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You, Bellward, or you, Max, or you, No.13? Haven't you got any guts any of You? Are you going to sit here and listen to the soft soap of a fellow who has probably sent better men than himself to their death with tripe of this kind? It may do for you, but by the Lord, it won't do for me!" Mortimer cleared his throat uneasily. "Our host is silent," said Mrs. Malplaquet, "what does Mr.
It would fill a large volume to relate all the victories of the Duke of Marlborough, none of which, however, exceeded the Battle of Blenheim in importance. One, some years afterward, called the Battle of Malplaquet, was a better contested fight, and perhaps ranks next; in truth, after this battle, France never again ventured to meet Marlborough in the field.
In that way we shall better meet whatever goblins there may be, thinks Friedrich Wilhelm. Count Lottum, hero of the Prussians at Malplaquet, is doing his scientific uttermost in Stettin and those Frontier Towns. For the rest, his Majesty, invited by the Czar and France, has been found willing to make paction with them, as he is with all pacific neighbors.
He was apparently well satisfied with his inspection, for he gave a sigh of satisfaction and turned to Mrs. Malplaquet. "She'll give no more trouble now!" he remarked airily. "Ah! Bellward," sighed Mrs. Malplaquet, "you're incomparable! What an undefeatable combination you and I would have made if we'd met twenty years sooner!" And she threw him a coquettish glance.
At a considerable distance we were shewn the woods and heights of Malplaquet, the scene of one of the Duke of Marlborough's great victories, of which the people still spoke, as if it had been one of the recent occurrences of the war.
Yet, yet my original guess stuck firmly in my mind, improbable though it might be, and had just been nailed down tightly I scorn to mystify the reader by a few simple sentences spoken in French. We had a whole day to fill in before we could get any news of Dawson's vigil in the Malplaquet, and I have never known a day as drearily long.
It was a great joy to the chevalier to see such a door opened to him. The coming campaign was definitive. Louis XIV. had arrived at the last period of his reign the period of reverses. Tallard and Marsin had been beaten at Hochstett, Villeroy at Ramilies, and Villars himself, the hero of Friedlingen, had lost the famous battle of Malplaquet against Marlborough and Eugene.
By eleven o'clock we had become unendurable to one another, and I gladly welcomed his suggestion to adjourn to his club, have lunch there, and try to inveigle the Commander of the Malplaquet into our net. "I know him," said Cary. "He is a fine fellow; and though he must be pretty busy, he will be glad to lunch somewhere away from the ship.
Father Anthony was the grandson of one of those Irish soldiers of fortune who, after the downfall of the Jacobite cause in Ireland, had taken service in the French and Austrian armies. In Ireland they called them the Wild Geese. He had risen to high honours in the armies of King Louis, and had been wounded at Malplaquet.
"That's what I want to know!" bellowed Bellward savagely. "I have not finished with our friend here!" observed Strangwise. "No, no," cried Mrs. Malplaquet quickly, Strangwise, "you've had your lesson. You've lost the jewel and you're not likely to get it back unless you think that this young man has come here with it on him. Do you want to lose your life, the lives of all of us, as well?
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