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Updated: May 21, 2025
"Lotys is dead!" went on Zouche, speaking in a slow monotonous way. "This morning, the first thing they found her. She had killed herself. The pistol was in her hand. And they are laying her out with flowers, like a bride, or a queen, and you can go and see her at rest so, for the last time, if you will! This is my message! It is a message from the dead!"
All the members of Sergius Thord's Revolutionary Committee were present, but they came as stragglers, several and apart, and among them Paul Zouche the poet, was perhaps the most noticeable.
In the same way, when a small volume of poetry, burning as lava, wild as a storm-wind, came floating out on the top of the seething soup of current literature, bearing the name of Paul Zouche, and it was said that this person was a poet, they questioned smilingly, "Is he dead?" for, naturally, they could not imagine these modern days were capable of giving birth to a living specimen of the genus bard.
He went away very mysteriously, no one knows where he has gone, or when he will come back." "I am not surprised!" said Pequita; "With such a father and mother, and such impudent-looking brothers, no wonder he wanted to get away!" Zouche had another fit of laughter. He had never seen the little girl in such a temper. He tried to assume gravity. "Pequita, you are naughty!
Paul Zouche opened his eyes, filled his glass afresh, and tossed down the liquor it contained at a gulp. "Before we have any more music," he said, "and before the little Pequita gives us the dance which she has promised, not to us, but to Lotys we ought to have prayers!" A loud laugh answered this strange proposition.
She made this strange remark with a simplicity and wistfulness which were in striking contrast to the awful profundity of the suggestion, and all her auditors, including the half-tipsy Zouche, were silent.
Notice also the ancient font and the remains of frescoes at the east end of the nave. The road now runs eastwards with the fine escarpment of Rackham Hill to the right and in about two miles reaches Parham Park, the seat of Lord Zouche. A short distance further east is Storrington, which we have seen on our way to Worthing.
So with this half promise she was fain to be content, and to bear with the laughing taunts of her 'Revolutionary' friends, who constantly teased her and called her 'little traitor' because she sought the Royal favour. Another event, which was correctly or incorrectly traced to Leroy's silently working influence, was the sudden meteoric blaze of Paul Zouche into fame.
So do I!" And Zouche lit a cigarette and stuck it between his lips by way of a stop-gap to a threatening violent expletive; "An insolent, pampered, flattered fool! Yet you wanted to dance before him; and now you've done it! The fact will serve you as a kind of advertisement! That is all!" "I do not want to be advertised through his favour!"
But just as he was about to turn in the necessary direction, he halted abruptly at sight of two men, standing at the first corner in the way of his advance, talking earnestly. He recognized them at once as Sergius Thord and the half-inebriated poet, Paul Zouche.
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