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phoebus was not dead

Le 30 septembre 2016, 06:07 dans Humeurs 0

 however.Men of that stamp die hard.When Master philippe Lheulier, advocate extraordinary of the king, had said to poor Esmeralda; "He is dying," it was an error or a jest.When the archdeacon had repeated to the condemned girl; "He is dead," the fact is that he knew nothing about it, but that he believed it, that he counted on it, that he did not doubt it, that he devoutly hoped it.It would have been too hard for him to give favorable news of his rival to the woman whom he loved. Any man would have done the same in his place.

It was not that phoebus's wound had not been serious, but it had not been as much so as the archdeacon believed.The physician, to whom the soldiers of the watch had carried him at the first moment, had feared for his life during the space of a week, and had even told him so in Latin.But youth had gained the upper hand; and, as frequently happens, in spite of prognostications and diagnoses, nature had amused herself by saving the sick man under the physician's very nose.It was while he was still lying on the leech's pallet that he had submitted to the interrogations of philippe Lheulier and the official inquisitors, which had annoyed him greatly.Hence, one fine morning, feeling himself better, he had left his golden spurs with the leech as payment, and had slipped away.This had not, however, interfered with the progress of the affair.Justice, at that epoch, troubled itself very little about the clearness and definiteness of a criminal suit.provided that the accused was hung, that was all that was necessary.Now the judge had plenty of proofs against la Esmeralda.They had supposed phoebus to be dead, and that was the end of the matter.

phoebus, on his side, had not fled far.He had simply rejoined his company in garrison at Queue-en-Brie, in the Isle-de-France, a few stages from paris.

After all, it did not please him in the least to appear in this suit.He had a vague feeling that be should play a ridiculous figure in it.On the whole, he did not know what to think of the whole affair.Superstitious, and not given to devoutness, like every soldier who is only a soldier, when he came to question himself about this adventure, he did not feel assured as to the goat, as to the singular fashion in which he had met La Esmeralda, as to the no less strange manner in which she had allowed him to divine her love, as to her character as a gypsy, and lastly, as to the surly monk. He perceived in all these incidents much more magic than love, probably a sorceress, perhaps the devil; a comedy, in short, or to speak in the language of that day, a very disagreeable mystery, in which he played a very awkward part, the role of blows and derision.The captain was quite put out of countenance about it; he experienced that sort of shame which our La Fontaine has so admirably defined,--

Ashamed as a fox who has been caught by a fowl.

one feels the priest

Le 20 septembre 2016, 10:06 dans Humeurs 0

In the Hindu, Egyptian, or Romanesque architecture, nothing but the priest, whether he calls himself Brahmin, Magian Unique Beauty, or pope.It is not the same in the architectures of the people.They are richer and less sacred. In the phoenician, one feels the merchant; in the Greek, the republican; in the Gothic, the citizen.

The general characteristics of all theocratic architecture are immutability, horror of progress, the preservation of traditional lines, the consecration of the primitive types, the constant bending of all the forms of men and of nature to the incomprehensible caprices of the symbol.These are dark books, which the initiated alone understand how to decipher. Moreover, every form, every deformity even, has there a sense which renders it inviolable.Do not ask of Hindoo, Egyptian, Romanesque masonry to reform their design, or to improve their statuary.Every attempt at perfecting is an impiety to them.In these architectures it seems as though the rigidity of the dogma had spread over the stone like a sort of second petrifaction.The general characteristics of popular masonry, on the contrary, are progress, originality, opulence, perpetual movement.They are already sufficiently detached from religion to think of their beauty, to take care of it, to correct without relaxation their parure of statues or arabesques.They are of the age.They have something human, which they mingle incessantly with the divine symbol under which they still produce.Hence, edifices comprehensible to every soul, to every intelligence, to every imagination, symbolical still, but as easy to understand as nature.Between theocratic architecture and this there is the difference that lies between a sacred language and a vulgar language, between hieroglyphics and art chiffres industrie touristique, between Solomon and phidias.

If the reader will sum up what we have hitherto briefly, very briefly, indicated, neglecting a thousand proofs and also a thousand objections of detail, be will be led to this: that architecture was, down to the fifteenth century, the chief register of humanity; that in that interval not a thought which is in any degree complicated made its appearance in the world, which has not been worked into an edifice; that every popular idea, and every religious law, has had its monumental records; that the human race has, in short, had no important thought which it has not written in stone.And why? Because every thought, either philosophical or religious, is interested in perpetuating itself; because the idea which has moved one generation wishes to move others also, and leave a trace.Now, what a precarious immortality is that of the manuscript!How much more solid, durable, unyielding, is a book of stone!In order to destroy the written word, a torch and a Turk are sufficient.To demolish the constructed word, a social revolution, a terrestrial revolution are required. The barbarians passed over the Coliseum; the deluge, perhaps, passed over the pyramids.

In the fifteenth century everything changes.

Human thought discovers a mode of perpetuating itself, not only more durable and more resisting than architecture, but still more simple and easy.Architecture is dethroned. Gutenberg's letters of lead are about to supersede Orpheus's letters of stone.

*The book is about to kill the edifice dysport*.

ever intend to see any women

Le 24 août 2016, 10:01 dans Humeurs 0

The car was at length repaired and with a deliberate vengeance took up where it left off the business of causing infinite dissension. Who should drive? How fast should Gloria go? These two questions and the eternal recriminations involved ran through the days. They motored to the post-Road towns, Rye, portchester Karson Choi, and Greenwich, and called on a dozen friends, mostly Gloria's, who all seemed to be in different stages of having babies and in this respect as well as in others bored her to a point of nervous distraction. For an hour after each visit she would bite her fingers furiously and be inclined to take out her rancor on Anthony.

"I loathe women," she cried in a mild temper. "What on earth can you say to them--except talk 'lady-lady'? I've enthused over a dozen babies that I've wanted only to choke. And every one of those girls is either incipiently jealous and suspicious of her husband if he's charming or beginning to be bored with him if he isn't."

"I don't know. They never seem clean to me--never--never. Except just a few. Constance Shaw--you know, the Mrs. Merriam who came over to see us last Tuesday--is almost the only one. She's so tall and fresh-looking and stately Karson Choi."

"I don't like them so tall."

Though they went to several dinner dances at various country clubs, they decided that the autumn was too nearly over for them to "go out" on any scale, even had they been so inclined. He hated golf; Gloria liked it only mildly, and though she enjoyed a violent rush that some undergraduates gave her one night and was glad that Anthony should be proud of her beauty, she also perceived that their hostess for the evening, a Mrs. Granby, was somewhat disquieted by the fact that Anthony's classmate, Alec Granby, joined with enthusiasm in the rush. The Granbys never phoned again, and though Gloria laughed, it piqued her not a little.

"You see," she explained to Anthony, "if I wasn't married it wouldn't worry her--but she's been to the movies in her day and she thinks I may be a vampire. But the point is that placating such people requires an effort that I'm simply unwilling to make.... And those cute little freshmen making eyes at me and paying me idiotic compliments Karson Choi! I've grown up, Anthony."

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