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The lover, intoxicated with happiness, rushed to the place and inquired for Madame de Vernon; he was admitted and found himself face to face with Maitre Lebrun, who showed a countenance pale but chill, and gazed at him with tranquil but implacable glance.

A prospect of the neighboring hills, the steeples of Boston, and the masts of such ships as were unemployed in the harbor, all crowded with spectators, friends and foes alike in anxious suspense, made a background to the piece; and the whole together composed a representation of war that I think the imagination of Lebrun never reached." FONBLANQUE, "Burgoyne," 156. Lodge's "Washington," i, 133.

The only point I wish to make is, that Lebrun's painting Louis Quatorze painting is not the perfunctory thing we are apt to assume it to be. That is not the same thing, I hope, as maintaining that M. Bouguereau is significant rather than insipid. Lebrun was assuredly not a strikingly original painter.

Mme. Lebrun was the daughter of a very second-rate painter of the name of Vigée, the sister of a poet of some talent of the same name, and was married young to a picture-dealer of large fortune and most expensive and dissipated, not to say dissolute habits, M. Lebrun. She was young, and, like Mme.

He came behind the chair of the tall master of The Corner, and while Nelly Lebrun stopped her glass halfway to her lips and stared at the ragged stranger, Donnegan was whispering in the ear of Jack Landis: "I've got to see you alone." Landis turned his head slowly and his eye darkened a little as he met the reddish, unshaven face of the stranger.

"For heaven's sake," exclaimed the Countess, "on no account marry M. Lebrun! You will be miserable if you do!" And then she told me a lot of things which I was happy enough to disbelieve, but which only proved too true afterward. The announcement of my marriage put an end to these sad warnings, which, thanks to my dear painting, had little effect on my usual good spirits.

And no matter what Lord Nick could say, it seemed that with half his mind Donnegan was listening to the song of the girl. "First," said the big man, "I've broken my word." Donnegan waved his hand and dismissed the charge. He pointed to a chair, but Lord Nick paid no heed. "I've broken my word," he went on. "I promised that I'd give you a clear road to win over Nelly Lebrun.

There's a man there a Parisian I forget his honoured name Leblanc, or Lenoir, or Lebrun, or something but he's a most humorous artist, and he paints monkeys and storks and all sorts of queer beasties ALMOST as quaintly and expressively as you do.

Madame Lebrun knocked on the table with her knife handle. "Please let Robert explain why he is going, and why he is going to-night," she called out. "Really, this table is getting to be more and more like Bedlam every day, with everybody talking at once. Sometimes I hope God will forgive me but positively, sometimes I wish Victor would lose the power of speech."

Christian turned and looked his companion full in the face. "I have met him twice," he said quietly. "He was in England for some years, I believe; a political refugee, he called himself." By sea and land Captain Lebrun had learnt to devote an exclusive attention to his own affairs, allowing other men to manage theirs, well or ill, according to their fancy.