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Archimedes, as perhaps you have never heard, needed only a lever to move the world. Such a lever I had put into the hands of Delphine, with which she might move, not indeed the grand globe, with its multiplied attractions, relations, and affinities, but the lesser world of circumstances, of friends and enemies, the circle of hopes, fears, ambitions.
Madame Delphine sold one of the corner lots of her property. She had almost no revenue, and now and then a piece had to go. As a consequence of the sale, she had a few large bank-notes sewed up in her petticoat, and one day may be a fortnight after her tearful interview with Père Jerome she found it necessary to get one of these changed into small money.
The ladies rose up; somebody had to stand; the two races could not both sit down at once at least not in that public manner. "Your salts," said the physician to his wife. She handed the vial. Madame Delphine stood up again. "We will all go inside," said Madame Thompson, and they passed through the gate and up the walk, mounted the steps, and entered the deep, cool drawing-room.
He endured them with patience and great strength of mind. The Countess Delphine Potocka, who was present, was much distressed; her tears were flowing fast when he observed her standing at the foot of his bed, tall, slight, draped in white, resembling the beautiful angels created by the imagination of the most devout among the painters.
Forgetting that the line of the Potockis is a long one, the public for years has associated with Chopin the famous pastel portrait of Countess Potocka in the Royal Berlin Gallery. The Countess Potocka of that portrait had a career that reads like a romance, but she was Sophie, not Delphine Potocka.
Madame Delphine looked an instant into the upturned face, and then turned her own away, with a long, low cry of pain, looked again, and laying both hands upon the suppliant's head, said: "Oh, chère piti
The woman's voice made him start. He found Delphine lying back in her low chair by the fireside, looking fresh and bright. The sight of her among the flowing draperies of muslin suggested some beautiful tropical flower, where the fruit is set amid the blossom. "Well," she said, with a tremor in her voice, "here you are." "Guess what I bring for you," said Eugene, sitting down beside her.
We have translated abridging, however, as we went the opening chapters of this work, and may add a notice of more modern salons, as given by the lively pen of Mme Emile de Girardin née Delphine Gay daughter of Mme Sophie. The reader will judge whether the fashionable Frenchmen and Frenchwomen have really profited much by the storms and tempests that have gone over their heads.
Wherefore he said, with gentleness: "Madame Delphine, a priest is not a bailiff, but a physician. How can I help you?" A grateful light shone a moment in her eyes, yet there remained a piteous hostility in the tone in which she demanded: "Mais, pou'quoi yé fé cette méchanique l
But we have portraits of Delphine by Chopin himself, not drawn with pencil or crayon, or painted with brush, but her face as his soul saw it and transformed it into music. Listen to a great virtuoso play his two concertos. Ask yourself which of the six movements is the most beautiful.
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