Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 19, 2025
"From Paris we went to Dijon, where we dropped Hubert into the turn at the convent door, with his name attached, and left him where he would be well taken care of, and no questions asked. With the other two we started for Calais, en route for England; and there Prudence got rid of Honorine in a singular manner.
"Honorine had wanted to ascertain whether I were an actor, a bird snarer; and I had the melancholy satisfaction of deceiving her by my exclamation, which was one of those cries from the heart which women understand so well. "'Ah, Maurice, said she, 'you know how to love.
In the wash-house I found Honorine bending over her linen, the great tears streaming down her face, in spite of her every effort to control them. "Why, Honorine, what's the matter?" "He's gone, Madame gone without my seeing him without even a clean pair of socks!" "Who?" "My son, Madame!" And the tears burst out afresh, though in silence.
Journel was their landlord, a fellow of means, but no extraction, and a favorite aversion of the old gentleman's. "Journel himself? You think he is above it, hé? You think Journel would not do such a thing? Ha! your simplicity, Honorine your simplicity is incredible. It is miraculous. I tell you, I have known the Journels, from father to son, for yes, for seventy-five years.
From the day when she left me I have lived on memory; one by one I recall the pleasures for which Honorine no doubt had no taste. "'Oh! said he, seeing the amazement in my eyes, 'do not make a hero of me, do not think me such a fool, as the Colonel of the Empire would say, as to have sought no diversion. Alas, my boy!
There she lives under the name of her housekeeper, Madame Gobain, the old woman of impeccable discretion whom I was so lucky as to find, and whose affection Honorine has won. But her zeal, like that of the gardener, is kept hot by the promise of reward at the moment of success. The porter and his wife cost me dreadfully dear for the same reasons.
"The light that flashed in my eyes was another reply which would have dissipated the Countess' uneasiness if she still had any. Thus the Count found me useful to the very last. "Honorine then took out the Count's letter again to finish reading it. My uncle signed to me, and I rose. "'Let us leave the Countess, said he. "'You are going already Maurice? she said, without looking at me.
There is something of you in her; but she is no more than a brilliant sketch, no better than Honorine. There is Eugene Grandet. But no; Balzac never painted your portrait." Like all good talkers, he knew how to delude his listeners into the belief that they were taking an important part in the conversation.
There are beautiful touches in it, but I think he failed to realise the type. You are more virile, more real to me than Honorine. No; on the whole, Balzac has not done you. He perceived you dimly. If he had lived it might, it certainly would, have been otherwise. There is, of course, the Duchesse Langeais.
"No," replied she, whispering to Claude these words: "for he has not yet guessed that Honorine would have loved him. Oh!" she exclaimed, seeing the Consul's wife approaching, "his wife was listening! Unhappy man!" Eleven was striking by all the clocks, and the guests went home on foot along the seashore. "Still, that is not life," said Mademoiselle des Touches.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking