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Updated: June 16, 2025
Burman: her health is awful: yes, yes; poor woman! poor woman! we feel for her: she has come to perceive her duty to those she leaves behind. Consider: she HAS used the rod. She must be tired out if human. And she is. One remembers traits. Victor sketched one or two of the traits allusively to the hearer acquainted with them. They received strong colouring from midday's Old Veuve in his blood.
After the Governor, one by one, the waiting Associations fell in line, each with its own distinguishing sash. So the procession moved off into the narrow streets of the city, the people in the Place dispersed to new vantage points, and Monsieur Vigo signed me to follow him. "I have a frien', la veuve Gravois, who lives ver' quiet. She have one room, and I ask her tek you in, Davy."
To further questioning he answered that he had never proposed marriage to the Veuve Boursier. Possibly something might have been said in fun. He knew, of course, that the late Boursier had made a lot of money. The cook, Josephine Blin, was called. At one time she had been suspect.
The fourth, a "Veuve," being a black woman, holding by the hand a black little girl, and the twain studiously surveying an elegant French monument, set up in a corner of some Pere la Chaise. All these four "Anges" were grim and grey as burglars, and cold and vapid as ghosts. What women to live with! insincere, ill-humoured, bloodless, brainless nonentities!
The flies are a pest and constant source of danger. The water is abominable." "You like champagne better, eh?" laughed Ray. The gambler had already drunk more than was good for him, and, raising his glass in a mock toast, began to hum the first lines of a familiar camp ditty: "La femme qui sait me plaire C'est la petite veuve Clicquot."
She was laid tenderly on the dining-room table and comforted with some Veuve Clicquot champagne, for the poor creature had been somewhat upset by being pounced on when asleep in bed and hauled off with so little ceremony and preparation into the publicity of a well-lighted room full of masculine visitors. Shortly after daylight the company separated with many expressions of mutual esteem.
"I hope you'll excuse me, sir, but that last drop of Veuve Cliquot was the whip-cord that started the top going, and, on my word" raising his hands to his head "I feel like holding it on to keep it from spinning off." "Spinning or not, you shall try this vintage" the young man's eyes gleamed with such fire as shone in the glass "and drink to Constance Carew!"
As I cannot see that the one case transcends the other in drama or interest, I take them chronologically, and begin with the Veuve Boursier: At the corner of Rue de la Paix and Rue Neuve Saint-Augustine in 1823 there stood a boutique d'epiceries. It was a flourishing establishment, typical of the Paris of that time, and its proprietors were people of decent standing among their neighbours.
Old Veuve in one, to the soul of Old Veuve in the other, they recalled a past day or two, touched the skies; and merriment or happiness in the times behind them held a mirror to the present: or the hour of the reverse of happiness worked the same effect by contrast: so that notions of the singular election of us by Dame Fortune, sprang like vinous bubbles.
Her aunt, Madame Morin, was Breton, and had brought the cask with her as part of her dowry, together with the press and other furniture. Doggie alluded to the vastly lettered inscription, "Veuve Morin et Fils." Madame Morin was, in a sense, his hostess. And the sons? "One is in Madagascar, and the other alas, monsieur!" And Doggie knew what that "alas!" meant. "The Argonne," she said.
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