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"I had a strange dream," said Jeannette; "I thought you were all taken by a revenue cutter, and put in a cachot. I went to see you, and I did not know one of you again you were all changed." "Very likely, Jeannette you would not be the first who did not know their friends again when in misfortune. There was nothing strange in your dream." "Mais, mon Dieu! je ne suis pas comme ça moi."
I see an Englishman with his little red book, the Paris guide, in one hand and map in the other, with a parcel of ragged boys at his heels pestering him for money. "Monsieur, c'est moi," who am ready to hold your stick. "Monsieur, c'est moi," who will call your coach.
A fragment of the rock broke off under his foot and fell in the abyss below. 'Go back, Monsieur Rodenai, cried Jeannette, seeing his danger. 'Will you came back too, Jeannette? 'Moi? C'est aut'chose, answered the girl, gayly tossing her pretty head. 'Then I shall come out and carry you back, wilful child, said the surgeon.
As the "O" revealed Giotto, as the one word "moi" betrayed the Stratford-atte-Bowe-taught Anglais, so all a man's antecedents and possibilities are summed up in a single utterance which gives at once the gauge of his education and his mental organization. Possibilities, Sir? said the divinity-student; can't a man who says Haöw? arrive at distinction?
Everyone, I presume, is acquainted with that old French saying, "Dis moi qui tu hantes et je te dirai qui tu es!" which may be rendered in English: "Tell me with whom you associate and I will tell you who you are!" While this adage is almost invariably true in the case of ordinary people, it would hardly be just to apply it where monarchs and princes of the blood are concerned.
My worn-out old life is not worth the risk of thy young freedom. But I love thee for it, mine ain bairnie, mon enfant a moi. If thy brother had thy spirit, child " "I hate the thought of him! Call him not my brother!" cried Cicely hotly. "If he were worth one brass farthing he would have unfurled the Scottish lion long ago, and ridden across the Border to deliver his mother."
And she lifted up a really ravishing foot small, swarthy, and not misshapen like the majority of feet which look dainty only in bottines. I laughed, and started to draw on to the foot a silk stocking, while Mlle. Blanche sat on the edge of the bed and chattered. "Eh bien, que feras-tu si je te prends avec moi?
The Vicomte had begun a game, so could not talk to us, but some more officers were introduced, and, after the usual bowing, we began to talk. "Vous aimez le tennis, mademoiselle?" "Oui, monsieur," from Victorine. "Moi, je le déteste," from me. "Pas possible!" from every one. "Je vous assure on ne joue que le croquet chez nous." "Le croquet," from Victorine, "un jeu de Couvent!" "Le croquet!
"I must think it over quietly, and it would be worse to bear there than anywhere else. No, I shall just walk about." "Thou canst not walk abowt all night, Maister Ned," Bill said positively; "it bain't to be thowt of. If thou don't mind thou canst have moi bed and oi can sleep on t' floor."
The gallant leader appeared to be as cool and composed as if he were at breakfast; with his drawn sword he pointed to the breach, and we heard him exclaim, "Suivez moi!" I felt jealous of this brave fellow jealous of his being a Frenchman; and I threw a lighted hand-grenade between his feet he picked it up, and threw it from him to a considerable distance.
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