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Remembering "The Frog," Domergue's versatility appears in the portrait of Gina Mabille, the danseuse. A delicate bit of Impressionism in Le Sidanier's "The Harbor: Landernau" . Two canvases by Menard are hung here. His "Opal Sea" is charming. Auburtin's decorative panels hang on the north wall.
The Council of the Society knew that the Lama-Buddhists, for instance, though not believing in God, and denying the personal immortality of the soul, are yet celebrated for their "phenomena," and that mesmerism was known and daily practised in China from time immemorial under the name of "gina."
You hear, mamma, how fancy Gina Berg? We go hear her, eh?" There was about Miss Gina Berg, whose voice could soar to the tirra-lirra of a lark and then deepen to mezzo, something of the actual slimness of the poor, maligned Elsa so long buried beneath the buxomness of divas. She was like a little flower that in its crannied nook keeps dewy longest. "How do you do, Leon Kantor?"
"But that's how I feel toward all the boys, Leon our fighting boys just like flying to them to kiss them each one good-by." "Come over, Gina. You'll be a treat to our mother. I Well, I'm hanged! All the way from Philadelphia!" There was even a sparkle to talk, then, and a letup of pressure. After a while Sarah Kantor looked up at her son, tremulous, but smiling.
"But that's how I feel toward all the boys, Leon our fighting boys just like flying to them to kiss them each one good-bye." "Come over, Gina. You'll be a treat to our mother. I well, I'm hanged all the way from Philadelphia!" There was even a sparkle to talk then, and a let-up of pressure. After a while, Sarah Kantor looked up at her son, tremulous but smiling.
As if I had an appointment to meet you some place at the opera-house, for instance." "That's it, Leon an engagement." "Have I an engagement with you, Gina?" She let her lids droop. "Oh, how how I hope you have, Leon." "When?" "In the spring?" "That's it in the spring." Then they smiled, these two, who had never felt more than the merest butterfly wings of love brushing them, light as lashes.
The Italian accepted, no doubt to carry out her part of a young English Miss in the eyes of the villagers, but she brought Gina with her. Francesca Colonna's lightest actions betrayed a superior education and the highest social rank.
"Did you see Doubleyou, 'Gina dear?" said her mamma, addressing that young lady. "He's in the bar with your Pa, and has his military coat with the king's buttons, and looks like an officer." This was Mr. Woolsey's style, his great aim being to look like an army gent, for many of whom he in his capacity of tailor made those splendid red and blue coats which characterise our military.
He wore a blue-black wig, and his whiskers were of the same hue. He was brief and stern in conversations; and he always went to masquerades and balls in a field-marshal's uniform. "He looks really quite the thing to-night," continued Mrs. Crump. "Yes," said 'Gina; "but he's such an odious wig, and the dye of his whiskers always comes off on his white gloves."
Esther, grief-crumpled, but rich in the enormous hope of youth. The sweet Gina, to whom the waiting months had already begun their reality. Not so, Sarah Kantor. In a bedroom adjoining, its high-ceilinged vastness as cold as a cathedral to her lowness of stature, sobs dry and terrible were rumbling up from her, only to dash against lips tightly restraining them.
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