Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 2, 2025
Who but a Latin can understand the wild abandon of a festa? who but he can enter into the spirit of the many fête-days sanctioned by his ancient Church? Armand Dupleisis, in his seat over the sea, stared absently at the jocose revelers, for he was a stranger in a strange land.
No power under heaven can get you out of Rio." For the first time her countenance changed, and she looked at Dupleisis with a smile of contemptuous pity. "So I was not wrong in suspecting you to be an agent of the police. How strong an alloy of cunning exists in every fool! The man whom you believe to have stolen a million is my own brother.
Moving the piles of thread and embroidery silk to the side of the table, he touched a spring, and a lid flew up. The table, though presenting the appearance of fragility itself, was really of iron, and contained a vault that would puzzle the most expert of burglars. Just then Dupleisis called from the street, and both Reed and Edgar Fay went out on the gallery to see him.
The glowing sunshine faded entirely out of the sky, the thick-walled houses flickered faintly through their staring casements, the lamps on the streets glimmered dismally at the returning crowds, and one by one the lights began to quiver on the water. The Passeio, an hour before too cramped for the multitude, was now deserted; but Dupleisis, nothing daunted, smoked on.
It was brilliant, bewildering; but the dazzle was like the frozen glitter of an icicle. Suddenly, a look of unmitigated scorn swept across her face, and the music ceased. She eyed Dupleisis for a moment half defiantly, and asked, "Would you really like to hear me sing?" Dupleisis answered, earnestly, "Yes." A plaintive prelude followed, and her voice mingled with it almost imperceptibly.
"My family were treated shabbily; 'the muse is a maiden of good memory, but a cocote; my satiric efforts were rewarded by a lettre de cachet." "What a loss to France!" "At the accession of the Emperor, I returned, a prodigal son of Mars, and now manage to sustain myself by " "By writing sonnets to Brazilian hospitality," interrupted mademoiselle. Dupleisis bowed gravely.
"The prosy geologist talks pedantically of a granite rock, and is mute when he sees the flower that blooms above it." "Mon Dieu, M. Dupleisis! I cannot sit by and hear Chamfort so ruthlessly robbed." "Mademoiselle, you are unkind. I say nothing complimentary but you cry, 'Stop thief!" The lady played a few sparkling bars, and sang.
Armand Dupleisis, long since become acquainted, stood examining a bouquet of roses and geraniums in the music-room of Mademoiselle Milan, and the lady was seated near him, trifling with the keys of her piano. "I gaze on beauty, mademoiselle, to accustom my eyes to divinity." "Really! Were it not for his gigantic proportions, one would suppose man was reared in an atmosphere of compliment."
Since reaching Rio, Dupleisis had searched for these three, and he liked this one the best. Reed took out his eye-glass, and, adjusting it carefully on his nose, surveyed Dupleisis deliberately from head to foot. "You'll do," he remarked, after some little thought; "but I still believe that in your bread-and-butter days some friend thought you sarcastic.
"Through the influence of my friends, I entered the École Polytechnique, and, after graduating, cut the army, and cast my fate, for better or for worse, in the flowery paths of literature." "Now, do not say it proved for worse." "It was for worse," said Dupleisis.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking