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Updated: June 9, 2025
He would understand it; he would know that their love had nothing to do with anything so stupid. What folly for him to care about another! As if there were other men in the world! M. Martin-Belleme half opened the bedroom door. Seeing a light he went in. "You are not asleep, Therese?" He had been at a conference with his colleagues. He wanted advice from his wife on certain points.
But I see you prefer to be witty only in tete-a-tetes." Count Martin-Belleme escorted the men to the smoking-room. Paul Vence alone remained with the women. Princess Seniavine asked him if he had finished his novel, and what was the subject of it. It was a study in which he tried to reach the truth through a series of plausible conditions.
The papers published lists with the name of Martin-Belleme for the treasury, and the opera-glasses were turned toward the still empty box of the Countess Martin. A murmur of voices filled the hall. In the third rank of the parquette, General Lariviere, standing at his place, was talking with General de La Briche. "I will do as you do, my old comrade, I will go and plant cabbages in Touraine."
However, in the hall, in the corridors, the names of the new Ministers went from mouth to mouth in the midst of profound indifference: President of the Council and Minister of the Interior, Berthier-d'Eyzelles; justice and Religions, Loyer; Treasury, Martin-Belleme. All the ministers were known except those of Commerce, War, and the Navy, who were not yet designated.
Look at her: her forehead clouded, her glance vague, her mouth dolorous. Behold a victim!" She arose, kissed Therese tumultuously, and fled, leaving the General astonished. Madame Martin-Belleme prayed him not to listen to what the Princess had said. He collected himself and asked: "And how are your poets, Madame?"
A pin badly set in her hair, one of the pins from the Bohemian glass cup, fell on her neck. She shivered. "Yet we really must give three or four dinners to our good political friends," said M. Martin-Belleme. "We shall invite some of the ancient radicals to meet the people of our circle. It will be well to find some pretty women.
Therese did not hear. Her soul had followed Dechartre through the door of her box. In the anteroom was a noise of overthrown chairs. It was Schmoll coming back. He had learned that M. Martin-Belleme had recently been appointed Minister. At once he claimed the cross of Commander of the Legion of Honor and a larger apartment at the Institute.
M. Martin-Belleme said everyone should bow before such reasons, and that one was too happy to read the articles and the fine books written by M. Paul Vence to have any wish to take him from his work. "Oh, my books! One never says in a book what one wishes to say. It is impossible to express one's self.
Shall we rest side by side under a little earth and a great deal of sky? But I do wrong to extend to you an invitation which you can not accept. It will not be permitted to you to sleep your eternal sleep at the foot of the hill of Fiesole, my love. You must rest in Paris, in a handsome tomb, by the side of Count Martin-Belleme." "Why?
Paris is cold and bleak. This weather tires and saddens me. I am going to Florence, for six weeks, to visit Miss Bell." M. Martin-Belleme then lifted his eyes to heaven. Vence asked whether she had been in Italy often. "Three times; but I saw nothing. This time I wish to see, to throw myself into things. From Florence I shall take walks into Tuscany, into Umbria.
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