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Updated: June 21, 2025
Where's my sturgeon? "'He's got away when, I fall in, he's say. "'How much you goin' give me for lose my big sturgeon? she's ask. "'How much you'll want, Alphonsine? "'Two dollare. "'Dat's too much for one sturgeon, he's say. For all he was not feel fit for die, he was more 'fraid for pay out his money. "'Let him down some more, Alphonsine she's say. "'Oh. misère, misère!
She's try hard, hard, but she hain't able. De net is down in de rapid, an' she's only able for hang on to de hannle. Den I'll know she's got one big sturgeon, an' he's so big she can't pull him up. "Monjee! what I care 'bout dat! I'll laugh me. Den I'll laugh good some more, for I'll want Alphonsine for see how I'll laugh big. And I'll talk to myself: "'Dat's good for dose Seguins, I'll say.
I heard that she was ill; no, not dying, but very ill. Alphonsine gave me her address; a little higher up on the same side as the Cirque Fernando, nearly facing the Elysee Montmartre. The number I could inquire out, she said, and I went away in a cab up the steep and stony Rue des Martyres, noticing the cafe and then the brasserie and a little higher up the fruit-seller and the photographer.
"Madame Pace is some time gone at the boucher, not expecting callers at so early heur. La Marquise demanded not Madame Pace; but said very distinctment 'Madame Brune et sa fille'." "Very well, Alphonsine, thank you so much. My daughter and I will come down immediately," said Mrs. Brown, smiling at the agitation of the little maid. Mrs.
I sing "Juliet" on Friday night and sail the next morning. 'On the Leofric? 'Yes. 'So do I. We shall cross together. 'How delightful! I'm so glad! Good-night again. Alphonsine was standing at the open door of the dressing-room in the bright light, and Margaret nodded and went in.
Then she took a book and went on deck again, and Alphonsine found her chair on the sunny side and installed her in it very comfortably and covered her up, and to her own surprise she felt that she was very sleepy; so that just as she was wondering why, she dozed off and began to dream that she was Isolde, on board of Tristan's ship, and that she was singing the part, though she had never sung it and probably never would.
This was the best of dreams: it was real. The lark's song and Harry's happy laughter were loud in her ears; and she rolled over in her bed and opened her eyes on Grandmother and Aunt Alphonsine.
If ever you see one angry old rascal! He not even stop for say: 'T'ank you for save me from be drown' dead in the culbute! He's run for his house an' he's put on dry clo'es, an' he's go up to de magistrate first ting for learn me an' Alphonsine one big lesson. "But de magistrate hain' ver' bad magistrate. He's only laugh an' he's say:
It was true that since the great singer had closed her long career and had retired to live in the country, in Provence, she dressed with such simplicity as made it possible for her to exist without the long-faithful, all-skilful, and iron-handed Alphonsine; and the maid, on her side, was so thoroughly a professional theatrical dresser that she must have died of inanition in what she would have called private life.
It was not so easy to forgive Aunt Alphonsine, for her voice had been as sharp as it could be without being honestly angry, like bad wine instead of good vinegar, and had run indefatigably up the switchbacks on which the voices of Frenchwomen travel eternally. She was the most responsible for the defeat of Marion's life. And yet Aunt Alphonsine too was not malignant of intent.
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