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'You can often coax the old wine from them, said my knowing companion, 'if you go the right way to work. 'And what is the secret? 'Flattery: there is nothing like it. Flatter the peasant and you will be almost sure to move him. Say, 'Ah, what a time that was when you had the old wine in your cellars! He will say, 'Nest-ce pas, monsieur? and brighten up at the thought of it.
"Le marmot n'a rien, nest-ce pas?" said she, indicating Georgette with a jerk of her chin. "Pas beaucoup," was the answer, as the doctor hastily scribbled with his pencil some harmless prescription. "Eh bien!" pursued Rosine, approaching him quite near, while he put up his pencil. "And the box did you get it? Monsieur went off like a coup-de-vent the other night; I had not time to ask him."
She let him have his way with a merry smile, dark eyes and white teeth flashing, but as she went she said to Mr. Mackwayte: "My friend, wait for me! Et puis nous causerons! We will 'ave a talk, nest-ce pas?" "A very old friend of mine, my dear," Mr. Mackwayte said to Barbara when, dressed in his street clothes, he rejoined her in the wings where she stood watching Nur-el-Din dancing.
Nur-el-Din started. "Le Captaine is there, Madame," said the French maid, "'e say Monsieur Mackwayte ask for Mademoiselle!" The dancer thrust a little hand from the folds of her silken kimono. "Au revoir, ma petite," she said, "we shall meet again. You will come and see me, nest-ce pas?
Within, the long vista of the school-rooms presented a thronging, undulating, murmuring, waving, streaming multitude, all rose, and blue, and half translucent white. There were lustres burning overhead; far off there was a stage, a solemn green curtain, a row of footlights. "Nest-ce pas que c'est beau?" demanded my companion. I should have said it was, but my heart got up into my throat.
It is not a game of chance for the bank ah, it is exact, mathematical c'est une question d' arithmetique, seulement, nest-ce pas, messieurs?" "Perhaps," admitted DeLong, "but it doesn't explain why I am losing to-night while everyone else is winning." "We are not winning," persisted Craig. "After I have had a bite to eat I will demonstrate how to lose by keeping on playing."
"My friend," said the dancer sadly, "he is my evil genius. If I had dreamt that you knew him I would never have sought refuge in your house." "But I've never set eyes on the man in my life!" exclaimed Desmond. The dancer shook her head mournfully at him. "Very few of you have, my friend," she replied, "but you are all under his orders, nest-ce pas?" Desmond's heart leaped.
They seemed uncertain whether Viola was Mrs. Chevons or Mrs. Furnival, and they addressed her indifferently as either. An awful indifference had come to them. Of the war they said, "C'est triste, nest-ce pas?" We left them, sitting pallid and depressed behind the barricade of their bureau, gazing after us with the saddest of smiles.
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