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"Je suis bien arrive chez ma tante que j'ai trouvee en bonne sante, mais je suis toujours horriblement triste ici, et je me le reproche, car ma tante est toujours si bonne. Elle nous avait destine la belle chambre-a-coucher, et j'ai la chambre tout seul, ce qui ne contribue pas a diminuer ma tristesse. Une chose au moins me console: j'ai le materiel pour mon livre sur l'eau-forte, c'est beaucoup.
"You are triste, Monsieur," observed Madame Beavor, in rather a piqued tone, to the Pole, who had not said a word since the roti. "Madame, an exile is always triste: I think of my pauvre pays." "Bah!" cried Mr. Love. "Think that there is no exile by the side of a belle dame." The Pole smiled mournfully. "Pull it," said Madame Beavor, holding a cracker to the patriot, and turning away her face.
And then she fell to bitter sobbing, and so at last to sleep. And when the fire had died out, towards the gray dawn, she woke again shivering and in mortal fright, for she had dreamed of Mirko, and that he was being torn from her, while he played the Chanson Triste.
Not finding amongst the "Beauties," or elsewhere, any genuine portrait of her, but seeing that by Hamilton she is absurdly styled "une triste heritiere," the, artist made a drawing from some unknown portrait at Windsor of a lady of a sorrowful countenance, and palmed it off upon the bookseller. In the edition of "Grammont" it is not actually called Lady Rochester, but "La Triste Heritiere."
The shutters of the little shop were up, as were those of all the houses in the street, and the place was therefore dark and triste; and the stout, good-looking woman within was melancholy and somewhat querulous.
We had good and agreeable company on board our barque, the Mayor of Bruges and his lady; her friend, a woman of good family; and an old Baron Triste, of a sixteen-quartering family.
Apropos of this, a joyous rhymester of the time made the following quatrain: "Certes ce fut un triste jeu Quand a Paris Dame Justice Pour avoir mangé trop d'épice Se mit le Palais tout en feu."
I should not like it at all, and neither would he. I know he would not get on at all well without me, and I love travelling about with him. Last winter we were in Italy." "And you never come to England?" "No, never. I asked papa once if he would not go there, and he said no, that we should not like it at all, it was so cold and triste there, one never amused one's-self."
The rather triste expression, the veiled look of the eyes, the morbidezza of the flesh tones, and the general sense of amplitude and grace give us a Fortuny who knew how to paint broadly. The more obvious and dashing side of him is present in the Arabian Fantaisie of the Vanderbilt Gallery.
I saw directly that this melodramatic music, beautiful as it is, did not suit the occasion, for though the gaily attuned audience was visibly affected by the phrase, Et moi j'ai l'ame triste, they did not show more signs of emotion than by making a little dab at their eyes with their pocket-handkerchiefs.
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