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Nothing in this world is so inexorable, so terribly, terribly irresistible as a woman without strength, without logic, without vision, who only loves." "He is going to say things he will regret," thought Herkimer, and yet he did not object. Instead, he glanced down the dimly flushed path to the house where Mrs. Rantoul was sitting, her embroidery on her lap, her head raised as though listening.
"Because, after such a confidence, it is impossible for you ever to see me again. You know it." "Nonsense. "Let's go back." Full of dull anger and revolt, Herkimer led the way. Rantoul, after a few steps, caught him by the sleeve. "Don't take it too seriously, Britt. I don't revolt any more. I'm no longer the Rantoul you knew." "That's just the trouble," said Herkimer, cruelly.
"In the second place, she knows nothing about anything else, which is better still." "Cynic! You hate clever women," cried Jacobus. "There's a reason." "All the same, Bennett's right. The wife of an artist should be a creature of impulses and not ideas." "True." "In the third place," continued Bennett, "she believes Rantoul is a demigod.
The winter of 1850 and of 1851 passed without result, until finally in December of the latter year, Bissel, of Illinois, made a speech in Doctor Morton's favor, calling attention to the fact that the government had been pirating his patent, and proposing that the subject be referred to a committee. Robert Rantoul seconded the motion, and the step was taken.
Now I won't be jealous any more, and every morning I will come with you and inspire you." "Every morning," said Herkimer, softly. "Yes," said Rantoul, with a little hesitation, "every morning. She fluttered about the studio like a pink-and-white butterfly, sending me a kiss from her dainty fingers whenever I looked her way.
I said in reply that I was the agent of the Legislature for the transmission of the certificate, and that I did not feel at liberty to give instructions. Thereupon Mr. Winthrop presented the credentials of Mr. Rantoul, and retired from the Senate. This act was followed by attacks upon me, by Senators and by newspapers, the charge being that I had driven Mr.
There were several paintings of value, a series of drawings by Boucher, a replica or two of his own work; but he sought without success for something from the brush of Clyde Rantoul. At dinner he was aware of a sudden uneasiness. Mrs.
Herkimer was the best man, and the Quarter attended in force, with much outward enthusiasm. The bride and groom departed for a two-year's trip around the world, that Rantoul might inspire himself with the treasures of Italy, Greece, India, and Japan.
With some misgivings he packed his bag and took the train, calling up again to his mind the picture of Rantoul, with his shabby trousers pulled up, decorating his ankles with lavender and black, roaring all the while with his rumbling laughter. At the station only the chauffeur was down to meet him.
We are ruled by mobs. Who paints mobs? What is wrong is this, that art is in the bondage of literature sentimentality. We must record what we experience. Ugliness has its utility, its magnetism; the ugliness of abject misery moves you to think, to readjust ideas. We must be rebels, we young men. Ah, if we could only burn the galleries, we should be forced to return to life." "Bravo, Rantoul!"
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