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lucien��anecdoteshow��sandga��he had grown to detest the time after dinner passed in the plushy, painted drawing-room. hitherto, in all these years of increasing prosperity, during which the conscious effort of his brain had been directed to business and money-making, he had not objected after the work of the day to pass a quiescent hour or two before his early bedtime giving half an ear to his wife��s babble, which, with her brain thickened with refreshment, always reached its flood-tide of voluble incoherence now, giving half an eye to alice with her industrious{291} needle. all the time a vague simmer of mercantile meditation gently occupied him; his mind, like some kitchen fire with the damper pushed in, kept itself just alight, smouldered and burned low, and alice��s needle was but like the bars of the grate, and his wife��s prattle the mild rumble of water in the boiler. it was all domestic and normal, in accordance with the general destiny of prosperous men in middle age. indeed, he was luckier in some respects than the average, for there had always been for him his secret garden, the hortus inclusus, into which neither his family nor his business interests ever entered. now even that had been invaded, norah��s catalogue had become to him the most precious of his books: she was like sunshine in his secret garden or like a bitter wind, something, anyhow, that got between him and his garden beds, while here in the drawing-room in the domestic hour after dinner the fact of her made itself even more insistently felt, for she turned lady keeling��s vapidities, to which hitherto he had been impervious, into an active stinging irritation, and even poor alice��s industrious needle and the ever-growing pattern of maltese crosses on mr silverdale��s slippers was like some monotonous recurring drip of water that set his nerves on edge. this was a pretty state of mind, he told himself, for a hardheaded business man of fifty, and yet even as with all the force of resolution that was in him he tried to find something{292} in his wife��s remarks that could awake a relevant reasonable reply, some rebellious consciousness in his brain would only concern itself with counting on the pink clock the hours that lay between the present moment and nine o��clock next morning. and then the pink clock melodiously announced on the westminster chime that it was half past ten, and alice put her needle into the middle of the last maltese cross, and lady keeling waddled across the room and tapped the barometer, which a marble diana held in her chaste hand, to see if the weather promised well for the bazaar to-morrow. the evening was over, and there would not be another for the next twenty-four hours.��ifyouwillall����boughtahou��,whilethel��dthegoodstea��ctedeno��e."toacc��rewasa��damead��la��
her winte�ϻ��ɽ�����ô���߶�һ��������,���������ﻹ�иߵ�ݸʽ����绰rs were spent at paris, where her house was still the resort of all the most distinguished, the most intellectual, and the pleasantest people, french and foreign; the summers at her beloved country home at louveciennes.he shook himself free of her hands.for the next few days the proposed journey was the theme of conversation in the bassett family. mary examined all the books she could find about the countries her brother expected to visit; then she made a list of the things she desired, and the day before his departure she gave him a sealed envelope containing the paper. she explained that he was not to open it until he reached japan, and that he would find two lists of what she wanted.she would not have her portrait done, saying that she was very sorry to refuse her aunts, but as she had renounced the world she could not have her picture taken. she had cut her hair short and her dress was very simple. the king looked nearly as pale and thin.among the new friends she found most interesting was angelica kaufmann, who lived in rome, and whose acquaintance she had long desired to make. that distinguished artist was then about fifty years old; her health had suffered from the troubles caused by her unfortunate marriage with an adventurer who had ruined her earlier years. she was now the wife of an architect, whom lisette pronounced to be like her homme d��affai
��i am not joking, messieurs, and i am going to give you the proof of what i say. griffet, the procureur, who was one of my ancestors, made a large fortune and gave his daughter in legitimate marriage to a sieur babou de la bourdoisie, a ruined gentleman, who wanted to regild his shield. from thi�ϻ��ɽ�����ô���߶�һ��������s union was born a daughter who was beautiful and rich, and married the marquis de c?uvres. everyone knows that of la belle gabrielle, daughter of this marquis, and henri iv., was born a son, c��sar de vend?me; he had a daughter who married the duc de nemours. the duchesse de nemours had a daughter who married the duke of savoy, and of this marriage was born ad��la?de of savoy, my mother, who was the eighth in descent of that genealogy. so after that you may believe whether great families are without alloy.�� [68]when mme. de bouzolz had a baby, she nursed her devotedly, and took the deepest interest in the child. but the height of bliss seemed to be attained when soon after she had a daughter herself, with which she was so enraptured and about which she made such a fuss, that one can well imagine how tiresome it must have been for the rest of the family. she thought of nothing else, would go nowhere, except to the wedding of her sister, mme. du roure, with m. de th��san; and when in the following spring the poor little thing died after a short illness, she fell into a state of grief and despair which alarmed the whole family, who found it impossible to comfort her. she would sit by the empty cradle, crying, and making drawings in pastel of the child from memory after its portrait had been put away out of her sight. but her unceasing depression and lamentation so worried m. de bea�ϻ���������ôլ�߶�ݸʽ����绰une that, seeing this, she left off talking about it, and he, hoping she was becoming [198] more resigned to the loss, proposed that she should begin again to go into society after more than a year of retirement. she consented, to please him, for as he would not leave her his life was, of course, very dull. but the effort and strain of it made her so ill that the next year she was obliged to go to bagn��res de luchon. m. de beaune, who was certainly a devoted father-in-law, went with her. her mother and eldest sister came to visit her there; her husband travelled three hundred leagues, although he was ill at the time, to see how she was getting on, and in the autumn she was much b
��and do you imagine,�� cried mme. le brun, ��that it is david who has given the taste for the antique? it is not: it is i! it was my greek supper, which they turned into a roman orgy, which set the fashion. fashion is a woman. it is always a woman who imposes the fashion, as the comtesse du barry said.��dropping the �ϻ��ɽ�����ô���߶�һ��������pilot. dropping the pilot.at the barrier came the parting with those she was�ϻ���������ôլ�߶�ݸʽ����绰 leaving in the midst of perils. when they would meet again, if they ever did at all, it was impossibl