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Updated: June 12, 2025
He had smiled childlike on all the mischances that befell him, but he could not look and see his sublime Pons maltreated; his Pons, his unknown Aristides, the genius resigned to his lot, the nature that knew no bitterness, the treasury of kindness, the heart of gold!... Alceste's indignation filled Schmucke's soul he was moved to call Pons' amphitryons "fools."
The curtain had descended on the first act, and traditionally, as the works of M. de Moliere demanded it, the three knocks were heard again without any interval. St. The curtain was being slowly drawn up on the second act, and disclosed Alceste in wrathful conversation with Celimene. Alceste's opening speech is short.
A propos of some recent acting in London we began to talk of Moliere, and presently, as though to shut out the stream of words opposite, which was damping conversation, the old poet how the splendid brow and the white hair come back to me! fell to quoting from the famous sonnet scene in "Le Misanthrope": first of all, Alceste's rage with Phillinte's flattery of the wretched verses declaimed by Oronte "Morbleu! vil complaisant, vous louez des sottises"; then the admirable fencing between Oronte and Alceste, where Alceste at first tries to convey his contempt for Oronte's sonnet indirectly, and then bursts out: "Ce n'est que jeu de mots, qu'affectation pure, Et ce n'est point ainsi que parle la nature!"
It was very nearly dark when I rowed back to the Lyra, which had been hanging for the last half hour on the frigate's weather-quarter, at the distance of a cable's length, watching for my return. The wind was so light, and the brig so close, that no signal was made to heave to; indeed I had scarcely rowed under the Alceste's stern, on my way back, before it was necessary to call out, "In bow!"
Now, her father was some time dead; her stepmother had married Mr. Saulsbury, an elderly Nonconformist minister, who was shocked at all the ways of Alceste's admirer, and with whom she could not get on.
He had smiled childlike on all the mischances that befell him, but he could not look and see his sublime Pons maltreated; his Pons, his unknown Aristides, the genius resigned to his lot, the nature that knew no bitterness, the treasury of kindness, the heart of gold! . . . Alceste's indignation filled Schmucke's soul he was moved to call Pons' amphitryons "fools."
He had a vague idea of celestial sounds that seemed to drown him in an ocean of melody; but he heard not a note of Alceste's prayer. Every sense was stunned save one and that one was sight. "It is she," murmured he, as the siren ceased to sing: "it is she, the beautiful Pole. How resplendent she is to-night!"
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