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Updated: June 15, 2025
Calling a fiacre, Jacqueline, almost roughly, pushed the old woman into it, and gave the coachman the address of Madame d'Argy, having, in her excitement, first given him that of their old house in the Parc Monceau, so much was she possessed by the idea that this was a repetition of that dreadful day, when with Modeste, just as now, she went to meet an irreparable loss.
But why not always admit the most charitable construction? I had been wandering a long time at random. Feeling a little tired, I turned into the Parc Monceau, at the time when it was too late for the mothers and babies and too early for the lovers' invasion. I sat down by the transparent lake which so prettily reflects its diadem of arbours.
They found the artist in his studio, studying upon the canvas the pose of his Reverie. He wished to reproduce exactly what he had seen in the Parc Monceau while walking with Annette: a young girl, dreaming, with an open book upon her knees. He had hesitated as to whether he should make her plain or pretty.
The father staggered back like one who had been hit by a ball. The German threw herself at his feet, screaming: "Mercy, mercy!" and the domestics all spoke at the same time. "Bertha didn't go to parc Monceau. She lost the child over there on the fortifications. We have sought him all over, sir. We went to the office for you, sir, and then to the Chamber, but you had just left.
It was the very figure of a statesman destined to high dignities. No one who gazed on such a deputy could doubt that one day he would be in the ministry. It was by such real services that Marien endeavored to repay the friendship and the kindness always awaiting him in the small house in the Parc Monceau, where we have just seen Jacqueline eagerly offering him some spiced cakes.
He conducted us safely to Ferrara, whence we were carried to Pola, where we were received with the greatest kindness, and where I was compelled to have my fingers amputated." "On the 22nd October, 1797," says the astronomer Lalande, "at twenty-eight minutes past five, Citizen Garnerin rose in a balloon from the park of Monceau.
I know where we can go...." "But we've been everywhere." "We'll go to my rooms ... to her rooms ... to Susy d'Orsel ... she's my girl ... d'ye know, she's been expecting me for supper since midnight." "More supper?" "Of course ... there's plenty of room left." With some difficulty the stranger managed to give the address, 247 Rue de Monceau.
Leaving the narrow street where was his hotel he emerged into the Place de la Madeleine, and threading his way through the stream of traffic turned into the Boulevard de Malesherbes, which he followed, cutting across the Boulevard Haussmann and passing the Church of Saint Augustin, until the trees in the Parc Monceau rose before him.
Christophe said nothing for a moment; then he asked: "Where do you live?" "Near the Parc Monceau." "You walked here? Yes? It is a long way. You must be tired." "I am never tired." "Good! Show me your arms." "You are a strong boy.... What put it into your head to come and see me?" "My father loved you more than any one." "Did she tell you so?" "Did your mother tell you so?" "Yes."
At half-past nine, as Hortense had not arrived, he rang her up, though without thought of anxiety. The maid replied that Madame Daniel had not come in yet. Seized with a sudden fear, Renine hurried to the furnished flat which Hortense was occupying for the time being, near the Parc Monceau, and questioned the maid, whom he had engaged for her and who was completely devoted to him.
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