Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 27, 2025
Madame de Bergenheim seemed to pay very little attention to the words addressed her; her uneasy glances wandered in every direction, into the depths of the bushes and the slightest undulations of the ground. Gerfaut understood this pantomime. He glanced, in his turn, over the place, and soon discovered at some distance a more propitious place for such a conversation as theirs.
Gerfaut hesitated a moment and looked at her supplicatingly. "I would obey," said he; "but would you have the courage to order it?" "I allow you to remain until just half past twelve," said she, as she glanced at the clock, which she could see through the half-open door.
Tell me, where did you find that headdress?" These last words were spoken with the careless, mocking gayety of a young girl. Gerfaut smiled, but he took off his cap.
This determination annoyed Christian considerably, since it threatened to ruin the plan so prudently laid out. "I am going to put our friend Gerfaut at this post," said he, whispering to the refractory hunter; "I shall be very much pleased if he has an opportunity to fire. What difference does one boar more or less make to an old hunter like you?"
"Oh, you are without pity," she said, feebly, "but I abhor you; rather, a thousand times rather, kill me!" Gerfaut was almost frightened by the agonized accent in which she spoke these words; he released her, but as he removed his arms, she reeled and he was obliged to support her. "Why do you persecute me, then?" she murmured, as she fell in a faint upon her lover's breast.
"Monsieur de Gerfaut?" continued Mademoiselle de Corandeuil, with the persistency with which aged people follow an idea, and as if determined to pass in review all the young men of their acquaintance until she had discovered her niece's secret. The latter was silent a moment before replying.
The Vicomte de Gerfaut was one of those talented beings who are the veritable champions of an age when the lightest pen weighs more in the social balance than our ancestors' heaviest sword. He was born in the south of France, of one of those old families whose fortune had diminished each generation, their name finally being almost all that they had left.
Among his guests, one only, who was seated almost opposite Bergenheim, seemed to be in the secret of his thoughts and to study the symptoms with deep attention. Gerfaut, for it was he, showed an interest in this examination which reacted on his own countenance, for he was paler than ever.
At this moment the poet felt profoundly grateful for this kindness. "Monsieur has presented himself so well," said Christian frankly, "that your recommendation, my dear aunt, in spite of the respect I have for it, will not add to my gratitude. Only for Monsieur de Gerfaut, here is a madcap little girl whom we should be obliged to look for now at the bottom of the river."
Gerfaut had a sweet, clear, tenor voice which he used skilfully, gliding over dangerous passages, skipping too difficult ones which he thought beyond his execution, singing, in fact, with the prudence of an amateur who can not spend his time studying runs and chromatic passages four hours daily.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking