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"You won't be angry if I say it?" Minola seemed as if she were going to be angry, but she looked into the little poetess's kindly, wistful eyes, and broke into a laugh. "I couldn't be angry with you, Mary, if I had ten times my capacity for anger and that would be a goodly quantity! Well, what is Mr. Sheppard really, as you were going to say?" "Really in love with you, dear."
Balbilla and her husband gave their corrupt fellow-citizens the example of a worthy, faithful marriage on the old Roman pattern. The poetess's bust had been completed by Pollux in Alexandria, and with all its tresses and little curls, it found favor in Balbilla's eyes. Verus was to have enjoyed the title of Caesar even during Hadrian's lifetime, but after a long illness he died the first.
Before the fleet sailed into the Mareotic harbor of Alexandria, Pontius revealed his happy secret to the Emperor. Hadrian smiled for the first time since the death of his favorite, and desired the architect to bring Balbilla to him. "I was wrong in my interpretation of the Pythian oracle," said he, as he laid the poetess's hand in that of Pontius.
Bungay, that she was very sorry to be a little late, but that the omnibus was very slow, and what a comfort it was to get a ride all the way from Brompton for sixpence. Nobody laughed at the poetess's speech, it was uttered so simply. Indeed, the worthy woman had not the least notion of being ashamed of an action incidental upon her poverty.
Balbilla and her husband gave their corrupt fellow-citizens the example of a worthy, faithful marriage on the old Roman pattern. The poetess's bust had been completed by Pollux in Alexandria, and with all its tresses and little curls, it found favor in Balbilla's eyes. Verus was to have enjoyed the title of Caesar even during Hadrian's lifetime, but after a long illness he died the first.
For the poetess's third contribution, without changing its strong local color and individuality, had been an unexpected outburst of human passion a love-song, that touched those to whom the subtler meditative graces of the poetess had been unknown.
Before the fleet sailed into the Mareotic harbor of Alexandria, Pontius revealed his happy secret to the Emperor. Hadrian smiled for the first time since the death of his favorite, and desired the architect to bring Balbilla to him. "I was wrong in my interpretation of the Pythian oracle," said he, as he laid the poetess's hand in that of Pontius.
"I'm sure he's very gentle and kind," said Polly, recovering her dimples with a demure pout; "but stop, he's coming back." It was indeed Don Jose re-entering the room with the composure of a relieved and self-satisfied mind. "It is even as I said, Senora," he began, taking the poetess's hand, "and MORE. You are SAVED!"
It is easy to laugh not perhaps very easy to abstain from laughing at the "schall" twisted in Corinne's hair, where even contemporaries mocked the hideous turban with which Madame de Stael chose to bedizen her not too beautiful head; at Nelvil's inky cloak; at the putting out of the fire; at the queer stilted half-Ossianic, half-German rants put in the poetess's mouth; at the endless mingling of gallantry and pedantry; at the hesitations of Nelvil; at the agonies of Corinne.
She alone ventured, regardless of Napoleon's frowns and displeasure, to plead the cause of the poor exile again and again, and to solicit her recall to France, as a simple act of justice; she even went so far in her generosity as to extend the hospitalities of her drawing-rooms to the poetess's son, who was avoided and fled from by every one else.
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