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Updated: May 11, 2025
"Inform the marquis, if you please." "The cabinet-maker, Lamber, you mean," whispered the clerk. "He is not as far away as you; he lives directly opposite, and he has been standing all day at the house-door waiting for the sign."
Her poetry shows a vigor, depth, precision of form, and strength of expression seldom found in poetry of French women. One of the most conspicuous figures in the latter half of the nineteenth century is Mme. Adam,—Juliette Lamber,—an unusual woman in every respect.
No more of that; I could not bear it," she said, with a great sigh that seemed as if it would burst her bosom; "it is very very painful to me; but I must endeavour to bring your heart to understand me, it must be your heart, Lamber your heart, Signor Marchese; for one does not arrive at the understanding of such things with the head.
I am sick with longing to do so; but I am so absolutely forced to spend the evening of the 19th in Paris that I do not know if I shall have the time. You must tell me. I can get a word from you the 16th in Paris, 97 rue des Feuillantines. I shall not be alone; I have as a travelling companion a charming young literary woman, Juliette Lamber.
Ah, Marchese, a poor girl exposed to the world, as I have been from my cradle upwards, has to suffer much that might well move the pity of a generous heart; but it is nothing nothing nothing to the tragedy of the misery, the shame, the remorse that comes upon her when at last the day shall come that her heart speaks and shows to her the awful chasm the immeasurable gulf that separates such I cannot, Lamber pardon, I don't know what I am saying; I cannot go on I cannot put it into words!
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