[Labrea-users] E impatient murmurs around them. What administrat

[Grenfell W. <sub...@tr...>]

Ral, "at what juncture did you leave the combat?" "You see," said Edgar
to me, "that the torture is about to commence again." "General,"
observed Madame de Meilhan, "I think that the munitions are exhausted
and dinner is ready." "Very well," gravely replied the hero, "we will
take Lubeck at dessert." "Alas! we are taken;" said Edgar, heaving a
sigh that would have lifted off a piece of the Cordilleras. M. de
Meilhan left the group of promenaders and joined me; we walked side by
side. You can imagine, madame, how anxious I was to question Edgar; you
can also comprehend the feeling of delicacy which restrained me. My poet
worships beauty; but it is a pagan worship of color and form. The result
is, a certain boldness of detail not always excusable by grace of
expression, in his description of a beautiful woman; too lively an
enthusiasm for the flesh; too great a satisfaction in drawing lines and
contours not to shock the refined. A woman poses before him like a
statue or rather like a Georgian in a slave-market, and from the manner
in which he analyzes and dissects her, you would say that he wanted
either to sell or buy her. I allude now to his speech only, which is
lively, animated but rather French its picturesque crudity. As a poet he
sculptures like Phidias, and his verse has all the dazzling purity of
marble. I preferred to apply to Madame de Meilhan. On our return to the
chateau I questioned her, and learned that my beautiful unknown was
named Madame Louise Guerin. At that word "Madame" my heart contracted.
Wherefore? I could not tell. Afterwards I learned that she was a widow
and poor, that she lived by the labor of those pretty fingers which I
had seen dabbling in the water. Further than that, Madame de Meilhan
knew nothing, her remarks were co