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Updated: June 8, 2025
In his young enthusiasm he saw hundreds crowding round the pitch on the sands. It was as much to Bakkus's interest as to his own that the new show should succeed. And even before he had procured the costume from Covent Garden, Bakkus professed intolerable boredom. He shrugged his shoulders. Bored or not, Bakkus should go through with it.
Now she knew it was true what Bakkus had once said she had been very angry, but he was right that through the sunny nature of every child of the Midi swept the mistral. She was not very consecutive or coherent or logical. She sought clamorously for every evil influence, postwar, racial, political, that could account for the frozen failure of the evening's performance.
I had not thought indeed, I had had no time to think of the note from Bakkus which I had received the first thing in the morning, and of Lackaday's confirmation of the summons to the ailing Elodie. Women, said he, had nerves. The thunder, of course. But, thought I, with elderly sagacity, was it all thunder?
She rushed up to Bakkus and wrung both his hands, overjoyed to see him. He must pardon her flight, but really she was in a costume and not even till she took it off did she know that it was split Oh, mon Dieu! Right across. With a sweep of the hand she frankly indicated the locality of the disaster. She laughed. Well, it was good that he had arrived at last.
"I never did you the wrong, my dear, of thinking you would feel otherwise." "Neither did I, my good Elodie," said Bakkus, hurriedly opportunist. "If I have had one ambition in my life it is to sun myself in the vicarious glamour of a hero." The corsets rolled off Elodie's lap as she turned swiftly. "You really think Andre if he enlists in the English Army will be a hero?"
Bakkus," I answered rather stiffly, "that Madame Patou's unfortunate impressions are in some way justified." It was a most unpleasant conversation. I very much resented discussing Lady Auriol with Horatio Bakkus. "Not at all," said he. "But Fate has thrown you and me into analogous positions we are both elderly men me as between Lackaday and Madame Patou, you as between Lady Auriol and Lackaday."
But as soon as the talk drifted into anything allusive to war or books or art or politics, she manifested an ignorance abysmal in its profundity. I was amazed that a woman should have been for years the intimate companion of two men like Lackaday and Bakkus without picking up some superficial knowledge of the matters they discussed.
If he shrank from training another dog and yet distrusted a solo performance, what was he going to do? Take a partner like his friend she forgot the name yes, Bakkus, on whom perhaps he couldn't rely, and who naturally would demand half his salary? "Never again," Andrew declared, feeling better after a draught of old Hermitage. "The only thing I can think of is to engage a competent assistant."
The scene shimmered before me and then I realized the same man in his abominable travesty of God's image, bowing before the tepid plaudits of an alien bourgeoisie in a filthy, smelly canvas circus, and I tell you I felt the agony that comes when time has dried up within one the fount of tears. Soon afterwards I met Horatio Bakkus.
With never a recrudescent Phoenix to rise up out of them. You're the dust, the merry sport of the winds of heaven." "Don't talk foolishness," said Andrew. "Was there ever a man living who used his breath for any other purpose?" "Then," said Andrew, "your talk about breaking up the partnership is mere stupidity." "It is and it isn't," replied Bakkus. "Although I hate you, I love you.
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