! And then in the finer poems of Victor Hugo, and there really are some, one frequently comes across an idea, even a profound idea.” And with the right shade of sentiment, bringing out the sorrowful thought with the full strength of her intonation, planting it somewhere beyond the sound of her voice, and fixing straight in front of her a charming, dreamy gaze, the Duchess said slowly: “Take this:
La douleur est un fruit, Dieu ne le fait pas croître
Sur la branche trop faible encor pour le porter.
La douleur est un fruit, Dieu ne le fait pas croître Sur la branche trop faible encor pour le porter.
or, better still: