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Updated: May 9, 2025
Probably her friends would think her lucky in marrying a curate or a dispensary doctor with one hundred and fifty pounds a year, and the prospect of one-third as much again after a while. But Hyacinth remembered that he was poorer than any curate. He determined to put the matter plainly before Marion without delay.
Three years ago that is, when I left home she was the last sort of girl you could imagine going into a convent. She was pretty, fond of nice clothes and admiration, as keen as every girl ought to be on a dance. I never supposed she had a thought of religion in her head I mean, beyond the usual confessions and attendances at Mass. 'I suppose, said Hyacinth, 'your people wanted it.
He has got brains brains enough, my dear Hyacinth, to make fools of you and me every day and all day long. He has devised a new policy for Ireland. The plan is simplicity itself, like all really great plans, and it must succeed. I won't go into it now, because I want you to come up to Dublin and see O'Dwyer.
What more natural than to imagine that the violets and the hyacinths, the roses and the anemones, sprang from their dust, were empurpled or incarnadined by their blood, and contained some portion of their spirit? "I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled; That every Hyacinth the Garden wears Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head.
'Well, I never thought to see this day, sir, said Gibbs, with something like tears in his voice, as he reluctantly plied his scissors upon Hyacinth Rondel's distinguished curls. 'Nor I, Gibbs nor I! said Rondel sadly, relapsing into silence again, with his head meekly bent over the white sheet spread to catch his shorn beauty.
For the free embodiment of the poet can blossom only from out the studio of the historian, as the flower from the seed; as, by a reciprocal organic action, the hyacinth is derived from the onion, and the rose from its seed-capsule, so are history and poetry combined in the Historical Romance, giving and receiving life to and from each other.
They did not like to drive the stork away, therefore the old shed was left standing, and the poor woman who dwelt in it was allowed to stay: she had the Egyptian bird to thank for that; or was it perchance her reward, because she had once interceded for the nest of its black brother in the forest of Borreby? At that time she, the poor woman, was a young child, a pale hyacinth in the rich garden.
For the moment she felt grateful for the diversion, and busied herself in picking up the fragments: 'bits of glass were so dangerous, she said. But she was startled by a voice of command, such as she had never yet heard from her husband. 'Never mind the glass. I ask you again, Hyacinth, who told you anything about Osborne Hamley's state of health?
When Sterne once heard a master severely reprimanding a servant for some trifling fault, he said to the gentleman, "My dear sir, we should not expect to have every virtue under the sun for 20l. a-year." Sir Hyacinth O'Brien expected to have them for merely the promise of 20l. a-year. Though he never punctually paid his servants' wages, he abused them most insolently whenever he was in a passion.
Louise seemed to him enchanting pretty one could not call her: Eva, on the contrary, was ideal; there lay something in her appearance which made him think of the pale pink hyacinth. Every human being has his invisible angel, says the mythos; both are different and yet resemble each other. Eva was the angel; Louise, on the contrary, the human being in all its purity.
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