Graham's Magazine, Vol. XLI, No. 6, December 1852Various
General
Graham's Magazine, Vol. XLI, No. 6, December 1852
Various
Literature -- Periodicals; Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals
I found Mathurine incessantly occupied with the well-being of Hector.
She might have been pretty at the period of their union, probably some
twenty years before; but her small, slight figure was rather awry, in
consequence of having, for so long a time, served as a prop to her tall
husband, who always leant on her shoulder as he walked. She seemed
indeed altogether out of the perpendicular; her bonnet never sat
straight, owning to its being pushed aside by his arm; her shawl had the
end any where but in the middle; her gloves were generally ragged at the
fingers, while I observed that his were carefully repaired--it being
evident that my friends were obliged to practice economy; her shoes were
shabby, with the strings often untied. “What would you have?” she once
remarked laughingly. “I have no time to attend to these trifles; which,
after all, don’t signify; for I am not a _coquette_, and he does not see
me. I catch up the first thing that comes to hand, and he fancies I am
quite a _belle_.”
Hector had the strangest voice I ever heard; it would begin _contralto_
and run up to _alto_ in an incredible manner when he was excited; and
then fall down again to the gruffest bass, his little brisk wife’s
treble accompanying so as, as she imagined, to soften the sharp effects
he produced.
She had managed to learn several languages, in order to read to him the
authors he admired in the original; and odd enough her versions were;
but, as he perfectly comprehended the jargon they had studied together,
her plan succeeded admirably.
Amongst Monsieur Faye’s peculiarities was that of being an inveterate
sight-seer. There was no object of interest near the places he visited
that he had not, as he said, seen; and no sooner did he hear a
description of a castle or a cathedral than he became restless to make
its acquaintance. I happened one day to speak of having, in former
years, gone to the strange old castle of Loches, about thirty miles from
Tours; and struck instantly with his usual desire for exploring, he
proposed a journey to the spot, inviting me to be his guest and guide.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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