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Updated: May 22, 2025
He spent five hours a day at his office in the Ministry, in the afternoon he rowed on the Seine, in the evening he wrote. After he had resigned as a bureaucrat he worked from seven until twelve every morning, no matter the excesses of the previous night; the afternoon he spent on the river, retiring very late. "Toujours les femmes, petit cochon," wrote Flaubert in 1876, "il faut travailler."
I told them so. I do wish Mademoiselle Duroc could see it and Louise and cook Cochon." Mr. Patterson was waiting for his son in the hotel lobby. "Here, Pat, come here," he said. "Orton, this is my boy. Pat, here's a streak of luck for us. I've just run across this friend of mine who's instructor at George Washington University.
"Why yes, they got water, and then I gave them coffee," Monsieur, or more properly Mynheer le chef, is expostulating; the planton is stupidly protesting that we are supposed to be upstairs; Afrique is busily stirring a huge black pot, winking gravely at us and singing softly "Le bon Dieu, Soul comme un cochon...."
"Les êtres," says a writer in the Dictionnaire des Sciences Médicales, "qui font le plus abus de leurs facultés intellectuelles et sensitives extérieures, sont les moins capables d'un coït fréquent, tandis que les idiots, les crétins, l'exercent bien davantage. De même, l'âne, le cochon se livrent plus stupidement
The reason, meantime, for my systematic hatred of D'Arc is this: There was a story current in France before the Revolution, framed to ridicule the pauper aristocracy, who happened to have long pedigrees and short rent rolls: viz., that a head of such a house, dating from the Crusades, was overheard saying to his son, a Chevalier of St. Louis, "Chevalier, as-tu donne au cochon a manger?"
What waiter what cook can possibly respect men who take no soup, and begin with a roti; who know neither what is good nor what is bad; who eat rognons at dinner instead of at breakfast, and fall into raptures over sauce Robert and pieds de cochon; who cannot tell, at the first taste, whether the beaune is premiere qualite, or the fricassee made of yesterday's chicken; who suffer in the stomach after champignon, and die with indigestion of a truffle?
"I knew you would be astonished," laughed Desiree, "at the way he has grown. The little cochon de lait! Look at his legs, mamma, and his hands and fingernails, real finger-nails. Zandrine had to cut them this morning. Isn't it true, Zandrine?" The woman bowed her turbaned head majestically, "Mais si, Madame." "And the way he cries," went on Desiree, "is deafening.
From the small oven-shaped hut on Isle Cochon, where he lived with his squaws and children, to Michilimackinac, from Michilimackinac to the lower Mississippi, and from the eastern end of Lake Erie down to the Ohio, the messengers of this self-made emperor had secretly carried and unfolded his plan, which was to rise and attack all the English forts on the same day, and then to destroy all the English settlers, sparing no white people but the French.
Red wine, streets of the nightingale cries to the rose," said one of the officers. "What do you say we go A.W.O.L. to Paris?" "Dangerous." "Well, what can they do? We are not enlisted men; they can only send us home. That's just what I want." "I'll tell you what; we'll go to the Cochon Bleu and have a cocktail and think about it."
"Vous ne pouvez pas faire un sifflet de la queue d'un cochon." Only two or three laughed, for only a few were as good French scholars as Paul and Shuffles. "What's the English of it?" asked several at the same time. "You must excuse me, for I do not think it is quite proper to translate the motto," replied Paul.
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