United States or Bulgaria ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
He had no money, and Emile very little. "I'll get a Soeur de Charité from one of the convents. She'll come for nothing. Nursing is their work. I was I mean I'm a Catholic. She's a Catholic, too, isn't she?" "No, she hates them. She was educated in a convent, where as far as I can gather from her own account she acquired more learning than piety.
When, if ever, you can show her something really good she will be the first to encourage you. But till then I think with you that her influence in that direction would probably be discouraging. Indeed, I feel sure of it." "But if she should really begin to wonder! Perhaps she will ask. It's absurd, but I can't help feeling as if we, you and I, were conspirators, Monsieur Emile."
He liked best the company of his little French friend from Orthez, over whose shoulder his hand was laid sometimes as they strolled and chatted in two languages. He really went a long way to make French fellows popular, and the boys were sorry that little Emile was off to finish his foreign education in Germany. His English was pretty good, thanks to Matey.
Finally there are to be found, besides, certain young people, rich or poor, who embrace careers and follow them with a single heart; they are somewhat like the Emile of Rousseau, of the flesh of citizens, and they never appear in society. The diplomatic impolitely dub them fools. Be they that or no, they augment the number of those mediocrities beneath the yoke of which France is bowed down.
The chief of the cabinet, Émile Ollivier, was very nearly mobbed; but he pacified the people by a speech made from the balcony of his residence. He was at the time really unaware that more than one defeat had been sustained. Hour after hour alarming reports kept coming in; and at last, on August 9, the fatal news of three successive defeats was posted all over the city.
They had sat down together in the dark, and after some uneasy conversation, Vere, perhaps eager to make things easier between herself and "Monsieur Emile," had brought up the subject of her poems with a sort of anxious simplicity, and a touch of timidity that yet was confidential.
I can't do anything. JEAN JACQUES. Do you think I am better off than you, or that I would mind crying too, if crying would do for my breakfast? There is no use in crying; the thing is, to find our way. Let me see your watch; what time is it? ÉMILE. It is twelve o'clock, and I haven't had my breakfast. JEAN JACQUES. That is true. It is twelve o'clock, and I haven't had my breakfast, either.
The naked light shone on her bent head, and on her glittering rope of hair. A strange impulse suddenly moved Emile to finger a loose strand with a touch that had in it something of a caress. Gamin she had been, equestrienne, heroine, and now she was only a sorrowful Dolores. At last words came. She stood up and faced him, shaking back her hair. "Emile! Emile! I must give it up. I can't go on!"
One, the date of composition unknown, is dedicated "a son ami Emile Gaillard;" the other first appeared in a musical publication of Schotts' about 1842 or 1843 according to Niecks. Of this set I prefer the former; it abounds in octaves and ends with a long trill There is in the Klindworth edition a Mazurka, the last in the set, in the key of F sharp.
Or would such a critical attitude on his part toward a high authority be impertinent? The first paragraph in Rousseau's Emile runs as follows: "Coming from the hand of the Author of all things, everything is good; in the hands of man everything degenerates.
Word Of The Day