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'It is Beranger, 'The Prisoner of War, said Rodney Prescott. 'But you omitted the last verse, mademoiselle; may I ask why? 'More sad so, answered Jeannette. 'Marie she die now. 'You wish her to die? 'Mais oui: she die for love; c'est beau! And there flashed a glance from the girl's eyes that thrilled through me, I scarcely knew why.
Cela pose, Menage, avec son erudition polyglotte, s'abat sur le grec, le latin, l'italien, l'espagnol, l'allemand, le celtique, et ne fait difficulte d'aller jusqu'a l'hebreu. C'est dommage que de son temps on ne cultivat pas encore le sanscrit, l'hindotistani, le thibetain et l'arabe: il les eut contraints a lui livrer des etymologies francaises.
'We then proceeded ong automobile along the ridge in a westerly direction towards the miniature fort which had been so kindly revealed by the searchlight, but which on inspection (your Mr. Leggatt bumped into an outlyin' reef of it) proved to be a wurzel-clump; c'est-
"Eternally those stupid jests," laughingly interfered another lady in a high hat and dazzling with gold and diamonds. "C'est excellent, these waffles, and so light! Let us have some more." "Well, how soon are you going to leave us?" "Yes, this is the last day. That is why we came here." "Such a beautiful spring! How pleasant it is in the country!"
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."
'Tout comprendre c'est tout pardonner'. We have been soaked in the same common law, literature, and traditions of liberty or of chaos, as one likes. Whether we all be of British origin or not, it is the mind that makes the true patriot; and there is no American so dead as not to feel a thrill when he first sets foot on British soil.
There are others, too. I had five letters this morning. So all I can do is to run away again." "To where?" asked Monte. "You spoke of the little villages along the Riviera." "Yes," he nodded. "There is the village of Étois back in the mountains." "Then I might go there. C'est tout égal." She shrugged her shoulders. "But look here. Supposing the this Hamilton should follow you there?"
At least she must pay her debts.... "Plus dessence... C'est fini...." The words rang in her brain like a knell. "Chalmers, was that Mr. Roger who came in? I thought I heard him." "Yes, miss, he's in his room, but I fancy he's on his way to you. He asked where you were." Chalmers came a step farther into the room, rubbing his grey chin in an undecided fashion.
Primo, en Asie. C'est la première idée qui se présente; étant donné l'intérêt de se rendre maître de la région Yenishahr-Erenkeui, qui prend nos plages de débarquement
The men bent to their work with stiffened elbows. Achille Picard flashed his white teeth back at the passengers, "Ah, mademoiselle, eet is wan long way," he panted. "C'est une longue traverse!" The term was evidently descriptive, but the two smiled significantly at each other. "So you do take la Longue Traverse, after all!" marvelled Virginia. Ned Trent clasped her hand.
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