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Updated: June 7, 2025


Triplet came down, and essayed the blandishments of the softer sex. In vain! And, as there were no assets, the postman marched off down the road. Mrs. Triplet glided after him like an assassin, beckoning on Triplet, who followed, doubtful of her designs. He, animated by her example, plunged upon the man and tore the letter from his hand and opened it before his eyes.

Even the complaisance of good Wagnerites is occasionally rather overstrained by the way in which Brynhild's allusions to her charger Grani elicit from the band a little rum-ti-tum triplet which by itself is in no way suggestive of a horse, although a continuous rush of such triplets makes a very exciting musical gallop.

"Oh, James!" she cried, "we have suffered much! we have been poor, but honest, and the Almighty has looked upon us at last!" Then they began to reproach themselves. "Oh, James! I have been a peevish woman an ill wife to you, this many years!" "No, no!" cried Triplet, with tears in his eyes. "It is I who have been rough and brutal.

"Not a bit, ma'am;" and he painted on. Mrs. Woffington stretched. "You can't yawn, ma'am you can't yawn." "Oh, yes, I can. You are such good company;" and she stretched again. "I was just about to catch the turn of the lip," remonstrated Triplet. "Well, catch it it won't run away." "I'll try, ma'am.

Some bars in the second half of this section remind one of Schumann's "Fantasia" in C. After this section a curious transition leads in again the theme, which first appeared in F sharp major, in F major, and with a triplet accompaniment. This impromptu is inferior to the first, having less pith in it; but its tender sweetness and euphony cannot be denied.

"Thank Heaven, you don't love him!" cried Triplet, hastily. "Thank Heaven for that!" "Love him? Love a man who comes to me with a silly second-hand affection from his insipid baby-face, and offers me half, or two-thirds, or a third of his worthless heart? I hate him! and her! and all the world!" "That is what I call a very proper feeling," said poor Triplet, with a weak attempt to soothe her.

Mr Meadows is now at the head of this sect, as Miss Larolles is of the VOLUBLE, and Miss Leeson of the SUPERCILIOUS. But this way comes another, who, though in a different manner, labours with the same view, and aspires at the same reward, which stimulate the ambition of this happy Triplet, that of exciting wonder by peculiarity, and envy by wonder."

Vane wore mourning for her, and sorrowed over her; but not as those who cannot hope to meet again. My story as a work of art good, bad or indifferent ends with that last sentence. If a reader accompanies me further, I shall feel flattered, and he does so at his own risk. My reader knows that all this befell long ago. That Woffington is gay, and Triplet sad, no more.

Woffington bade the girl show the lady upstairs. The girl went down on this errand. "But you are here," remonstrated Triplet. "Oh, to be sure, you can go into the other room. There is plenty of time to avoid her," said Triplet, in a very natural tremor. "This way, madam!" Mrs. Woffington stood in the middle of the room like a statue. "What does she come here for?" said she, sternly.

Poor fellow! he was Triplet, and could not have died without tingeing the death-rattle with some absurdity; but, after all, he was a father driven to despair; a castle-builder, with his work rudely scattered; an artist, brutally crushed and insulted by a greater dunce than himself.

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