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Captain Macdonald, of the 78th Highlanders, had served in Holland, and knew the proper reply to the challenge of a French sentry. "A quel regiment?" asked the sentry, "De la Reine" was the response. "Passe" said the soldier, who made the darkness vibrate as he brought his musket to the carry. Other sentinels were similarly deceived. One was more particularly curious than the others.
As the boats came close to a point on the bank a sentinel challenged, "Qui vive?" "La France!" replied an officer of Fraser's Highlanders who spoke French well. "À quel regiment?" again challenged the suspicious soldier. "De la Reine," answered the same officer, who happily remembered that some companies of this regiment were with Bougainville.
Quel pays!... What a people... I dream of them still.... The eyes; the teeth! Ah, well! in an hour we shall be in Rio. I must sleep...." By two of the afternoon we were running into the inlet of Rio Medio. I had come on deck when Tomas Castro had started out of his doze. I wanted to see.
When the recitation was over there was a long, deep silence, broken at last by Wolfe himself, who said: "Gentlemen, I would rather have written that poem than take Quebec!" "Qui vive?" It was the French sentry upon the shore, as the boats glided slowly by in the darkness. Julian was waiting for the challenge, and was ready with the answer. "France!" "A quel regiment?" came the voice again.
The door opened and the last guest appeared. He was so useful. He approached Landi at once. 'Ah, cher maitre, quel plaisir! he said with his South Kensington accent and his Oxford manner. 'C'est vrai? asked Landi, who had his own way of dismissing a person in a friendly way. Coniston began talking to him of a song.
Vi prego, se la videte di farla un Complimento da parte mia. Spero e non dubito punto che voi starete bene di salute. Mi son scordato di darvi nuova, che abbiamo qui trovato quel Sign. Belardo, ballerina, che abbiamo conosciuto in Haye ed in Amsterdam, quello che attaco colla spada il ballerino, il Sign. Neri, perche credeva che lui fosse cagione che non ebbe la permission di ballar in teatro.
The boy smiled and raised himself on one elbow; his eyes twinkled with good-humoured malice. "My babbo had much better wine than quel signore," he said. "But that is wrong!" cried Goneril, quite shocked. "Who knows?" After this conversation flagged. Goneril tried to imagine what a great musician could be like: long hair, of course; her imagination did not get much beyond the hair.
Only two poses had been completed, but the tired models stood or sat, glistening with perspiration. The men drew and painted, many of them stripped to the waist. The air was heavy with tobacco smoke and the respiration of some two hundred students of half as many nationalities. "Dieu! quel chaleur!" gasped a fat little Frenchman, mopping his clipped head and breathing hard.
For whom is the ring, Monsieur Godfrey? Someone in England?" Then Godfrey, overcome, told a lie. "No, for myself," he said. Juliette looked at him and exclaimed: "Then you should have told the jeweller to make it big enough. Try and you will see." He turned red as a boiled lobster. Mademoiselle stood opposite to him, shaking her pretty head, and murmuring: "Quel mensonge!
"Pauvres garcons." Jacques, who was a little longer in coming to inspect the derelict, hearing what his companion said, called out for further information. "De quel pays sont-ils?" he asked. "Can you tell their nationality?" "Anglais, sans doute!" was his reply. "Je le crois par leur air." This made Jacques prick up his ears.
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