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"Who is it?" the men whisper. "Belongs to the 170th. They replaced us. He was caught in the Boyau des Anglais." "That's a wicked spot, that is!" "Is he one of ours?" questioned a man from an upper window, stopping an instant in the act of polishing his gun. "No," answers some one. The enquirer recommenced his work, and with it the refrain of his song, just where he had left off.
I must do all I can to capture or destroy this very lugger, as well as any other of the king's enemies, as soon as I am my own master again." "Bon! I like your frankness, Monsieur Clinch, as much as I like your humanity. I always look for a brave enemy when un Anglais comes against me; if you are ever in the number, I shall expect nothing worse."
"This is Monsieur Lofe Anglais celebre. What have you to say against him?" "He has got five hundred francs of mine!" cried the epicier. The policeman scanned Mr. Love, with great attention. "So you are in Paris again? Hein! vous jouez toujours votre role! "Ma foi!" said Mr.
Vivent les Anglais!" yelled the excited Frenchman, as the head of a column of camelry began to wind out from among the rocks. "See here, Belmont," cried the Colonel. "These fellows will want to shoot us if they see it is all up. I know their ways, and we must be ready for it. Will you be ready to jump on the fellow with the blind eye? and I'll take the big nigger, if I can get my arms round him.
The Jardin Anglais at Rambouillet is the final expression of the species in France. Designed under the Duc de Penthièvre, it was restored and considerably enlarged by Napoleon and, following the contours of an artificial rivulet, it fulfils the description that its name implies.
Belmont rushed onwards to meet his wife, but Fardet stopped to grasp the Colonel's hand. "Vive la France! Vivent les Anglais!" he was yelling. "Tout va bien, n'est ce pas, Colonel? Ah, canaille! Vivent la croix et les Chretiens!" He was incoherent in his delight. The Colonel, too, was as enthusiastic as his Anglo-Saxon standard would permit.
The ants and the coffee-cups certainly give one a sense of being in a foreign land, but when one wanders through the fertile country among the thatched villages and farms that so forcibly remind one of Devonshire, one feels a friendliness in the landscapes that scarcely requires the stimulus of the kindly attitude of the peasants towards les anglais.
Père Olivier apologized for the meager fare, but we did well enough, with soup and a tin of boiled beef, breadfruit, and feis. The soup was of a red vegetable, not appetizing, and I could not make out the native name for it, hue arahi, until Grelet cried, "Ah, j'ai trouvé le mot anglais! Ponkeen, ponkeen!" It was a red pumpkin. "La soupe maigre de missionaire," murmured the priest.
Thrice did I hear it, like one waking out of a sleep, ere I grasped its import. "The Alliance! The Alliance!" But hardly had the name resounded with joy throughout the ship, when a hail of grape and canister tore through our sails from aft forward. "She rakes us! She rakes us!" And the French soldiers tumbled headlong down from the poop with a wail of "Les Anglais font prise!"
However, I will keep my word with you in the matter of something to quench your parched throats; and if you choose to be sensible, and make no foolish attempts at escape, you shall have no reason to complain of harsh treatment." "Ah, Monsieur Anglais, if we had but known " answered one of the Frenchmen, with a rather rueful smile.
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