DOI Artikel:
Dixon, Ella Hepworth: The Sweet o' the Year
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.26392#0167
By Ella Hepworth Dixon 163
when we live too long. Well, let us make haste to amuse our-
selves while we are young.”
Rapidly he cleaned up his palette, and put on another coat.
Rose had promised to wait for him for dinner, he remembered,
and there had even been talk of a ball in the Quartier.
Virginie was patching an old skirt as he passed out by the
little kitchen. It had turned much colder, and she had drawn up
a chair near the stove.
Gently, deferentially, he took her withered hand and kissed it,
cc Hommage a la maitresse de Jean Vaillant,” he murmured
gaily. “ Has she any commission for her humble servant ? ”
The old woman’s eyes lit up. Outside, there was already some-
thing of the cold serenity of evening in the still, primrose-coloured
sky. The ring-doves were silent now, huddled together in their
wicker cage, their beaks tucked beneath their wings.
w If monsieur,” she said humbly, “ would give himself the
trouble to bring me a small bottle of some cordial ? Dame ! In
the spring one feels chilly, M. Georges.Yes, the old feel
chilly in the spring.”
when we live too long. Well, let us make haste to amuse our-
selves while we are young.”
Rapidly he cleaned up his palette, and put on another coat.
Rose had promised to wait for him for dinner, he remembered,
and there had even been talk of a ball in the Quartier.
Virginie was patching an old skirt as he passed out by the
little kitchen. It had turned much colder, and she had drawn up
a chair near the stove.
Gently, deferentially, he took her withered hand and kissed it,
cc Hommage a la maitresse de Jean Vaillant,” he murmured
gaily. “ Has she any commission for her humble servant ? ”
The old woman’s eyes lit up. Outside, there was already some-
thing of the cold serenity of evening in the still, primrose-coloured
sky. The ring-doves were silent now, huddled together in their
wicker cage, their beaks tucked beneath their wings.
w If monsieur,” she said humbly, “ would give himself the
trouble to bring me a small bottle of some cordial ? Dame ! In
the spring one feels chilly, M. Georges.Yes, the old feel
chilly in the spring.”