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It was the first time I had ever had a coat of new cloth. My mother had bought the material with the money I had earned. She had kept it all, and now my writings had changed into a beautiful coat, which I wore with pride and delight. No coat is so comfortable as one we have earned ourselves. The self-earned coat is the royal mantle of the poor." "But we need not be poor," scolded Conrad.
Poor Conrad had begged, as for his very life, that he might be spared the misery of sitting in judgment upon his cousin's crime, but it did not avail. The saddest heart in all that great assemblage was in Conrad's breast. The gladdest was in his father's.
Therefore, what wonder is it that when he says a thing, he thinks the world listens; that when he does a thing the world stands still to look; and that when he suffers, there is a convulsion of nature? When I met Conrad, he was "Superintendent of the Gold Hill Assay Office" and he was not only its Superintendent, but its entire force.
Nothing is more convenient than a muse whose complete works are printed; one knows then what to expect, and you have not always the reading of Damocles hanging over your head. Dragged by a fatality that so often makes me the victim of women I do not admire, I became the Conrad, the Lara of this Byronic heroine. Every morning she sent me folio-sized epistles, dated three hours after midnight.
Boltay has empowered me to satisfy any claim whatever that may be made upon him." "Well, what then?" "Why, then," said Alexander, smoothing out the letter with his hand, "I am ready to settle this account also whenever and wherever you please." Conrad looked at Livius. "This lad seems disposed to joke with us," said he. "I am not joking, gentlemen. Since yesterday I have become Mr.
And now we are waiting, with monster cannons trained on every city and seaport, and huge aeroplanes ready to spring into the air and drop bombs every one of which will obliterate a whole street, and poison gases that will strike multitudes dead with a breath, until one of you gentlemen rises in his helplessness to tell us, who are as helpless as himself, that we are at war again. CONRAD. Aha!
"You used not to taunt me with my age before we were married, Conrad." "Do I taunt you with it now? I only say that a woman of forty," Mrs. Winstanley shuddered "ought to have more sense than a girl of eighteen; and that a woman who had had twenty years' experience of well-bred society ought not to put on the silly jealousies of a school-girl trying to provoke a quarrel with her first lover."
Of course they were intended for the gentlemen from Nuremberg and their guests. Dietel, too, now knew them, and saw that the party numbered a person no less distinguished than the far-famed and highly learned Doctor and Imperial Councillor, Conrad Peutinger. They were riding to Cologne together under the same escort.
"It will show the world," said Conrad, "that a poet need not be a regular professor in order to be called into the society of kings and princes. You must go the king expects you; and if you do not go, you will appear as the Austrians do, afraid of the King of Prussia." "That is true," said Gellert, whose excitement had somewhat subsided; "it will look as though I were afraid."
"I thank you," said Florestan, dryly: "I cannot accompany you." "Then, good-bye. Have you had a dispute with my wife? See, she is getting into the carriage without speaking to you!" "Cousin!" said Conrad, waiting through deference for the duke. "Get in, get in," cried he: and stopping for a moment in the porch, he admired the viscount's equipage. "Are these your sorrels, Saint Remy?" "Yes."
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