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Guimard called her "L'araignée," and Sophie Arnould christened her "the little silkworm," for the sake of the joke about "la feuille." But such spiteful raillery did not prevent her charming men to her feet whom greater beauties had failed to captivate. Houdon the sculptor molded her foot, and the great painters vied for the privilege of decorating the walls of her hotel.
"Mais mais de grace! ca ne finira jamais jamais, s'il faut repondre a tes sottises, Marie. Recommencons." Mademoiselle, golden top-knot shining and shaking, blue eyes rolling between black lashes. "De ta tige detachee, Pauvre feuille dessechee" Detachee dessechee. They didn't rhyme. Their not rhyming irritated her distress.
"The Baron de Lacy, now Comte d'Epinay, ambassador at the Court of , and, if report speak true, likely soon to exchange that post for the porte feuille of Minister." "He has got on in life since I saw him last, the little Baron. He was then my devoted imitator, and I was not proud of the imitation."
"Oh!" replied Aunt Juley, rather flustered, "it was so alluring, and her eyes and hair, you know...." She was silent, as if surprised in some indelicacy. "Feuille morte," she added suddenly; "Hester do remember that!".... Considerable debate took place between the two sisters whether Timothy should or should not be summoned to see Annette. "Oh, don't bother!" said Soames.
It seemed strange to Juliette that there did not hang over it some sort of pall-like presentiment of coming evil. From the kitchen, at some little distance from the hall, Anne Mie's voice was heard singing an old ditty: "De ta tige detachee Pauvre feuille dessechee Ou vas-tu?" Juliette paused a moment.
"Vos doigts tremblent comme la feuille, et vos joues sont rouges: mais, rouges comme des cerises!" "I am hot, Adele, with stooping!" She went on sketching; I went on thinking. I hastened to drive from my mind the hateful notion I had been conceiving respecting Grace Poole; it disgusted me. I compared myself with her, and found we were different.
"I know that only too well," said Andrews. "Monsieur est etranger...." began the woman in a wheedling tone, when she had received the money. "Yes. I was only demobilized a short time ago." "Aha! Monsieur est demobilise. Monsieur remplira la petite feuille pour la police, n'est-ce pas?" The woman brought from behind her back a hand that held a narrow printed slip. "All right.
Yet they romance, in their way, on rural subjects: "A la campagne," says one of their poets, "ou chaque feuille qui tombe est une elegie toute faite." Through an avenue of scraggy poplars we approach a dilapidated chateau, whose owner is playing dominoes at the cafe of the nearest provincial town, or exhausting the sparse revenues of the estate at the theatres, roulette-tables, or balls of Paris.
He then told me, what I already knew, that he had a very beautiful wife, of whom he was passionately fond; that having on one occasion perceived her kissing a little 'porte feuille', he endeavoured to get possession of it, supposing there was some mystery attached to it.
One day that she suddenly left the room to go upstairs to see her sister, who had been brought to bed, he took the, opportunity of opening the porte feuille, and was very much surprised to find in it a portrait of the King, and a very tender letter written by His Majesty.
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