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Updated: June 5, 2025
Au fond, ce n'est jamais le destin, c'est toujours la sagesse, qu'il attaque." And, on the preceding page, he says: "Observons que les poètes tragiques osent très rarement permettre au sage de paraître un moment sur la scène. Ils craignent une âme haute parce que les événements la craignent." Now it is this conception of life and of drama that we find in "Monna Vanna."
Seven miles from the end of Santa Rosa Island the boats emerged from the passage between the sounds, and entered Choctawhatchee Bay. As the wind arose we struggled in rough water, shaping our course down to the inlet called East Pass, through which the tide ebbed and flowed into the bay. Here we encountered an original character known as "Captain Len Destin."
An incident of this battle mentioned by French writers and by Botta, who probably drew upon French authorities, but not found in the English accounts, shows the critical nature of the attack in the apprehension of the French. "The action of the 'Destin' was justly praised," says Lapeyrouse-Bonfils. "The fleet ran the danger of almost certain defeat, but for the bravery of M. de Goimpy.
C'est l'ascension bleue a son premier degre; Hors de l'antique et vil decombre, Hors de la pesanteur, c'est l'avenir fonde; C'est le destin de l'homme a la fin evade, Qui leve l'ancre et sort de l'ombre!
C'est le destin qui vous appelle, il faut soumettre! L'Amour sans yeux! oui! en fin, comme ca!" And before Gervase could utter a word of protest, or demand the meaning of this strange proceeding, his arms was suddenly seized and pinioned behind his back, his mouth gagged, and his eyes blindfolded. "Maintenant," continued the Nubian. "Nous irons ensemble!"
The tea's as cold as a stone!" "Le bien nous le faisons: le mal c'est la Fortune. On a toujours raison, le Destin toujours tort." Upon the early morning of the day commemorated by the historical events of our last chapter, two men were deposited by a branch coach at the inn of a hamlet about ten miles distant from the town in which Mr. Roger Morton resided.
I sometimes meet the friends of M. l'Abbé Dubois, who complain that they are forgotten. Assure him of my humble regards. His last letter ends with this peculiar Epicurean thought in poetry: Je vis éloigné de la France, Sans besoins et sans abondance, Content d'un vulgaire destin; J'aime la vertu sans rudesse, J'aime le plaisir sans mollesse, J'aime la vie, et n'en crains pas la fin.
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