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Her marriage to Pistohlkors was terminated by divorce, and Paul asked permission of Tsar Nicholas II to marry Olga, but he refused.
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Her and marriage
Her unhappiness with her marriage caused Aphrodite to seek out companionship from others, most frequently Ares, but also Adonis.
Her mother ’ s marriage to Agrippa was her second marriage, as Julia the Elder was widowed from her first marriage, to her paternal cousin Marcus Claudius Marcellus and they had no children.
Her husband died, apparently in the early years of her marriage, leaving her with two children, Athalaric and Matasuntha ( c. 517 – after 550 ), wife c. 550 of Germanus.
Her first marriage, at the age of fifteen, was to the son of her father's rival in Italy, Lothair II, the nominal King of Italy ; the union was part of a political settlement designed to conclude a peace between her father and Hugh of Provence, the father of Lothair.
* Her fourth and last marriage was to Barry Comden ( born 1935 – died 2009 ), who was roughly a decade younger, from April 14, 1976 until 1981.
Her parents ' marriage had been arranged by Dangereuse with her paternal grandfather, the Troubadour.
Her older half-sister, Mary, had lost her position as a legitimate heir when Henry annulled his marriage to Mary's mother, Catherine of Aragon, in order to marry Anne and sire a male heir to ensure the Tudor succession.
Her family stopped speaking to her ; his family connection was bruised, as his children felt his marriage was a repudiation of their mother.
Her one route of social mobility out of her working-class origin was through the traditional way of marriage.
Her scheduled marriage is mentioned in the text as the third union between Stilicho's family and the Theodosian dynasty, following those of Stilicho to Serena and Maria, their daughter, to Honorius.
Her father Jobst initially opposed a marriage despite Kepler's nobility ; though he had inherited his grandfather's nobility, Kepler's poverty made him an unacceptable match.
Her 1951 marriage to Charles Dye ended in divorce a year later, but during that time, one of her stories was published under Dye's name.
Her third and longest-lasting marriage ( 1936 – 1950 ) was to the British Anthropologist Gregory Bateson with whom she had a daughter, Mary Catherine Bateson, who would also become an anthropologist.
Her fairytale marriage to Brad Silver comes crashing down when she realizes that he's unfaithful to her, leading her to reconsider choosing him over Katchoo.
Her father then reveals that his wedding with her mother, which Mary had always seen as the perfect marriage, was actually arranged and only became a loving relationship months later, leaving Mary feeling very confused.
Her sister Mary's marriage to Philip brought great contempt to the country, for many of her subjects despised Spain and Philip and feared that he would try to take complete control.
Her and was
Her face was very thin, and burned by the sun until much of the skin was dead and peeling, the new skin under it red and angry.
Her blond hair was frowzy, her dress torn in several places, and her shoes were so completely worn out that they were practically no protection.
Her form was silhouetted and with the strong light I could see the outlines of her body, a body that an artist or anyone else would have admired.
Her heart, her maternal feeling, in fact her being was too busy expressing itself, as quietly thrilled by this sight of her Nicolas curled asleep under a blanket, in a park like a scene from Poussin.
Her stern was down and a sharp list helped us to cut loose the lifeboat which dropped heavily into the water.
( Her account was later confirmed by the Scobee-Frazier Expedition from the University of Manitoba in 1951.
Her brother Karl was a very gentle soul, her mother was a quiet woman who said little but who had hard, probing eyes.
Her mother, now dead, was my good friend and when she came to tell us about her plans and to show off her ring I had a sobering wish to say something meaningful to her, something her mother would wish said.
Her quarters were on the right as you walked into the building, and her small front room was clogged with heavy furniture -- a big, round, oak dining table and chairs, a buffet, with a row of unclaimed letters inserted between the mirror and its frame.
Her hair was dyed, and her bloom was fading, and she must have been crowding forty, but she seemed to be one of those women who cling to the manners and graces of a pretty child of eight.
Her voice was ripe and full and her teeth flashed again in Sicilian brilliance before the warm curved lips met and her mouth settled in repose.
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