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"Marchand-Epicier," wrote the bureau-keeper. "Quel age avez-vous, Monsieur? How old you are, sare?" "Two pound twelve," replied Mr. Jorrocks, surprised at his inquisitiveness. "No, sare, not vot monnay you have, sare, hot old you are, sare." "Well, two pound twelve, fifty-two in fact." Mr.
"Ah, quel malheur! then the hock will not be iced enough: Borodaile's looks are the best wine-coolers in the world." "Fie!" cried La Meronville, glancing towards Clarence, "I cannot endure your malevolence; wit makes you very bitter." "Bah! my Lord Duke, you judge of others by yourself." "To be sure I do," cried the duke; "and that is the best way of forming a right judgment.
A somewhat sharp and incisive voice speaking in French here struck in and prevented Graham's rejoinder: "Quel joli dessin! What is it, Mademoiselle?" Graham recoiled; the speaker was Gustave Rameau, who had, unobserved, first watched Isaura, then rejoined her side. "A view of Sorrento, Monsieur, but it does not do justice to the place.
But when a crowd gathered to verify the terrible news it turned out to be untrue. Gaspard Roussillon had once more distinguished himself by an exhibition of heroic nerve and muscle. "Ventrebleu! Quel homme!" exclaimed Oncle Jazon, when told that M. Roussillon had come up the bank of the Wabash with Lieutenant Beverley under one arm and Father Beret under the other, both men apparently dead.
Then and ever after, travelling was Edward Stanley's delight, and he took any adventure in the spirit of the French song "Je suis touriste Quel gai métier."
"Quel dommage! je vais la couper." "Nein, ce n'est rien; et pisque t'as tue ce mechant. T'es fierement beau, tout d' meme, toi; t'es lien miex que ma grande soeur. "Will you not kiss me, too, ma mie?" said Gerard. "Je ne demande par miex. Tiens, tiens, tiens! c'est doulce celle-ci. Ah! que j'aimons les hommes! Des fames, ca ne m'aurait jamais donne l'arjan, blanc, plutot ca m'aurait ri au nez.
Gre wiped her eyes and repeated continually, "Quel drole monsieur! it is thus he has entertained us since thou departed, Philippe." As for Mademoiselle, I began to think that Nick was not far wrong in his diagnosis. Training may have had something to do with it. She would not laugh, not she, but once or twice she raised her napkin to her face and coughed slightly.
"Comment?" the Frenchman exclaimed, with surprise and delight. "A lady as well; a charming English lady! What an acquisition to the society of Boupari! Quelle chance! Quel bonheur! Monsieur, you are welcome, and mademoiselle too! And in what quality do you live here?
He carried a small fiddle and spoke volubly without regarding the presence of Miles. "Oh, these cochons of English, my dear," he exclaimed to Peggy, "so steef so wood-steef in the limbs. Wis 'em I kin do noozzn', no, not a leetle bit. Zey would make ze angils swear. Ah, mon Dieu, quel dommage I haf to teach zem."
"Quel est l'objet que l'on recherche le plus quand on s'en dégoûte?" A mysterious inquiry, and all sorts of horrible but needful abominations occur to the mind in answer. But the answer is not so bad after all.
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