FREE BOOKS

Author's List




PREV.   NEXT  
|<   131   132   133   134   135   136   137   138   139   140   141   142   143   144   145   146   147   148   149   150   151   152   153   154   155  
156   157   158   159   160   161   162   163   164   165   166   167   168   169   170   171   172   173   174   175   176   177   178   179   180   >>   >|  
and. And then a gendarme was running alongside, gesticulating furiously--but the next moment the man was touching his cap. "Ah, it is Monsieur Laparde! _Pardon, mille pardons_, Monsieur Laparde!" The man's voice dropped to a low tone, as he leaned in over the side of the car. "But if monsieur will be good enough to have a care. It will get us into trouble if we do not do our duty, and monsieur would not like that to happen. Ah, monsieur"--at Jean's five-franc piece. "Ah--" The car was off again. But now Jean laughed aloud. Fame! Who was there that did not know Jean Laparde--from the President of France to the gamin of the gutters! It began to salve a little his irritation, his ugly mood. To the devil with Father Anton--as he had just now had the pleasure of intimating to him. There was little that was empty in the fame that was his. Wealth had been poured upon him; there was nothing, nothing that was beyond his reach, nothing that he could desire and be obliged to refuse himself; and, yes--_'cre nom_, one could say it for it was true--throughout all France he was worshipped as though he were a demigod. He had only to enter a cafe anywhere, and in a moment from the tables around he would catch the whispers: "Look! There is Jean Laparde, the great sculptor!" And position--what man in all of France, or in Europe, occupied a position comparable to his! None! There was none! He would change places with no one! He owed allegiance to none; he received it from all. He received the cheers, the acclaim of the populace; the decorations of governments and royalty! And none could take this from him. It was his! And there were to be years of it--all the years he lived. He was young yet. Years of it! He was Jean Laparde, Jean Laparde, Jean Laparde--the man whose name sent a magic thrill even to his own soul. God, how he loved it all with a passion and a desire and an insatiability that was rooted in his very breath of life! The car was speeding now out through the suburbs of the great city--on--on--on! His thoughts were bringing him exhilaration in abundant measure; something in the sense of freedom, in the swift motion, brought him elated excitement. His blood was whipping buoyantly through his veins. There would be a day of this--to go somewhere, anywhere--without plan, or predetermination, this road or that, it mattered not at all--a day of it--prompted no longer by the sullen, disgruntled mood
PREV.   NEXT  
|<   131   132   133   134   135   136   137   138   139   140   141   142   143   144   145   146   147   148   149   150   151   152   153   154   155  
156   157   158   159   160   161   162   163   164   165   166   167   168   169   170   171   172   173   174   175   176   177   178   179   180   >>   >|  



Top keywords:
Laparde
 

monsieur

 

France

 

received

 

desire

 
position
 
Monsieur
 

moment

 
Europe
 

sculptor


decorations

 

places

 
populace
 

allegiance

 
acclaim
 

change

 
cheers
 
occupied
 

comparable

 

royalty


governments

 

suburbs

 

whipping

 

buoyantly

 

excitement

 

elated

 

freedom

 

motion

 

brought

 

longer


sullen

 
disgruntled
 

prompted

 

mattered

 

predetermination

 
passion
 

insatiability

 
rooted
 

breath

 
bringing

exhilaration
 

abundant

 
measure
 
thoughts
 

speeding

 

whispers

 
thrill
 

trouble

 
laughed
 

happen