. Stories for the household . as celebrated there, in the country. I had writtena little merry song on the occasion; it was still wet on the paper whenwe sang it in the morning before his door, to an accompaniment ofclanging fire-irons and of barbarous sounds produced by rubbing corksover glass bottles. Thorwaldsen opened his door, appeared in dressing-gown and slippers, and marched about the room, waving his skull capand joining in the chorus. There was life and humour in the genialold man. Through my last works and the practice of a wise economy, I hadsaved a little sum, which I determined t
. Stories for the household . as celebrated there, in the country. I had writtena little merry song on the occasion; it was still wet on the paper whenwe sang it in the morning before his door, to an accompaniment ofclanging fire-irons and of barbarous sounds produced by rubbing corksover glass bottles. Thorwaldsen opened his door, appeared in dressing-gown and slippers, and marched about the room, waving his skull capand joining in the chorus. There was life and humour in the genialold man. Through my last works and the practice of a wise economy, I hadsaved a little sum, which I determined to devote to another journey toParis ; and in the winter of 1843 I went thither, by way of Dusseldorfand Belgium. . The jovial Alexaudre Dumas I usually found inbed, even if it was long past noon: there he would lie, with paper, pens,and ink, writing at his newest drama. One day, when I found himthus, he nodded merrily to me, and said, Sit down for a minute. Ihave a visit *Vom my Muse, but shell go directly. He wrote, talked. ALEXANDER DUMAS INTBODUCES ME TO RACHEL. loud, then broke into a cheer, sprang out of bed, and cried, The thirdact is finished! I have to thank him for an introduction to Each el. I had not yetseen her act, when Alexander Dumas asked rne if I should like to makeher acquaintance. One evening, when she was to act Phedre, he took,me on to the stage of the Theatre Fran^cds. The play had begun, andbehind the scenes, where a screen formed a kind of room wherein stooda table with refreshments and a few stools, sat the young girl, who, asan author has said, knows how to hew living statues out of the marbleblocks of Eacine and Corneille. She was thin and slenderly built, andlooked very youthful. There, and still more afterwards in her ownhouse, she seemed to me a picture of Melancholy, like a young girl who 778 Stories for the Household. had just wept out her grief, and has sat down to brood silently over spoke kindly to us, in a deep strong voice. In the cou
Size: 1497px × 1668px
Photo credit: © Reading Room 2020 / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, bookpublisherlondongroutledgean
