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Updated: May 18, 2025
You see, I've been rather overcome by the sense of my own importance. I'm not used to being the head of an establishment. It has dazed me. A great many things have happened to me since I left the Gare de l'Est last night." He was considerate in not referring to his unhappy mode of travelling. "For instance, I've completely lost my head."
And so it happened that the whole party invaded three first-class compartments of an east-bound train at the Gare de l'Est, and twenty-two hours later were trooping up the terrace steps of the Château Morteyn, here in the forests and fragrant meadows of Lorraine.
Those travellers desirous of making the journey Paris-ward via Troyes are therefore forced to take tickets to Is-sur-Tille, half an hour by rail from Dijon, on the Ligne de l'Est. There they are permitted, and not before, to take through tickets and register baggage to Paris.
We fared past the merchants' stores, the Cercle Bougainville, and the steamship wharf, and over the Pont de l'Est, or Eastern bridge, to Patutoa. The princess pointed out to me many wretched straw houses, crowded in a hopeless way. They were like a refugee camp after a disaster, impermanent, uncomfortable, barely holding on to the swampy earth.
The Count, recovering his presence of mind, and presence of countenance, turned to a little Cupid on the mantel-piece; and, playfully doing homage before it, repeated, "Qui que tu sois voici ton maitre, Il l'est, le fut ou le doit etre." "Oh! charming oh! for a translation!" cried Mrs.
Les Noellets of Rene Bazin, M. Maurice Barres' impassioned series, Les Bastions de l'Est, enjoy immense popularity, and within the last few months have appeared two volumes which fully confirm the views of their forerunners M. Hallays' impressions of many wayfarings and Apres quarante ans by M. Jules Claretie, the versatile, brilliant and much respected administrator-general of the Comedie Francaise.
"Pray forgive me, your Highness," he said. "If I have to raise such a large sum before seven o'clock I cannot lose an instant." "I shall see you off from the Gare de l'Est," cried Marulitch hurriedly, and the two quitted the room in company. Alec went to pay a brief visit to his mother, and Prince Michael was left alone with the rugged old General. Then, for a few seconds, he became a man.
The suburbs of Paris around the Gare de l'Est the Plain of St. Denis and all the small villages, with kitchen gardens, rows of green vegetables under glass "cloches" are anything but interesting. It was not until we got near Gréty and alongside of Ferrières, the big Rothschild place, that we seemed to be in the country.
Little more than two hours ago he was driving through the Bois with no other notion in his brain than to seek a means of earning a livelihood; yet here he was at the Gare de l'Est carrying a sword as a symbol of kingship. A sword, wrapped in brown paper, tied with string! Suppose, by some lucky chance, Joan met him now, would she sympathize, or laugh?
Austrian, Russian, English, and American gold was pouring into the city pouring in ceaselessly from the four corners of the world and by every great express disgorging at the Gare du Nord, the Gare de l'Est, and the Gare de Lyons.
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