flower painting rose

flower painting rose
flower vase painting
claude monet impressionism painting
"Your wife! The letter was in your own hand-writing." 　　 "Yes, but I had only the credit of servilely copying such sentences as I was ashamed to put my name to. The original was all her own- her own happy thoughts and gentle diction. But what could I do? We were engaged, every thing in preparation, the day almost fixed- but I am talking like a fool. Preparation! Day! In honest words, her money was necessary to me; and in a situation like mine any thing was to be done to prevent a rupture. And after all, what did it signify to my character, in the opinion of Marianne and her friends, in what language my answer was couched? It must have been only to one end. My business was to declare myself a scoundrel; and whether I did it with a bow or a bluster was of little importance. 'I am ruined for ever in their opinion,' said I to myself: 'I am shut out for ever from their society; they already think me an unprincipled fellow; this letter will only make them think me a blackguard one.' Such were my reasonings as, in a sort of desperate carelessness, I copied my wife's words, and parted with the last relics of Marianne. Her three notes,- unluckily they were all in my pocketbook, or I should have denied their existence, and hoarded them for ever- I was forced to put them up, and could not even kiss them. And the lock of hair- that, too, I had always carried about me in the same pocket-book