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In reply to my offer to remain with him, however, he thanked me heartily, and seemed gratified that he was not to be left alone in such a trying emergency. "Come," said St. Hilaire, after a pause, "I have asked for time, and am already forgetting how to employ it. Who can write here? Can you, Guilbert?" "Alas, no, sir!" said a dark grenadier, blushing to the very eyes.
She was now reduced to expedients, and seeing closed to her the doors of many of the houses in Bayeux to which her presence had formerly given tone, she went to Caen and settled in the Rue Guilbert nearly opposite the Rue Coupée.
Guida sat by the fire sewing, Biribi the dog at her feet. A little distance away, to the right of the chimney, lay Guilbert asleep. Twice she lowered the work to her lap to look at the child, the reflected light of the fire playing on his face. Stretching out her hand, she touched him, and then she smiled.
I shall expect you this evening, and he went on his way. But Renelde, who was betrothed to a young wood-cutter called Guilbert, had no intention of obeying the Count, and she had, besides, to take care of her grandmother. Three days later the Count again passed by. 'Why didn't you come? he asked the pretty spinner.
Elsewhere you may find many admirable qualities, many brilliant accomplishments, but nowhere else that revelation of an extraordinarily interesting personality through the medium of an extraordinarily finished art. Yvette Guilbert has something new to say, and she has discovered a new way of saying it. She has had precursors, but she has eclipsed them.
This quotation and others that follow come from a translation which appeared in The Daily Telegraph of a letter written by Yvette Guilbert to The Figaro. It is noteworthy that this idea of dispensing with dramatists is not new. Efforts were made in the days of Le Chat Noir to evolve a new kind of drama, in which the playwright had little concern.
Nothing could wipe that out, neither law nor nations. You are always Princess Guida, and your child is always Prince Guilbert d'Avranche and more than that." His voice became lower, his war-beaten face lighted with that fire and force which had made him during years past a figure in the war records of Europe.
"I am not afraid to die," said she, "for what have I to bind me to life now that I can never visit the spot where repose the shattered fragments of my beloved Capitaine Guilbert? But to be burned, helpless, while rescue was cut off from me by a locked door! I shrink from so terrible a fate." Subtlety, she had discovered, was thrown away upon the obtuseness of Rust.
Sir Galahad found his stay a pleasant one; there were friendly jousts in which he met some of Normandy's worshipful knights. In all of these he was victor. Sir Guilbert had full praise for the young knight. There was son of his, a youth of seventeen, who also admired the newcomer, even as Allan the boy had admired Sir Launcelot.
"Aw then, Mistress Guilbert," said one, lurching uncomfortably under her gaze, with his hands deep in his trouser pockets. "We others know better than that." "And a good thing for you, too. That kind of work won't go down in Sercq, let me tell you. Ma fé, no!" and the crowd dribbled away through the tunnel to get back to its work again.
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