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Ain't she lovely!" while she followed with eagerly admiring eyes the gossamer trail of Maryllia's white gown on the soft turf, and strained her ears to catch the sound of the sweet voice which suddenly broke out in a careless chansonette: "Tu m'aimes, cherie? Dites-moi! Seulement un petit 'oui, Je demande a toi! Le bonheur supreme Vient quand on aime, N'est-ce-pas cherie? 'Oui'!"
Like that? She affected the supercilious gestures of Englishwomen whom she had seen in the streets and elsewhere. 'No? 'Perhaps, Henry said. 'Frenchwomen are better? Yes? Dites-moi franchement. You think? 'In some ways, Henry agreed. 'You like Frenchwomen more than those cold Englishwomen who have no chic? 'When I'm in Paris I do, said Henry. 'Ah! Comme tous les Anglais!
She gave a little laugh. "What are you laughing at?" he asked. "At your sudden access of piety," said she. "At any rate," said he, "I owe no thanks to you. For all you cared, apparently, we should have spent the whole of this last precious evening surrounded by strangers." "Mamam, dites-moi ce qu'on sent Quand on aime," came the voice of Adrian from within.
"Dites-moi qu'est-ce-que ce terrible classique notte? Dites!" No one seemed prepared to answer Mademoiselle's challenge.
Just recall Kharkov, a room in Koniakine's hotel, the theatrical manager, Solovieitschik, and a certain lyrical tenor ... At that time you were not yet baroness de ..." "Mais, dites-moi, au nom de dieu, comment vous trouvez vous ici, Mademoiselle Marguerite." "But tell me, in God's name, how you have come to be here, Mademoiselle Marguerite?" "Oh, they ask us about that every day.
I can testify that he was silent perhaps because Gladys did all the talking and he looked unusually strong. They sat together most of the evening, and she only left his side to go to the piano to sing one of her 'stock' French chansons. Even then she directed it entirely at William. 'Mamman, dîtes-moi, ce qu'on sent quand on aime Est-ce plaisir, est-ce tourment?
"Dites-moi, Monsieur Hoppair," continued the valet, laying a trembling finger on the arm of the remorseless young rogue; "est-ce la France?" "One would think a man of your observation could tell that for himself. Do you not see the church-tower, with a chateau in the back-ground, and a village built in a heap, by its side. Now look into yon wood!
His book "In Arcady" contains pastoral scenes, notably an infectious romp that deserves its legend, "They danced as though they never would grow old." The next year his opus 20, "A Book of Songs," was published. It contains, among other things of merit, a lullaby, called "Sleep, Little Tulip," with a remarkably artistic and effective pedal-point on two notes (the submediant and the dominant) sustained through the entire song with a fine fidelity to the words and the lullaby spirit; a "Nocturne" in which Nevin has revealed an unsuspected voluptuousness in Mr. Aldrich' little lyric, and has written a song of irresistible climaxes. The two songs, "Dîtes-Moi" and "In der Nacht," each so completely true to the idiom of the language of its poem, are typical of Nevin's cosmopolitanism, referred to before. This same unusual ability is seen in his piano pieces as well as in his songs. He knows the difference between a chanson and a Lied, and in "Rechte Zeit" has written with truth to German soldierliness as he has been sympathetic with French nuance in "Le Vase Brisé," the effective song "Mon Desire," which in profile suggests Saint-Saëns' familiar Delilah-song, the striking "Chanson des Lavandières" and "Rapelle-Toi," one of Nevin's most elaborate works, in which Alfred De Musset's verse is splendidly set with much enharmonious color. Very Italian, too, is the "Serenade" with accompaniment
Dites-moi de ce jeune homme. She had, as it presently turned out, been asking me which of the younger French novelists was most highly thought of by English critics; so that her surprise at never having heard of the gifted young Sevre' was natural enough. We all but no, I must not say that we all have painful memories of this kind.
"Prôneurs de l'ancien régime, dîtes-moi ce que vous faites de ces belles et riches natures de femmes, qui sortent du sang genereux du peuple?" During the excitement and bustle, Mr. Chrysler also sometimes fell into the modest society of Josephte. The girl seemed sad at these times, and to be losing the serene peace which at first seemed her characteristic.
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