United States or Afghanistan ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
His eyes sought M. Binet's. M. Binet's eyes eluded his glance. Again it was Leandre who answered him. "Not yet." "Ah!" Andre-Louis sat down, and poured himself wine. There was an oppressive silence in the room. Leandre watched him expectantly, Columbine commiseratingly. Even M. Binet appeared to be waiting for a cue from Scaramouche. But Scaramouche disappointed him.
Instead, she devoted herself with an unusual and devastating assiduity to the suspiring Leandre, that poor devil who could not successfully play the lover with her on the stage because of his longing to play it in reality. Andre-Louis ate his herrings and black bread with a good appetite nevertheless.
I rely on you to come here, like one of Moliere's old men, to scold your nephew Leandre for his folly, while the Tenth Muse lies hidden in my bedroom; you must work on her feelings; strike hard, be brutal, offensive. I, you understand, shall express my blind devotion, and shall seem to be deaf, so that you may have to shout at me. "Come, if you can, at seven o'clock. "Yours,
The two young people with Sganarelle's help contrive an elopement, but when the marriage is discovered, Géronte visits his wrath upon the mock doctor, and is only pacified by the news that Léandre has just inherited a fortune. The year 1859 saw the production of 'Faust, the opera with which Gounod's name is principally associated.
As for the rest of the company, they were disposed to be very kindly towards Scaramouche. It was almost as if in reality he had fallen from the high estate to which their own imaginations had raised him; or possibly it was because they saw the effect which that fall from his temporary and fictitious elevation had produced upon Climene. Leandre alone made himself an exception.
"Name of a pig!" said Leandre. "How can you take your ease and smoke at such a time?" Scaramouche surveyed the sky. "I do not find it too cold," said he. "The sun is shining. I am very well here." "Do I talk of the weather?" Leandre was very excited. "Of what, then?" "Of Climene, of course." "Oh! The lady has ceased to interest me," he lied.
For a second his emotion had been out of hand, and he revealed to Leandre in the mordant tone of those last words something of the fires that burned under his icy exterior. The young man caught him by the hand. "I knew you were acting," said he. "You feel you feel as I do." "Behold us, fellows in viciousness. I have betrayed myself, it seems. Well, and what now?
"Nothing," said Leandre. There was a gasp from the audience, audible in the wings, and then swiftly followed Scaramouche's next question: "True. Alas! But what should it be?" "Everything," said Leandre. The audience roared its acclamations, the more violent because of the unexpectedness of that reply. "True again," said Scaramouche.
There is old Monsieur Lucien Santien, leaning against one of the pillars, and laughing at something which Monsieur Lafirme is telling him, till his fat shoulders shake. His son Jules is with him Jules, who wants to marry her. She laughs. She wonders if Felix has told her father yet. There is young Jerome Lafirme playing at checkers upon the sofa with Leandre.
But it may lead you astray, as in this instance. That rehearsal a most unusual thing with us was necessitated by the histrionic rawness of our Leandre. We are seeking to inculcate into him by training an art with which Nature neglected to endow him against his present needs.
Word Of The Day