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Those who recognised him in passing took off their bonnets rouges, some saying, "Good-night, your Highness;" some, "How are you, monseigneur?" some, "God bless your Excellency;" and a batch of bacchanalian river-men, who had been drinking, called him "General," and insisted on embracing him, offering him cognac from their tin flasks.
She would sell her own soul for riches, Calvert; judge, therefore, how willingly she would sell her niece's soul." He paused an instant and tapped impatiently on the table for another glass of cognac. "It was a great match, I suppose," hazarded Calvert. "Oh, yes; Monsieur de St.
A servant returned with corn-beef in tins, a bottle of port, another of cognac, and beer, blessed beer, to wash out from my throat the dust of an army. It was the land of Canaan. I was in China. The Korean is the perfect type of inefficiency of utter worthlessness. The Chinese is the perfect type of industry. For sheer work no worker in the world can compare with him.
The obtained a list of the dead from the quarantine records, and among them were those of the these three youthful Brandons. Yes, they joined old Cognac pretty soon lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in death not divided. But this young devil that you speak of must have escaped. I dare say he did, for the confusion was awful." "But couldn't there have been another son?" "Oh no.
His wife, who has returned from the tailor's and refreshed herself with a cognac, asks him whether he feels inclined to make an excursion with the children. No, he has letters to write. When he has finished his letters, he goes out for a stroll before dinner. He is longing for somebody to talk to. But he is alone. He goes into the garden and looks for the children.
Entering the Caffè Aragno, a new institution in those days, both men sat down at a small marble table. The old dandy was white with emotion; Valdarno felt that he was enjoying his revenge. "A glass of cognac, Duke?" he said, as the waiter came up. Astrardente nodded, and there was silence while the man brought the cordial.
To the tactful diplomacy of M. Gaston Max, the task of securing from Sir Brian an invitation to step up into his chambers in order to smoke a final cigar was no heavy one. He seated himself in a deep armchair, at the baronet's invitation, and accepted a very fine cigar, contentedly, sniffing at the old cognac with the appreciation of a connoisseur, ere holding it under the syphon.
They make the cognac, and they make the bottles for it in a glass factory on a hill overlooking the town about as airy and pleasant a place for a factory as one could imagine. The molten glass is poured into moulds, the moulds closed psst! a stream of compressed air turned in, the bottles blown, and there you are a score or so of them turned out every minute.
"Jolly fellows!" replied Cadet, stretching his legs refreshingly, "this does look comfortable. Do you drink cider because you like it, or because you cannot afford better?" "There is nothing better than Norman cider, except Cognac brandy," replied Master Pothier, grinning from ear to ear. "Norman cider is fit for a king, and with a lining of brandy is drink for a Pope!
The customary allowance of every man who can afford it is a pint of claret at meals, themselves prefaced generally speaking by an appetizer, and supplemented almost invariably by a cup of coffee and cognac.
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