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Updated: June 24, 2025
The investigations of M. J. A. Le Roi, given in his interesting work, "Curiosites Historiques sur Louis XIII., Louis XIV., Louis XV.," etc., Paris, Plon, 1864, have thrown fresh light upon the matter. Most of the girls left it only when about to be confined, and it sometimes stood vacant for five or six months.
Thorvaldsen: his Life and Works. From the French of Eugene Plon, by I.M. Luyster. Boston: Roberts Brothers. Thorwaldsen's life lasted from 1770 to 1844, and was very industrious. He was the son of a Copenhagen ship-carver, and received all his bent from the study of the antique in Italy. The works he left are almost innumerable, and some of them will have lasting reputation.
"Did you say through the window? That seems scarcely probable." But Plon was positive there was no other way by which he could have entered unseen by him. And now he would give M. le Commissaire a dozen guesses to find out what this rascal had the villainy to pretend. To look at him, would any one suppose now that he could be the husband of madame?
Don't cry, don't cry; you meant no harm you did not know, and Heaven is witness how sorely we sometimes suffer for that!" Between her sobs the girl jerked out piteously: "Périne come back?" Marie looked imploringly at her husband, but he shook his head. "Not tonight, not to-night, my child. As you go out beg for a bit of bread from M. Plon, he is in a splendid temper, and will not refuse it.
His artistic influence was very strong, exhibiting itself in the style of Tenerani, Galli, Rauch, Drake and Bissen. The life of him by Plon is methodical and complete, and the American version is illustrated by thirty-five careful engravings printed in Paris and gummed upon the sheets. Expiation. By Mrs. Julia C.R. Dorr, author of "Sibyl Huntington," etc. Philadelphia: J.B. Lippincott & Co.
Still well, well, you must not suppose that I am blaming you; on the contrary, it might surprise you to hear " M. Plon was edging his chair a little nearer to Madame Didier, and she thought it was time to interrupt his explanation, so she said briskly: "Ah, by the way, what news is there to-day in Le Petit Journal?" "There is the great robbery." "The great robbery! Where?" "In the Rue Vivienne.
"Come, come, come!" said Marie reassuringly, "tell me a little more about this, and don't be a baby, Périne. Remember that you are a big girl. No one will come here to beat you; if they did, good M. Plon would not let them come up the stairs. Tell me who did it?" She sat down on the stool as she spoke, and let the poor clumsy creature rest on her knee. "The man, the bad man!" howled Périne.
"Now one more, and then I must run down and see in what sort of a temper Monsieur Plon finds himself. If it is good, he will lend me his journal. At any rate, I shall only be gone a moment. Allons! Something difficult, something to take away, shall it be?" As before the whisper responded: "From thirteen thousand nine hundred and fifty-nine, take eight thousand five hundred and four."
Plon, after entreating Madame Didier to come farther into shelter, shut himself into his little room with a white face, and was seen no more. Everything seemed to grow more horrid as the night drew on. At about ten o'clock, Plon, hearing voices in the passage, peeped out. There still stood Madame Didier, wan as a ghost, but with the restless excitement gone.
"But am I to understand that you deny his identity?" said the officer, turning sharply on Plon. "Speak up, man!" M. Plon looked round, bewildered. "How could he have got into the house?" "Never mind that. What we want is 'yes' or 'no' Is it Jean Didier? Come close and see for yourself."
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