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Updated: June 24, 2025
Masson declares that on an average she spent $220,000 a year, and the itemized accounts of the articles in her wardrobe give authority for the amount. Josephine's case is of course exceptional in history. She was an untrained woman, generous and pleasure-loving, utterly without a sense of responsibility.
To return to the church at Vergt. Jasmin was a poet, not an architect. The Abbe Masson knew nothing about stone or mortar. He was merely anxious to have his church rebuilt and consecrated as soon as possible. That had been done in 1843. But in the course of a few years it was found that the church had been very badly built. The lime was bad, and the carpentry was bad.
It would have shattered his frail little carcass if, if" he turned to his companion "if you had kissed him, Carmen. He's made of tissue-paper, not tissue and apple-jelly. Yes, but a stiff little backbone, too, or he'd not have faced me down." Masson talked as though he were trying to gain time. "He said three minutes," she returned with a look of death in her face.
"Wait but wait one minute!" exclaimed George Masson; and now, all at once, he had grown cool and determined, and his brain was at work again with an activity and a clearness it had never known. He had gained one minute of time, he might be able to gain more. In any case, no one could save him except himself.
One of these, Professor Masson of Edinburgh, in memory of Carlyle's own tribute to Goethe, started a subscription for a medal, presented on his eightieth birthday; but he valued more a communication of the same date from Prince Bismarck.
She had known passion and vivid life in the days when she went hand-in-hand with Carvillho Gonzales through the gardens of Granada; she had known the smothering home-sickness which does not alone mean being sick for a distant home, but a sickness of the home that is; and she had known what George Masson gave her for one thrilling hour, and then then the man who left her in her death-year, taking not only the last thread of hope which held her to life.
She felt the need of excitement, of change. She had the desire for pleasures undefined. Then George Masson came, and the undefined took form almost at once. It was no case of the hunter pursuing his prey with all the craft and subtlety of his trade.
That was too stupid even to think of once. A pitch-fork and a dung-heap? That had its merits; but again there was the risk of more than one life. All the way to his house, Jean Jacques, with something of the rage of passion and the glaze of horror gone from his eyes, and his face not now so ghastly, still brooded over how, after he had had his say, he was to put George Masson out of the world.
If, as Professor Masson says, 'it is by his characters that a novelist is chiefly judged, Henry Kingsley's future reputation will be found to depend almost solely on what he accomplished in Geoffry Hamlyn, The Hillyars and the Burtons and Ravenshoe. In the first two of these there is an abundance of original observation and little conscious study of character.
There was, it seems, a young country fellow in the neighbourhood where Masson lived, who was just married, and according to a silly notion which prevails not only among the peasants of France but also among the clowns of all other nations in Europe, fancied himself bewitched by some charm or other, which rendered him incapable of performing the rites of his marriage bed.
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