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Tant mieux; it will not bore me. I have travelled in Egypt and Morocco. I have spent the night in as deplorable a hut as this before now; it will amuse me. I will fancy I am in some Bedouin shanty, and this river here is the Nile, that has overflowed, and these beasts that are croaking in the water comment s'appelle ça? frogs? oh yes, of course these frogs are the alligators of the Nile.
At one of those balls I observed a very pretty girl surrounded by gay young Frenchmen, with whom she was flirting in a style that would not have disgraced a belle from the Faubourg St. Denis, and turning to my neighbour, I asked him who she was; he replied, "Elle s'appelle Louise Constant, monsieur, c'est la rose de village."
They meet in the cathedral every Thursday, with closed doors, where they relate to each other as they are bound by a vow to do all they have learned, whether good or evil, concerning other people, during the week. La Superieure de cette compagnie s'appelle Madame Boudon; une Mde. D'Ailleboust est, je crois, l'assistante et une Mde. Charron, la Tresoriere.
Finally I interrupted my speaker to ask what on earth was the matter in the cabinot? "C'est la femme allemande qui s'appelle Lily," Afrique briefly answered. A little later BANG went the cabinot door, and ROAR went the familiar coarse voice of the Directeur. "It disturbs him, the noise," Afrique said. The cabinot door slammed. There was silence. Heavily steps ascended.
"Pardon, j'ai oublie son nom, Il n'est pas du pays, but I think he came to the town with Lembke, quelque chose de bete et d'Allemand dans la physionomie. Il s'appelle Bosenthal." "Wasn't it Blum?" "Yes, that was his name. Vous le connaissez? Quelque chose d'Maite et de tres content dans la figure, pomtant tres severe, roide et serieux.
She has a becoming embonpoint, and an air de bonne societe, which when we parted she had not." The more intensely I gazed, the more convinced was I that I was right; the immovable devotion of my eyes attracted the attention of a French officer, who sat near me. "C'est une jolie femme, n'est-ce pas; monsieur?" "Vraiment," said I. "Do you know her name?" "Elle s'appelle Madame de Rosenberg."
"Forgive my asking; your voice lacks something I've nearly always noticed in the English a kind of 'comment cela s'appelle' cocksureness, coming from your nation's greatest quality." "And what is that?" asked Shelton with a smile. "Complacency," replied the youthful foreigner. "Complacency!" repeated Shelton; "do you call that a great quality?"
She has a becoming embonpoint, and an air de bon societé which, when we parted, she had not." The more intensely I gazed, the more convinced was I that I was right; the immovable devotion of my eyes attracted the attention of a French officer, who sat near me. "C'est une jolie femme, n'est-ce pas, monsieur?" "Vraiment" said I. "Do you know her name?" "Elle s'appelle Madame de Rosenberg."
"I own property here, but I live at Paris, and what devils brought me hither I don't know. I would have gone on further if the mud of your roads hadn't stopped me. And now give me comment s'appelle ça?" And here he came to a stop because he could not find the word he wanted. "Give you what, sir?" "Comment s'appelle ça? Tell me the name!" "My name, sir? Peter Bús."
But if I marry now, so long as I didn't do it in hot haste when I was twenty, I must do it with my eyes open. I want to do the thing in handsome style. I do not only want to make no mistakes, but I want to make a great hit. I want to take my pick. My wife must be a magnificent woman." "Voila ce qui s'appelle parler!" cried Mrs. Tristram. "Oh, I have thought an immense deal about it."
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