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PAVEL ILYITCH RASHEVITCH walked up and down, stepping softly on the floor covered with little Russian plaids, and casting a long shadow on the wall and ceiling while his guest, Meier, the deputy examining magistrate, sat on the sofa with one leg drawn up under him smoking and listening.
It is Marianne Meier." "What! Marianne Meier?" asked Baron Arnstein. "The celebrated beauty whom Goethe has loved for whom the Swedish ambassador at Berlin, Baron Bernstein, has entertained so glowing a passion, and suffered so much and who is now the mistress of the Austrian minister, the Prince von Reuss?" "Hush, for Heaven's sake, hush!" whispered Fanny. "She is coming toward us."
Something of the same sort had happened to him before; he had, on one occasion in a railway carriage, begun abusing the Germans, and it had afterwards appeared that all the persons he had been conversing with were German. In the second place he felt that Meier would never come and see him again.
But the other partner, Herr Bormann, who was somewhat choleric and had to go to Carlsbad every year, interrupted him sharply. "Well, really, Meier! And what's it to us? They say they have brought him with them from their last journey, when they were away so long good. Where were they last? They went from Switzerland to the Black Forest and then to Spa, didn't they?"
Look around in her house, Marianne Meier; you will behold there such opulence and magnificence as you never knew in the days of your childhood. Look at her gilt furniture, her carpets and lustres; look at the beautiful paintings on the walls, and at the splendid solid plate in her chests.
We went along together; the woman said that her name was Meier; but her first name was Mieze. She lived with relatives; they employed a doorman. In addition, she sang in a chorus. The woman was neither beautiful nor young, but she seemed approachable. I had no reason to be shy. In front of the house in which the woman lived we stopped. I suggested that we look for a hotel.
"Meier," shouted a man. "Meier she'll have to go back, Meier; she's stopped the show." Quiet and very still, Cake drew away. It seemed to her only a moment later that Leafy touched her arm. "Mr. Meier has taken a suite for you here in this hotel," she said. "Can't you eat a little, Miss?" Eat? She had never had enough to eat in her life. Her life?
She had accomplished her purpose. Marianne Meier, the Jewess, was now a noble lady, to whom everybody was paying deference; and Marianne, princess von Eibenberg, felt so much at home in her new position, that she had herself almost forgotten who and what she had been in former times.
Knoop, pp. 6, 57; Kuhn, pp. 113, 172; Kuhn und Schwartz, p. 1. The prohibition to look back was imposed on Orpheus when he went to rescue Eurydice from Hades. Knoop, pp. 51, 59; Keightley, p. 295, quoting Aubrey's "Natural History of Surrey"; "Gent. Mag. Lib." Meier, pp. 209, 87; Niederhöffer, vol. iii. p. 251. Grohmann, pp. 56, 50.
Also she had worked to be famous so long that all the flowery borders of self were worn down to the keen edge of doing. Of Plain Cake she thought not at all. But then, she never had. Only of the light at the end of the passage that now loomed so bright to her watching eyes. It seemed only a minute before Noyes spoke again: "This is Mr. Meier." He regarded her shrewdly all the time.
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