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Updated: June 27, 2025
How did I envy at that moment our friend Jack Oliver, who produces with such happy complacence his fardel of small talk, and who, as he never doubts his own powers of affording amusement, passes them current with every pretty woman he approaches, and fills up the intervals of chat by his complete acquaintance with the exercise of the fan, the FLACON, and the other duties of the CAVALIERE SERVENTE. Some of these I attempted, but I suppose it was awkwardly; at least the Lady Green Mantle received them as a princess accepts the homage of a clown.
And as he spoke, without leaving his grasp of the King's wrist, Leoni thrust the hand at liberty into his breast and drew forth a little golden flacon, which glistened in the light. "Set down the cup," said Leoni quickly, as Denis returned from the bedchamber with the water. "Now, boy, unscrew the top of this, and hold it in your hand."
I can fancy Madame de Sévigné, who was as amiable as she was clever, and whose tenderness towards her daughter is demonstrated so naturally and touchingly in the letters she addressed to her, holding the flacon now mine to the nostrils of Madame de Grignan, in whose health she was always so much more interested than in her own.
Leoni held out the little glistening flask, retaining it tightly, while Denis twisted off the tiny, cup-like top. "Not that way, boy; turn it up so that I can fill it to the brim. Now," he whispered, "empty it into the water, and screw on the top once more." This was quickly done, and the flacon replaced. "Now," continued Leoni, "hand the cup to the Comte.
You've been so good and dear and unselfish. You've always done everything I've asked, even difficult things. This is quite easy. Just lie and think about me till I come back." He bent over the bed and kissed her gently. "Ah!" she sighed. There was a flacon on the table by the bed. He expected it to be jasmine. It was lavender water; he drenched her hair and brow and hands.
An étui of gold set with oriental agates and brilliants, and a flacon of rock crystal, both of which once appertained to Madame de Sévigné, vanquished my prudence. Would that with the possession of these articles, often used by her, I could also inherit the matchless grace with which her pen could invest every subject it touched!
"Éventail," repeated Newton, who began to be amused, and who now repeated every French word after them. "Flaçon," said Charlotte, showing him the eau-de-Cologne bottle. "Chaise," cried Louise, holding up a chair. "Livre," said Nina, pointing to a book. "Mouchoir," said Caroline, holding up an embroidered handkerchief. "Montre," followed up Manchette, pointing to her mistress's watch.
The maid retired; Kathleen bent low over the feverishly parted lips, kissed them, hesitated, drew back sharply, and cast a rapid glance around the room. Then she went over to the dressing-table and lifted Rosalie's antique flaçon; and set it back slowly, as the girl turned her face on the pillow and opened her eyes. "Is that you, Kathleen?" "Yes, dear."
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