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Updated: May 6, 2025
I began: 'BRAHMA! DIEU DES CROYANTS, and sang it as I might have sung 'DO, RE, MI. Brahma was nothing to me. 'Stop! cried Madame Blanche in her most imperious manner. 'Ah, vous Anglais! What are you doing? BRAHMA, c'est un Dieu! He may not be YOUR God. He may not be MY God. But he is somebody's God. He is the God of the song. Ecoutez! And she lifted her head and sang: 'Brahma!
Dieu des croyants! Maitre des cites saintes! with her beautiful brow illumined, and a passion of religious fervour which thrilled one's soul. It was a lesson I never forgot. I can honestly say I have never sung a song tamely, since." "Fine!" said Garth Dalmain. "I like enthusiasm in every branch of art. I never care to paint a portrait, unless I adore the woman I am painting." Jane smiled.
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