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Updated: June 10, 2025
In my opinion you're about fat enough for the present. Let's stick to the job till four o'clock. Then we'll knock off for refreshments." The young revelers gathered in a group and began to whisper together. Samson writes that it became evident then they were going to make trouble and says: "We had left the children at Rutledge's in the care of Ann.
If she'd tried the river, here, and scrambled out, she wouldn't have been so frightfully chilled. I wonder what's up?" Everybody wondered what was up, but Eleanor did not enlighten them; so the three interrupted revelers could do nothing but think.
One of the men attended to the checking of these heavy pieces, presenting two railway tickets for the guidance of the sleepy agent. The other stood guard over the cab and its occupants. A train thundered in. The station platform was quite deserted except for the few belated revelers who had remained in town for the night performance of Van Slye's circus.
Fresh stoups, and from the choicest bins, were produced; nor was it till at a late, or rather early hour, that the revelers sought their chambers. The one allotted to the stranger occupied the first floor of the eastern angle of the building, and had once been the favorite apartment of Sir Giles himself.
I touched the keys softly, waiting for an interpreting voice, and half unconsciously sang the lines of Schiller: "I hear the sound of music, and the halls Are full of light. Who are the revelers?" Desmond made an inarticulate noise and sprang up, as if in answer to a call. A moment after he stepped quietly over the back of the sofa and stood bending over me. I looked up.
And I have so much to tell you ... Oh, it was tedious in that villa of your father's! 'Yes, I thought to myself, 'that is a fine story, a funny story, but I have heard them all before. And you are in no haste, you revelers you have no little bride waiting for you at home.... That one glance at you I tell you it was the glance of which the poet sings the glance that cost him a thousand sighs.
Look at him; there he sits. 'Tis the one just raising the glass to his lips." Lawrence Newt bent his head as he spoke toward the gay revelers, who sat, half a dozen in number, and the oldest not more than twenty-five, all dandies, all men of pleasure, at a neighboring table spread with a profuse and costly feast.
At the orgies, that Bonaparte celebrated every night with a swell mob of males and females, every time the hour of midnight drew nigh and plenteous libations had loosened the tongues and heated the minds of the revelers, the "coup" was resolved upon for the next morning.
One night the queenly one was giving a toast at a banquet, and the revelers were leaning toward her, drinking in every word of her rich musical voice, marveling at her brilliancy, when suddenly she saw a tiny figure perch on the table in front of her fiancé, yes, he was fiancéing them both. The little figure on the table had a sweet, round, dimply face, and wooing lips, and loving eyes.
Why, listen to it! The band was playing on the lawn at four o'clock in the morning. A party was breaking up after a night of german and a supper, and the revelers were dispersing. The lively tunes of "Dixie," "Marching through Georgia," and "Home, Sweet Home," awoke the echoes in all the galleries and corridors, and filled the whole encampment with a sad gayety. Dawn was approaching.
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