ISBN is

9780865274525 / 0865274525

The Bohemians of the Latin Quarter

by

Publisher:Howard Fertig

Edition:Softcover

Language:English

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About the book:

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1883 edition. Excerpt: ...of Parisian luxury and an idle life. She was styled Madame Seraphine, and was for the time being mistress of an incarnate rheumatism in the shape of a peer of France, who gave her fifty louis a month, which she shared with a counter-jumper who gave her nothing but hard knocks. Eodolphe had pleased her, she hoped that he would not think of giving her anything, and took him off home with her. "Lucile," said she to her waiting maid, " I am not at home to anyone." And passing into her bedroom, she came out ten minutes later, in a special costume. She found Rodolphe dumb and motionless, for since he had come in he had been plunged, despite himself, into a gloom fall of silent sobs. "Why you no longer look at me or speak to me!" said the astonished Seraphine. "Come," said Rodolphe to himself, lifting his head; "let us look at her, but only for the sake of art." "And then what a sight met his eyes," as Eaoul says in " The Huguenots." Seraphine was admirably beautiful. Her splendid figure, cleverly set-off by the cut of her solitary garment, showed itself provocatively through the half-transparent material. All the imperious fever of desire woke afresh in Rodolphe's veins. A warm mist mounted to his brain. He looked at Seraphine otherwise than from a purely ffisthetical point of view and took the pretty girl's hands in his own. They were divine hands, and might have been wrought by the purest chisels of Grecian statuary. Rodolphe felt these admirable hands tremble in his own, and feeling less and less of an art critic, he drew towards him Seraphine, whose face was already tinged with that flush which is the aurora of voluptuousness. "This creature is a true instrument of pleasure, a real Straduarius of love, and one on which I would willingly...

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