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And we carried in our hands bouquets of violets when we stood before Goethe's house to pay our respects to the lady who in these bustling days remains a revered memento of the times of Carl Augustus and his poet-friend Ottilie von Goethe. The beloved daughter-in-law of the great master of song lives in the poet's house in the utmost seclusion: few strangers know that she receives visitors.
At Marseilles lived a poet-friend of his named Mery, whom he had enlisted as a collaborator in his teeming dramatic schemes. Him he commissioned to bargain for certain articles of vertu which Lazard, the famous dealer in antiquities, quoted too dear eight hundred francs for a mirror, and five hundred for a statuette.
It is an exquisite addition to a branch of English literature, which is already very rich, the poetry of elegiacal regret. I do not know where there is to be found a sweeter or tenderer expression of a poet's grief at the death of a poet-friend, grief mitigated only by the knowledge that the dead man's songs, his "nightingales," are outliving him.
The attraction he had always felt for his poet-friend deepened to quite a fervent intensity of admiration, but he was not the man to betray his feelings outwardly, and to shake off his emotion he rushed into speech again. "By the by, Alwyn, your old acquaintance, Professor Moxall, is very much 'down' on your book.
He brushed aside these thoughts, and centered his interest in the game which was about to begin. The vicomte drew his sword, and accepted that of Lieutenant de Vandreuil of the fort, while the Chevalier joined to his own the rapier of his poet-friend. Both the vicomte and the Chevalier held enviable reputations as fancy swordsmen.
There used to be an hour in the very early morning "the coward hour before the dawn," it is called by a poet-friend of my own when I was in the habit of waking, only to hear the sleepless thing saying, as my senses struggled back into play, "My God, can you be sleeping peacefully, with possible ruin just ahead of you?"
Such thoughts as these were in his mind now, as he ever and anon glanced across the glittering table, with its profusion of lights and flowers, to where his poet-friend sat, slightly leaning back in his chair, with a certain half-perplexed, half-disappointed expression on his handsome features, though his eyes brightened into a smile as he caught Villiers's look, and he gave the smallest, scarcely perceptible shrug, as who should say, "Is this your brilliant Duchess? your witty and cultured society?"
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