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Updated: June 5, 2025
It seemed to me that to be master of such circumstance and keeping would be enough of life in a certain way; and it all lingers in my memory yet, as if it were one with the gentle courtesy which welcomed me. Among my fellow-guests one night was George S. Hillard, now a faded reputation, and even then a life defeated of the high expectation of its youth.
Invariably Hillard found himself speculating on the history of this woman or that; the more gems, the more history. Here the half-world of Europe finds its kingdom and rules it madly. The fortunes these women have poured into this whirligig of chance will never be computed.
But Hillard honestly admired his brilliant rival. "Who has a part with at this next exhibition?" I asked him one day, as I met him in the college yard. " * the Post," answered Hillard. "Why call him the Post?" said I. "He is a wooden creature," said Hillard. "Hear him and Charles Emerson translating from the Latin Domus tota inflammata erat.
Between songs a man of acrobatic accomplishments would jump nimbly from the prow of one gondola to another, stepping lightly here, balancing neatly there, and always with the upturned tambourine extended for silver and copper largess. Merrihew sat in the bottom of the gondola, while Hillard lay sprawled across the cushions on the seat.
"We are going back to the Sabine Hills, Enrichetta and I." The old man rubbed his hands joyously. "Eh, carissime?" "Yes, father," with a smile which had neither gladness nor interest in it. "But dare you?" asked Hillard in an undertone. "Yes. A great noble has interceded for me. The news of his success came this early morning. I am free; I may walk with men again."
Quite clever with her colors, don't you know," he drawled, plucking the down on his upper lip, for he was trying to raise a mustache, convinced that two waxed points of hair at each corner of his mouth would impress the hotel waiters and other facchini baseborn. "Don't be a jackass!" Hillard was out of sorts. "You agreed with me that I was one.
How is that for a bright idea?" Merrihew had regained his usual enthusiasm. "Let me see," said Hillard practically. "There are five of them: five hundred for tickets and doubtless five hundred more for unpaid hotel bills. It would never do, Dan, unless we wish to go home with them." "But I haven't touched my letter of credit yet. I could get along on two thousand."
"The Englishman, the Parisian and the American are the poorest linguists," said Hillard. "They are altogether too well satisfied with themselves and their environments to bother learning any language but their own, and most Americans do not take the trouble to do that." "Hear, hear!" "It is because I am a good patriot that I complain," said Hillard.
Neither individual was merged in the other. George S. Hillard, in his Six Months in Italy, when he visited the Brownings the year after their marriage, says, "A happier home and a more perfect union than theirs it is not easy to imagine; and this completeness arises not only from the rare qualities which each possesses, but from their perfect adaptation to each other.... Nor is she more remarkable for genius and learning, than for sweetness of temper and purity of spirit.
"What what?" said Uncle Davy between his sobs "I ain't a dyin', Hillard? Oh, yes, I be. Sally and Tilly both say so." "Now, look aheah, Davy, it ain't so. I've seed hundreds die yes, hundreds strong men, babes women and little tots, strong ones, and weak and frail ones, given to tears, but I've never seed one die yet sheddin' a single tear, let alone blubberin' like a calf. It's agin nature.
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