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Updated: April 30, 2025
When the Cenacle friends or some brother-painter, like Schinner, Pierre Grassou, Leon de Lora, a very youthful "rapin" who was called at that time Mistigris, discussed a picture, she would come back afterwards, examine it attentively, and discover nothing to justify their fine words and their hot disputes.
She remained at the Cenacle for some time after her midnight visit to the tribunal of Caiphas, powerless and speechless from grief; but when Jesus was dragged forth from his prison, to be again brought before his judges, she arose, cast her veil and cloak about her, and said to Magdalen and John: 'Let us follow my Son to Pilate's court; I must again look upon him. They went to a place through which the procession must pass, and waited for it.
The painter was never seen till dinner-time, and his evenings were spent at the Cenacle among his friends. He read a great deal, and gave himself that deep and serious education which only comes through the mind itself, and which all men of talent strive after between the ages of twenty and thirty.
After some private opposition, overcome by d'Arthez without Lucien's knowledge, the newcomer was at length judged worthy to make one of the cenacle of lofty thinkers. Henceforward he was to be one of a little group of young men who met almost every evening in d'Arthez's room, united by the keenest sympathies and by the earnestness of their intellectual life.
At the thought that she might, if she survived her father and she remained free, retire to the 'Dames du Cenacle, she felt at her approaching marriage an inward repugnance, which augmented still more the proof of her future husband's deplorable character. Had she the right to form such bonds with such feelings?
"I am progressing.... I laugh when I wish to weep.... But you yourself would not have laughed had you seen the fervor of charming Fanny. She was the picture of blissful faith. Do not scoff at her." "And where did the ceremony take place?" asked Dorsenne, obeying the almost suppliant injunction. "In the chapel of the Dames du Cenacle."
There is probably nothing rightly thought or rightly written on this matter of love that is not a piece of the person's experience. I remember an anecdote of a well-known French theorist, who was debating a point eagerly in his cénacle. It was objected against him that he had never experienced love.
"I am progressing.... I laugh when I wish to weep.... But you yourself would not have laughed had you seen the fervor of charming Fanny. She was the picture of blissful faith. Do not scoff at her." "And where did the ceremony take place?" asked Dorsenne, obeying the almost suppliant injunction. "In the chapel of the Dames du Cenacle."
He should meet with fellow-feeling, and something of the kindly and grateful affection which he found in the cenacle of the Rue des Quatre-Vents. Tormented by emotion, consequent upon the presentiments to which men of imagination cling so fondly, half believing, half battling with their belief in them, he arrived in the Rue Saint-Fiacre off the Boulevard Montmartre.
The painter was never seen till dinner-time, and his evenings were spent at the Cenacle among his friends. He read a great deal, and gave himself that deep and serious education which only comes through the mind itself, and which all men of talent strive after between the ages of twenty and thirty.
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