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Updated: June 15, 2025
Her portraits are in private hands in various cities, and her works have been exhibited in Paris, New York, Philadelphia, Chicago, Boston, etc. She paints in both oil and water-colors. <b>KAYSER, EBBA.</b> Medals in Vienna, Dresden, and Cologne for landscapes and flower pieces. Born in Stockholm, 1846.
It was a miracle that he had just been able to exchange a few words with Mademoiselle Kayser and Ramel. The vulgarity of the place had at once impressed him, the more so because he was the object of attraction for all those crowded faces.
He would merely question Vaudrey. As soon as Jouvenet, always polite, grave and impassive, had left "Monsieur le Ministre" in a state of visible nervousness, almost of anxiety, he entered upon his plan. "You know Mademoiselle Kayser intimately then?" he asked Vaudrey, who, taken aback, looked at him for a moment without replying and endeavored to grasp Lissac's purpose.
In passing before Marianne, he tried to look aside, but Mademoiselle Kayser stopped him in spite of himself, by slightly extending her foot and smiling at him, when he turned toward her, with a prolonged, interested and strange expression. Adrienne felt that she was about to faint. She took a few tottering steps out of the salon, then she stopped as if her head were swimming.
In the Persian version, unlike the other legends, the cat is owned by a poor widow, who had been impoverished through her sons, and was left with only a cat. The sale of the cat produces great wealth; and the widow, Kayser, immediately sends for her sons to share her newly-acquired fortune. What follows is different to the other versions of these wonderful cat stories.
How then, seeing that her uncle was so shabby, could the niece be so sumptuously established? Kayser, whom he had once met at Marianne's, had answered such a question by remarking that his niece was a sly puss who understood life thoroughly and would be sure to make headway. But that was all. "I have suspected for a long time that that little head was not capable of much," the painter had added.
It was there that José had regaled Marianne and Guy with coffee served in Turkish fashion, and while they chatted, they had smoked that pale Oriental tobacco, that the Spaniard, quoting some Persian poets, gallantly compared to the perfumed locks of Mademoiselle Kayser.
"Oh! let your saint come later," said Marianne, "I haven't time." Simon Kayser did not ask the young woman, moreover, why "she had not time." Marianne was perfectly free. Each managed his affairs in his own way. Such, in fact, was one of the favorite axioms of this painter, a man of principle.
Her part was to carry on these two intrigues simultaneously, leading Rosas to believe that the minister was her friend only, nothing more, the patron of Uncle Kayser, and making Vaudrey think that since she had dismissed the duke he had become resigned and would "suppress his sighs." She could have sworn, in all sincerity, that José was not her lover.
He turned on his heels away from this worthless fellow, and entered the Chamber. He heard an outburst of bravos; a perfect tempest of enthusiasm reached him. He looked on and bit his lips. Lucien Granet was in the tribune, and the majority were applauding him. Marianne Kayser had the good taste, and perhaps the good sense not to desire a solemnized marriage.
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