blonde; tandis qu'on donnait 锟斤拷 sa soeur le bon Dieu sans confession.<br>Parisis eut un duel avec le mari de Mme de Montmartel, quoiqu'il ne f?t pas son amant; tandis qu'il fut toujours tr锟斤拷s bien dans les papiers de M. de N锟斤拷ers, quoique Mme de N锟斤拷ers lui f?t tomb锟斤拷e dans les bras un jour d'extase.<br>Et pourtant, ce jour-l锟斤拷, comme les autres, elle 锟斤拷tait coiff锟斤拷e 锟斤拷 la vierge, en opposition 锟斤拷 sa soeur qui 锟斤拷tait coiff锟斤拷e 锟斤拷 la diable.<br>Parisis qui avait raison de toutes les femmes mondaines, 锟斤拷choua donc devant les 锟斤拷clats de rire de Mme de Montmartel. Ce qui n'emp锟斤拷cha pas l'injuste opinion publique d'infliger sa r锟斤拷probation 锟斤拷 cette belle femme et de lui donner le surnom de Messaline blonde, parce qu'elle avait horreur des poses vertueuses.<br>Elle se moquait des aveuglements de l'opinion, avec son amie, la belle B锟斤拷rang锟斤拷re de Saint-R锟斤拷al, une autre blonde, non moins joyeuse, qui avait soif de curiosit锟斤拷s. Elles se rencontraient 锟斤拷 l'H?tel du Plaisir-Mesdames.<br>Mme de Montmartel disait 锟斤拷 B锟斤拷rang锟斤拷re de Saint-R锟斤拷al, qui lui parlait de Mme de N锟斤拷ers: ?Savez-vous la diff锟斤拷rence qu'il y a entre | ||
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| + | == The+Lady+From+The+Sea 70 == | ||
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| + | profile. He never looks at me, only he is there. Wangel. How do you think he looks? Ellida. Exactly as when I saw him last. Wangel. Ten years ago? Ellida. Yes; out there at Bratthammeren. Most distinctly of all I see his breastpin, with a large bluish-white pearl in it. The pearl is like a dead fish's eye, and it seems to glare at me. Wangel. Good God! You are more ill than I thought. More ill than you yourself know,<p></p><p></p><p></p>, Ellida. Ellida. Yes,<p> </p>, yes! Help me if you can, for I feel how it is drawing closer and more close. Wangel. And you have gone about in this state three whole years, bearing for yourself this secret suffering,<p></p><p>louis vuitton outlet</p><p></p>, without confiding in me. Ellida. But I could not; not till it became necessary for your own sake. If I had confided in you I should also have had to confide to you the unutterable. Wangel. Unutterable? Ellida. No, no, no! Do not ask. Only one thing, nothing more. Wangel, when shall we understand that mystery of the boy's eyes? Wangel. My dear love, Ellida, I assure you it was only your own fancy | ||
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| + | == Moorish+Literature 75 == | ||
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| + | life among the dead. "I would not deign with falsehood's stain my lineage to betray; Tho' for the truth my life, in sooth, should be the price I pay. I am son and squire of a Moorish sire, who with the Christians strove,?And the captive dame of Christian name was his fair wedded love; And I a child from that mother mild, who taught me at her knee Was ever told to be true and bold with a tongue that was frank and free,?That the liar's art and the caitiff heart would lead to the house of doom;?And still I must hear my mother dear, for she speaks to me from the tomb.?Then give me my task, O King, and ask what question thou mayst choose;?I will give to you the word that is true, for why should I refuse?" "I give you grace for your open face, and the courteous words you use.?What castles are those on the hill where grows the palm-tree and the pine??They are so high that they touch the sky, and with gold their pinnacles shine."?"In the sunset's fire there glisten, sire, Alhambra's tinted tiles; And somewhat lower Alijire's tower upon the vega smiles,?And many a band of subtile hand has wrought its pillared aisles. The Moor whose thought and genius wrought those works for many moons Received each day a princely pay--five hundred gold doubloons-- Each day he left his labor deft, his guerdon was denied;?Nor less he lost than his labor cost when he his hand applied. And yonder I see the Generalif锟斤拷 with its orchard green and wide; There are growing there the apple and pear that are Granada's pride. There shadows fall from the soaring wall of high Bermeja's tower; It has nourished long as a castle strong, the seat of the Soldan's power."?The King had bent and his ear had lent to the words the warrior spoke,?And at last he said, as he raised his head before the crowd of folk: "I would take thee now with a faithful vow, Granada for my bride, King Juan's Queen would hold, I ween,<p></p>, a throne and crown of pride; That very hour I would give thee dower that well would suit thy will;?Cordova's town should be thine own, and the mosque of proud Seville. Nay, ask not, King,<p></p><p></p><p></p>, for I wear the ring of a faithful wife and true; Some graceful maid or a widow arrayed in her weeds is the wife for you,?And close I cling to the Moorish King who holds me to his breast, For well I ween it can be seen that of all he loves me best."<br>ABENAMAR'S JEALOUSY<br>Alhambra's bell had not yet pealed?Its morning note o'er tower and field;?Barmeja's bastions glittered bright,<p></p><p>/</p><p></p>,?O'ersilvered with the morning light;?When rising from a pallet blest?With no refreshing dews of rest,?For slumber had relinquished there?His place to solitary care,?Brave Abenamar pondered deep?How lovers must surrender sleep.?And when he saw the morning rise,?While sleep still sealed Daraja's eyes,?Amid his tears, to soothe his pain,?He sang this melancholy strain:?"The morn is up,?The heavens alight,?My jealous soul?Still owns the sway of night.?Thro' all the night I wept forlorn,?Awaiting anxiously the morn;?And tho' no sunlight strikes on me,?My bosom burns with jealousy.?The twinkling starlets disappear;?Their radiance made my sorrow clear;?The sun has vanished from my sight,?Turned | ||
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| + | == The+International+Weekly+Miscellany+-+Volume+I%2c+No.+4 150 == | ||
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| + | is the very highest praise that can be given to half-civilized as well as to civilized people. They are a bold, energetic, and industrious race. Every hour of weather fit for out-door work is spent in fishing and hunting, and preparing food for the winter. In the light sledge, or on skates, with nets and spears, they labored at each of these employments in its season. Toward the end of the long winter, just as famine and starvation threaten the whole population,<p></p><p>louis vuitton outlet</p><p></p>, a perfect cloud of swans, and geese, and ducks, and snipes, pour in; and man and woman, boy and girl, all rush forth to the hunt. The fish come in next, as the ice breaks; and presently the time for the reindeer hunt comes round. Every minute of the summer season is consumed in laying in a stock of all these aliments for a long and dreary season, when nothing can be caught. The women collect herbs and roots. As the summer is just about to end, the herrings appear in shoals, and a new source of subsistence is opened up,<p></p><p></p><p></p>, Later still,<p></p>, they fish by opening | ||
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