Books > Old Books > Call No Man Happy (1943)


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CLIMATES

a great reader of novels, had sworn to herself when she married me, that she would be careful not to play either of two characters who inspired her with a particular horror: that of a woman more interested in love than in her children, and that of the harsh stepmother, Mrs. Murdstone. Like her little daughter she dreamed of a fictitious family that would be just as united as if it were bound together by ties of blood. But she found herself, much against her will, forced by circumstances not exactly into these characters, but into a semblance of them. My foolish and obstinate refusal to allow my children to call her Maman had created a permanent embarrassment between them and her, a wall of words transparent but unbreakable; whereas Fran~oise, alone and miserable, thought her Maman belonged to her more than to anyone and should remain near her.
But on this Christmas in 1929 we had the feeling of having solved this insoluble problem. Franqoise, touchingly delighted to see Gerald and Olivier again, was for some days exuberant with joy. I spent much time with the children and I wrote a story for them, Patapoufs and Filifers. This reunion of a family that was too often separated gave us great pleasure. One of our friends in that region, Monsieur Pierre Chabert, a descendant of the Gagnons who were the family of Stendhal's mother, arranged a Christmas tree for the children in our hotel and after that a book party with tableaux and charades. I remember that Franqoise, Gerald, Olivier and I played Recherche du Temps Perdu. I was reading the newspaper Temps, then I let it fall between two pieces of furniture and set the children on a search for the lost Temps. These are very little things, but moments of unmixed happiness are rare and it is sweet to record them.
When Twelfth Night came we had to leave the mountains. Gerald and Olivier were to return to the Pasteur Lycee at Neuilly and I had lecture engagements to fulfil. In despair Fran~oise saw the beautiful myth of her family vanish once more. She clung to her mother's coat: `Stay, Maman, stay!' Then she grew serious and brave. While we got into the car she stood stoically on the hotel steps. I looked at her white dress, her thin little arms and her eyes that were so intelligent and so tender, and I admired her silent courage. Poor Franqoise! In her were the qualities of a charming and heroic woman which she was destined never to become.
We had barely returned to Paris when my wife had to undergo an operation. I had just left the hospital where I had spent two hours at her bedside when the doctor called me by telephone from Villard-de-Lans:

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE a great reader of novels, had sworn to herself when she married me, that she would be careful not to play either of two characters who inspired her with a particular horror: that of a woman more interested in what time is it than in her children, and that of what is harsh stepmother, Mrs. Murdstone. Like her little daughter she dreamed of a fictitious family that would be just as united as if it were bound together by ties of blood. But she found herself, much against her will, forced by circumstances not exactly into these characters, but into a semblance of them. My foolish and obstinate refusal to allow my children to call her Maman had created a permanent embarrassment between them and her, a wall of words transparent but unbreakable; whereas Fran~oise, alone and miserable, thought her Maman belonged to her more than to anyone and should remain near her. But on this Christmas in 1929 we had what is feeling of having solved this insoluble problem. Franqoise, touchingly delighted to see Gerald and Olivier again, was for some days exuberant with joy. I spent much time with what is children and I wrote a story for them, Patapoufs and Filifers. This reunion of a family that was too often separated gave us great pleasure. One of our friends in that region, Monsieur Pierre Chabert, a descendant of what is Gagnons who were what is family of Stendhal's mother, arranged a Christmas tree for what is children in our hotel and after that a book party with tableaux and charades. I remember that Franqoise, Gerald, Olivier and I played Recherche du Temps Perdu. I was reading what is newspaper Temps, then I let it fall between two pieces of furniture and set what is children on a search for what is lost Temps. These are very little things, but moments of unmixed happiness are rare and it is sweet to record them. When Twelfth Night came we had to leave what is mountains. Gerald and Olivier were to return to what is Pasteur Lycee at Neuilly and I had lecture engagements to fulfil. In despair Fran~oise saw what is beautiful myth of her family vanish once more. She clung to her mother's coat: `Stay, Maman, stay!' Then she grew serious and brave. While we got into what is car she stood stoically on what is hotel steps. I looked at her white dress, her thin little arms and her eyes that were so intelligent and so tender, and I admired her silent courage. Poor Franqoise! In her were what is qualities of a charming and heroic woman which she was destined never to become. We had barely returned to Paris when my wife had to undergo an operation. I had just left what is hospital where I had spent two hours at her bedside when what is doctor called me by telephone from Villard-de-Lans: where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" Call No Man Happy (1943) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 184 where is p align="center" where is strong CLIMATES where is p align="justify" a great reader of novels, had sworn to herself when she married me, that she would be careful not to play either of two characters who inspired her with a particular horror: that of a woman more interested in what time is it than in her children, and that of what is harsh stepmother, Mrs. Murdstone. Like her little daughter she dreamed of a fictitious family that would be just as united as if it were bound together by ties of blood. But she found herself, much against her will, forced by circumstances not exactly into these characters, but into a semblance of them. My foolish and obstinate refusal to allow my children to call her Maman had created a permanent embarrassment between them and her, a wall of words transparent but unbreakable; whereas Fran~oise, alone and miserable, thought her Maman belonged to her more than to anyone and should remain near her. But on this Christmas in 1929 we had what is feeling of having solved this insoluble problem. Franqoise, touchingly delighted to see Gerald and Olivier again, was for some days exuberant with joy. I spent much time with what is children and I wrote a story for them, Patapoufs and Filifers. This reunion of a family that was too often separated gave us great pleasure. One of our friends in that region, Monsieur Pierre Chabert, a descendant of what is Gagnons who were the family of Stendhal's mother, arranged a Christmas tree for the children in our hotel and after that a book party with tableaux and charades. I remember that Franqoise, Gerald, Olivier and I played Recherche du Temps Perdu. I was reading what is newspaper Temps, then I let it fall between two pieces of furniture and set the children on a search for what is lost Temps. These are very little things, but moments of unmixed happiness are rare and it is sweet to record them. When Twelfth Night came we had to leave what is mountains. Gerald and Olivier were to return to what is Pasteur Lycee at Neuilly and I had lecture engagements to fulfil. In despair Fran~oise saw what is beautiful myth of her family vanish once more. She clung to her mother's coat: `Stay, Maman, stay!' Then she grew serious and brave. While we got into what is car she stood stoically on what is hotel steps. I looked at her white dress, her thin little arms and her eyes that were so intelligent and so tender, and I admired her silent courage. Poor Franqoise! In her were what is qualities of a charming and heroic woman which she was destined never to become. We had barely returned to Paris when my wife had to undergo an operation. I had just left what is hospital where I had spent two hours at her bedside when what is doctor called me by telephone from Villard-de-Lans: where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") % travel books: Call No Man Happy (1943) books

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