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Updated: May 15, 2025
"Alfred de Musset was a peculiar type of a peculiar time. He did not imagine: he felt, he lived, he was himself, and was original, like a new variety of flower or a new species of insect. Tennyson has gleaned from everybody's fields: our Alfred gathered only from his own. The one is made, the other is born." "Come away," said Afra impatiently: "no one can speak while Anita is on her hobby.
Pierre was there, waiting impatiently with a note from Afra. "I did not bring it in, Mademoiselle," said he, "because I am sure there is something amiss. A soldier brought the note; and he says he has orders to stay for my master's commands." Afra's note told what this meant. It was as follows: "Dearest Euphrosyne, "Do not be frightened. There is time, if you come directly.
"I shall be delighted: I am so curious to see those eccentric " Here a warning glance from Afra stopped me. But the lady only laughed and said, "You will see eccentricity enough to-morrow, if that is what you want. People who devote their minds to great objects have no time to think of little things. You had better see that Afra has on her bonnet or she will go without one."
"Do not hurry yourself, dear madam," said Afra. "We will take care that everything is done. With Madame Dessalines to direct us, we shall be quite prepared. Do not hurry yourself so, I dare say Rochambeau is not at hand at this moment." At the very next moment, however, Euphrosyne's countenance showed that she was by no means certain of this.
"Ah but, monsieur," said Afra, "you should be satisfied, and leave some little honor for the rest of us to gather. The stories one hears of your youth are like fairy-tales." "And they are true," replied the artist with evident enjoyment. "In those days I was pointed out to people when I walked the street; which, by the way, gave rise to an odd incident.
Was it not a graceful tribute to my genius?" "If a Frenchman wants to pay a compliment, he never uses one that has done duty before, but invents something new," said Afra emphatically. "What are you painting now, monsieur?" I asked. "A series of pictures called 'Pierrot the Clown. He succeeds in tricking the world in every station of life. I am just finishing his deathbed.
When at last, in the month of March, little Afra, the fair-haired niece of the portress, brought her the first snowdrop, and Kuni saw a pair of starlings enter the box on the budding linden before her window, she could no longer bear her imprisonment in the convent. Within these walls she must fade, perhaps die and return to dust.
If that sort of rule had gone on till now, we should not have had the best houses in the island full of these black upstarts; nor a mulatto governor in this very town." "And then I should not have had Afra for a friend, grandpapa." "You would have been better without, child. I do not like to see you for ever with a girl of her complexion, though she is the governor's daughter.
On board the vessel which carried these tidings was Pascal, prepared to give a different version of the late transactions, and revolving, with Afra, the means by which he might best employ such influence as he had on behalf of his friend. Theirs was a nearly hopeless errand, they well knew; but the less hopeful, the more anxious were they to do what they could. Was Euphrosyne with them? No.
Many books, written for temporary effect, had run through six or seven editions, and had then been gathered to the novels of Afra Behn, and the epic poems of Sir Richard Blackmore.
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