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Updated: June 22, 2025
"Pity Kurz Pacha drinks so abominably. He quite forgets what he's saying!" I suppose he does, if Mrs. P. says so; but he seems to know well enough all the time: as he did that evening in the library at Mrs. Potiphar's, when he drew Cerulea Bass to the book-shelves, and began to dispute about a line in Milton, and then suddenly looking up at the books, said "Ah! there's Milton; now we'll see."
Gnu, at whom he had been constantly looking, and who was playing placidly with her bouquet, and said with an air of one paying a great compliment: "To offer you a bouquet, madame, would be to throw pearls before swine." We were all silent for a moment, and then the young men sprang up together, while we women laughed, half afraid. "Good heavens! Kurz Pacha, what do you mean?" cried Mrs. Potiphar.
Suddenly there was a knock at the door, and an exquisite bouquet was handed in for Kurz Pacha. "Why didn't you wait until to-morrow?" said he, sharply. The man stammered some excuse, and the ambassador took the flowers. Mrs. Gnu looked at them closely, and praised them very much, and quietly glanced at her own, which were really splendid.
"Oh! we'll take care of all the arrangements," said Mr. Boosey, nodding toward Mr. Croesus and Mr. Firkin. "Mr. Boosey, were you presented to the Emperor?" inquired Kurz Pacha. "Certainly I was," replied he; "I have a great respect for Louis Napoleon.
That is Mrs. Vite." Kurz Pacha rolled up his eyes. "Good Jupiter! Miss Minerva," cried he, "is this you that I hear? Why you are warmer in your denunciation of this little wisp of a woman than you ever were of fat old Madame Gorgon, with her prodigious paste diamonds. Really, you take it too hard.
P. says, in a loud, slow voice "Hotel Mureece, Kattery-vang-sank-o-trorsyaim." It is astonishing, as Kurz Pacha said that we are not more respected abroad. "Foreigners will never know what you really are," said he to Mr. P., "until they come to you. Your going to them has failed." Good bye, dearest Mrs. Downe. We are so sorry to come home! You won't hear from us again. Your ever affectionate
Cream Cheese, tenderly respectful of Mammon while ritually serving God; no factitious Ottoman of a Kurz Pasha, laughingly yet sadly observant of us playing at the forms of European society. Those devices of the satirist belonged to the sentimentalist mood of the Thackerayan epoch. But it is astonishing how exactly history repeats itself in the facts of the ball in 1910 from the ball of 1852.
They entered making a great noise, and I could see that the modesty of our friends kept them in the rear. For they seemed almost afraid of being seen. "I like that," said Kurz Pacha; "it shows that such stern republicans don't intend ever to appear delighted with the smiles of nobility." "The largest one is Madame la Marquise Casta Diva," said Mrs.
"People respect money, my dear," said Mrs. Potiphar to me. "But not always its owners, my dear," whispered Kurz Pacha in my other ear. When we entered the box all the glasses in the house were levelled at us. Mrs.
I don't say certainly, that there's a higher tone of life in London or Paris than in New York, but only that, whatever it may be there, this, at least, is rather a miserable business." "What is your theory of life, then?" asked I. "What do you propose?" Kurz Pacha smiled again. "Suppose, Miss Minerva, I say the Golden Rule is my theory of life.
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