She always carried a bit Paris with her wherever she went Walks in the morning rides horseback through the woods in the afternoon music, dancing, charades in the evening were the ord the day, and had continued till this spell wet weather had set in.
Mademoiselle Angele's spirit had manfully borne against She had kept her guests alive her gaiety, but now ennui was inning gain upon her, and with hers their spirits were flagging. Repartees were growing flat, flirtation heavy band, billiards monotonous and voices raised in song sounded hoarse.
What was done ? A vast amount correspondence that had fidlen into arrears had been made books and papers had been read nothing now was lefl drive back the in-coming tide ennui. To make matters still more depressing General Say had been called away Paris business, and Monsieur Eugene Dufresny, artist note, a gold medallist at the last Salon whom Madeinoiselle Ang had been betrothed since last spring, was also away, painting a background for a picture, at some twenty miles distance from the chftteaiL The company assembled round the wood-fire that moinlng were two young married couples, the wives had been Angele's friends at the convent where she had been educated Mademoiselle de Lustre, her old maiden aunt an elderly marquise and Monsieur Henri Ch vres, Angle's cousin, a dapper young man with a sandy moustache and an eye-glass, phd dissertation research proposal help thesis consultant who paid court all pretty women. What are ? It death deqpair itis the end the world that upon said Mademoiselle AngUe in her bright joyous voice, looking out the window at the dripping liees and the But vfh i enfin what, I ask you, did they in the Aik pass the time during the Deluge ? asked Monaeur ChibneS They had plenty occupation, stopping the leaks fetidii Uie animals, arranging the conjugal quarrels the many coupleSi said Occupation the destroyer efutuL Here I quite coMenl a good fire, with knitting. I wait for the sunshine said Mademoiselle Lustre, lifting her voice from the comer wheieslie sat.
Since Angele's mother's best article writing service death, the good soul had filled her plioe a her niece's chaperon.
She meekly danced behind the damaelki the mad capers she was often bent performing, following her abooit with wraith-like fidelity, raising the while a plaintive reed-like note Mademoiselle, Aunt, you are the goddess wisdom, said Monsieur Chfevres, pirouetting round and making her a bow.
Minerva ought represented absorbed in the eternal knitting stockings, ignoring all mortal ennuiJ Ah, little Aunt, said AngMe, coming seat herself the arm Mademoiselle Lustre's chair, and playing with the worthy lady's ball worsted, you would face eternity with complacency if you had your knitting in The clic-clic the needles like a drowsy voice repeating, Down with rebellious thoughts and all the time the stocking grows like a grey life peaceful days.
And tapestry what that like ? asked Madame Beaumont, lifting a smiling face from her embroidery frame.
I asking myself, said Monsieur Chfevres, leaving the window and twirling the string his eye-glass, what Dufresny doing in this weather, off there in the wooden bam has set for He painting a fine effect mud, and a damp, red-nosed shepherd upon imbibing a horror water for the rest his days, said Angfele laughing, and blushing.
I can see from this, she continued, stretching out her hand. It will create a furore at the Sa My portrait professional custom essays this year.
A sketch slush next year, with a horrid tranjp trudging across Such are painters, everything comes My Niece, you only care for pretty things you are vain. You not like the letter writing help online poor because they wear rags, and are not clean look said Mademoiselle Lustre. I give them money. But these unwashed folk in rags who smell wet earth if I were an artist I should not choose them as models. But Eugfene a poet-painter, you understand, has You are right, Mademoiselle, the epic poet poverty, said Monsieur Beaumont enthusiastically. He will the epic poet mud this year, answered Angele. It will mud, as never mud was painted before. To look at You ought send a dove over carrying a letter, bidding him return, said Madame Beaumont. My dear, replied Angele with a laugh that did not bring out her dimples in her cheeks as usual, people who knit and people who paint are self-sufficing. Our dove would sent back without much as an olive branch greetii But, she con tinned, might defy the weather and fetch him back in a body, dothed in water-proofs and shod in goloshes. My Niece ! exclaimed Mademoiselle Lustre with shocked That would not convenabU replied Ang shrugc her shoulders.
© Gouvernement du Québec, 2016