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I ventured to indulge in a respectful laugh. "Your mother has another word for that. But I must not," I added, "be crude." "Ah, vous m'en voulez?" inquired Mrs. Church. "And yet I can't pretend I said it in jest. I feel it too much. We have been having a little social discussion," she said to her daughter. "There is still so much to be said."
"A la claire fontaine M'en allant promener, J'ai trouve l'eau si belle Que je m'y suis baigne, Il y a longtemps que je t'aime Jamais je ne t'oublierai." The next day, with the combers of a howling north-westerly gale clutching at the stern of the canoe, I rode in a glory of spray and copper-tasting excitement back to Dick and his half-breed settlement. But the incident had its sequel.
Maria turned toward her father who still slept with his chin sunk on his breast, looking like a man stricken down by grief whose meditation is of death; and the look brought her swift memory of the hymns and country songs he was wont to teach his children in the evenings. A la claire fontaine M'en allant promener ...
They seem the ideal young married people don't quarrel, have perfect health, agree with everybody, go to church, have children but I should like to hear what is beautiful in their life," and he grimaced. "It seems to me so ugly that I can only gasp. I would much rather they ill-treated each other, just to show they had the corner of a soul between them. If that is marriage, 'Dieu m'en garde!"
It was the song Courant had sung, and as he heard it he lifted up his voice at the head of the train, and the two strains blending, the old French chanson swept out over the barren land: "A la claire fontaine! M'en allant promener J'ai trouvé l'eau si belle Que je me suis baigné!" Susan waved a beckoning hand to the voyageur, then turned to Lucy and said joyously: "What fun to have Zavier!
He was a cadaverous little man, incredibly dirty, with mustaches and beard of a moth-eaten tow-color, and a purple flush on his cheeks. His uniform was clotted with mud. When the others crowded round him and tried to dissuade him, he said: "M'en fous, c'est mon metier," and rolled his eyes so that the whites flashed in the dim light like the eyes of dead codfish.
"I wish I were of his age," said the venerable Colchicum, with a sigh, as he inclined his purple face toward a large goblet of claret. "C'te Jeunesse. Peuh! je m'en fiche," said Madame Brack, Coralie's mamma, taking a great pinch out of Lord Colchicum's delicate gold snuff-box. "Je n'aime que les hommes faits, moi.
Soames was startled, but she had underrated his caution and tenacity. "If you know," he said coldly, "why do you plague me?" Fleur saw that she had overreached herself. "I don't want to plague you, darling. As you say, why want to know more? Why want to know anything of that 'small' mystery Je m'en fiche, as Profond says." "That chap!" said Soames profoundly.
"Oh no. Wait, and we will think of some expedient. Besides you have not told me half what I want to know. The money is of no consequence; but what had you done to lead to such a sentence? Are you really a Nihilist?" "Dieu m'en garde!" said the Count devoutly. "I am a Republican, that is all. Seulement, our Holy Russia does not distinguish." "Is not the distinction very subtle?"
"If you don't understand me," Hilda said, dropping into the corner of a sofa, "Cela que je m'en doute, it's because you look for too much elaboration. I am a simple creature, done with rather a broad brush voila tout!" Nevertheless, Miss Livingstone's was a happy impression.
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