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Updated: June 22, 2025
Plato thought that "the soul of our grandame might haply inhabit the body of a bird;" but Nature has kindly provided various types of bird-households to suit all varieties of taste. The bright orioles, filling the summer boughs with color and with song, are as truly domestic in the freedom of their airy nest as the poor hornbills who ignorantly make home into a dungeon.
I am worse off than ever were my forefathers!" "But how is it? I cannot understand," asked Friedel. "What has changed thy mind?" "Thou, and the mother, and, more than all, the grandame.
It did not, however, exculpate the grandame from the charge of forwardness, since if she wished to contract another marriage it could have been arranged legitimately by the Shadchan, and then the poor marriage-broker, who got little enough to do in this God-forsaken village, might have made a few Gulden out of it.
Lazy Koppel only wanted an excuse, or, if not, the woman was old and useless, and men could not be spared. "Ah! good grandame," said Friedel, "his father died with ours." "The more honour for him! The more he is bound to work for us. Off, junker, make no loiterers." Grieved and discomfited, Friedel betook himself to his mother and brother.
Essayist, historian, biographer, novelist, he is always intent to smooth away the asperities of his subject, and, like some stately grandame enthroned in high-backed chair, he remembers that his simple auditors are to be not merely entertained by the matter of his discourse, but impressed by the suave tones and high-bred prolixity of the speaker.
He called Lady Ebba "grandame," as Eleanor had never dared to do, and though she was as strict with him as she was with every one else, she never seemed exactly displeased with him. Roger himself saw it. "Why do you like boys better than girls?" he asked her point blank, one day. "Men can fight," Lady Ebba answered, curtly. "Of course," Roger reflected. "But women can make men fight.
With tears in her eyes and an enthusiasm that made her speech almost incoherent, the grandame talked of "Monsieur Neff," his courage, his friendliness, how he went among his people like one of themselves, and what good words he always spoke. As we left St.
Her daughter, a blooming matron, was there, happy, wealthy, good; yet not apparently a whit more reconciled to life than the aged grandame. It was pleasing, and yet it was sad, to see how well we can make up our mind to what is inevitable. And such a sight brings up to one a glimpse of Future Years.
"But then I thought of the grandame triumphing over the gentle mother and I know the mother wept over her beads half the night. She SHALL find she has had her own way for once this morning." Friedel was silent for a few moments, then said, "Let me tell thee what I saw yesterday, Ebbo." "So," answered the other brother. "I liked not to vex my mother by my tidings, so I climbed up to the tarn.
Mary, seated in the centre, is suckling her Child. St. Anna, a fat Flemish grandame, has been reading the volume of the Scriptures, and bends forward in order to remove the covering and look in the Infant's face. A cradle is near. Joseph is seen at work in the background. Le Brun. Joseph is in the act of reverently saying grace, which gives to the picture the title by which it is known.
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