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Dowson, Ernest Christopher, 1867-1900

"With a memoir by Arthur Symons"

Please remember, I am responsible for nobody.'
'Is she so dangerous?' I asked. 'But never mind; I believe that I have
something to say which may interest her.'
'Oh, for that!' she smiled elliptically; 'yes, she is most dangerous. But I
will introduce you; you shall tell me how you succeed.'
I bowed and smiled; she laid a light hand on my arm; and I piloted her
to the desired corner. It seemed that the chance was with me. The little
fluent Provencal had just vacated his seat; and when the prima-donna had
acknowledged the hasty mention of my name, with a bare inclination of
her head, I was emboldened to succeed to it. And then I was silent. In
the perfection of that dolorous face, I could not but be reminded of the
tradition which has always ascribed something fatal and inevitable to the
possession of great gifts: of genius or uncommon fortune, or singular
personal beauty; and the common-place of conversation failed me.
After a while she looked askance at me, with a sudden flash of resentment.
'You speak no French, Monsieur! And yet you write it well enough; I have
read your stories.'
I acknowledged Madame's irony, permitted myself to hope that my efforts had
met with Madame's approval.


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