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Updated: June 6, 2025
They contented themselves with breaking open my cellar, that they might drink my health, and departed. But, your highness, I had soon cause to repent of my folly. Cerise was a charming woman, and an affectionate wife in adversity, but prosperity was her ruin, as well as mine.
Though she was hopeless about pictures, and though she dressed so unevenly oh, that cerise frock yesterday at church! she must see some beauty in life, or she could not play the piano as she did.
"A pretty compliment," she rejoined, yet angry at the beast. Gaston came, took the animal's head in his hands, and whispered. Saracen became tranquil. Gaston beckoned to Mademoiselle Cerise. She came. He took her hand in his and put it at the horse's lips. The horse whinnied angrily at first, but permitted a caress from the actress's fingers. "He does not make friends easily," said Gaston.
She hunted along the stale-smelling corridors with their wallpaper of cerise daisies and poison-green rosettes, streaked in white spots from spilled water, their frayed red and yellow matting, and rows of pine doors painted a sickly blue. She could not find the number. In the darkness at the end of a corridor she had to feel the aluminum figures on the door-panels.
Sir Moses and Lady Montefiore attended Her Majesty's State Ball at Buckingham Palace. Sir Moses was dressed in his uniform, and Lady Montefiore wore a dress of superb tissue "d'or et cerise," elegantly trimmed with gold lace and ribbons, and a profusion of diamonds. They left Park Lane at nine, and it was ten when the long string of carriages allowed them to reach the Palace.
Here the renegade appeared to be much affected; he covered his face with the wide sleeve of his under garment, and was silent. "By God and his prophet, these Franks are great fools about women," observed the pacha to Mustapha. "I must own, though, that I like this princess better than Cerise, and I am very sorry that she is dead. Come, Huckaback, go on. Where did you throw yourself?"
I will not dwell upon a scene which can have no charms to those, who, like your highness, buy love ready made; I shall therefore narrate the history of Cerise, which at my request was imparted, previous to her receiving a similar confidence on my part. "My name is François."
"Do you think she suspects that I carried her away?" "She seems to know it absolutely." He stared at the fire again. "I've got a queer job on my hands, Cerise, and I rely on you to help me," said he presently, assuming a more conciliating manner. "Perhaps I'm in a box, or a hole, or whatever else you like to call it, but it's too late too back down now I must push ahead and win.
Her scorn for the wretch before her was tempered with the knowledge that his cowardly plan was doomed to defeat. It was she who had checkmated him, and she was glad. Now and again her eyes sought the clock, while she silently calculated the time to elapse before Arthur Weldon arrived. There would be a pretty scene then, Cerise would have much enjoyment in witnessing the encounter.
The former rajah of Kloeng Kloeng, now known as the Regent, a stout and jovial old gentleman arrayed in a cerise kain, a sky-blue head-cloth, and a white jacket with American twenty-dollar gold pieces for buttons, told me with a touch of pride that he had twenty-five wives in his harem.
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