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Updated: April 30, 2025
We may be grateful to Amy Lowell for having assembled for our consummation, in a world where poetry is not as yet the sublime issue as it was to be felt at every street corner, much of the spirit of the rue de Rome, the Café Novelles D'Athènes, and the Closerie de Lilas, as well as the once famed corner of the Café D'Harcourt where the absinthe flowed so continuously, and from which some very exquisite poetry has emanated for all time.
A month later, on the day preceding that of Saint Louis, Rocreuse was in a state of terror. The Prussians had beaten the emperor and were advancing by forced marches toward the village. For a week past people who hurried along the highway had been announcing them thus: "They are at Lormiere they are at Novelles!"
The lightest of novelles and the thinnest of ballants have something precious for a lad of his kind." The Cornal made no response; the issue was too trivial to keep him from his meditation.
Never mind, dear; you'll soon be left the school, and there's not wan of them has the business that you have waiting ready to step intil." "Mother," he pleaded, "let me bide here for the rest o' the day!" "Oh, but your father, Johnny? If he saw ye!" "If you gie me some o' your novelles to look at, I'll go up to the garret and hide, and ye can ask Jenny no to tell."
"Ah," he said, smiling to himself, "they're after the novelles! I wish Virgil was so much the favourite, or even the Grammarian." All in the pleasant sunshine the people walked abroad on the plain-stones; a piper of the company of Boboon the wanderer, with but two drones to his instrument, played the old rant of the clan as Duke George went past on a thoroughbred horse.
He had stood so long in silence on the step, and his coming was so noiseless, that he surprised a long, thin trollop of a woman, with a long, thin, scraggy neck, seated by the slatternly table, and busy with a frowsy paper-covered volume, over which her head was bent in intent perusal. "At your novelles?" said he. "Ay, woman; will it be a good story?"
Frivolity, of which there was little in this sober boy, was in her eyes a vice; loud laughter almost a crime; cards, and novelles, as she called them, were such in her estimation, as to be beyond my powers of characterization. Her commonest injunction was, 'Noo be douce, that is sober uttered to the soberest boy she could ever have known.
This story of Vittoria Accoramboni's life and tragic ending is drawn, in its main details, from a narrative published by Henri Beyle in his 'Chroniques et Novelles. He professes to have translated it literally from a manuscript communicated to him by a nobleman of Mantua; and there are strong internal evidences of the truth of this assertion.
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