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Updated: June 11, 2025
If you are bent upon a quarrel with me I must leave you to your humor and drop into the 'Tete d'Or' here, for I marked a varlet pass the door who bare a smoking dish, which had, methought, a most excellent smell." "Nenny, nenny," cried his comrade, laying his hand upon his knee; "we have known each other over long to fall out, Oliver, like two raw pages at their first epreuves.
'Nenny way we know Paynter and Abigail Prim was last seed with this here Oskaloosa Kid, durn him." "Thanks," said Bridge politely, "and now may I make my final statement before going to meet my maker?" "Go on," growled the man. "You won't interrupt me?" "Naw, go on." "All right! You damn fools have made up your minds to hang us.
This confession sounded like angel voices. It made me infinitely happy, yet I had strength to entreat Nenny to treasure this blissful hour with me as the fairest jewel of our lives, and then help me to fulfil the duty of parting from her. But she took a different view of the future. It was enough for her to know that my heart was hers. If I died young, she would follow me.
She was pretty, well educated, and possessed so much independence and keenness of mind that this alone would have sufficed to render her remarkable. Afterwards I often thought simultaneously of her and Nenny, yet they were totally unlike in character, having nothing in common save their steadfast faith and the power of looking with happy confidence beyond this life into death.
The second daughter of my mother's Belgian niece, who had married in Berlin the architect Fritz Hitzig, afterwards President of the Academy of Arts, was named Eugenie and nicknamed "Nenny." If ever any woman fulfilled the demands of the fairy tale, "White as snow and black as ebony," it was she. Only the "red as blood" was lacking, for usually but a faint roseate hue tinged her cheeks.
"To thrust a handful of steel into the Socman. What! hale a demoiselle against her will, and then loose dogs at his own brother! Let me go!" "Nenny, nenny!" cried Alleyne, laughing. "There was no scath done. Come back, friend" and so, by mingled pushing and entreaties, they got his head round for Christchurch once more.
This confession sounded like angel voices. It made me infinitely happy, yet I had strength to entreat Nenny to treasure this blissful hour with me as the fairest jewel of our lives, and then help me to fulfil the duty of parting from her. But she took a different view of the future. It was enough for her to know that my heart was hers. If I died young, she would follow me.
At the time I was obliged to part from Nenny this often happened. Goethe's "He who never mournful nights" I learned to understand in the years when the beaker of life foams most impetuously for others. But I had learned from my mother to bear my sorest griefs alone, and my natural cheerfulness aided me to win the victory in the strife against the powers of melancholy.
At the time I was obliged to part from Nenny this often happened. Goethe's "He who never mournful nights" I learned to understand in the years when the beaker of life foams most impetuously for others. But I had learned from my mother to bear my sorest griefs alone, and my natural cheerfulness aided me to win the victory in the strife against the powers of melancholy.
In truth, these cruelties are very unworthy the French good nature, and also, God be thanked, our air is very well purged of them since this good advice: 'tis enough that they say "no" in doing it, according to the rule of the good Marot. "Un doulx nenny, avec un doulx sourire Est tant honneste." Marot.
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