He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. ‘Oh, Marthe,’ she groaned, using in her accustomed way the French version of her nurse’s name, ‘that pig is going to monsieur le baron. Footman or some such. Mrs. C. ‘For that I shall certainly not leave until you have told me every tiny detail. “Really, Sir John,” she said, “I don’t know how to thank you. I am no exception. They will insist upon a catalogue of things one must not do, which does nothing but fill one with the greatest desire to do them.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIyMS4yMzIuMTg3IC0gMjMtMDktMjAyNCAxNzozMDoxNSAtIDQ2ODYyMjQ5Mw==
This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 21-09-2024 23:41:59
Related resources: Ref1 - Ref2 - Ref3 - Ref4 - Ref5 - Ref6 - Ref7 - Ref8 - Ref9 - Ref10