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Updated: May 15, 2025
Are you a successful suitor for the hand of Mademoiselle Vernon? Are you, Monsieur, anything to her?" This had been, to say the least of it, a very trying night for Lionel and it seemed his troubles were not yet over. He knew the Marquis Del Castello to be a parti the bluest blood in his own land would be more than satisfied with.
It was brain that was needed an understanding like Lucie's, tempered, like hers, by years, not months, of culture and refined association. It was at this point he paused in his restless walk and looked for inspiration to the far-off waters of the bluest of all seas.
Here was progress in three centuries, for the villains were now become admirals and generals in England and Holland, and constituted the main stay of these two little commonwealths, while the commanders who governed the 'invincible' fleets and armies of omnipotent Spain, were all cousins of emperors, or grandees of bluest blood.
Not a creeper, not an ivy leaf is allowed to crawl on it; weather seems to have no effect on it: it never gets to look any less new. And in summer it is worse, for then round about it blaze the reddest geraniums and the yellowest calceolarias and the bluest lobelias that it's possible to imagine." "Ghastly! What is the owner like?" "Small, with yellowish hair turning grey.
"I had three intimates among them a tall, clean-limbed fellow with the bluest and steadiest eyes I ever saw in a man, who called himself 'Nebraska'; a rangy Texan named Quint Taylor, who maintained that manual labor was a curse and quoted the Scriptures to prove it; and Tom Taggart. Tom and I were thick. I liked him, and he'd done things for me that seemed to prove that he thought a lot of me.
It fairly bristles with the masts of schooners and yachts, and the guns of torpedo destroyers, and while the architect and the grown-ups did not have a naval base in mind when the sketch was made, I do appreciate the feelings of my sons. "There's a fountain in our garden, With the brightest bluest tiles And the pleasantest stone lion Who spits into it and smiles!
"Oh, sartin, surely. 'Bout one once a week as a rule. There was one that showed here two or three nights ago no, come to think of it now, it was last night. There was a young feller nothin' but a boy dressed up in the reddest and bluest suit you ever see. And say, how he could play that old banjo!" "Oh, a banjo! Maybe it was Fred!" cried Bunny. The same thought came to his father and mother.
Jill's memory being of the kind which retains only the pleasant word and act, the disagreeable episode of the afternoon had completely evacuated that cell which in one second can raise us through the bluest ether to the heaven as understood by the prayer-book, or send us diving to the mud flats of the ocean bed to co-habit for a time with wingless and non-temperamental oddities.
Again and again through the leaden-footed hours of the night he saw the villa by Misenum, and with his little countrywoman strolled through the garden, and rested in the panelled atrium; overhead the Neapolitan sky, at their feet the sunniest of sun-lands and the bluest of bays. In plainest speech, he was entering upon a crisis with which to-morrow and the Nazarene will have everything to do.
But then there is more beauty in a heaven visioned by a congregation of worshipers than in the bluest heaven sung by the minstrel of landscapes. They are not worshipers. They are poets. It is not God they are speaking to. It is a sublime image. It is not their Creator. It is their poetic creation."
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