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Didn't somebody once describe him as a sort of sensual Christ? He, too, was after the commercant's wife. And didn't he select her as the subject of his licentious verses reassure yourself, reader, licentious merely from the point of view of prosody. "Ta nuque est de santal sur les vifs frissons d'or. Mais c'est une autre, que j'adore."
Tantot ils font lutter, dans des combats affreux, L'homme contre la brute et les hommes entre eux, Aux longs ruisseaux de sang qui coulent de la veine, Aux palpitations des membres sur l'arene, Se levant a demi de leurs lits de repos Des frissons de plaisir fremissent sur leurs peaux. Le cri de la torture est leur douce harmonie, Et leur oeil dans son oeil boit sa lente agonie.
Prince Metternich said that no power on earth would induce him to touch any food a la Rossini, especially the macaroni, which he said was stuffed with hash and all sorts of remnants of last week's food and piled up on a dish like a log cabin. "J'ai des frissons chaque fois que j'y pense." Not long ago Baron James Rothschild sent Rossini some splendid grapes from his hothouse.
The sea was not only perfectly smooth, but placid, as on the previous day: only it seemed far placider, and the sun brighter, and there was a levity in the breezes that frilled the sea in fugitive dark patches, like frissons of tickling; and I thought that the morning was a true marriage-morning, and remembered that it was a Sabbath; and sweet odours our wedding would not lack of peach and almond, though, looking eastward, I could see no faintest sign of any purple cloud, but only rags of chiffon under the sun; and it would be an eternal wedding, for one day in our sight would be as a thousand years, and our thousand years of bliss would be but one day, and in the evening of all that eternity death would come and sweetly lay its finger upon our languid lids, and we should die of weary bliss; and all manner of dancings and singings fandango and light galliard, corantoes and the solemn gavotte were a-tune in my heart that happy day; and running by the chart-house to the wheel, I saw under the table a great roll of old flags, and presently they were flying in a long curve of gala from the main; and the sea rumpled in a long tract of tumbling milk behind me; and I hasted homeward, to meet my heart.
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