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Tout passe, tout lasse, tout casse.... Here what's your name?" he said brutally to his companion. "Go and get me another mug." But the young woman, who had been gaping at the scene, suddenly recovered herself. She ran round the table and flung her arms about his neck. "He's my man!" she shrieked. "You can't have him." And she sputtered obscenities.
For the tail shall always wag the dog in the end, and Aristides will never be able to remain in Athens if men will call him "the Just." Tout passe, tout casse, tout lasse. We are bored and then comes the topsy-turveyist's opportunity. "To every action there is an equal and contrary reaction" is a sure law of motion, and in the seesaw of speculation the "down" of to-day is the "up" of to-morrow.
"Si les malade tousse il usera soit de jour soit de nuit par petites cuillerees a casse d'un looch, qui sera fait avec un once de syrop de violat et un dragme de blanc de baleine.
The town of Frankfort itself had reason to rejoice at the presence of this monarch, who took their commerce under his protection, and by the most effectual measures restored the fairs, which had been greatly interrupted by the war. The Swedish army was now reinforced by ten thousand Hessians, which the Landgrave of Casse commanded.
"One I taught a lot of young boys and lads last winter for a wedding held here in the inn." Still the fresh notes filled the air: "Les amours sont partis Dans un bateau de verre; Le bateau a casse a casse Les amours sont parterre." "How the old women laughed and cried at once! It was years since they had heard it the old song.
When Du Casse arrived at Carthagena, he wrote a letter to Benbow to this effect: "Sir, I had little hope on Monday last but to have supped in your cabin; but it pleased God to order it otherwise. I am thankful for it. As for those cowardly captains who deserted you, hang them up; for, by God they deserve it.
Tout lasse, tout casse, tout passe everything wears out, everything crumbles, everything vanishes in the words of the French proverb that my friend Sir Henry Curtis is so fond of quoting, that at last I wrote it down in my pocket-book, only to remember afterwards that when I was a boy I had heard it from the lips of an old scamp of a Frenchman, of the name of Leblanc, who once gave me and another lessons in the Gallic tongue.
Now I remember the young man misconducted himself badly; he struck the table with his fist, and said, "Et bien, je casse tout." Somebody told me this story: who I cannot tell; it is all so long ago. But it seems to me that I remember hearing that it was this article that killed her.
But in dim side-streets of the town, far from the lights of the smart, out-of-doors cafés, were casse croutes kept by Spaniards who cared nothing for the fate of Legionnaires when they had spent their last sou. The cafard grew and prospered there. He tickled men's gray matter and kneaded it in his microscopic claws.
As it happened, she only found him distrait, and that interested her. "When we parted," she said, "it was I who was in tears. Now it's you. What is it?" "If I am in tears," he roused himself to say, "it is only because everything passes, 'tout lasse, tout passe, tout casse." "What's broken now?" she asked; "another heart? Oh, yes! you broke mine all to little, little bits. But I've mended it.
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