The Dodge Club, Or, Italy in MDCCCLIX

Harper & Brothers, 1870 - 133 Seiten
James De Mille (1833-1880) was a Canadian novelist from Saint John, New Brunswick, who wrote sensational novels, historical novels, and satirical romances. "The Dodger Club" is one of several self-parodies involving the act of writing itself.

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Seite 136 - SKETCHES OF CREATION. Sketches of Creation : a Popular View of some of the Grand Conclusions of the Sciences in reference to the History of Matter and of Life. Together with a Statement of the Intimations of Science respecting the Primordial Condition and the Ultimate Destiny of the Earth and the Solar System. By ALEXANDER WINOHELL, LL.D., Professor of Geology, Zoology, and Botany in the University of Michigan, and Director of the State Geological Survey.
Seite 90 - He, above the rest In shape and gesture proudly eminent, Stood like a tower. His form had yet not lost All her original brightness, nor appeared Less than archangel ruined, and the excess Of glory obscured...
Seite 106 - prompted the Senator. " ' Een socha framas zees.' Wait — ' Ma willina soi wooda sta in socha framas zees.' Ah, appropriat ! but could I hope zat you were true to zose lines, my Senator ? Well?" "And sit and sing herself away," said the Senator, in a faltering voice, and breaking out into a cold perspiration for fear of committing himself by such uncommonly strong language. " ' Ansit ansin hassaf awai,' " repeated the Countess, her face lighting up with a sweetly conscious expression.
Seite 106 - Florence." The Countess was standing close beside him in a tender mood, waiting for .him to break the silence. How could he? He had been uttering words which sounded to her like love ; and she — "a widow ! a widow ! a widow ! wretched man that I am ! " There was a pause. The longer it lasted the more awkward the Senator felt. What upon earth was he to do or say? What business had he to go and quote poetry to widows ? What an old fool he must be ! But the Countess was very far from feeling awkward....
Seite 104 - Did you aiver see any thin moaire loafely ?" And the Countess looked full in his face. "Never," said the Senator, earnestly. The next instant he blushed. He had been betrayed into a compliment. The Countess sighed. " Helas ! my Senator, that it is not pairmitted to moartals to sociate as zey would laike." "'Your Senator,"' thought the gentleman thus addressed ; " how fond, how tender — poor thing! poor thing!" "I wish that Italy was nearer to the States,
Seite 104 - The good Senator had never before encountered a thorough woman of the world, and was as ignorant as a child of the innumerable little harmless arts by which the power of such a one is extended and secured. At last the Senator came to this conclusion. La Cica was desperately in love with him. She appeared to be a widow. At least she had no husband that he had ever seen; and therefore to the Senator's mind she must be a spinster or a widow.
Seite 104 - Ah — no — not so soft. Very well. And what theenka you of ze Italiano ?" "The sweetest language I ever heard in all my born days." " Ah, now — you hev not heard much of ze Italiano, my Senator." "I have heard you speak often," said the Senator, naively. "Ah, you compliment ! I sot you was aboove flattera.
Seite 106 - The countess drew nearer to him, but her approach only deepened his perplexity. "How that poor thing does love me !" sighed the senator. " Law bless it ! she can't help it — can't help it nohow. She is a goner ; and what can I do ? I'll have to leave Florence.
Seite 104 - Cica did not speak the best English in the world ; yet that could not account for all the singular remarks which she made. Still less could it account for the tender interest of her manner. She had remarkably bright eyes. Why wandered those eyes so often to his, and why did they beam with such devotion — beaming for a moment only to fall in sweet innocent confusion 1 La Cica had the most fascinating manners, yet they were often perplexing to the Senator's soul.
Seite 104 - How I adamiar youar style of mind, so differente from ze Italiana. You are so stong — so nobile. Yet would I laike to see moar of ze poetic in you.

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