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This remark was made five minutes after a German air-lieutenant had flown over the roof of the houses in my street, Rue Theodule-Ribot, and had dropped near the Parc Monceau a bomb that made a terrific noise, but did no damage. Thursday, September 3. Thirty-second day of the war. Dazzling sunshine, cloudless sky, and light northeasterly wind. Thermometer at five P.M. 27 degrees centigrade.
Torcy of himself, had hastened his return. My courier found him with his wife in the Parc of Versailles, having passed by the Chartres route. I informed M. Castries of his arrival. We all four met the next day. He did not seem to care for the post, if assured of an honourable pension.
She had therefore gone to the summit of the hill on which lies the Parc de Monceaux, and there she had taken refuge in a "little house" formerly belonging to a great seigneur, standing on the street, but possessed of a charming garden, the rent of which did not exceed eighteen hundred francs.
Here, among the rest, was Champlain's lieutenant, Du Parc, with his men, who had amused their leisure with hunting, and were revelling in a sylvan abundance, while their baffled chief, with worry of mind, fatigue of body, and a Lenten diet of half-cooked fish, was grievously fallen away in flesh and strength.
By Thursday when there was no further news I began to feel so restless that I determined to go back to Paris the following week. It was all very well to be out in the parc at Versailles with a mind at ease, but it feels too far away when I am so troubled. I sent Burton in on Friday to Auteuil .
I have examined myself, my own capabilities. I have weighed all the chances. I wish to take a flat, in another quarter of the town, near the Etoile or the Parc Monceau, and open a pension. There is my plan.
He used to go and sit in the Parc Monceau, and in the squares, to watch them playing and romping and prattling round him, and one day, as a joke, somebody, a jealous mistress, or some friends in joke, had sent him a splendid wet nurse's cap, with long, pink ribbons.
The three men had reached Coppa Parc, an enclosure of twelve acres bounded along the north by the cliffs' edge, and deriving its name from a mass of granite rock Carn Coppa that, rising in ledges from near the middle of the field, ran northward until it broke away precipitously, overhanging the sea. He appealed to Eli. "Come, what does Mr. Tregarthen say to it?
Bigot looked as Cadet said this and laughed: "You would send her to the Parc aux cerfs, eh, Cadet? Par Dieu! she would sit on the throne in six months!" "No, I do not mean the Parc aux cerfs, but the Chateau of Beaumanoir. But you are in too ill humor to joke to-day, Bigot." Cadet resumed his pipe with an air of nonchalance. "I never was in a worse humor in my life, Cadet!
Friends, more particularly those who came from abroad, were often debarred from accepting his invitations on account of the distance between Paris and the Parc des Princes, and the consequent lateness of the hour when they could reach their home or hotel after dining at Clematis.
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