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How inferior in wit, in acuteness, in stratagem, was Douce to Vargrave; and yet Douce had gulled him like a child! Well said the shrewd small philosopher of France "On peut etre plus fin qu'un autre, mais pas plus fin que tous les autres."* * One may be more sharp than one's neighbour, but one can't be sharper than all one's neighbours.
She evidently did not believe in ghosts, for I could hear how she fell asleep immediately after getting into bed; nor do I believe in them, "mais je les redoute," as a French lady said, who from her books appears to have been strongminded.
All right, genelmen please yourselves. Mais you please remember I am just like William Shekspeare I give no repétition!" It was then that the serious man demonstrated that Britons, even the North American kind, never, never would be slaves. Placing his black silk hat carefully a little further back on his head, he leaned forward.
Good you drink bran-dee vis vater? Not good for boy sometime, mais good now." He kept on chattering to us, half in English, half in French; and as he spoke he cut for us great pieces of bread and Devon butter, evidently freshly taken on board that day. Next he took a large brown bottle from a locker, and mixed in a heavy, clumsy glass a stiff jorum of brandy with water from a kettle on the stove.
"It would have been a great alliance what I've been so much in need of. The Melcourt well, they're all very well old noblesse de la Normandie, and all that but poor! mais pauvres! and as provincial as a curé de campagne. When I married my poor husband but we won't go into that I've been a widow since I was so high ever since 1870 with my own way to make.
"Je suis sa reine, mais il n'est pas mon roi." "Excuse me, I must believe this language is mere nonsense and coquetry. There is nothing great about you, yet you are above profiting by the good nature and purse of a man to whom you feel absolute indifference. You love M. Isidore far more than you think, or will avow." "No.
For a minute or two his pose suggested strained attention, and then he smiled. "White man come from the sout'. Mais oui! He come, sure t'ing." Lane nodded. "I guess he's right, but I can't figure on the kind of outfit." Then Blake heard a sound which puzzled him. It was not the quick patter of a dog-team or the sliding fall of netted shoes.
Oh, to be back in Paris, her home, where she had lived with him, where every stick and stone was dear to her because of him! Then, glancing up at the clock, with an abrupt change of key, 'Mais allons donc, paresseux! You must take me to see the camarades. You must take me to see Chalks.
"Pierre," said Trafford, sharply, "I want an answer to my question." "'Mais, pardon, I was thinking . . . well, we can ride until the deep snows come, then we can walk; and Shangi, he can get the dogs, maybe, one team of dogs." "But," was the reply, "one team of dogs will not be enough. We'll bring meat and hides, you know, as well as pemmican. We won't cache any carcases up there.
Now you have the whole history, the marriage is yet to take place." "Your last observation is correct; or rather it is not, for the marriage will never take place." "Mais, que voulez-vous Mademoiselle?" cried Monsieur Gironac, "must we send for the angel Gabriel for you?" "No," replied I, "he is not a marrying man any more than I am a marrying woman.
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