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This was the third year that he had seen M. Sabathier arrive, and all his anger fell upon him. "What! you have come back /again/!" he exclaimed. "Well, you /must/ be desirous of living this hateful life! But /sacrebleu/! go and die quietly in your bed at home. Isn't that the best thing that can happen to anyone?"
And then, from the carriages and fiacres: Mademoiselle Patchouli and good old Monsieur Bonvin, Mademoiselle Nitouche and bad young Monsieur de Sacrebleu, Mademoiselle Moineau and Don Caesar Imberbe; and the pink silk domino of "La Pataude" mais n'importe! Allons, Messieurs, Mesdames, to the cloak room to the foyer!
The moment he perceived the young man entering " Ah, it is you!" he cried, darting a ferocious glance upon him. "By my faith, your arrival is fortunate." "But, General!" "Well, what! Why do you not embrace me?" "Certainly, General!" "Very well! It is for to-morrow, you know!" "Yes, General." "Sacrebleu! You are very cool! Have you seen her?" "Not yet, General. I have just arrived."
He did not even hear his colleague's dull speech, the latter lost himself in useless considerations, while the Minister of War looked at him, as if his eyes, loaded with grapeshot said, in military fashion: "Sacrebleu! get done!"
The blood was flowing rapidly from his wound, which with some difficulty I succeeded in stanching. He drank off his wine hastily, held out his glass to be refilled, and then began his story. "You have never seen the Emperor?" "Never." "Sacrebleu! What a man he is! I'd rather stand under the fire of your grenadiers, than meet his eye.
You are on your honour till I say the word." "I am! But, sacrebleu! This is an absurd position for a General of the Empire to be placed in!" cried General Feraud, in accents of profound and dismayed conviction. "It amounts to sitting all the rest of my life with a loaded pistol in a drawer waiting for your word. It's it's idiotic; I shall be an object of of derision." "Absurd? idiotic?
Spencer," said Kennedy to me, "that it is no sleight-of-hand trick and that the professor has not several uncut stones palmed in his hand like a prestidigitator." The Frenchman faced us, his face livid with rage. "You call me a prestidigitator, a fraud you shall suffer for that! Sacrebleu! Ventre du Saint Gris! No man ever insults the honour of Poissan. Francois, water on the electrodes!"
But, sacrebleu! gentlemen, I lost so much blood, I have been as pale as the bottom of a plate ever since. No matter. A trifle. Blood well spent, gentlemen." He applied himself now to his bottle of vin ordinaire. The Marquis had closed his eyes, and looked resigned and disgusted, while all this was going on.
But Liverdy, more skeptical, and pretending to know exactly what women were worth, murmured: "Yes, they tell you that they adore you!" "They prove it to me, my dear fellow," exclaimed Landa. "Such proofs don't count." "They suffice me!" "But, sacrebleu! they do mean it," cried Rocdiane.
"And what is this large blue flag here, with all the colored bars across it?" said one. "Ay," cried another, "they're very fond of that ensign; what can it be?" "Close action," growled out Paul, sullenly, who didn't fancy even the reflective praise this question implied to the hated rival. "Sacrebleu!" said a third, "they've no other to announce a victory. Look here; it is the same flag for both."
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