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He was sitting in a window of the Manor, just after he had come from Montreal, playing a violin which had once belonged to De Casson, the famous priest whose athletic power and sweet spirit endeared him to New France. His fresh cheek was bent to the brown, delicate wood, and he was playing to his sister the air of the undying chanson, "Je vais mourir pour ma belle reine."
Tout au milieu de ce bel exercise, je m'avisai de faire une espece de pronostic pour calmer mon inquietude. Je me dis je m'en vais jeter cette pierre contre l'arbre qui est vis-a-vis de moi: si je le touche, signe de salut: si je le manque, signe de damnation.
remarking: "Qu-est-ce que ca veut dire?" and when we read the word for him, "m'en vais a Calais, moi, travailler a Calais, tres bon!" with a jump and a shout of laughter pocketing the scrap and beginning the Song of Songs: "apres la guerre finit...." I am not a mil-lion-aire, Sirs."
"There come Ned and Aristabulus," said John Effingham, as soon as the tones of Miss Ring's voice were lost in the din of fifty others, pitched to the same key. "A present, Mademoiselle, je vais nous venger." As John Effingham uttered this, he took Captain Truck by the arm, and went to meet his cousin and the land agent. The latter he soon separated from Mr.
The Princess: bowed; then, struck by their unsmiling faces and by Paul's strange manner, turned to him quickly. "'Qu'est ce qu'il y a?" "Je vais vous le dire." He pushed a chair. She sat down. Ursula Winwood sat in Paul's writing chair. The others remained standing. "Mr.
"Sir," I asked him, politely, "may I ask why you are laughing?" "It makes me laugh to see that you do not recognize me." "I have some idea that I have seen you somewhere, but I could not say where or when I had that honour." "Nine years ago, by the orders of the Prince de Lobkowitz, I escorted you to the Gate of Rimini." "You are Baron Vais:" "Precisely."
"Pardon, madame," said he, "je m'en vais cracher mon autre poumon." To Simla the whole supreme Government migrates for the summer Viceroy, council, clerks, printers, and hangers-on. Thither the high official from the plains takes his wife, his daughters, and his liver.
At Plate 33, Robert is still a journalist; he brings to the editor of a paper an article of his composition, a violent attack on a law. "My dear M. Macaire," says the editor, "this must be changed; we must PRAISE this law." "Bon, bon!" says our versatile Macaire. "Je vais retoucher ca, et je vous fais en faveur de la loi UN ARTICLE MOUSSEUX." Can such things be?
Camille suppressed a yawn. "I don't know. Qui vivra verra." He was glad when they were all gone, Gontrand and Tor di Rocca and the rest, and he could stretch himself and sigh, and sing at the top of his voice: "'Nicholas, je vais me pendre Qu'est-ce que tu vas dire de cela? Si vous vous pendez ou v'vous pendez pas Ça m'est ben egal, Mam'zelle.
"It's all very disgustin', and I do hope the Lazar-house won't do it again." "Do what?" a King's boy cried furiously. "Kill a poor innocent cat every time you want to get off washing. It's awfully hard to distinguish between you as it is. I prefer the cat, I must say. She isn't quite so whiff. What are you goin' to do, Beetle?" "Je vais gloater. Je vais gloater tout le blessed afternoon.
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