GLASSES
the famous story by Edgar Allan Poe ...
miserably ... I translated and summarized to introduce the topic As we want to expose in the next article.
Most of you already know this story. For myself I'd read about 30 years ago, but today I had this sudden inspiration to post it I could not find the volume, so I fished in the network, in the original language and I translated all the limits of my limited knowledge of English, but this way I could appreciate it more than the first time and I hope to stimulate the same provision in all the readers enjoy it!
The reasons which lead me to report this story are:
(1) provides a starting point for reflection on the view that despite its extreme comedy, you kind of allopathic and that clearly refute the second part;
(2) offers food for thought about love that will resume in another article devoted to the couple ... a subject on which I have already expressed and which I find there is still much to explore.
(3) I find some stories and some novels are themselves THERAPEUTIC and this certainly can have this role.
(As the opportunity arises I will have the rye the other by various authors)
GLASSES
Many years ago, it was fashionable to ridicule the idea of \u200b\u200b"love at first sight," but those who believe, no less than those who feel deeply, have always supported its existence. Modern discoveries, indeed, with regard to what may be termed ethical magnetism or magnetoestesia, believe that the most likely natural, and, consequently, the truest and most intense of human suffering is what comes from the heart, as a sympathy electricity, in a word, the most brilliant and enduring physical links is what brings us to a look. The confession I am about to do add to confirm the truth of this theory.
am still very young, I still have 22 years. My name is very common and rather vulgar at the time, responds to that of Simpson. I say "when" because I recently adopted this name over the last year, in order to receive a large inheritance left me with a distant relative, Adolphus Simpson, Cav. The bequest was conditioned by the requirement that I assume the surname of the testator. My Christian name is Napoleon Bonaparte.
I assumed the name Simpson with some reluctance, but in my real surname, Froissart, I felt a very pardonable pride, thinking that I could draw a seed of immortality author of "Chronicles."
(...) As for personal qualities, are not in any way deficient. On the contrary, I believe to be well done, and in possession of what nine tenths of the world would call a handsome face. I am tall and five feet eleven. My hair is curly and blacks. My nose is good enough. My eyes are big and gray, even though in reality they are weak enough to create me some uneasiness, yet no defect in this regard one might suspect from their appearance. This weakness, however, increasingly annoys me, and I have resorted to every remedy, unless you wear glasses. Being young and handsome, of course I hated them and I definitely refused to adopt them. I do not know anything, rather, that so disfigures the face of a young person, or any expression that imparts an air of modesty, if not of hypocrisy and age advanced. A one-eyed, on the other hand, has a marked affectation and snobbery. So far I have pulled ahead as I could without using them. I will just say also that mine is a sanguine temperament, lively, ardent, enthusiastic, and that all my life I've been an admirer of women.
A winter last night I went to the theater in a box, in the company of a friend, Mr. Talbot. It 'was a night of work, and performances presented very rare attraction, so the room was too crowded. We were on time, however, to obtain the front seats that were reserved for us, and where, with some little difficulty, we elbowed their way.
For two hours my companion, who was a music fanatic, gave his full attention to the representation and in the meantime, I enjoyed observing the audience, which consisted, for the most part, the elite of the city. After satisfying my curiosity on this point, I was looking around to the first lady, when it was arrested and paid by a figure in one of the first private boxes had not seen.
Even if I lived a thousand years, I could never forget the intense emotion I felt. It was a woman, the most exquisite I have ever seen. The face had been so far toward the stage, so that, for a few minutes, I could not have a vision complete it, but the form was divine.
The magic of a beautiful form in a woman has always been a power which I find impossible to resist, but here was grace personified, the incarnation of the ideal of beauty of my wildest and most enthusiastic visions. The figure was a bit 'above the average height and majestic. Its perfect fullness was delicious. The head alone was visible only in the back, competed in outline with that of the Greek Psyche, and was enhanced rather than hidden by a stylish hat that reminded me of the "textilem ventum" of Apuleius. The right arm leaning on the balustrade of the room, thrilled every nerve of my body with its symmetry delicious. Its top was draped in a large open sleeves now in fashion: long just below the elbow. Under the coat she wore a dress fabric is brittle, close-fitting, and finishing with a cuff of rich lace, which fell gracefully over the top of the hand, revealing only the delicate fingers, one of which sparkled a diamond ring, I've noticed to be of extraordinary value. The admirable roundness of the wrist was well demarcated by a bracelet around him, and that was also decorated by a narrow aigrette magnificent jewels.
watched this regal appearance by at least half an hour, as if I were suddenly converted to stone, and, during this period, I felt all the force and truth of all that is said or sung concerning "love at first sight." My feelings were totally different from all those I had lived up to that point, the presence of the most celebrated specimens of feminine beauty. Unexplained, which are forced to consider magnetic, sympathy of soul for soul, seemed ribattesse, not only my vision but my powers of thought and feeling, just the object admired by me. I felt, I knew that I was deeply, madly, irrevocably in love, and this even before seeing the face of a loved one.
While I was thus wrapped in admiration of this lovely vision, a sudden disturbance among the public caused her to turn her head partially toward me, so I saw the whole profile of the face. Its beauty even exceeded my expectations, yet there was something that disappoints me, I was not able to say exactly what. I said "disappointed" but this is not exactly the word. My feelings were at once reassured and excited. There was something else, a bit 'of mystery that I could develop, some expression on his face a bit' disturbed me while it was greatly increased my interest. In fact, I was just in that state of mind that is prepared in a young and sensitive subject for every act of extravagance. If the lady was been alone, I would definitely have entered the stage and her close to her all the dangers, but, fortunately, I noticed that there were two friends, a gentleman, and a stunningly beautiful woman, to all appearance a few years younger than her.
I lucubrate in my mind a thousand ways that I could get, as a result, a introduction to the old lady, or, for the time being, however, a closer view of her beauty. I placed my position closer to her, but the theater was crowded it was impossible, and the decrees of fashion in recent times, absolutely prohibited the use of opera glasses in a case like this, even if I was lucky enough to have one with me, but I did not, and then I was in despair.
Eventually I turned to my companion.
"Talbot" I said, "you have an opera. Give it to me."
"An opera glasses? No! What do you think I would do with an opera?" And he turned impatiently toward the stage.
"But Talbot," I continued, pulling him by the shoulder, "listen to me: see that stage? There! Have you ever seen a woman so beautiful?"
"She is very beautiful, no doubt," he said.
"I wonder who could that be?"
"Why in the name of all that is angelic do not know who he is? Do not know means you're ignorant. It 's the famous Madame Lalande, the beauty of the day par excellence, and the topic of the whole city. It is also immensely rich. It 'just arrived from Paris "
" You know her? "
" Yes, I have the honor
"I bring in to you?"
"Certainly, with the greatest pleasure, when you want?"
"Tomorrow."
"Very good, now shut up if you can."
On this last point I was forced to follow the advice of Talbot, for he remained obstinately deaf to every question or suggestion, and occupied only for the rest of the evening of what was taking place on stage.
In the meantime I kept my eyes fixed on Madame Lalande, and I finally had the chance to get a complete picture. And 'this is exquisitely beautiful, my heart told me before, but Talbot was not fully satisfied with me, but it still bothered me was incomprehensible. In the end I concluded that my senses were hit by a certain air of gravity, sadness, or, more properly, of weariness, which has weighed on the youth and freshness of the face, and then equip it with a seraphic tenderness and majesty , and then, of course, my temper passionate and romantic, this led to a higher interest tenfold.
While he celebrated my eyes, I felt, finally, to my great trepidation, an almost imperceptible start by the lady who had become suddenly aware of the intensity of my gaze. Still, I was absolutely fascinated, and I could not withdraw it, even for a moment. He turned his face again, and again I saw only the chiselled contour of the rear portion of the head. After several minutes, as if urged by curiosity to see if I was still in its research, has gradually turned his face and again encountered my burning gaze. Her large eyes blacks sank immediately, and a deep blush mantles the cheek. But what was my surprise at seeing that she not only has again turned his head, but it actually took a belt from his goggles, he has raised and adjusted and then I looked through it, intently and deliberately, for the space of a few minutes.
Lightning fell to my feet I could astound surprise-more, although an action so bold in any other woman would be able to offend or disgust. But everything was done so quietly, so easily, the rest, in short, anything that mere effrontery was perceptible, and my own feelings were those of admiration and surprise.
After meeting his curiosity, she dropped the glasses, and quietly took his attention once more to the story, I now address my profile as before. I kept looking at her relentlessly, even though I was fully conscious of my rudeness in so doing.
This extraordinary behavior, throwing in a perfect fever of excitement in an absolute delirium of love, which should serve to encourage me to ruin. Looking at her, when I thought the audience was fully engaged for the work, I finally caught the eyes of Madame Lalande, and, at the moment, I made a bow unmistakable.
blushed very deeply, then looked away, then slowly and cautiously looked around, apparently to see if my rash action had been noticed-then leaned over the gentleman who sat beside him.
Now I felt a burning sensation to the impropriety I had committed, while tomorrow a vision of the guns quickly floated uneasily through my brain. I was very relieved and soon, though, when I saw the lady simply, without speaking, yet having once looked furtively around him, he turned his bright eyes at me, and then, with a faint smile, revealing a line color of her pearly teeth, made two distinct and unequivocal affirmative inclinations of the head.
If ever a man was crazy an excess of happiness, I did at that time. This was my first love, so it seemed. It was a love supreme, indescribable. It was "love at first sight," and, at first sight, too, which was appreciated and returned.
The next day, having spent a sleepless night thinking of her, I went to Talbot to be presented to the lady.
But what was my disappointment to hear from home that Talbot was not there and would be out of town for a week!
I stood petrified with horror and anger. I tried to answer, but my tongue refused to move.
Thus, suppressing my anger as I could, I strolled down the street in a bad mood, making frivolous claims about Madame Lalande to every male acquaintance I met. As this view it was unknown to almost everyone, and those few who knew her, could not take the liberty to introduce me unannounced with a call in the morning. While I was in such despair, conversing with a trio of friends, it happened that the same subject of our conversation happened to be passing.
"There!" shouted one of the three.
"Surprisingly beautiful!" exclaimed a second.
"An angel on earth!" exclaimed a third.
I looked, and in an open carriage which approached us, passing slowly along the street, sat the enchanting vision work, accompanied by Mrs. younger who had occupied a seat in his box.
"His companion dresses very well," said one of my trio who had spoken first.
"Surprisingly," said the second, "still has a brilliant air, but art will do wonders my word, it looks better than it was in Paris five years ago, a beautiful woman again, do not you think Froissart? Simpson , I mean. "
" Again! " I said, "and why should not it be? But compared with her friend she was like the light of a star Antares in comparison to that of a firefly.
" Ah ah ah! This is because the dear Simpson has a feel surprising of these findings to make original, I mean. "
And here we parted.
During this short scene, however, one thing he had served much to console me, even if fed the passion by which I had consumed. I observed that she had recognized me, and besides that, I was blessed with the most seraphic of all imaginable smiles, unequivocal recognition of the mark.
To be presented to the lady, I was forced to abandon all hope until in which Talbot would return. Meanwhile assiduously attending all the renowned places of public entertainment and, in particular the theater, where I had the supreme joy of meeting you, and exchange of glances with her once again. Every day, meanwhile, asked for Talbot at his hotel, and every day I was thrown into a spasm of rage from 'eternal reply "I do not come home yet" of his valet.
After the evening in question, then, I was in a close to madness.
Madame Lalande, I was told, was a Parisian, had recently arrived from Paris could not suddenly decide to go home? Talbot does not return in time if I could lose forever the chance to meet you. The thought was too terrible to bear. Since my future happiness was at issue, I decided to act manly. In a word, until the break of the game: I tracked down the woman at his residence, I noted the address, and the next morning I sent a letter full and elaborate, in which I poured all my heart.
I spoke boldly, freely, in a word, I spoke with passion. I have not hidden anything, not even in my weakness. I mentioned the situation of our first romantic encounter, even for eyes that had passed between us. I got to the point of saying that I felt sure of his love, while I offered this guarantee, and my own intensity of devotion, as two excuses for my otherwise unpardonable conduct. In the third, I spoke of my fear that he could leave the city before I could have the opportunity of an introduction formal. I concluded the most wildly enthusiastic epistle ever written, with a frank declaration of my worldly circumstances-of my being, and with an offer of my heart and my hand. In an agony
crazy I awaited a response, and, after what seemed the lapse of a century, it has arrived.
Yes, it's actually arrived. For all this may sound romantic, I really received a letter from Madame Lalande, the beautiful, rich, idolized Madame Lalande. Her eyes, her magnificent eyes, had not belied her noble heart. Like a true Frenchman had obeyed the frank dictates of his impulses and the generosity of his nature, despising the conventional pruderies the world. She had not scorned my proposals. She had not been repaired in silence. He had not returned my letter unopened. I had also sent a response, written by her as saying:
"Monsieur Simpson forgive me for the fact that I can not make it in writing in your own language in a complete way, as I have not yet had the opportunity to study it. (And continues with a mixture of French and English impossible for me to translate: sorry. However it is understood that a letter is very flattering)
Laland EUGENIE. This letter
noble spirit, which I kissed a million times, has pledged no doubt, for its own account, a thousand other extravagances that now escapes my memory. Meanwhile Talbot's still no trace. Alas! could have been formed even the vaguest idea of \u200b\u200bhow I suffered from his absence? I wrote and told me that he had been detained by urgent business reasons, but would soon return. He begged me not to be impatient, to moderate my own transport and to read books that I could soothe the spirit, not to drink anything stronger and to bring the consolations of philosophy to my aid. The fool! if he could not come, because, in the name of every thing rational, could not attach a cover letter? I wrote again, begging him to transmit a immediately. But my letter was returned by the waiter with the following note in pencil (the villain had reached his master in the country):
"Party yesterday, for parts unknown, did not say where or when he'll be back so I thought it was better to return the letter, having recognized your writing, knowing that sooner or later you will encounter.
Sincerely,
Stubbs. "
After this it goes without saying that I sent to the infernal gods, and master the waiter, but there was little use in anger, and no consolation in denouncing all this obnoxious behavior.
But I still had a resource in my constitutional audacity. Up to that time had served me well, and I decided to use it now until the end. Also, after the correspondence which had passed between we, as an act of mere informality could I commit to the extent that it could be considered indecent by Madame Lalande? After the affair of the letter, I got into the habit of watching her house, and found that at dusk went for a walk around accompanied only by a negro in livery. Tailing car while walking in the woods blooming in the dark gray of a midsummer evening, I found my chance to get close to her.
To deceive the servant, I made sure that the air of an old and familiar knowledge. With a presence of mind truly Parisian, she took the reins in one go, and to greet me, handed me his little hand and charming. The waiter sat in the back, and then, with hearts full to overflowing, we were able to talk long and unreservedly of our love.
As Madame Lalande spoke English fluently even less than what he had written, our conversation took place necessarily in French. In this sweet language, as appropriate to the passion, I gave free rein to the enthusiasm of my impetuous nature, and with all the eloquence I could, I begged her to give her consent to an immediate marriage.
At this impatience she smiled. Please use the old story of decorum which discourages many from bliss until the possibility of happiness is always passed. Getting married immediately would be improper, it would be unseemly, would be outre. All this said with a charming air of naivete that I was simultaneously amazed, saddened and with conviction. He even to the point of accusing me, laughingly, of rashness and imprudence. She told me to remember that I really did not even know who he was, what were his prospects, his connections, his position in society. I prayed, but with a sigh, to reconsider my proposal, and termed my love an infatuation, "Will o 'the-Wisp", a fancy or fantasy of the moment, creating a baseless and rather unstable the fantasy of the heart.
I answered as best I could, as only a true lover can. I spoke long, and perseverance of my devotion, my passion, its beauty more, and my enthusiastic admiration. In conclusion, I dwelt, with a convincing energy, the obstacles involving the course of true love never did run smoothly and they are aggravated when the time is unnecessarily long.
latter argument seemed finally useful to soften the rigor of her determination.
sold, but there was still an obstacle, he said, he felt sure I had not considered adequately. It was a delicate point to ask for a woman in particular: he mentioned the issue of 'age.
I knew, I was fully aware the discrepancy between us? That when the age of the husband over several years, even the age of fifteen or twenty of his wife, this is considered acceptable and even right from the world, but she had always maintained the belief that the years of his wife should never exceed those of her husband. A discrepancy of this unnatural kind gave rise, too often, alas! to a life of misery. Now she was aware that my age was not more than twenty-two, and I, on the contrary, perhaps I was not aware that the years of my Eugenie were very large, much beyond that figure.
About all this there was a nobility, a dignity of candor, which made me happy, enchanted me, eternally strengthened my bonds. I could hardly restrain the excessive transport which possessed me.
"My sweet Eugenie," I cried, "what is this story that you're thinking? The years pass some my way. But what then? The costumes of the world are so many conventional follies. For those who love as ourselves, which differs from one hour a year? "I am twenty-two, you say, granted: indeed, you can also call me, soon ventrtreenne. Now you, my dearest Eugenie, can have no more than that ... not more than ... "
Here I stopped for a moment, in the hope that Madame Lalande I interrupted, giving his true age.
But French is rarely direct, and always has, as a response to an embarrassing question, some practical response to his speech. In the present case, Eugenie, who earlier had seemed a long time to be looking for something in his breast, dropped on the grass a miniature, which I immediately picked up and delivered to you.
"Hold it!" she said, with one of his most charming smiles. "Hold it for my own good, for the sake of the woman who is way too flattering. In addition, the back of the trinket you may discover, perhaps, the information you seem to want much. Now there is no light, but you will be able to examine as you like with the light of morning. Meanwhile, you walk with me all the way home tonight. My friends are for music and there will be a matinee, I promise, even some good singing. We French are not so punctilious as you Americans, and I will not trouble condrabbandarvi as an old acquaintance. "
So I went to his house. The house was tastefully decorated.
The evening ended as it was without doubt the most delicious of my life. Madame Lalande had not overrated the musical abilities of his friends, and the song that I I'd never heard here felt so excelled in any private club in Vienna. The instrumentalists were many talented higher.
Eventually the time came that she sang and she did so sublime.
just got up from the piano after these miracles of vocal execution, she resumed her place beside me, when I expressed to her in terms of the deepest enthusiasm, my delight at her performance.
Our conversation was now long, earnest, uninterrupted, and totally unqualified. I did tell many of the earlier passages of my life, and listened attentively to every word of the narrative. I did not conceal anything, I felt that I had no right to hide anything. Encouraged by his candor on the sensitive issue of his age, I entered, with perfect frankness, not only in a detail of my many minor vices, but also had to make a full confession of those moral and even of those physical infirmities, the disclosure of which is much safer as a testimony of love. I got even talking about a frantic slight cough with which, at one time, I had been troubled by a chronic rheumatism, a twinge of hereditary gout and, in conclusion, to date unpleasant and uncomfortable, but carefully concealed, weakness of my eyes.
"On this last point," said Madame Lalande, laughingly, "you were certainly reckless in coming to confession, because without the confession, I take it for granted that no one would be accused of the crime. By the way, - - continued - you have any memories, (and here I thought that a blush, even through the darkness of the house, it becomes clearly visible on the cheek) mon cher ami of this little ocular assistant, who is now hanging on my neck? "As he spoke he turned
between her fingers the identical double eye-glass, I was so overwhelmed by emotion at work.
" I remember them well!, I exclaimed, pressing passionately the delicate hand which offered glasses for my inspection. It was a complex and magnificent toy, richly chased and filigreed, and gleaming with jewels, which also lacks the light, I could not help but feel that were of high value.
"Eh bien! Mon ami," he resumed with an inflection in a way that I was quite surprised - "Eh bien! Mon ami, you have earnestly prayed me a favor that you have had the pleasure to call invaluable. You asked for my hand for tomorrow. Should I yield to your prayers and I can add to the memories of my breast just did not have the right to ask you a favor very-very little in return? "
" Say it! "I exclaimed with an energy that had nearly drawn upon us the people watching in the living room, and feeling held back only by their presence by throwing myself impetuously at her feet." Say, my beloved, my Eugenie, are Pima ready to tell him!
"For the good of 'Eugenie whom you love, this little weakness that you have finally confessed, could certainly involve you, sooner or later, some very unpleasant situations, because of implicit or tacit refusal of your infirmity of vision.
will understand me to say, then, that I wish to wear glasses! You have to accept the little toy that now hold in my hand as an aid to vision, in reality it has a very large value such as jewelry. Note that, an alteration so insignificant, so it can adapt to the eyes as goggles, or wear it in his vest pocket, like a monocle. E 'in the previous mode, however, that you have already consented to wear it because of me. "
This request, I have to confess? Confused me greatly. But the condition which I had agreed with each rejection made entirely out of question.
" It's done! "I cried, with all the enthusiasm that I could put together in this moment. "It 's done, it is agreed that I cheerfully sacrifice every feeling for you. Last night I wear this eye-glass on my heart. But with the first dawn of that morning which gives me pleasure to call his wife, I place it on my nose, and there you will use in a less romantic and less fashionable, but certainly most efficiently, that you want. "
said that the organization continued to talk about the wedding.
Once taken leave, I went in search of Talbot, but along the way, I could not avoid getting into a hotel, in order to inspect the miniature, and that is what I did with the aid of powerful glasses. The face was a surpassingly beautiful! Those large luminous eyes, the nose of greek pride, those dark luxuriant curls! "Ah!" I said, elated to myself, "this speaker is the very image of my beloved!" I looked at the other side, and I read the words, "Eugenie Lalande age 27 years and seven months."
I found Talbot at home, and immediately began to hear him with my luck. Manifest an excessive astonishment, of course, but congratulated me very cordially, and offered every assistance in his power. In a word, we have developed our agreement and, at two in the morning, only ten minutes after the ceremony, I found myself in a close carriage with Madame Lalande, now Mrs. Simpson, to a great distance outside the city, in a direction from the north northeast.
It was established for us by Talbot, that because the trip lasted all night, we had to make our first stop at C -, a village about 20 miles from the city to get a little 'rest and early breakfast, before continuing on our way. At four o'clock precisely, then the carriage stopped at the main door of the inn. It was almost if
not quite daylight, and, as I watched, rapt, the angel by my side, the singular idea came from, all at once, in my head that this was really the first moment after my acquaintance with the pretty famous Madame Lalande, where I could enjoy a close inspection of such beauty by day and in front of everyone.
"And now, mon ami," he said, taking my hand, and thus interrupting my train of thought,
"And now, mon cher ami, since they are inextricably linked to you, and given that I gave to your passionate entreaties, and performed my part of our agreement, I assume you have not forgotten that you also have to do a small favor, a little promise that you intend to keep.
"Certainly, my beautiful Eugenie, there is no provision on my part to evade the enforcement of the promise trivial."
And here, after arranging the lenses in the ordinary form of spectacles, I applied them with caution in the correct position, while Mrs. Simpson, adjusting his cap, and folding his arms, was seated in his chair, in a somewhat 'decent.
"Goodness gracious!" I exclaimed, almost at the same time that the rims of the glasses were established on my nose "what is the problem with these glasses?" and quickly removed, wiped them carefully with a tissue Silk and regolai again.
But if, in the first instance, occurred to me that something had caused surprise in the second, this surprise was raised in wonder and amazement was this deep, extreme, or rather I can say that it was quite horrible.
I could not believe my eyes?
wrinkles were those I saw, and lots! Oh Jupiter and all the gods! What had happened to her teeth?
I threw glasses violently to the ground, and, jumping up, I was standing in the middle of the floor facing Mrs. Simpson, who stood with his arms folded, with absolutely no words full of terror and rage.
"You wretch!" I said, catching my breath "you-you-you wicked old witch! But it was written in miniature twenty-seven years ... "
" to be precise that figure shows my age when it was done and that is when I married his second wife, Monsieur Lalande, while her husband was Monsieur previous Moissart "
" Moissart! " he said!
"Yes, Moissart," he said, mimicking my pronunciation, which, truth be told, it was not the best.
Nothing, is the fear of old age than the fact that I had an ancestor of that name, once.
(...) as I could marry my great-grandmother!
§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§
And here I stop with the text to tell in the short epilogue.
So he continued the conversation it turns out that the niece of that lovable old lady had married Monsieur Froissart who is the father of the protagonist.
Mrs. Eugenia Lalande, in his youth was very beautiful, and also was eighty years had maintained the imposing height, the sculptural contour of head, eyes and subtle nose greek of his childhood.
was immensely rich, and childless widow, she is reminded of 'existence in America of this nephew, and in order to do his heir, paid a visit to the U.S., accompanied by a distant relative and a cousin, also her widow Lalande.
the theater of opera, the great-grandmother's attention was drawn to his nephew, and, through the recognition of his "glass eye", was struck by a certain family resemblance. So interessatasi, and knowing that the heir who was looking for was actually in town, she was informed about him. The gentleman that accompanied the said who he was. The information thus obtained induced her to renew her control, and this control was the one who had encouraged and induced to behave in an absurd manner already described. As for the age and charm of the strange woman, who asked with great enthusiasm in Talbot who she was, he concluded that he meant to Beauty younger, and so informed him, with perfect truth, that it was "the celebrated widow, Madame Lalande."
On the street the next morning, the grandmother told her that he met Talbot of the known defect in the view of our more than Simpson and did not want to wear glasses. Then she, to punish the arrogance of having made advances in public of a strange old woman, order the conspiracy with him. It was not nothing but a joke. In fact the marriage had been a comedy with lots of fake priest. Then the young man married the young lady and Lalande is appointed heir by his great-grandmother. STOP
This time I wanted to images take advantage of great painters and some of them specifically I grimly used to make collages in mixed designs. They are: Jean Renoir's Samary, Amazon Parisian These, Portrait of factors, Portrait of Renoir and Bazille The lunar phases of Delvaux.