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Updated: May 26, 2025
She saw two persons coming, and wished to pass in their eyes a pinchbeck countess. "What impudence!" thought Hulot, bowing to his pretended client. Baron Montes de Montejanos was a lion, but a lion not accounted for.
Valerie smiled at her adopted cousin, and said: "Remember that you are the son of my mother's sister, who married your father during Junot's campaign in Portugal." "What, I, Montes de Montejanos, great grandson of a conquerer of Brazil! Tell a lie?" "Hush, lower, or we shall never meet again." "Pray, why?"
Valerie smiled at her adopted cousin, and said: "Remember that you are the son of my mother's sister, who married your father during Junot's campaign in Portugal." "What, I, Montes de Montejanos, great grandson of a conquerer of Brazil! Tell a lie?" "Hush, lower, or we shall never meet again." "Pray, why?"
The dreadful Madame Nourrisson, at this moment so completely disguised as to look like a respectable old body, rose to embrace Carabine, one of the hundred and odd courtesans she had launched on their horrible career of vice. "He is an Othello who is not to be taken in, whom I have the honor of introducing to you Monsieur le Baron Montes de Montejanos." "Oh!
She saw two persons coming, and wished to pass in their eyes a pinchbeck countess. "What impudence!" thought Hulot, bowing to his pretended client. Baron Montes de Montejanos was a lion, but a lion not accounted for.
Monsieur le Baron Henri Montes de Montejanos, to whom the climate of the equator had given the color and stature we expect to see in Othello on the stage, had an alarming look of gloom, but it was a merely pictorial illusion; for, sweet and affectionate by nature, he was predestined to be the victim that a strong man often is to a weak woman.
Madame Marneffe's drawing-room was full of her faithful admirers, and she had just started the whist-tables, when the footman, a pensioned soldier recruited by the Baron, announced: "Monsieur le Baron Montes de Montejanos." Valerie's heart jumped, but she hurried to the door, exclaiming: "My cousin!" and as she met the Brazilian, she whispered: "You are my relation or all is at an end between us!
Monsieur le Baron Henri Montes de Montejanos, to whom the climate of the equator had given the color and stature we expect to see in Othello on the stage, had an alarming look of gloom, but it was a merely pictorial illusion; for, sweet and affectionate by nature, he was predestined to be the victim that a strong man often is to a weak woman.
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