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Il y a cependant une que je ne peux pas m'empêcher de rapporter ici, comme une suite de ce que je viens de dire.
It was only to give a few parting directions to Bernard, to enjoin quiet upon his patient, and to take leave of him, which he did, in the words of his favorite "Fare thee well! The elements be kind to thee, and make Thy spirits all of comfort." Ici il fallut que j'en divinasse plus qu'on ne m'en disoit.
You are to ask for the tavern keeper and say to him 'La vie est ici. He will understand and bring you to Latour and mademoiselle. Plans are laid for your escape." "Is that all, Seth?" "And enough, surely. It comes from Sabatier, and we know something of him. It is a trap baited too openly. You will not go, Master Richard." "Not go!
The mob increased; their shrieks of terror rent the air, "Les François sont ici! Ils s'emparent de la porte de la ville!" mingled with the cries of the women, and with those of my little household, who all rushed into my chamber, expecting me to save them.
"To judge by his expression, the man seems ambitious of 'les succes de salon, also. Where did he import his manners from, I wonder? they have a sort of bright, new look, as if he had not yet worn the gloss off." "Don't laugh at him; he gives excellent dinners." "Does he? Can't you introduce me, immediately? 'Ici l'ont fait noces et festins. I seem to smell the turtle-soup, already."
I see by your look that you wish to know my history. I shall not tell it you. It contains nothing that is remarkable. See, I have smoked out your cigar; you may give me another, and add a dollar if you please, nous sommes creves ici de faim. I would not say as much to a Spaniard, but I have a respect for your countrymen; I know much of them; I have met them at Maida and the other place."
And Soames was borne along in that little yellow-wheeled Victoria all over star-shaped Paris, with here and there a pause, and the question, "C'est par ici, Monsieur?" "No, go on," till the man gave it up in despair, and the yellow-wheeled chariot continued to roll between the tall, flat-fronted shuttered houses and plane-tree avenues a little Flying Dutchman of a cab.
From inside the room came a great racket. There was the sound of glasses falling, then a string of oaths, English, French, and for all I know, Irish, rapped out in a loud drunken voice. A pause, and then came the sound of maudlin singing. It pursued me along the gallery, an old childish song, delivered as if 'twere a pot-house catch "Qu'est-ce qui passe ici si tard, Compagnons de la Marjolaine "
And therefore, I suppose, we ought rather to say with Figaro: Qui est-ce qu'on trompe ici?+ Now, I admit that often, but not always, when our governors say smooth things to the self-love of the class whose political support they want, they know very well that they are overstepping, by a long stride, the bounds of truth and soberness; and while they talk, they in a manner, no doubt, put their tongue in their cheek.
"I will now leave madame to her repose," she said. "Does madame need anything more?" "No, I shall want nothing more," was the reply. The door closed upon the maid's retreating form, and Mrs. Rutherford instantly shot the bolt. She cast a sad and wistful glance around the dainty room and on its glittering contents. "J'etais si bien ici," she said regretfully.
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