United States or Canada ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
He relieved me of such dreadful anxiety the other night." "Is Henri not at home?" broke in Monsieur Letellier. "No, he will be away some time yet," was Juliette's reply. "But you're not going away; you'll dine with us," she continued, addressing Mademoiselle Aurelie, who had risen as if to leave with Madame Grandjean.
It seemed to her prodigious that Helene should be standing there speaking to her of her husband. But Helene made an angry gesture. "Oh! if you think I've time to explain," said she, "he is on the way here. I give you warning. Disappear at once, both of you." Then Juliette's agitation became extraordinary. She ran about the rooms like a maniac, screaming out disconnected sentences.
On the ground there was a valise, ready strapped as if or a journey, and on the top of it a bulky letter-case of stout pigskin, secured with a small steel lock. Juliette's eyes fastened upon this case with a look of fascination and of horror.
"Her name!" insisted the old man. The tone was so sharp, so imperative, that the concierge was upset. "Madame Juliette Chaffour," he answered. "On what floor does she reside?" "On the second, the door opposite the stairs." A minute later, the old man was waiting in Madame Juliette's drawing-room. Madame was dressing, the maid informed him, and would be down directly.
Barebone had unceremoniously dragged his hand away from the hold of Juliette's fingers. He made a step back and then turned toward the door at the sound of his shipmate's well-known voice. He stood staring out into the darkness like one who is walking in his sleep. No one spoke, and through the open doorways no sound came to them but the song of the wind through the rigging.
She seemed to be gathering all the mental force of which her brain was capable, for one great effort of self-control. Then she took Juliette's hand in hers, and turned to go out of the room; the gentlemen bowed as she swept past them, her rich silken gown making a soft hush-sh-sh as she went.
"Clergeot," thought he, "didn't exaggerate a bit." Juliette's entrance disturbed his reflections. She had taken off her dress, and had hastily thrown about her a loose black dressing-gown, trimmed with cherry-coloured satin. Her beautiful hair, slightly disordered after her drive, fell in cascades about her neck, and curled behind her delicate ears. She dazzled old Tabaret. He began to understand.
Juliette's education was continued at home, under her mother's superintendence; but she excelled in nothing especially except music and dancing, and was only marked for grace, beauty, and good-nature. Among the visitors to her father's house was Jacques Rose Récamier, a rich banker, born in Lyons, 1751, kind-hearted, hospitable, fine-looking, and cultivated, but of frivolous tastes.
In the first part of my Memoirs I have spoken of Juliette's beauty; she had a wonderful charm in her countenance, but she had already used her advantages too long, and her beauty was beginning to fade when she arrived in Fontainebleau.
Now he entered it himself, his narrow eyes trying to pierce the semi-obscurity, which was rendered more palpable by the briljant light in the hall. He had not seen Juliette's gesture, but he had heard the frou-frou of her skirts, as she seated herself upon the sofa. "You are not alone Citizen-Deputy, I see," he said, with a sneer, as his snakelike eyes lighted upon the young girl.
Word Of The Day