Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 3, 2025
Lampron has gone to the country to pass a fortnight in an out-of-the-way place with an old relative, where he goes into hiding when he wishes to finish an engraving. But Madame Lampron was at home. After a little hesitation I told her all, and I am glad I did so. She found in her simple, womanly heart just the counsel that I needed. One feels that she is used to giving consolation.
He retired calling me Monsieur le Comte; and all for two sous O fatherland of Brutus! The letter was from Lampron, who had forgotten to put a stamp on it. "MY DEAR FRIEND: "Madame Plumet, to whom I believe you have given no instructions so to do, is at present busying herself considerably about your affairs.
"Gentlemen!" said Lampron, with a sweep of his arm which took in the whole of the Place de la Concorde, "allow me to present to you the intending successor of Counsellor Mouillard, lawyer, of Bourges. Every inch of him a man of business!" We were getting near.
I am Monsieur Charnot of the Institute." Lampron gave a glance in my direction, and his frown melted away. "Excuse me, Monsieur; I only know you by your back. Had you shown me that side of you I might perhaps have recognized "
"She will come, my dear sir; but I shall not be there to see her." "Are you going?" "I leave you to stalk your game; be patient, and do not forget to come and tell me the news this evening." "I promise." And Lampron vanished. The drawing was hung about midway between two doorways draped with curtains, that opened into the big galleries. I leaned against the woodwork of one of them, and waited.
And at least I shall bask in her smile, the sound of her voice, the glints of gold about her temples, and the pleasure of knowing that she is near even when I do not see her. On second thoughts; no; I will not go to Florence. As I always distrust first impulses, which so often run reason to a standstill, I had recourse to a favorite device of mine. I asked myself: What would Lampron advise?
The girl was carried off, struck down by a brief illness, soon dead; the man, hurled out of heaven, bruised, a fugitive also, is still so weak in presence of his sorrow that even after these long years he can not think of it without weeping." Lampron actually was weeping, he who was so seldom moved. Down his brown beard, tinged already with gray, a tear was trickling.
I answered with foolish warmth: "Please yourself; I don't care." Really I was very much annoyed, and I was rather cool with Lampron when we parted on the platform. What has come to the fellow? To refuse to show me a sketch he had made before my eyes, and a sketch of Jeanne, too! April 28th, 9 A.M.
He is nearly twenty years older than I. That explains his forbearance. Besides, between an artist like him and a dreamer like myself there is only the difference of handiwork. He translates his dreams. I waste mine; but both dream. Dear old Lampron! Kindly, stalwart heart! He has withstood that hardening of the moral and physical fibre which comes over so many men as they near their fortieth year.
"I must believe so." "It is a very touching story. Are you fond of Monsieur Lampron?" "Beyond expression, Mademoiselle; he is so openhearted, so true a friend, he has the soul of the artist and the seer. I am sure you would rate him very highly if you knew him." "But I do know him, at least by his works. Where am I to be seen now, by the way? What has become of my portrait?"
Word Of The Day
Others Looking