Название | My Memoirs |
---|---|
Автор произведения | Marguerite Steinheil |
Жанр | Языкознание |
Серия | |
Издательство | Языкознание |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn | 4057664609113 |
Marguerite Steinheil
My Memoirs
Published by Good Press, 2021
EAN 4057664609113
Table of Contents
CHAPTER II YOUTH—MY FATHER'S DEATH—MY MARRIAGE
CHAPTER III ARRIVAL IN PARIS. A SEPARATION. MARTHE. PARISIAN LIFE.
CHAPTER V MY SALON (continued)
CHAPTER VII THE DREYFUS AFFAIR—FASHODA
CHAPTER VIII THE MYSTERIOUS PEARL NECKLACE—THE DEATH OF FÉLIX FAURE
CHAPTER IX AFTER PRESIDENT FAURE'S DEATH: THE DOCUMENTS—THE NECKLACE
CHAPTER XI EVENTS THAT PRECEDED THE CRIME
CHAPTER XVIII M. CHARLES SAUERWEIN AND THE ROSSIGNOL AFFAIR
CHAPTER XIX THE PEARL IN THE POCKET-BOOK
CHAPTER XX THE SO-CALLED "NIGHT OF THE CONFESSION" (NOVEMBER 25-26, 1908)
CHAPTER XXIII ALBA GHIRELLI, MARGUERITE ROSSELLI AND THE "MATIN"
CHAPTER XXV. THE "INSTRUCTION"
CHAPTER XXVI THE LAST "INSTRUCTION"
CHAPTER XXVII THREE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-THREE DAYS IN PRISON
CHAPTER XXVIII THREE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-THREE DAYS IN PRISON (continued)
CHAPTER XXX THE SPEECH FOR THE PROSECUTION—THE SPEECH FOR THE DEFENCE
CHAPTER XXXI AFTER THE VERDICT
Photo. by Claude Harris, London WRITING MY MEMOIRS
CHAPTER I
CHILDHOOD
("Monsieur et Madame Edouard Japy have the honour to inform you of the birth of a daughter." Beaucourt, April, 16th, 1869.)
BEAUCOURT is a village in the "Belfort Territory," not far from the Swiss and German frontiers. It was in that village, at the "Château Edouard"—all large mansions in that region are called "châteaux," and the name of the owner is added to the word—that I was born some forty years ago.
Beaucourt and nearly all of the surrounding country belongs to, or is dependent upon, the Japy family, whose vast factories and mills give a living to thousands of workmen.
After a family quarrel, my father, Edouard Japy, had severed his connection with "Japy Bros." some time before my birth. Having resigned his directorship of the Company, he busied himself exclusively with his huge estate, devoting his days to the farm and woods, to his beloved park and the picturesque cascades which he had designed himself, to his flowers and orchards, to his family and to music.
My mother was the daughter of the innkeeper of the Red Lion, the chief inn of Montbéliard in those already distant days. Edouard Japy had married Mlle. Emilie Rau in spite of the opposition of his family, who had declared that such a marriage would be a mésalliance. He had married her—as he often told me when, as a young girl, I became more than his child: his friend and confidante—because "she was very beautiful and very good." My mother had dark eyes, large and very tender, and her raven-black hair, when loosed, streamed down to her feet. She was of a quiet and sunny nature, kind, serene, and smiling. She ignored evil, was exquisitely artless, and never understood a great deal of the realities of life, because she did not see them. She gave away and spent without counting, was indulgent in a manner as touching as it was unconscious, and went through life a simple and happy being, knowing neither great exultation nor deep depression, incapable of sustained effort or serious worry. Edouard adored Emilie, Emilie adored Edouard, and all was for the best in the best of all possible worlds.