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Updated: July 6, 2025
Quentin estate, whom the devil prompted to come up to town to-day. Mar sent him here to-night with a love-message to Lorance." "Oh," said Mayenne, slowly, "if it is a question of mademoiselle's love-affairs, it may be put off till to-morrow. It is plain to the very lackeys that you are jealous of Mar. But at present we are discussing l'affaire St. Quentin."
It was Froissart who first put me upon the track of it during one of those visits which I paid to him when I was investigating l'affaire Rust. Froissart, in imaginative insight, is as much superior to Dawson as the average Frenchman is to the average Englishman. But in execution he admits sorrowfully that he cannot hold a candle to his brutal secretive English chief.
Monsieur Louis abandoned his somewhat lounging attitude. He stood by Spencer's side, and, leaning down, whispered in his ear. Spencer's eyes grew bright. "Monsieur Louis," he said, "you play at a great game." The Baron shrugged his shoulders. "Me!" he answered. "I am but a pawn. I do what I am told." "To return for a moment to l'affaire Poynton," Spencer said. "I am in the humor to trust you.
Opening his paper, he read of "Femme coupée en morceaux" and "L'Affaire Svensen," and then a large heading, "Disparition de Lord Burnley." Henry started. Here was news indeed. And he had failed to get hold of it for his paper. Lord Burnley, it seemed, had been strolling alone about the city in the late afternoon; many people had seen him in the Rue de la Cité and the neighbourhood.
I should perhaps explain why two other essays of his, which also appeared in The Universal Review, have been omitted. The first of these, entitled "L'Affaire Holbein-Rippel," relates to a drawing of Holbein's "Danse des Paysans," in the Basle Museum, which is usually described as a copy, but which Butler believed to be the work of Holbein himself.
These contradict the DRAMATIC TEMPERAMENT of nature, as our dealings with nature and our habits of thinking have so far brought us to conceive it. They seem oddly personal and artificial, even when not bureaucratic and professional in an absurd degree. 'Autant que la Revolution, "l'Affaire" est desormais une de nos "origines."
'And, what won't interest you, his letter said, 'I have run across a curiously interesting subject, what you would call hysterical. But what, after all, is hysteria? &c., &c. 'L'affaire est dans le sac! said Merton to himself. 'Jephson and Miss Monypenny have met! Weeks passed, and one day, on arriving at the office, Merton found Miss Willoughby there awaiting his arrival.
"I thank you," Monsieur Louis answered. "I think that we will not ring the bell. It would be a pity to disturb an interview to which I have looked forward with so much pleasure." "L'affaire Poynton?" Spencer suggested. "Precisely!" "You have perhaps come to complete the little affair in which so far you have succeeded so admirably?"
Somewhere he quotes a French aphorism: "Etre riche n'est pas l'affaire, Toute l'affaire est de charmer," which might be applied to his own work. There is a deep and beneficent guile in the simplicity of his style, as limpid as a brook, and yet, as over a brook, in its overtones hover a myriad of sparkling dragon-flies and butterflies; in its depths lie a plethora of trout.
He bowed low with exaggerated grace, and kissed the tips of her fingers. "I!" he answered. "And for this time with a perfectly legitimate reason for my coming. A commission from my uncle." "L'affaire Poynton?" "Exactly, dear cousin." "But why," she asked, "did they not show you into my room?" "I learnt that my friend Sir George Duncombe was here, and I desired to see him," he rejoined.
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