Melbourne Observer. 120801B. August 1, 2012. Part B. Pages 21-36

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Les Misérables by Victor Hugo

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www.MelbourneObserver.com.au Melbourne Observer - Wednesday, August 1, 2012 - Page 23

and was entitled the bridge of the King’s Gar-den [du Jardin du Roi], a double enigma, whichdisguised the bridge of Austerlitz and the Jardindes Plantes at one stroke. Louis XVIII., muchpreoccupied while annotating Horace with thecorner of his finger-nail, heroes who have be-come emperors, and makers of wooden shoeswho have become dauphins, had two anxi-eties,— Napoleon and Mathurin Bruneau.The French Academy had given for its prizesubject, The Happiness procured through Study.M. Bellart was officially eloquent. In his shadowcould be seen germinating that future advocate-general of Broe, dedicated to the sarcasms ofPaul–Louis Courier. There was a falseChateaubriand, named Marchangy, in the in-terim, until there should be a false Marchangy,named d’Arlincourt. Claire d’Albe and Malek–Adel were masterpieces; Madame Cottin wasproclaimed the chief writer of the epoch. TheInstitute had the academician, NapoleonBonaparte, stricken from its list of members. Aroyal ordinance erected Angouleme into a na-val school; for the Duc d’Angouleme, being lordhigh admiral, it was evident that the city ofAngouleme had all the qualities of a seaport;otherwise the monarchical principle would havereceived a wound. In the Council of Ministersthe question was agitated whether vignettes rep-resenting slack-rope performances, whichadorned Franconi’s advertising posters, andwhich attracted throngs of street urchins, shouldbe tolerated. M. Paer, the author of Agnese, agood sort of fellow, with a square face and awart on his cheek, directed the little private con-certs of the Marquise de Sasenaye in the RueVille l’Eveque. All the young girls were singingthe Hermit of Saint–Avelle, with words byEdmond Geraud.The Yellow Dwarf was transferred into Mirror.The Cafe Lemblin stood up for the Emperor,against the Cafe Valois, which upheld the Bour-bons. The Duc de Berri, already surveyed fromthe shadow by Louvel, had just been married toa princess of Sicily. Madame de Stael had dieda year previously. The body-guard hissed Ma-demoiselle Mars. The grand newspapers wereall very small. Their form was restricted, buttheir liberty was great. The Constitutionnel wasconstitutional. La Minerve called ChateaubriandChateaubriant. That t made the good middle-class people laugh heartily at the expense of thegreat writer. In journals which sold themselves,prostituted journalists, insulted the exiles of 1815.David had no longer any talent, Arnault had nolonger any wit, Carnot was no longer honest,Soult had won no battles; it is true that Napoleonhad no longer any genius. No one is ignorant ofthe fact that letters sent to an exile by post veryrarely reached him, as the police made it theirreligious duty to intercept them.This is no new fact; Descartes complained of itin his exile. Now David, having, in a Belgianpublication, shown some displeasure at not re-ceiving letters which had been written to him, itstruck the royalist journals as amusing; and theyderided the prescribed man well on this occa-sion. What separated two men more than anabyss was to say, the regicides, or to say thevoters; to say the enemies, or to say the allies; tosay Napoleon, or to say Buonaparte. All sen-sible people were agreed that the era of revolu-tion had been closed forever by King LouisXVIII., surnamed “The Immortal Author of theCharter.”On the platform of the Pont–Neuf, the wordRedivivus was carved on the pedestal thatawaited the statue of Henry IV. M. Piet, in theRue Therese, No. 4, was making the rough draftof his privy assembly to consolidate the monar-chy. The leaders of the Right said at grave con-junctures, “We must write to Bacot.” MM.Canuel, O’Mahoney, and De Chappedelainewere preparing the sketch, to some extent withMonsieur’s approval, of what was to becomelater on “The Conspiracy of the Bord del’Eau”— of the waterside. L’Epingle Noire wasalready plotting in his own quarter. Delaverderiewas conferring with Trogoff. M. Decazes, whowas liberal to a degree, reigned. Chateaubriandstood every morning at his window at No. 27Rue Saint–Dominique, clad in footed trousers,

Pleignier, of Carbonneau, and of Tolleron. ThePrince de Talleyrand, grand chamberlain, andthe Abbe Louis, appointed minister of finance,laughed as they looked at each other, with thelaugh of the two augurs; both of them had cel-ebrated, on the 14th of July, 1790, the mass offederation in the Champ de Mars; Talleyrandhad said it as bishop, Louis had served it in thecapacity of deacon. In 1817, in the side-alleysof this same Champ de Mars, two great cylin-ders of wood might have been seen lying in therain, rotting amid the grass, painted blue, withtraces of eagles and bees, from which the gild-ing was falling. These were the columns whichtwo years before had upheld the Emperor’s plat-form in the Champ de Mai.They were blackened here and there with thescorches of the bivouac of Austrians encampednear Gros–Caillou. Two or three of these col-umns had disappeared in these bivouac fires,and had warmed the large hands of the Imperialtroops. The Field of May had this remarkablepoint: that it had been held in the month of Juneand in the Field of March (Mars). In this year,1817, two things were popular: the Voltaire–Touquet and the snuff-box a la Charter. The mostrecent Parisian sensation was the crime ofDautun, who had thrown his brother’s head intothe fountain of the Flower–Market.They had begun to feel anxious at the NavalDepartment, on account of the lack of news fromthat fatal frigate, The Medusa, which was des-tined to cover Chaumareix with infamy andGericault with glory. Colonel Selves was goingto Egypt to become Soliman–Pasha. The pal-ace of Thermes, in the Rue de La Harpe, servedas a shop for a cooper. On the platform of theoctagonal tower of the Hotel de Cluny, the littleshed of boards, which had served as an obser-vatory to Messier, the naval astronomer underLouis XVI., was still to be seen. The Duchessede Duras read to three or four friends her un-published Ourika, in her boudoir furnished byX. in sky-blue satin. The N’s were scratched offthe Louvre. The bridge of Austerlitz had abdi-

rier who served Grenoble at that epoch, and whoarrived at D —— about three o’clock in themorning, saw, as he traversed the street in whichthe Bishop’s residence was situated, a man inthe attitude of prayer, kneeling on the pavementin the shadow, in front of the door of MonseigneurWelcome.

CHAPTER XIII - Continued

LITTLE GERVAIS

It was because,— strange phenomenon, and onewhich was possible only in the situation in whichhe found himself,— in stealing the money fromthat child, he had done a thing of which he wasno longer capable.However that may be, this last evil action had adecisive effect on him; it abruptly traversed thatchaos which he bore in his mind, and dispersedit, placed on one side the thick obscurity, and onthe other the light, and acted on his soul, in thestate in which it then was, as certain chemicalreagents act upon a troubled mixture by precipi-tating one element and clarifying the other.First of all, even before examining himself andreflecting, all bewildered, like one who seeks tosave himself, he tried to find the child in order toreturn his money to him; then, when he recog-nized the fact that this was impossible, he haltedin despair. At the moment when he exclaimed“I am a wretch!” he had just perceived what hewas, and he was already separated from him-self to such a degree, that he seemed to himselfto be no longer anything more than a phantom,and as if he had, there before him, in flesh andblood, the hideous galley-convict, Jean Valjean,cudgel in hand, his blouse on his hips, his knap-sack filled with stolen objects on his back, withhis resolute and gloomy visage, with histhoughts filled with abominable projects.Excess of unhappiness had, as we have re-marked, made him in some sort a visionary.This, then, was in the nature of a vision. Heactually saw that Jean Valjean, that sinister face,before him. He had almost reached the point ofasking himself who that man was, and he washorrified by him.His brain was going through one of those violentand yet perfectly calm moments in which rev-ery is so profound that it absorbs reality. One nolonger beholds the object which one has beforeone, and one sees, as though apart from one’sself, the figures which one has in one’s ownmind.Thus he contemplated himself, so to speak, faceto face, and at the same time, athwart this hallu-cination, he perceived in a mysterious depth asort of light which he at first took for a torch. Onscrutinizing this light which appeared to his con-science with more attention, he recognized thefact that it possessed a human form and that thistorch was the Bishop.His conscience weighed in turn these two menthus placed before it,— the Bishop and JeanValjean. Nothing less than the first was requiredto soften the second. By one of those singulareffects, which are peculiar to this sort of ecsta-sies, in proportion as his revery continued, asthe Bishop grew great and resplendent in hiseyes, so did Jean Valjean grow less and vanish.After a certain time he was no longer anythingmore than a shade. All at once he disappeared.The Bishop alone remained; he filled the wholesoul of this wretched man with a magnificentradiance.Jean Valjean wept for a long time. He wept burn-ing tears, he sobbed with more weakness than awoman, with more fright than a child.As he wept, daylight penetrated more and moreclearly into his soul; an extraordinary light; alight at once ravishing and terrible. His past life,his first fault, his long expiation, his externalbrutishness, his internal hardness, his dismissalto liberty, rejoicing in manifold plans of ven-geance, what had happened to him at theBishop’s, the last thing that he had done, thattheft of forty sous from a child, a crime all themore cowardly, and all the more monstrous sinceit had come after the Bishop’s pardon,— all thisrecurred to his mind and appeared clearly tohim, but with a clearness which he had neverhitherto witnessed. He examined his life, and itseemed horrible to him; his soul, and it seemedfrightful to him. In the meantime a gentle lightrested over this life and this soul. It seemed tohim that he beheld Satan by the light of Para-dise.How many hours did he weep thus? What didhe do after he had wept? Whither did he go! Noone ever knew. The only thing which seems tobe authenticated is that that same night the car- Continued on Page 24

●●●●● Victor Hugo

BOOK THIRD - IN THE YEAR 1817

CHAPTER I - THE YEAR 1817

1817 is the year which Louis XVIII., with a cer-tain royal assurance which was not wanting inpride, entitled the twenty-second of his reign. Itis the year in which M. Bruguiere de Sorsumwas celebrated. All the hairdressers’ shops, hop-ing for powder and the return of the royal bird,were besmeared with azure and decked withfleurs-delys. It was the candid time at whichCount Lynch sat every Sunday as church-war-den in the church-warden’s pew of Saint–Germain-des-Pres, in his costume of a peer ofFrance, with his red ribbon and his long noseand the majesty of profile peculiar to a manwho has performed a brilliant action.The brilliant action performed by M. Lynch wasthis: being mayor of Bordeaux, on the 12th ofMarch, 1814, he had surrendered the city a littletoo promptly to M. the Duke d’Angouleme.Hence his peerage. In 1817 fashion swallowedup little boys of from four to six years of age invast caps of morocco leather with ear-tabs re-sembling Esquimaux mitres.The French army was dressed in white, afterthe mode of the Austrian; the regiments werecalled legions; instead of numbers they bore thenames of departments; Napoleon was at St.Helena; and since England refused him greencloth, he was having his old coats turned. In1817 Pelligrini sang; Mademoiselle Bigottinidanced; Potier reigned; Odry did not yet exist.Madame Saqui had succeeded to Forioso.There were still Prussians in France. M. Delalotwas a personage. Legitimacy had just asserteditself by cutting off the hand, then the head, of


From Page 25

and slippers, with a madras kerchief knottedover his gray hair, with his eyes fixed on a mir-ror, a complete set of dentist’s instruments spreadout before him, cleaning his teeth, which werecharming, while he dictated The Monarchy ac-cording to the Charter to M. Pilorge, his secre-tary. Criticism, assuming an authoritative tone,preferred Lafon to Talma. M. de Feletez signedhimself A.; M. Hoffmann signed himself Z.Charles Nodier wrote Therese Aubert. Divorcewas abolished. Lyceums called themselves col-leges. The collegians, decorated on the collarwith a golden fleur-delys, fought each other ap-ropos of the King of Rome. The counter-policeof the chateau had denounced to her Royal High-ness Madame, the portrait, everywhere exhib-ited, of M. the Duc d’Orleans, who made a bet-ter appearance in his uniform of a colonel-gen-eral of hussars than M. the Duc de Berri, in hisuniform of colonel-general of dragoons — aserious inconvenience. The city of Paris washaving the dome of the Invalides regilded at itsown expense. Serious men asked themselveswhat M. de Trinquelague would do on such orsuch an occasion; M. Clausel de Montals dif-fered on divers points from M. Clausel deCoussergues; M. de Salaberry was not satisfiedThe comedian Picard, who belonged to theAcademy, which the comedian Moliere had notbeen able to do, had The Two Philiberts playedat the Odeon, upon whose pediment the removalof the letters still allowed THEATRE OF THEEMPRESS to be plainly read. People took partfor or against Cugnet de Montarlot. Fabvier wasfactious; Bavoux was revolutionary. The Lib-eral, Pelicier, published an edition of Voltaire,with the following title: Works of Voltaire, of theFrench Academy. “That will attract purchas-ers,” said the ingenious editor. The general opin-ion was that M. Charles Loyson would be thegenius of the century; envy was beginning tognaw at him — a sign of glory; and this versewas composed on him:—“Even when Loyson steals, one feels that hehas paws.”As Cardinal Fesch refused to resign, M. de Pins,Archbishop of Amasie, administered the dio-cese of Lyons. The quarrel over the valley ofDappes was begun between Switzerland andFrance by a memoir from Captain, afterwardsGeneral Dufour. Saint–Simon, ignored, waserecting his sublime dream. There was a cel-ebrated Fourier at the Academy of Science,whom posterity has forgotten; and in some gar-ret an obscure Fourier, whom the future willrecall. Lord Byron was beginning to make hismark; a note to a poem by Millevoye introducedhim to France in these terms: a certain LordBaron. David d’Angers was trying to work inmarble.The Abbe Caron was speaking, in terms ofpraise, to a private gathering of seminarists inthe blind alley of Feuillantines, of an unknownpriest, named Felicite–Robert, who, at a latterdate, became Lamennais. A thing which smokedand clattered on the Seine with the noise of aswimming dog went and came beneath the win-dows of the Tuileries, from the Pont Royal tothe Pont Louis XV.; it was a piece of mecha-nism which was not good for much; a sort ofplaything, the idle dream of a dream-ridden in-ventor; an utopia — a steamboat.The Parisians stared indifferently at this uselessthing. M. de Vaublanc, the reformer of the Insti-tute by a coup d’etat, the distinguished author ofnumerous academicians, ordinances, andbatches of members, after having created them,could not succeed in becoming one himself. TheFaubourg Saint–Germain and the pavilion deMarsan wished to have M. Delaveau for pre-fect of police, on account of his piety. Dupuytrenand Recamier entered into a quarrel in theamphitheatre of the School of Medicine, andthreatened each other with their fists on the sub-ject of the divinity of Jesus Christ. Cuvier, withone eye on Genesis and the other on nature,tried to please bigoted reaction by reconcilingfossils with texts and by making mastodons flat-ter Moses.M. Francois de Neufchateau, the praiseworthycultivator of the memory of Parmentier, made athousand efforts to have pomme de terre [po-tato] pronounced parmentiere, and succeededtherein not at all. The Abbe Gregoire, ex-bishop,ex-conventionary, ex-senator, had passed, in theroyalist polemics, to the state of “InfamousGregoire.” The locution of which we have madeuse — passed to the state of — has been con-demned as a neologism by M. Royer Collard.

Under the third arch of the Pont de Jena, thenew stone with which, the two years previously,the mining aperture made by Blucher to blow upthe bridge had been stopped up, was still recog-nizable on account of its whiteness. Justice sum-moned to its bar a man who, on seeing the Comted’Artois enter Notre Dame, had said aloud:“Sapristi! I regret the time when I saw Bonaparteand Talma enter the Bel Sauvage, arm in arm.”A seditious utterance. Six months in prison. Trai-tors showed themselves unbuttoned; men whohad gone over to the enemy on the eve of battlemade no secret of their recompense, and strut-ted immodestly in the light of day, in the cyni-cism of riches and dignities; deserters from Lignyand Quatre–Bras, in the brazenness of theirwell-paid turpitude, exhibited their devotion tothe monarchy in the most barefaced manner.This is what floats up confusedly, pell-mell, forthe year 1817, and is now forgotten. History ne-glects nearly all these particulars, and cannotdo otherwise; the infinity would overwhelm it.Nevertheless, these details, which are wronglycalled trivial,— there are no trivial facts in hu-manity, nor little leaves in vegetation,— are use-ful. It is of the physiognomy of the years that thephysiognomy of the centuries is composed. Inthis year of 1817 four young Parisians arranged“a fine farce.”

sor, when he was a young man, had one dayseen a chambermaid’s gown catch on a fender;he had fallen in love in consequence of this ac-cident. The result had been Favourite. She mether father from time to time, and he bowed toher. One morning an old woman with the air of adevotee, had entered her apartments, and hadsaid to her, “You do not know me,Mamemoiselle?” “No.” “I am your mother.”Then the old woman opened the sideboard, andate and drank, had a mattress which she ownedbrought in, and installed herself. This cross andpious old mother never spoke to Favourite, re-mained hours without uttering a word, break-fasted, dined, and supped for four, and wentdown to the porter’s quarters for company, whereshe spoke ill of her daughter.It was having rosy nails that were too prettywhich had drawn Dahlia to Listolier, to othersperhaps, to idleness. How could she make suchnails work? She who wishes to remain virtuousmust not have pity on her hands. As for Zephine,she had conquered Fameuil by her roguish andcaressing little way of saying “Yes, sir.”The young men were comrades; the young girlswere friends. Such loves are always accompa-nied by such friendships.Goodness and philosophy are two distinct things;the proof of this is that, after making all dueallowances for these little irregular households,Favourite, Zephine, and Dahlia were philosophi-cal young women, while Fantine was a goodgirl.Good! some one will exclaim; and Tholomyes?Solomon would reply that love forms a part ofwisdom. We will confine ourselves to sayingthat the love of Fantine was a first love, a solelove, a faithful love.She alone, of all the four, was not called “thou”by a single one of them.Fantine was one of those beings who blossom,so to speak, from the dregs of the people. Thoughshe had emerged from the most unfathomabledepths of social shadow, she bore on her browthe sign of the anonymous and the unknown.She was born at M. sur M. Of what parents?Who can say? She had never known father ormother. She was called Fantine. Why Fantine?She had never borne any other name. At theepoch of her birth the Directory still existed. Shehad no family name; she had no family; no bap-tismal name; the Church no longer existed. Shebore the name which pleased the first randompasser-by, who had encountered her, when avery small child, running bare-legged in the street.She received the name as she received the wa-ter from the clouds upon her brow when it rained.She was called little Fantine. No one knew morethan that. This human creature had entered lifein just this way. At the age of ten, Fantine quittedthe town and went to service with some farmersin the neighborhood. At fifteen she came to Paris“to seek her fortune.” Fantine was beautiful,and remained pure as long as she could. Shewas a lovely blonde, with fine teeth. She hadgold and pearls for her dowry; but her gold wason her head, and her pearls were in her mouth.She worked for her living; then, still for the sakeof her living,— for the heart, also, has its hun-ger,— she loved.She loved Tholomyes.An amour for him; passion for her. The streetsof the Latin quarter, filled with throngs of stu-dents and grisettes, saw the beginning of theirdream. Fantine had long evaded Tholomyes inthe mazes of the hill of the Pantheon, where somany adventurers twine and untwine, but in sucha way as constantly to encounter him again.There is a way of avoiding which resemblesseeking. In short, the eclogue took place.Blachevelle, Listolier, and Fameuil formed asort of group of which Tholomyes was the head.It was he who possessed the wit.Tholomyes was the antique old student; he wasrich; he had an income of four thousand francs;four thousand francs! a splendid scandal onMount Sainte–Genevieve. Tholomyes was a fastman of thirty, and badly preserved. He waswrinkled and toothless, and he had the begin-ning of a bald spot, of which he himself saidwith sadness, the skull at thirty, the knee at forty.His digestion was mediocre, and he had beenattacked by a watering in one eye. But in pro-portion as his youth disappeared, gayety waskindled; he replaced his teeth with buffooner-ies, his hair with mirth, his health with irony, hisweeping eye laughed incessantly. He was di-lapidated but still in flower. His youth, whichwas packing up for departure long before itstime, beat a retreat in good order, bursting with

laughter, and no one saw anything but fire. Hehad had a piece rejected at the Vaudeville. Hemade a few verses now and then. In addition tothis he doubted everything to the last degree,which is a vast force in the eyes of the weak.Being thus ironical and bald, he was the leader.Iron is an English word. Is it possible that ironyis derived from it?One day Tholomyes took the three others aside,with the gesture of an oracle, and said to them:—“Fantine, Dahlia, Zephine, and Favourite havebeen teasing us for nearly a year to give them asurprise. We have promised them solemnly thatwe would. They are forever talking about it tous, to me in particular, just as the old women inNaples cry to Saint Januarius, ‘Faccia gialluta,fa o miracolo, Yellow face, perform thy miracle,’so our beauties say to me incessantly,‘Tholomyes, when will you bring forth your sur-prise?’ At the same time our parents keep writ-ing to us. Pressure on both sides. The momenthas arrived, it seems to me; let us discuss thequestion.”Thereupon, Tholomyes lowered his voice andarticulated something so mirthful, that a vast andenthusiastic grin broke out upon the four mouthssimultaneously, and Blachevelle exclaimed,“That is an idea.”A smoky tap-room presented itself; they entered,and the remainder of their confidential colloquywas lost in shadow.The result of these shades was a dazzling plea-sure party which took place on the followingSunday, the four young men inviting the fouryoung girls.

- Continued on Page 33

Page 24 - Melbourne Observer - Wednesday, August 1, 2012

CHAPTER II

A DOUBLE QUARTETTE

These Parisians came, one from Toulouse, an-other from Limoges, the third from Cahors, andthe fourth from Montauban; but they were stu-dents; and when one says student, one says Pa-risian: to study in Paris is to be born in Paris.These young men were insignificant; every onehas seen such faces; four specimens of human-ity taken at random; neither good nor bad, nei-ther wise nor ignorant, neither geniuses nor fools;handsome, with that charming April which iscalled twenty years. They were four Oscars;for, at that epoch, Arthurs did not yet exist. Burnfor him the perfumes of Araby! exclaimed ro-mance. Oscar advances. Oscar, I shall beholdhim! People had just emerged from Ossian; el-egance was Scandinavian and Caledonian; thepure English style was only to prevail later, andthe first of the Arthurs, Wellington, had but justwon the battle of Waterloo.These Oscars bore the names, one of FelixTholomyes, of Toulouse; the second, Listolier,of Cahors; the next, Fameuil, of Limoges; thelast, Blachevelle, of Montauban. Naturally, eachof them had his mistress. Blachevelle lovedFavourite, so named because she had been inEngland; Listolier adored Dahlia, who had takenfor her nickname the name of a flower; Fameuilidolized Zephine, an abridgment of Josephine;Tholomyes had Fantine, called the Blonde, be-cause of her beautiful, sunny hair.Favourite, Dahlia, Zephine, and Fantine werefour ravishing young women, perfumed and ra-diant, still a little like working-women, and notyet entirely divorced from their needles; some-what disturbed by intrigues, but still retaining ontheir faces something of the serenity of toil, andin their souls that flower of honesty which sur-vives the first fall in woman. One of the fourwas called the young, because she was theyoungest of them, and one was called the old;the old one was twenty-three. Not to concealanything, the three first were more experienced,more heedless, and more emancipated into thetumult of life than Fantine the Blonde, who wasstill in her first illusions.Dahlia, Zephine, and especially Favourite, couldnot have said as much. There had already beenmore than one episode in their romance, thoughhardly begun; and the lover who had borne thename of Adolph in the first chapter had turnedout to be Alphonse in the second, and Gustavein the third. Poverty and coquetry are two fatalcounsellors; one scolds and the other flatters,and the beautiful daughters of the people haveboth of them whispering in their ear, each on itsown side. These badly guarded souls listen.Hence the falls which they accomplish, and thestones which are thrown at them. They are over-whelmed with splendor of all that is immaculateand inaccessible. Alas! what if the Jungfrau werehungry?Favourite having been in England, was admiredby Dahlia and Zephine. She had had an estab-lishment of her own very early in life. Her fa-ther was an old unmarried professor of math-ematics, a brutal man and a braggart, who wentout to give lessons in spite of his age. This profes-

It is hard nowadays to picture to one’s self whata pleasure-trip of students and grisettes to thecountry was like, forty-five years ago. The sub-urbs of Paris are no longer the same; the physi-ognomy of what may be called circumparisianlife has changed completely in the last half-cen-tury; where there was the cuckoo, there is therailway car; where there was a tender-boat, thereis now the steamboat; people speak of Fecampnowadays as they spoke of Saint–Cloud in thosedays. The Paris of 1862 is a city which hasFrance for its outskirts.The four couples conscientiously went throughwith all the country follies possible at that time.The vacation was beginning, and it was a warm,bright, summer day. On the preceding day,Favourite, the only one who knew how to write,had written the following to Tholomyes in thename of the four: “It is a good hour to emergefrom happiness.” That is why they rose at fiveo’clock in the morning. Then they went to Saint–Cloud by the coach, looked at the dry cascadeand exclaimed, “This must be very beautifulwhen there is water!” They breakfasted at theTete–Noir, where Castaing had not yet been;they treated themselves to a game of ring-throw-ing under the quincunx of trees of the grand foun-tain; they ascended Diogenes’ lantern, theygambled for macaroons at the roulette estab-lishment of the Pont de Sevres, picked bouquetsat Pateaux, bought reed-pipes at Neuilly, ateapple tarts everywhere, and were perfectlyhappy.The young girls rustled and chatted like war-blers escaped from their cage. It was a perfectdelirium. From time to time they bestowed littletaps on the young men. Matutinal intoxicationof life! adorable years! the wings of the dragon-fly quiver. Oh, whoever you may be, do you notremember? Have you rambled through thebrushwood, holding aside the branches, on ac-count of the charming head which is coming onbehind you? Have you slid, laughing, down aslope all wet with rain, with a beloved womanholding your hand, and crying, “Ah, my newboots! what a state they are in!”Let us say at once that that merry obstacle, ashower, was lacking in the case of this good-humored party, although Favourite had said asthey set out, with a magisterial and maternaltone, “The slugs are crawling in the paths,— asign of rain, children.”All four were madly pretty. A good old classicpoet, then famous, a good fellow who had anEleonore, M. le Chevalier de Labouisse, as hestrolled that day beneath the chestnut-trees ofSaint–Cloud, saw them pass about ten o’clockin the morning, and exclaimed, “There is onetoo many of them,” as he thought of the Graces.Favourite, Blachevelle’s friend, the one aged

CHAPTER III

FOUR AND FOUR

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OURSELVESAs the business connected with the Standardhas now been disposed of to Mr W. W. Young,the present opportunity is taken of thanking theresidents of the whole district for their supportduring the past 41 years.

Our connection with the local press has beena pleasant one; we have endeavored to conductit in the best ]interests of the district on fair jour-nalistic lines and sound commercial principles,and the public response has been satisfactory.

Mr W. W. Young, the new. pro prietor of theStandard has had a large and varied experiencein journalistic work both in Victoria and Tas-mania, and is a journalist of 40 years standing.

He pioneered both the Great Sou:hern Star(Victoria) and the Circular Head Chronicle(Tasmaria) through the early stages of their ex-istence, and though the Standard is an old es-tablished paper and has already gained a repu-tation for itself, it is only reasonable to expectthat the energy and pains expended by Mr Youngin establishing his other ventures will be put forthin another direction, and that his experience injournalism will enable him to take advantage ofany opportunities that may occur for the ad-vancement of the district..

A prosperons district means prosperity inwhich every body shares, to go further the inter-ests of this large and undoubtedly fertile dis trictwill be the aim and object of this journal.

In this we can be assisted in a great measureby the residents, and a column will be alwaysopen, in which letters ventilating in fair, and opencriticism,, matters of local interest will be in-serted. The value of a newspaper, worked onproper lines in a district, can not be overesti-mated . The big city dailies are all very well fornews of jthe:.world generally, but for a record ofthe happenings of the dis trict the local papermust be sought

100 Years Ago. Mornington StandardFriday, August 3, 1912

■ Tact is for people who aren’t witty enough tobe sarcastic.

■ Zoanthropy (n) - a mental disorder in whichone believes onsxelf to be an animal.

■ Dark chocolate and Irish cream are com-bined in this decadent dessert pie.Preparation Time75 minutesCooking Time25 minutesIngredients (serves 8)75g butter75g caster sugar75g ground almonds125g plain flourPinch of salt2 tbs iced water, or more300ml thickened or whipping cream200g good quality dark chocolate, chopped50g butter, chopped2 tbs Carolans Irish CreamMethodTo make pastry, whiz butter, sugar, almonds,flour and salt in a food processor until smooth.With motor running, add water a spoonful at atime, until pastry clumps into a ball. Press intothe base of a 20cm tart tin, working from thecentre out, to cover base and up sides. Trimedges. Refrigerate for 1 hour.Heat oven to 180°C. Line tart with foil and weighdown with baking beans or pastry weights. Bakefor 15 minutes, carefully remove beans and foil,then bake for a further 5-10 minutes until lightlygolden. Cool.To make filling, heat cream until just beforeboiling point, when it "trembles". Place choco-late in a heatproof bowl. Add cream, leave for 1min, then mix well with a spatula. Add butterand stir until smooth. Stir in Carolans Irish Creamand pour into tart case.Leave in a level place to cool, then refrigeratefor 3 hours before serving.NotesCooking: 25 mins + 3 hrs chillingKeep warm this winter with our selection ofcasseroles, slow cooker recipes, soup recipesand pasta bakes.

■ Last week’s Observer failed to record theJuly 27 birthday of Olive Houghton of Haw-thorn East; and the July 27 celebration for EdnaNeubecker of Hawthorn. Belated birthdaywishes to both ladies.■ Wednesday, August 1. We remember ac-tress Pat McDonald who played ‘Dorrie Evans’in Number 96. Pat was born in Melbournein1921; and died aged 68 in 1990.■ Thursday, August 2. Actor Reg Gorman is75 today. Actress Anne Phelan, currently star-ring in Winners and Losers, is 68. Observerreader Jan Downes is 58.■ Friday, August 3. Actor Trevor White, whoplayed the lead role in Jesus Christ Superstar,is 65 (1947).■ Saturday, August 4. Australian TV producerReg Grundy is 89. The late Maurie Fields wasborn on this day in 1926; he died aged 69 in1995. Photographer Shannon Morris is 34.Graphic designer Dominic Barbuto is 58. Ob-server reader Julia Stephens is 59.■ Sunday, August 5. Footy identity Tom Hafeyis 81. Observer reader Michael ‘Trucka’ Bon-addio is 30.■ Monday, August 6. TV host Daryl Somerswas born as Daryl Schultz in 1951 (61). Enter-tainer David Campbell is 39. Happy birthday toObserver reader Cindy Pritchard. Melbourneactress Christie Whelan is 30.■ Tuesday, August 7. Australian model MeganGale was born in Perth, 36 years ago (1976).Music industry identity Gary Turner is 57.

■ “The difference between a successful per-son and others is not a lack of strength, not alack of knowledge, but rather in a lack of will.”

- Vince Lombardi

■ 600 people were involved in making themedals for the Olympic Games.■ Gold medals are 92.5 per cent silver, andjust 1.34 per cent gold.

Aries (Mar 21 - Apr 20)The home is highlighted and you may decide to spend money to make it a more secureplace. You may have to draw in the purse strings in other areas, but it's sure to be worthit.Taurus (Apr 21 - May 21)Work projects may face interference from others right now but stand your ground andstick to your beliefs. Your determination alone will convince them that you know whatyou're doing.Gemini (May 22 - June 21)You like to keep a certain part of your life private but it's been hard for you to avoidbeing talked about lately. Time then to tell close ones what you really intend doing.Cancer (June 22 - July 23)Harmony and balance reign again and you no longer feel the need to prove yourself tothose around you. Romance is also in for a boost as you find out someone cares morethan you'd thought.Leo (July 24 - Aug 23)There has to be a better way to get your point across than acting in a childish fashion.Show you can be mature when you need to be and talk, don't shout. Resolutions can befound if you do.Virgo (Aug 24 - Sept 23)A great time to explore what you want to do with your life. Heart to hearts are favouredand can help you and a loved one to get much closer together. Wear yellow in financialissues.Libra (Sept 24 - Oct 23)Don't be afraid to seal that deal. You've had enough evidence placed before you thismonth to make up your mind if something is advantageous to you or not so go with yourinstincts.Scorpio (Oct 24 - Nov 22)You're in a much more vulnerable mood than usual and this could be causing you toquestion your thoughts and actions. Use your ruling planet Mars to admit the changeyou want to family.Sagittarius (Nov 23 - Dec 21)Your social life is looking full of opportunity and if there's a party worth going to orsomewhere good to visit, you'll know about it. Lies in work come back on you so don'ttell them.Capricorn (Dec 22 - Jan 20)You're entering a much busier phase and you must not be afraid to accept the help thatis being offered to you. This is one time where pride is unlikely to do you any favours.Aquarius (Jan 21 - Feb 19)Benefits and opportunities come through work links you make through social contacts.Don't say you can do things you can't or you'll end up making a fool of yourself. Beingnice to strangers pays dividends.Pisces (Feb 20 - March 20)Just like your sign of the fish swimming in two directions you're trying to please toomany people at once. Ask yourself what you want for a change and everything will fallinto place.

Your Stars with Christina La Cross

www.MelbourneObserver.com.au

Just A Thought Or Two

■ Why is it called ‘after dark’ when it is really‘after light’?■ You can accomplish amazing things whenyou devote as much energy to your dreams asyou do to your fears.

And remember ...

■ “Obstacles don’t have to stop you. If you runinto a wall, don’t turn around and give up. Fig-ure out how to climb it, go through it or workaround it.” - Michael Jordan■ “It is better to remain silent at the risk ofbeing thought a fool than to talk and remove alldoubt about it.” - Maurice Switzer




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Secrets of the TRUE Treasure Island

Capturing best of vintage

ObserverMelbourne

Travellers’ Good Buys

ObserverMelbourne Wines & Liqueurs

withDavidEllis

withDavidEllis

■ How romantic it would be to thinkthat a dreamy South Pacific atoll thatRobert Louis Stevenson’s wife fell inlove with in 1890 would inspire him towrite his immortal Treasure Island.

But in truth he had published hisfamous tome some seven years be-fore they set eyes on this South Pa-cific treasure from aboard the old ironsteamer Janet Nicoll, on their way toa new life in the Cook Islands in thehope the forever-poorly author couldregain his health in warmer climes.

Yet that tiny half-square kilometrespeck that Fanny Van de GriftOsborne wrote of as “the most roman-tic island in the world,” was indeed atruly treasure island – with as manymysteries, shootings, intrigues andtreasures that her master story-tellerhusband could ever dream of.

For while Robert Louis may havemused that Fanny had discovered hertreasure island in the little dot of landcalled Suwarrow, little was he to knowthat 38 years earlier treasure had beenfound there in the way of a rusty steelbox laden with gold and silver coins,precious necklaces, brooches andother jewellery.

Nor that there was more to come.In 1850 an American ship, the Gem

loaded with barrels of whale oil hadrun aground on Suwarrow Island’sfringing reef. The crew was un-harmed and made their way to Tahiti,from where a salvage team was sentto recover the whale oil.

■ Hand picking selected fruit froma low-yielding but excellent vintagein Victoria’s Yarra Valley in 2010 en-abled Mandala Wines’ CharlesSmedley to create a genuinely memo-rable 2010 Mandala Shiraz.

“2010 was outstanding with warmto mild conditions and low Spring rain-fall,” Charles says, “which allowedfor a long and gentle growing seasonwith steady, warm temperatures whenwe hand-picked in March.

“And being a smaller producer wehad greater control over our fruit, andwere able to select only the best par-cels – in the case of our 2010 Shirazcapturing something of the individualcharacteristics of this excellent vin-tage.”

This is a drop with typicallysavoury and spicy Shiraz on a richpalate, together with well-integratedwood from 18 months on French oak.

Pay $28 and team it with a lamb-based Shepherd’s Pie.

- David Ellis

●●●●● ROBERT Louis and Fanny with family and friends at their Rarotonga home

But the captain of the recovery ves-sel, Livingston Evans already knewrumours of buried treasure onSuwarrow, and while his crew recov-ered the oil barrels, he himself wentoff in search of that treasure – remark-ably finding a cache of Mexican andSpanish coins buried behind a beachand believed to have been worth then(1852) around US$15,000.

Wisely, after returning to Tahiti,Evans quietly disappeared with hisconsiderable fortune.

Then three years later in Samoa, aGerman trader bought details from adrunken beachcomber of other trea-sure he said lay buried on Suwarrow.When the trader arrived there he fol-lowed those leads … to uncoverUS$2,400 worth of Spanish coins atthe base of a tree.

Meanwhile others were showingan interest in the tiny atoll as a tradingoutpost, one company building a de-fensive fortress surrounded by coralwalls on which it mounted two can-nons facing into the atoll’s lagoon.

But two of the traders fell out andin 1878 in an attempt to hose-down adangerously escalating feud anothervessel was sent to sort out the prob-lem. A gun fight broke out as yet athird vessel arrived with a NewZealand crewman aboard namedHenry Mair, a friend of one of theprotagonists and thus ordered by hiscaptain to remain aboard.

But in dead of night, Henry Mairslipped overboard to help his friend,and after a long swim crawled up thebeach on Suwarrow, momentarily lay-ing there to regain his breath. Butstartled by a scraping sound, in themoonlight he saw a turtle digging inthe sand – it’s flippers scratching on abattered metal box, from one end ofwhich spilled countless coins andsparkling jewels…

Mair hurriedly dragged the box toa safer place and buried it deeply inthe sand with his bare hands beforegoing off to help his friend, and even-tually returning to his ship; he laterwrote to his brother about his buriedtreasure and said he had left instruc-tions as to where it lay in a box of hispersonal possessions to be openedonly upon his death.

Sadly Mair was murdered soonafter in the New Hebrides while re-cruiting labour – his box of personalpossessions with its precious leads tohis buried treasure, never found.

It’s believed Suwarrow’s treasuresmost likely came from Spanish shipsthat foundered there while returningto the Philippines after raids on then-wealthy Mexico.

But untangling the web of how tofind Henry Mair’s treasure onSuwarrow today – and any others bur-ied there as well – would seem morethe provenance of the fertileimaginings of Robert Louis Stevensonhimself, than that of reality itself.■ Suwarrow is a National Park ofthe Cook Islands 825km north-north-west of Rarotonga; its population istwo – caretakers who maintain basicfacilities for occasional visiting yachtsor charter vessels from Rarotonga.

One For Lunch■ South Australia’s Coonawarraalso enjoyed an excellent vintagein 2010, with Rymill lauding it “oneof the best Cabernet vintages onrecord” and their resultant 2010Rymill Coonawarra CabernetSauvignon “one of our finestCabernets yet.”

High praise, but worthy of it asthis is a full-bodied and richlyflavoured wine with intense andconcentrated fruit flavours, coupledwith cedar box, rich chocolate andrefined tannins.

At $33.50 it’s a steak-lover’s de-light to enjoy now or to put asidefor a few years to develop evenmore beautifully.

Pictured

■ Team this with a lamb-basedShepherd’s pie

■ Steak-lover’s delight from oneof Coonawarra’s “best Cabernetvintages


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www.MelbourneObserver.com.au

From Page 30

three and twenty, the old one, ran on in frontunder the great green boughs, jumped theditches, stalked distractedly over bushes, andpresided over this merry-making with the spiritof a young female faun. Zephine and Dahlia,whom chance had made beautiful in such a waythat they set each off when they were together,and completed each other, never left each other,more from an instinct of coquetry than fromfriendship, and clinging to each other, they as-sumed English poses; the first keepsakes hadjust made their appearance, melancholy wasdawning for women, as later on, Byronismdawned for men; and the hair of the tender sexbegan to droop dolefully. Zephine and Dahliahad their hair dressed in rolls. Listolier andFameuil, who were engaged in discussing theirprofessors, explained to Fantine the differencethat existed between M. Delvincourt and M.Blondeau.Blachevelle seemed to have been created ex-pressly to carry Favourite’s single-bordered,imitation India shawl of Ternaux’s manufacture,on his arm on Sundays.

Tholomyes followed, dominating the group. Hewas very gay, but one felt the force of govern-ment in him; there was dictation in his joviality;his principal ornament was a pair of trousers ofelephant-leg pattern of nankeen, with straps ofbraided copper wire; he carried a stout rattanworth two hundred francs in his hand, and, as hetreated himself to everything, a strange thingcalled a cigar in his mouth. Nothing was sacredto him; he smoked.“That Tholomyes is astounding!” said the oth-ers, with veneration. “What trousers! What en-ergy!”As for Fantine, she was a joy to behold. Hersplendid teeth had evidently received an officefrom God,— laughter. She preferred to carryher little hat of sewed straw, with its long whitestrings, in her hand rather than on her head. Herthick blond hair, which was inclined to wave,and which easily uncoiled, and which it wasnecessary to fasten up incessantly, seemedmade for the flight of Galatea under the wil-lows. Her rosy lips babbled enchantingly. Thecorners of her mouth voluptuously turned up, asin the antique masks of Erigone, had an air of

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And in this community of Paradise, talking, sing-ing, running, dancing, chasing butterflies, pluck-ing convolvulus, wetting their pink, open-workstockings in the tall grass, fresh, wild, withoutmalice, all received, to some extent, the kissesof all, with the exception of Fantine, who washedged about with that vague resistance of herscomposed of dreaminess and wildness, and whowas in love. “You always have a queer lookabout you,” said Favourite to her.Such things are joys. These passages of happycouples are a profound appeal to life and na-ture, and make a caress and light spring forthfrom everything. There was once a fairy whocreated the fields and forests expressly for thosein love,— in that eternal hedge-school of lovers,which is forever beginning anew, and which willlast as long as there are hedges and scholars.Hence the popularity of spring among thinkers.The patrician and the knife-grinder, the dukeand the peer, the limb of the law, the courtiersand townspeople, as they used to say in oldentimes, all are subjects of this fairy. They laughand hunt, and there is in the air the brilliance ofan apotheosis — what a transfiguration effectedby love! Notaries’ clerks are gods. And the littlecries, the pursuits through the grass, the waistsembraced on the fly, those jargons which aremelodies, those adorations which burst forth inthe manner of pronouncing a syllable, those cher-ries torn from one mouth by another,— all thisblazes forth and takes its place among the ce-lestial glories. Beautiful women waste them-selves sweetly. They think that this will nevercome to an end. Philosophers, poets, painters,observe these ecstasies and know not what tomake of it, so greatly are they dazzled by it. Thedeparture for Cythera! exclaims Watteau;Lancret, the painter of plebeians, contemplateshis bourgeois, who have flitted away into theazure sky; Diderot stretches out his arms to allthese love idyls, and d’Urfe mingles druids withthem. After breakfast the four couples went towhat was then called the King’s Square to see anewly arrived plant from India, whose nameescapes our memory at this moment, and which,at that epoch, was attracting all Paris to Saint–Cloud.It was an odd and charming shrub with a longstem, whose numerous branches, bristling andleafless and as fine as threads, were coveredwith a million tiny white rosettes; this gave theshrub the air of a head of hair studded with flow-ers. To Be Continued Next Issue

encouraging the audacious; but her long, shad-owy lashes drooped discreetly over the jollity ofthe lower part of the face as though to call a halt.There was something indescribably harmoni-ous and striking about her entire dress. She worea gown of mauve barege, little reddish brownbuskins, whose ribbons traced an X on her fine,white, open-worked stockings, and that sort ofmuslin spencer, a Marseilles invention, whosename, canezou, a corruption of the words quinzeaout, pronounced after the fashion of theCanebiere, signifies fine weather, heat, and mid-day. The three others, less timid, as we havealready said, wore low-necked dresses withoutdisguise, which in summer, beneath flower-adorned hats, are very graceful and enticing;but by the side of these audacious outfits, blondFantine’s canezou, with its transparencies, itsindiscretion, and its reticence, concealing anddisplaying at one and the same time, seemed analluring godsend of decency, and the famousCourt of Love, presided over by the Vicomtessede Cette, with the sea-green eyes, would, per-haps, have awarded the prize for coquetry tothis canezou, in the contest for the prize of mod-esty. The most ingenious is, at times, the wisest.This does happen.Brilliant of face, delicate of profile, with eyes ofa deep blue, heavy lids, feet arched and small,wrists and ankles admirably formed, a whiteskin which, here and there allowed the azurebranching of the veins to be seen, joy, a cheekthat was young and fresh, the robust throat ofthe Juno of AEgina, a strong and supple nape ofthe neck, shoulders modelled as though byCoustou, with a voluptuous dimple in the middle,visible through the muslin; a gayety cooled bydreaminess; sculptural and exquisite — suchwas Fantine; and beneath these feminine adorn-ments and these ribbons one could divine astatue, and in that statue a soul.Fantine was beautiful, without being too con-scious of it. Those rare dreamers, mysteriouspriests of the beautiful who silently confronteverything with perfection, would have caughta glimpse in this little working-woman, throughthe transparency of her Parisian grace, of theancient sacred euphony. This daughter of theshadows was thoroughbred. She was beautifulin the two ways — style and rhythm. Style is theform of the ideal; rhythm is its movement.

We have said that Fantine was joy; she was alsomodesty.To an observer who studied her attentively, thatwhich breathed from her athwart all the intoxi-cation of her age, the season, and her love af-fair, was an invincible expression of reserve andmodesty. She remained a little astonished. Thischaste astonishment is the shade of differencewhich separates Psyche from Venus. Fantinehad the long, white, fine fingers of the vestalvirgin who stirs the ashes of the sacred fire witha golden pin. Although she would have refusednothing to Tholomyes, as we shall have morethan ample opportunity to see, her face in re-pose was supremely virginal; a sort of seriousand almost austere dignity suddenly over-whelmed her at certain times, and there wasnothing more singular and disturbing than to seegayety become so suddenly extinct there, andmeditation succeed to cheerfulness without anytransition state. This sudden and sometimes se-verely accentuated gravity resembled the dis-dain of a goddess. Her brow, her nose, her chin,presented that equilibrium of outline which isquite distinct from equilibrium of proportion, andfrom which harmony of countenance results; inthe very characteristic interval which separatesthe base of the nose from the upper lip, she hadthat imperceptible and charming fold, a myste-rious sign of chastity, which makes Barberoussefall in love with a Diana found in the treasuresof Iconia.Love is a fault; so be it. Fantine was innocencefloating high over fault.

Melbourne Observer - Wednesday, August 1, 2012 - Page 33

J U V E N I L E M A R S H A L S S H U F F L E S A B R A D I N G

E O Y I F S E Y E A G L E L A G P O B N A

E U C A L Y P T E A S E D O F F O C C U P I E D P L A Y A C T S

R A O S P E D T R T E M P T T D A B E T S U S

S A L I N E O A V O C A D O U O U T D O O R A A S T R A Y

L L E P S O M R N V I L E R E U N A R K S R S

I M P L O R E X M E N T H E C E G R E T S U N A T I V E S

A W I G N I T E E O R C H I D S X M I D A I R S X

I N V I T E S D M I A O W H N T I A R A I T U N E F U L

A L S I O R L E A F I E R M R B L C A

S C U L P T O R S I S S U E R T I N S E T L I F E S T Y L E

W S A P E A R L R E A L I G N M E T E L L I N

E V E N T F U L P S A L M S D A G R E E N E C Y L I N D E R

D D R L P V U F E L L S E R A W M D A

I N C L I N E R E E N T E R S S Y R I N G E S H E M M I N G

S A O N O T A R A U A N N E P I L E E S E

H E R E T I C I D I O T M I N E D S A N T O E A R T H E D

R M T E N T S N I M P N R O E C O V A L S R L

O N S P E C E E G G O N I D A H O R A Y O N P P L A Z A S

I T H E A P E E G O S L M A T E R E P E E W T

R E T Y P E N A S P S W H I S P E R R A C Y O C A L L E D

E E A S I D E T T N N E C O H W R I T S I A

I D E A S E T A R R A G O N R E L A P S E S T P L A I D

C N T H I R D T O O E T A L S P I S T E N D

H E Y D A Y T W I N G A B R A H A M A N T E O U N E A S Y

X H E C H O O E L L A M S P I N R A N O N M U

S P R A I N A I N A N E N O O K S M E D A L E N O B O D Y

E B A L L I N N G O D E O R B E A D D L E E A

E L L I P S E H O C H I A M B E R I N F E R E L U D I N G

X E R M A T A E R G A T B E G O O F N N R

P L A C E B O B E S T O W E D M E D I O C R E T W A D D L E

A R V N I T N D A Z E D N T S W W O A

N O N F A T A L T H R A S H T X I G L O O S P I C A D O R S

D E I D A S I A O V A T I O N R U E D N R R E

S H R I L L E S T P L E A S B C F E A S T R E G R E S S E S

O N E H B T T E A C A K E M I I E T N

I M P E A C H L O C H R E S N R O B I N B M A R A U D S

E X H E R E I N I S T E T S O N L G A B L E S B L

B R O A D E R T E N C A S E R M O D E M S L N O B B L E D

U C R E F E R U N S W A M I E E B E G U N E S

U N I T E S R O I L I E S T C T E E N A G E R S A D I S M

N N V M A U L L M T H E F T P T N O A H B D O

M A D W O M A N E P I L O G U E L I V E B A I T M A N H O L E S

E I K L C D F N B A R O N N X G M T O E S

T R A P E Z E S H A Y F E V E R E G G S H E L L Y E A R S D A Y

CHAPTER IV

THOLOMYES IS SO MERRY THAT HE

SINGS A SPANISH DITTY

That day was composed of dawn, from one endto the other. All nature seemed to be having aholiday, and to be laughing. The flower-beds ofSaint–Cloud perfumed the air; the breath of theSeine rustled the leaves vaguely; the branchesgesticulated in the wind, bees pillaged thejasmines; a whole bohemia of butterfliesswooped down upon the yarrow, the clover, andthe sterile oats; in the august park of the King ofFrance there was a pack of vagabonds, the birds.The four merry couples, mingled with the sun,the fields, the flowers, the trees, were resplen-dent.


Melbourne PeopleRMP Aria at BMW Edge

Photos: Julie Houghton

●●●●● Jeremy Kleeman with Roxane Hislop●●●●● Finalist Kate Amos with Suzanne Johnston

●●●●● Josephine Grech, Georgie Belfield and Anna Grech

●●●●● Jurgen Kutschewski with Margaret Dalglish ●●●●● RMP Vice-President Andrew Grant with Allan Smith

●●●●● Mark Cotton with Josephine Grech ●●●●● Stephen Clark with compere Peter Bandy

●●●●● John Worcester with Vivian Bermude


Victorian Rural News


Melbourne Observer. 120801B. August 1, 2012. Part B. Pages 21-36

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