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Updated: May 25, 2025
"Eh bien, ma chere" said Madame, after breakfast, drawing Mary into her little room,"c'est donc fini?" "Yes," said Mary, cheerfully. "Thou art content?" said Madame, passing her arm around her. "Well, then, I should be. But, Mary, it is like a marriage with the altar, like taking the veil, is it not?"
"She always looks kindly upon us, chère, when we try to do right", said Mrs. Dubois, smiling. "Doubtless you have tried to be good to-day and she approves your effort". "Now, just tell me, ma chère mère, how she would regard me to-night if I had committed one wicked deed to-day". "This same Marie looks sad and wistful sometimes, my Adèle". "True. But not particularly at such times.
For a feu-de-joie and the peal of marriage bells, I will give you, ma petite chere, the sullen toll that calls him to his open coffin, and the rattle of musketry that stills the tongue which uttered to you the last love pledge." For an hour did he pace up and down the floor gloating over his revenge.
And in order finally to touch the hearts of the Russians and being like all Frenchmen unable to imagine anything sentimental without a reference to ma chere, ma tendre, ma pauvre mere * he decided that he would place an inscription on all these establishments in large letters: "This establishment is dedicated to my dear mother." Or no, it should be simply: Maison de ma Mere, * he concluded.
"Senhora Inez " no "Ma chère Mademoiselle Inez " confound it, that's too intimate; well, here goes: "Monsieur O'Malley presente ses respects " that will never do; and then, after twenty other abortive attempts, I began thoughtlessly sketching heads upon the paper, and scribbling with wonderful facility in fifty different ways: "Ma charmante amie Ma plus chère Inez," etc., and in this most useful and profitable occupation did I pass another half-hour.
André, the third on the left, whose sonorous "Merci, chère Soeur" nearly frightened me to pieces one day, seems to be the wit and authority on all subjects a real leader, I should say, and drôle!
Adieu, chere T. Warrenton, October 27, 1804. We parted at Fayetteville. The morning following I started one hour before day, the moon showing us the way, and, at about seven or eight in the evening, was at Raleigh, being full fifty miles. It was a hard day's journey, and greater than will be made again on this trip.
He would be, she said, the best violinist of the day, if and she shook her head. Finding that expressive shake unquestioned, the baroness pursued her thoughts: "Ah, these musicians! He wants saving from himself. If he does not halt soon, he will be lost. Pity! A great talent!" Gyp looked at her steadily and asked: "Does he drink, then?" "Pas mal! But there are things besides drink, ma chere."
But the price seemed at this instant a little high. Twenty-two years old now, and if she lived to be only seventy, then forty-eight years of Alfred Dinks! It was a very large sum, indeed. But Fanny bethought her of the balm in Gilead. Forty-eight years of married life was very different from an engagement of that period. Courage, ma chère! "Alfred," said she, at length, "listen to me.
"Lionel, dear fellow, is usually so easy in his gait." "To see some one who worships at his shrine; said he would return in five minutes;" she answered, carelessly. "Oh! he did not say who?" "No, it might have been awkward." "Why? what do you mean, ma chere?" "It might relate to the hidden wife story." "Nonsense, Vaura; mark my words, he has no more a hidden wife than you have a hidden husband."
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