Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
But there was the fresh smell of loam and moss and aromatic leaves, the music of the Lisse on the pebbles, the joyous chorus of feathered creatures from every thicket, and there were the antics of the giddy young rabbits that scuttled through the warrens, leaping, tumbling, sitting up, lop-eared and impudent, or diving head-first into their burrows.
Imagine a tall, dignified, spiritual woman, whose clear muslin cap shades waves of silvery hair, parted on a broad, clear forehead, which overarches thoughtful gray eyes. A snowy handkerchief of lisse crape is folded neatly across her bosom; her glossy brown silk dress rustles peacefully, as she glides up and down the chamber. "The devil!" says Tom Loker, giving a great throw to the bedclothes.
Her dress was as deeply mourning as it was good taste to wear at an evening party. A few folds of gauzy white lisse softened the edge of her thick black silk corsage, a jet necklet and comb set off her snowy, velvety throat and bright golden brown hair. "I had no idea you would turn out so effectively!" exclaimed Mrs.
It is an ancient art, as the work of craftsmen goes, and more than one writer who has studied deeply the fascinating intricacies of haute and basse lisse, of colour, texture, design, and what not, has not hesitated to proclaim the city as having been the grandest centre of tapestry-making which the world has ever known; and regret can but be universal that it came to an end when its citizens were put to the sword by Louis XI.
"Only to the Lisse." "Then I shall read about Monsieur Bismarck and his Spanish friends until you come. The day is long without you." They smiled at each other, and she sat down by the window. "Read," she said; "I can see my children from here. I wonder why Ricky is leaving?" Suddenly, in the silence of the summer noon, far in the east, a dull sound shook the stillness.
He thought, too, of the old Vicomte de Morteyn and his gentle wife, of the little house-party of which he and his sister Dorothy made two, of Sir Thorald and Lady Hesketh, their youthful and totally irresponsible chaperons on the journey from Paris to Morteyn. "They're lunching on the Lisse," he thought. "I'll not get a bite if Ricky is there."
"Cloths, cassinetts, cassimeres, velvet, silk, satin, and Marseilles vestings, fine calf boots, seal and morocco pumps, for gentlemen," and for the sex which in barbarism dresses less and in civilization dresses more than the male, "silks, bareges, crepe lisse, lace veils, thread lace, Thibet shawls, lace handkerchiefs, fine prunella shoes, etc."
"I?" laughed that young lady, turning her flushed face from her aunt to her uncle. "Yes, you did," repeated the vicomte, "and you are not the niece that I love any more. Where have you been? And you, Dorothy Marche? your hair is very much tangled." "We have been lunching by the Lisse," said Dorothy, "and Jack caught a gudgeon; here it is."
But these warlike ebullitions simmered away peacefully in the sunshine, and the tranquil current of life flowed as smoothly through Saint-Lys as the river Lisse itself, limpid, noiseless, under the village bridge. Only one man had left the village, and that was Brun, the furtive-eyed young peasant, the sole representative in Saint-Lys of the conscript class of 1871.
Yes." "No," she said, and tore the telegram into bits. One by one she tossed the pieces on to the bosom of the placid Lisse, where they sailed away towards the Moselle like dim, blue blossoms floating idly with the current. "Are you angry?" she whispered. He saw that she was trembling, and that her face had grown very pale. "What is the matter?" he asked, amazed.
Word Of The Day