Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 22, 2025
Évariste Gamelin seized Élodie's hand, but dropped it again swiftly next moment: "Farewell! I have involved you in my hideous fortunes, I have blasted your life for ever. Farewell! I pray you may forget me!" "Whatever you do," she warned him, "do not go back home to-night. Come to the Amour peintre. Do not ring; throw a pebble at my shutters.
Another man looks at the book over the lady's shoulder, and two little children's faces appear at her knee. The verses are as follows: Pour nous prouver que cette belle Trouve l'hymen un noeud fort doux Le peintre nous la peint fidelle À suivre le ton d'un Époux.
A shop-boy was wiping the fog from the window-panes of the Amour peintre, while curious passers-by threw a look at the prints in vogue, Robespierre squeezing into a cup a heart like a pumpkin to drink the blood, and ambitious allegorical designs with such titles as the Tigrocracy of Robespierre; it was all hydras, serpents, horrid monsters let loose on France by the tyrant.
In France, where even amateurs of painting enjoy a bit of rhetoric, for two or three days after the death of Renoir one could not be long in any of their haunts without being told either that "Renoir est mort et Matisse est le plus grand peintre de France" or that "Renoir est mort et Derain," etc.
He was buried in these thoughts when Élodie hurried up to him, pale-faced and distraught: "Évariste, what have you to say to me? Why not come to the Amour peintre to the blue chamber? Why have you made me come here?" "To bid you an eternal farewell." He had lost his wits, she faltered, she could not understand....
It might be conveyed to him in some indirect way that would not offend. February 1712. We read, with much pleasure for all of us, in the Gazette to-day, among other events of the world, that Antony Watteau had been elected to the Academy of Painting under the new title of Peintre des Fetes Galantes, and had been named also Peintre du Roi.
On the afternoon of the same day Évariste set out to see the citoyen Jean Blaise, printseller, as well as dealer in ornamental boxes, fancy goods and games of all sorts, in the Rue Honoré, opposite the Oratoire and near the office of the Messageries, at the sign of the Amour peintre.
After supper Gamelin ran to the Amour Peintre and burst into the blue chamber where every night Élodie was waiting for him. "You are avenged," he told her. "Jacques Maubel is no more. The cart that took him to his death has just passed beneath your window, escorted by torch-bearers." She understood: "Wretch! it is you have killed him, and he was not my lover.
"Mais, M'sieur explain yourself" ... stammered the propriétaire. "You know who I am, Monsieur Choucru?" "No, M'sieur not in the least." "I am Müller Franz Müller landscape painter, portrait painter, historical painter, caricaturist, artist en chef to the Petit Courier Illustré" "Hein! M'sieur est peintre!" "Yes, Monsieur Choucru and I offer you my protection."
Such were his reflections when suddenly he caught sight of the signboard of the Amour peintre, and a torrent of bitter-sweet emotions swept tumultuously over his heart. The shop was shut, the sun-blinds of the three windows on the mezzanine floor were drawn right down.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking