United States or Algeria ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
At last the magnificent personage, his face adorned with luxuriant whiskers, appeared with the bow of a great artist or a diplomatist; took Jacqueline's measure as if he were fulfilling some important function, said a few brief words to his secretary, and then disappeared; the group of English beauties saying in chorus that Mademoiselle might come back that day week and try it on.
Since the doctor was come, the younger part of the gathering at Fontenoy had cheerfully returned to its business. The dancing class was not long neglected. Uncle Edward disliked France, disliked even monarchical and émigré France. And he disliked all music but Jacqueline's singing, and disliked the fiddle because Thomas Jefferson played it. He half rose to shut the door and so keep out Mr.
"Finish it now." "The boy," went on Deb, using now her own and now Jacqueline's remembered words, "the boy did not want to work all his life long in the tobacco-fields, working from morning to night, with his hands, at the thing he hated. He wanted books, he wanted to learn, and to work with his mind in the world beyond the Three-Notched Road. The older he grew the more he wanted it.
She threw out her hands in an ecstasy of expression, a portrayal of the artless greed that had more than once brought a smile to the boy's lips. But this time no amusement was called up; disgust rose strong within him and, accompanying it, a certainty that were Jacqueline's chicken to be laid before him, he must assuredly choke with the first morsel.
Her husband, of course, peremptorily set his face against such self-sacrifice. The facilities for Jacqueline's education were increased by their settling down as residents of Paris.
So she continued to sit there, doing what she had been told to do without any qualms of conscience. When Marien had shown Jacqueline all his drawings he asked her: "Are you satisfied?" But Jacqueline's hand was already on the portiere which separated the little room from Marien's bedchamber. "Oh! I beg pardon," she exclaimed, pausing on the threshold.
There was a suit-case to be bought, so I had them transferred to the trunk and leather-goods department, where I bought a neat sole-leather suit-case which, at Jacqueline's practical suggestion, was changed for a lighter one of plaited straw. After that I abstained from misdirecting my companion's activities.
"Whether you want to or not, Jack, we'll go to this dance tonight." Jacqueline's hand fell away from her eyes. She seemed suddenly glad again. "Do you want to take me, Pierre?" He explained: "Of course. Besides, we have to keep an eye on Wilbur. This girl with the yellow hair " She had altered swiftly again. There was no understanding her or following her moods this day.
She hardly knew. But it would last as long as she might live. One loves but once. These personal emotions, mingling with the literary enchantments of the poets, caused Jacqueline's pen to fly over her paper without effort, and she produced a composition so far superior to anything she usually wrote that it left the lucubrations of her companions far behind.
The others were silent, but Pierre winked at them, and made great flourish with knife and fork against his plate as if to cover the sound of Jacqueline's voice. "Pierre!" she called again. "I've come to thank you." He jumped up and turned toward the hall. "Do you like it?" "It's a wonder!" "Then we're friends?" "If you want to be." "There's nothing I want more.
Word Of The Day