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Updated: June 13, 2025
He entered the captain's room his companions staying outside and saw, as he expected, his half-sister Philomela, and a young woman dressed in the height of cheap fashion, who was no other than Mash, the cook. His sister rose, and extended her hand to him severely, and said, with a solemn voice: "Brother Marcus, I am sorry to see you here. I hope you are not guilty of this crime?"
In the ante-room, Miss Philomela saw Overtop and Maltboy, upon whom she bestowed a half smile, and Tiffles, whom she treated to a cordial grimace, not unmingled with a blush. Tiffles, on his part, was profoundly polite, and inquired if she were going home. Learning that she was, he remarked that he had occasion to walk in the same direction, and accompanied her as she left the station house.
Philippo Medici possessed a wife Philomela, renowned, "not for her beauty, though Italy afforded none so fair not for her dowry, though she were the only daughter of the Duke of Milan but for the admirable honours of her mind, which were so many and matchless, that virtue seemed to have planted there the paradise of her perfection."
Mr Foster placed himself near the lovely Caprioletta, whose artless and innocent conversation had already made an impression on his susceptible spirit. The Reverend Doctor Gaster seated himself in the corner of a sofa near Miss Philomela Poppyseed.
This obstinate silence galled Miss Philomela; and, after waiting full three minutes to see if Marcus would not answer, and meanwhile dusting prodigiously in his neighborhood, she said: "Well, it's some gratification to know that you do not have the hardihood to defend yourself.
His most elaborate discourses on love in the abstract were met by Philomela with replies fully as long and fully as lofty, but when he made the conversation personal, and declared his attitude to be that of a lover, he was met with a virtuous indignation which fully bore out the reputation of Philomela. Even this conclusive test did not satisfy the jealous mind of the wretched Philippo.
And when his half-sister Philomela who had no hypocritical concealment about her, thank heaven! and always told people what she thought of them pronounced the first of those luxuries "trash," the second "disgusting," and the other two "idiotic," he met her candid criticisms with a pleasant laugh, and said that, at any rate, they hurt nobody but himself.
What wonder that she sometimes into the cool left her lord to his heavy slumbers and crept into the cool gardens with the handsome Hebrew boy; that they walked, hand clasped in hand, beneath the tall palms that nodded knowingly, and whispered sweet nothings while the mellow moonlight quivered on the Nile and sad Philomela poured forth her plaintive song like a flood of lover's tears?
Ah! It could never be the same thing as a child of her own blood!... But it was good, all the same. Christophe now regarded Cecile with very different eyes. He remembered an ironic saying of Francoise Oudon: "How is it that you and Philomela, who would do so well as husband and wife, are not in love with each other?"
His half-sister, Philomela Wilkeson, who was high authority, had often visited his legs with the severest censure, when, upon suddenly entering the room where he was seated, she found the offending members confronting her from the top of the piano, or the table, or a chair, or sometimes from the mantelpiece.
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