Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"What! it is you, is it, my dear Frantz?" How coolly she says it, the little rascal! "I knew you at once." Ah, the little iceberg! She will always be the same. A veritable little iceberg, in very truth. She is very pale, and her hand as it lies in Frantz's is white and cold. She seems to him improved, even more refined than before.
As objects dipped in phosphorus shine with equal splendor, so the most trivial words she said illuminated her pretty, radiant face. What a blissful rest it was for him after Sigismond's brutal disclosures! They talked together with great animation while Mamma Delobelle was setting the table. "You will dine with us, won't you, Monsieur Frantz?
"Do you know too, papa, how at home, when our Hector, or the other dogs, were fed in the hall, all gazed up so fixedly into the eyes of old Frantz? and as he turned his head, so went all the eyes like so many torches, right and left, still peeping at the old man, without ever blinking, until they at length obtained their portions.
For nearly a month past, ever since the day when Sidonie came and took Frantz away in her coupe, Desiree had known that she was no longer loved, and she knew her rival's name. She bore them no ill-will, she pitied them rather. But, why had he returned? Why had he so heedlessly given her false hopes? How many tears had she devoured in silence since those hours!
And yet," the good man would add by force of habit, "and yet I haf no gonfidence." "Never fear, Monsieur Sigismond, I am here," the judge would reply. "You're not going away yet, are you, my dear Frantz?" "No, no not yet. I have an important matter to finish up first." "Ah! so much the better." The important matter to which Frantz referred was his marriage to Desiree Delobelle.
Our readers know that the burgomaster had a daughter, Suzel But, shrewd as they may be, they cannot have divined that the counsellor Niklausse had a son, Frantz; and had they divined this, nothing could have led them to imagine that Frantz was the betrothed lover of Suzel.
That woman makes him believe black is white." The ex-actor concluded his harangue with a wink at the comique and the financier, and for a moment the three exchanged glances, conventional grimaces, 'ha-has! and 'hum-hums! and all the usual pantomime expressive of thoughts too deep for words. Frantz was struck dumb. Do what he would, the horrible certainty assailed him on all sides.
The coarse face of M. Gardinois, surrounded by a travelling-cap with ear-pieces, is before him. "I am not mistaken, it is Monsieur Risler. Are you going to Marseilles by the express? I am not going far." He explains to Frantz that he has missed the Orleans train, and is going to try to connect with Savigny by the Lyon line; then he talks about Risler Aine and the factory.
His regret on that account came to the surface every moment in his spasmodic attempts at conversation, in which everything that he wanted to say was left unfinished, interrupted by innumerable questions on all sorts of subjects and explosions of affection and joy. Frantz excused himself on the plea of fatigue, and the pleasure it had given him to be in their old room once more.
Nonsense! it would make Madame What-d'ye-call-her, yonder, too happy. On the contrary, I mean to live to live with my Frantz, and for him, and for nothing else." "Bravo!" said Sigismond, "that's the way I like to hear you talk." At that moment Mademoiselle Planus came to say that the room was ready. Risler apologized for the trouble he was causing them. "You are so comfortable, so happy here.
Word Of The Day