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Updated: May 9, 2025
Paris when your skies are greying, how many of us know you? Do we know your Rue du Pont Neuf, with its silent melodrama under the dawning heavens, or do we know only the farce of your Montmartre? Do we know the drama of your Comptoir, of your Rue Montorgueil, when your skies are faintly lighting, or do we know only the burlesque of your Maxim's and your Catélans?
Sometimes he danced in Paris. During the high season he danced in Nice. Afternoon and evening found him busy in the hot, perfumed, overcrowded dance salons. The Negresco, the Ruhl, Maxim's, Belle Meunière, the Casina Municipale. He learned to make his face go a perfect blank pale, cryptic, expressionless.
I regret that Professor Lowes's brilliant discussion of "Poetic Diction" in his Convention and Revolt did not appear until after this chapter was written. There are stimulating remarks on Diction in Fairchild and Eastman, in Raleigh's Wordsworth, in L. A. Sherman's Analytics of Literature, chapter 6, in Raymond's Poetry as a Representative Art, and in Hudson Maxim's Science of Poetry.
Now here, you see here" he took an affectionate grip of Pietro's collar "I'm goin' to have a talk with Maxim's manager to-morrow, I've had one or two a'ready, and I'll put up the price all round on them people. It's no more'n right, when you count up what we're doin' fer them.
It was at Maxim's that he first saw the Grand Duchess. She wasn't really a lady of title, but she looked the part so completely that he spoke of her as the "Grand Duchess" the instant his shifty gaze fell upon her. His companions bowed to her. She waved her hand in amiable response. "Who is she?" demanded Corky of his hostess. He almost whispered it. "Oh, she's a silly old thing from Wisconsin.
"Send me a picture-postal card to Paris. For I am off to Maxim's," he cried, "and you can go to " "Not at all!" shouted the amateur detective indignantly. "I'm going back to take supper with 'Baby Belle'!" I had made up my mind that when my vacation came I would spend it seeking adventures.
Morton laughed cheerily. "Oh, he enjoyin' de 'leckshum. He 'uz on de picnic yas'day, to Smeltuh's ice-houses; an' 'count er Mist' Maxim's gittin' 'lected, dey gi'n him bottle er whiskey an' two dollahs. He up at de house now, entuhtainin' some ge'lemenfrien's wi'de bones, honey." "Um hum." The other lady sighed reflectively.
They might lack that something this girl from Maxim's possessed the spirit that had caused her to follow her husband into the depths of darkness. But outwardly, for show purposes, they were even as she. But to Everett she was no messenger from another world. She was unique. To his famished eyes, starved senses, and fever-driven brain, she was her entire sex personified.
"Maxim's, I presume. Unless you can suggest some other place, more likely and less tedious." "No," she replied after taking thought; "I can't. We've covered Paris pretty thoroughly to-night; all except the tourist places." "No good wasting time on them." "Then let's stop on here till it's time to milk the cows." "Pré-Catelan? But there's Maxim's left " "Only another tourist show nowadays.
"There," said he, as he put the finishing touches to the apparatus, "you see that she is a combination of two principles those of the Aëronef and the Aëroplane. The first reached its highest development in Jules Verne's imaginary "Clipper of the Clouds," and the second in Hiram Maxim's Aëroplane.
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