Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 18, 2025
And Madame Martin enjoyed his affable phrases, heavy and rusty like the iron-work of brica-brac shops, among which fell dried leaves of anthology. M. Schmoll liked poets and women, and had wit. Madame Marmet feigned not to know him, and went out without returning his bow. When he had exhausted his pretty madrigals, M. Schmoll became sombre and pitiful. He complained piteously.
The wives of several of my colleagues, when Madame Schmoll calls on them, display with intention, under her eyes, anti-Semitic newspapers. And would you believe that the Minister of Public Instruction has refused to give me the cross of the Legion of Honor for which I have applied? There's ingratitude! Anti-Semitism is death it is death, do you hear? to European civilization."
Madame Garain, her chin softly dropped on her chest, slept in the peace of her housewifely mind, and dreamed of her vegetable garden on the banks of the Loire, where singing-societies came to serenade her. Joseph Schmoll and General Lariviere came out of the smoking-room. The General took a seat between Princess Seniavine and Madame Martin.
"Oh, Madame, if I explain anything to you, it will mix up everything. Be content with knowing that in that memoir poor Marmet quoted Latin texts and quoted them wrong. Schmoll is a Latinist of great learning, and, after Mommsen, the chief epigraphist of the world. "He reproached his young colleague Marmet was not fifty years old with reading Etruscan too well and Latin not well enough.
Therese did not hear. Her soul had followed Dechartre through the door of her box. In the anteroom was a noise of overthrown chairs. It was Schmoll coming back. He had learned that M. Martin-Belleme had recently been appointed Minister. At once he claimed the cross of Commander of the Legion of Honor and a larger apartment at the Institute.
And Madame Martin enjoyed his affable phrases, heavy and rusty like the iron-work of brica-brac shops, among which fell dried leaves of anthology. M. Schmoll liked poets and women, and had wit. Madame Marmet feigned not to know him, and went out without returning his bow. When he had exhausted his pretty madrigals, M. Schmoll became sombre and pitiful. He complained piteously.
Marmet refused to take it, and said 'I do not know you. 'Do you take me for a Latin inscription? Schmoll replied. Marmet died and was buried because of that satire. Now you know the reason why his widow sees his enemy with horror." "And I have made them dine together, side by side." "Madame, it was not immoral, but it was cruel."
From that time Marmet had no rest. At every meeting he was mocked unmercifully; and, finally, in spite of his softness, he got angry. Schmoll is without rancor. It is a virtue of his race. He does not bear ill-will to those whom he persecutes. One day, as he went up the stairway of the Institute with Renan and Oppert, he met Marmet, and extended his hand to him.
General Lariviere fell into dreams. "When public clamor has split my ears," he said to his neighbor, "I shall go to live at Tours. I shall cultivate flowers." He flattered himself on being a good gardener; his name had been given to a rose. This pleased him highly. Schmoll asked again if they knew the parable of the three rings. The Princess rallied the Deputy.
Starr said that this showed her husband dreaded his quartermaster worse than the Secretary of War. Alas for the Quartermaster's sergeant, Johannes Schmoll, that routined and clock-work German! He found Augustus so much more German than he had ever been himself, that he went speechless for three days.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking