Category: Short Stories
Paris is the gloomiest town in Christendom to-day,—though it is a lovely day in April, and the breeze is full of softness, and the streets are gay with people,—and the Latin Quarter is quite the dullest bit of Paris: Mademoiselle Miss left last night for England.
Long before our personal acquaintance began I used to see her here and there in the Quarter: at the Bullier balls, or the Café Vachette, or in the Luxembourg or the Boule-Miche...
6. Part 6At the outset of his journey, his impatience to reach the end of it was so great, the progress of the steamer had seemed exasperatingly slow. But as they began to near New York,...
4. Part 4His wife had died some five and twenty years before, leaving him with an infant son upon his hands; and she had made him promise that the boy should be brought up as a “good Ame...
5. Part 5“I was entirely broken-hearted when I heard that you were going to stop at Sere all summer; but even for adversity there are sweet uses; and I wish you would ask my boy down to...
2. Part 2One thing, in recalling those early days, I catch myself perpetually thanking our stars for, with a joy the obverse of a terror; and that is that it was mercifully given to us t...
1. Part 1Paris is the gloomiest town in Christendom to-day,—though it is a lovely day in April, and the breeze is full of softness, and the streets are gay with people,—and the Latin Qua...
7. Part 7“Ah, that is too hard a riddle,” he protested. “I know nothing about it, and I have scarcely an opinion. But I may say very frankly that I am not of her partisans. She has no wo...