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Updated: June 10, 2025
"Rome is fine only to those who love it; a man must have a passion for it to enjoy it. As a city, I prefer Venice, though I just missed being murdered there." "Faith, yes!" cried Mistigris; "if it hadn't been for me you'd have been gobbled up. It was that mischief-making tom-fool, Lord Byron, who got you into the scrape. Oh! wasn't he raging, that buffoon of an Englishman?" "Hush!" said Schinner.
"I believe I have loyally earned them." "'A fair yield and no flavor," said Mistigris. The count was resolved not to betray himself; he assumed an air of good-humored interest in the country, and looked up the valley of Groslay as the coucou took the road to Saint-Brice, leaving that to Chantilly on the right. "Is Rome as fine as they say it is?" said Georges, addressing the great painter.
"And that's what our rulers are trying to bring us to. 'Tax vobiscum, no, thank you!" said Mistigris. "But that is what we are coming to," said the count. "Therefore, those who own land will do well to sell it. Monsieur Schinner must have seen how things are tending in Italy, where the taxes are enormous." "Corpo di Bacco! the Pope is laying it on heavily," replied Schinner.
When the Cenacle friends or some brother-painter, like Schinner, Pierre Grassou, Leon de Lora, a very youthful "rapin" who was called at that time Mistigris, discussed a picture, she would come back afterwards, examine it attentively, and discover nothing to justify their fine words and their hot disputes.
"We must paint your dear children in the arabesques," said Bridau, interrupting Mistigris. "I would rather have them in the salon; but perhaps I am indiscreet in asking it," she replied, looking at Bridau coquettishly. "Beauty, madame, is a sovereign whom all painters worship; it has unlimited claims upon them." "They are both charming," thought Madame Moreau. "Do you enjoy driving?
It is done in the best society, and you know the proverb: 'we must 'owl with the wolves." "I had heard marvellous things of Dalmatia," resumed Schinner, "so I went there, leaving Mistigris in Venice at an inn " "'Locanda," interposed Mistigris; "keep to the local color." "Zara is what is called a country town " "Yes," said Georges; "but it is fortified."
"I said in the Levant, from which I have just returned," continued Georges, "the dust smells very good; but here it smells of nothing, except in some old dust-barrel like this." "Has monsieur lately returned from the Levant?" said Mistigris, maliciously. "He isn't much tanned by the sun." "Oh!
When these various personages saw the count in evening dress, and wearing his orders, Georges Marest had a slight sensation of colic, Joseph Bridau quivered, but Mistigris, who was conscious of being in his Sunday clothes, and had, moreover, nothing on his conscience, remarked, in a sufficiently loud tone: "Well, he looks a great deal better like that."
The pleasure of having Mistigris was so great to the rector as it was to the other players that the poor priest could not conceal it.
"If ever again," said the false Schinner, "I am caught blague-ing in a public coach, I'll fight a duel with myself. It was your fault, Mistigris," giving his rapin a tap on the head. "All I did was to help you out, and follow you to Venice," said Mistigris; "but that's always the way, 'Fortune belabors the slave."
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