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Updated: June 26, 2025
His head, a little to one side, seemed sunk in his square shoulders, but his eyes were bright. "It's all a bad scrape that about Fabian Grier," he said. "You can't ever tell about such things, how they'll go but no, bagosh!" John Grier's house had a porch with Corinthian pillars.
I was Joe Lajeunesse yesterday, and I'll be Joe Lajeunesse to-morrow, and I'll die Joe Lajeunesse the forgeron bagosh! So you take me as you find me. M'sieu' Racine doesn't marry me. And Madelinette doesn't take me to Paris and lead me round the stage and say, 'This is M'sieu' Lajeunesse, my father. No. I'm myself, and a damn good blacksmith and nothing else am I"
"Ah, she was so purty, that Norinne, when she drive through the parishes all twelve days, after the wedding, a dance every night, and her eyes and cheeks on fire all the time. And Bargon, bagosh! that Bargon, he have a pair of shoulders like a wall, and five hunder' dollars and a horse and wagon.
This is what he said when he came back: "You want know 'bout him, bagosh! Dat is somet'ing to see, dat man Ingles is his name. Sooch hair mooch long an' brown, and a leetla beard not so brown, an' a leather sole onto his feet, and a grey coat to his ankles yes, so like dat. An' his voice voila, it is like water in a cave.
What's the difference, so far's the world's concerned, whether he died by accident, or died as he died. It's me that feels the fury of the damned, and want my girl back every hour: and she can't come. But some day I'll go to M'sieu' Luke Tarboe, and tell him the truth, as I've told it you bagosh, yes!" "I think he'd try and kill you, if you did. That's the kind of man he is."
I go all the time, and Lucette Dargois, she go with me and her brother holy, what an eye had she in her head, that Lucette! As we go we sing a song all right, and there is no one sing so better as Norinne: "'C'est la belle Francoise, Allons gai! C'est la belle Francoise, Qui veut se marier, Ma luron lurette! Qui veut se marier, Ma luron lure! "Ver' good, bagosh!
He show me and Emile how to play sword-sticks; and he pick flowers and fetch them to P'tite Louison, and teach her how to make an omelette and a salad like the chef of the Louis Quinze Hotel, so he say. Bagosh, what a good time we have! But first one, then another, he get a choke-throat when he think that P'tite Louison go to leave us, and the more we try, the more we are bagosh fools.
But the deadly pin-points of discontent and discouragement were still pricking him when he fell asleep. Mike Breyette took a last look over his shoulder as the current and the thrust of two paddles carried the canoe around the first bend. Thompson stood on the bank, watching them go. "Bagosh, dat man hees gon' have dam toff time, Ah theenk," Breyette voiced his conviction.
"Better than that bagosh!" cried the charcoalman in surprise, proudly using the innocuous English oath. "Better than that sutler, maybe?" said the mealman, smacking his lips. "Better than that," replied Lagroin, swelling with importance. "Ay, ay, my dears, great things are for you. I command the army, and I have free hand from my master. Ah, what joy to serve a Napoleon once again! What joy!
"A good many of us don't belong here," the old man replied quietly. "It always is so. This isn't the first time I've been to Manitou. You're a river-driver, and you don't live here either," he continued. "What've you got to say about it? I've been coming and going here for ten years. I belong bagosh, what do you want to ask? Hurry up. We've got work to do. We're going to raise hell in Lebanon."
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