Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 15, 2025
"What! it is you, is it, my dear Frantz?" How coolly she says it, the little rascal! "I knew you at once." Ah, the little iceberg! She will always be the same. A veritable little iceberg, in very truth. She is very pale, and her hand as it lies in Frantz's is white and cold. She seems to him improved, even more refined than before.
She tried to assume an innocent, dignified attitude; but he seized her by the arm with such force that Frantz's words came to her mind: "It will kill him perhaps, but he will kill you first." As she was afraid of death, she allowed herself to be led away without resistance, and had not even the strength to lie. "Where are we going?" she asked, in a low voice. Risler did not answer.
When Sidonie showed her Frantz's note, Madame Dobson asked: "What shall you write in reply?" "I have already written. I consented." "What! You will go away with that madman?" Sidonie laughed scornfully. "Ha! ha! well, hardly! I consented so that he may go and wait for me at the station. That is all. The least I can do is to give him a quarter of an hour of agony.
It may be that the thought that another woman loved her betrothed had made Frantz's love more endurable to her at first; and, just as we place statues on tombstones to make them appear less sad, Desiree's pretty, little, pale face at the threshold of that uninviting future had made it seem less forbidding to her. "No!
As for Frantz's rival, he generously abandoned the charming Suzel to her lover, who hastened to wed her five or six years after these events. And as for Madame Van Tricasse, she died ten years later, at the proper time, and the burgomaster married Mademoiselle Pélagie Van Tricasse, his cousin, under excellent conditions for the happy mortal who should succeed him.
Perhaps some day or other: And the little cripple, leaning over her work, started upon one of those long journeys to the land of chimeras of which she had made so many in her invalid's easychair, with her feet resting on the stool; one of those wonderful journeys from which she always returned happy and smiling, leaning on Frantz's arm with all the confidence of a beloved wife.
It was no easy matter to pervert an honest young heart like Frantz's to the point of committing a crime; and in that strange contest, in which the one who really loved fought against his own cause, she had often felt that she was at the end of her strength and was almost discouraged.
She tried to assume an innocent, dignified attitude; but he seized her by the arm with such force that Frantz's words came to her mind: "It will kill him perhaps, but he will kill you first." As she was afraid of death, she allowed herself to be led away without resistance, and had not even the strength to lie. "Where are we going?" she asked, in a low voice. Risler did not answer.
At each new effusion on Risler's part, Georges Fromont shrank visibly, ashamed and embarrassed by the strange expression on Frantz's face. The breakfast was lacking in gayety. Madame Dobson talked almost without interruption, overjoyed to be swimming in the shallows of a romantic love-affair.
"What! it is you, is it, my dear Frantz?" How coolly she says it, the little rascal! "I knew you at once." Ah, the little iceberg! She will always be the same. A veritable little iceberg, in very truth. She is very pale, and her hand as it lies in Frantz's is white and cold. She seems to him improved, even more refined than before.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking