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The title recalls Richard Wagner’s opera Götterdämmerung, but may have been directly suggested by Elémir Bourges, whose novel Le Crépuscule des dieux appeared four years earlier than Garnett’s collection of stories. In his book Richard Garnett plays havoc with all religions. The demons, naturally enough, fare worse at his hands than the gods.
As Madame Minghetti is very musical and appreciative, all the people one meets there pretend to be musical and appreciative, and do not talk or flirt during the music; so when I sing "Medje" in the growing crepuscule I feel in perfect sympathy with my audience. Tosti and I alternate at the piano when there is nothing better. If no one else enjoys us, we enjoy each other.
It was Les Chants du Crepuscule, and thus the page sang: "Laisse-toi donc aimer! Car l'amour, c'est la vie, C'est tout ce qu'on regrette et tout ce qu'on envie Quand on voit sa jeunesse au couchant décliner. Sans lui rien n'est complet, sans lui rien ne rayonne. La beauté c'est le front, l'amour c'est la couronne. Laisse-toi couronner!"
"'Ce matin les oiseaux m'ont eveille," he read. "'Il faisait encore un crepuscule. Mais la petite fenetre de ma chambre etait bleme, et puis, jaune, et tous les oiseaux du bois eclaterent dans un chanson vif et resonnant. Toute l'aube tressaillit. J'avais reve de vous. Est-ce que vous voyez aussi l'aube?
Of "Les Feuilles d'Automne" and "Les Chants du Crépuscule" I remember nothing. Ten lines, fifty lines of "La Légende des Siècles," and I always think that it is the greatest poetry I have ever read, but after a few pages I invariably put the book down and forget it.
Of "Les Feuilles d'Automne" and "Les Chants du Crépuscule" I remember nothing. Ten lines, fifty lines of "Les Légendes des Siècles," and I always think that it is the greatest poetry I have ever read, but after a few pages the book is laid down and forgotten.
Day died slowly; the vivid crimson and dazzling gold that fired the West were reflected in the tranquil bosom of the lake, faded into the tender pale rose of the sacred lotus, into the exquisite tints that gild the outer petals of a daffodil, the heart of buttercups; and then, robed in faintest violet powdered with silvery dust, the vast pinions of Crepuscule spread over sky and water, fanning into full flame the glittering sparks of planets and constellations that lighted the chariot course of the coming moon.
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