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I suppose you have heard various jeux d'esprit on the marriage of Sir Humphry Davy and Mrs. Apreece? I scarcely think any of them worth copying: the best idea is stolen from the bon mot on Sir John Carr, "The Traveller beknighted." "When Mr. Davy concluded his last Lecture by saying that we were but in the Dawn of Science, he probably did not expect to be so soon beknighted."
But before she had the lid over her left eye, Annette had fired, and fired to effect, for the brave had gone over upon his back, and sprawled and splashed among the liverwort and the bog. Julie next fired, and when she saw, as the result of her shot, the arm of the savage hang useless at his side, she cried "Bon, bon!" and cocked her pistol again.
Your aim, my dear nephew, must always be to be in bon ton. It is not a case of wealth, you understand. Mere riches cannot do it. Golden Price has forty thousand a year, but his clothes are disastrous. I assure you that I saw him come down St. James's Street the other day, and I was so shocked at his appearance that I had to step into Vernet's for a glass of orange brandy.
"Anglois, bête!" answered I, in a low tone: and added, "mais les corsairs ne se battent pas" "Cest vrai" said he; and growling, "bon soir" he was soon out of sight.
There is no Parisian who is not happy in the belief that he makes all the noise he hears, writes all the books he reads, edits all the journals on which he breakfasts, writes all the vaudevilles on which he sups, and invents all the 'bon mots' he repeats. But this flattering allusion vanishes the moment chance takes him a mile away from the Rue Vivienne.
I was so tired of saloons, jets d'eau, groves, parterres, and of more fatiguing persons by whom they were shown; so exhausted with pamphlets, harpsichords, trios, unravellings of plots, stupid bon mots, insipid affections, pitiful storytellers, and great suppers; that when I gave a side glance at a poor simple hawthorn bush, a hedge, a barn, or a meadow; when, in passing through a hamlet, I scented a good chervil omelette, and heard at a distance the burden of a rustic song of the Bisquieres; I wished all rouge, furbelows and amber at the d -l, and envying the dinner of the good housewife, and the wine of her own vineyard, I heartily wished to give a slap on the chaps to Monsieur le Chef and Monsieur le Maitre, who made me dine at the hour of supper, and sup when I should have been asleep, but especially to Messieurs the lackeys, who devoured with their eyes the morsel I put into my mouth, and upon pain of my dying with thirst, sold me the adulterated wine of their master, ten times dearer than that of a better quality would have cost me at a public house.
Pankhurst!" he observes breezily to the plump épicière. This is his invariable greeting to French ladies who display any tendency to volubility and they are many. "Bon jour, M'sieu le Caporal!" replies the épicière, smiling. "M'sieu le Caporal désire?" The sergeant allows his reduction in rank to pass unnoticed.
"See, Ma'amselle," he said, pointing, "the well-lashed packs of the fat winter beaver. Truly they come well laden, these Assiniboines, and we may well thank le bon Dieu for the wealth of skins. Is it not a heartening sight?" The eyes of Maren Le Moyne left his face and swept swiftly down the gentle slope to where the Indians had piled their bales of furs.
What to do, whether to shout to Madame to run and hide herself to do that or just go on with my work as though nothing had happened was a problem to make a man half silly. But in the end I held on tenaciously, and when the big car drew up beside me, I merely looked up and nodded to the driver as though to signal to him that all was well. "Bon jour," says he. "Morning," says I.
Belonging to a great order of things, she patronised the young stranger who was ready to sit all day at her feet and listen to anecdotes of the bon temps and quotations from the family chronicles. Madame de Mauves was a very honest old woman; she uttered her thoughts with ancient plainness.
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