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Updated: May 13, 2025
But a tweaking of the nose he cannot bear, for the reason that such an act is an infringement of the accepted, of the time-hallowed order of decorum. That is why our good ladies are so fond of Frenchmen the Frenchman's manners, they say, are perfect! But in my opinion there is no such thing as a Frenchman's manners. The Frenchman is only a bird the coq gaulois.
It was Le Coq who made the yearly trips to Quebec for supplies, and who with infinite labour brought many heavy burdens over the difficult trails. Brebeuf had proved himself essentially an enthusiast for souls, a mystic, a spirit craving the crown of martyrdom, yet withal a man of great tact, and a powerful exemplar to his fellow-priests.
To every human being mystery appeals, be it that of the crime cases on which a large part of yellow journalism is founded, or be it in the cases of Dupin, of Le Coq, of Sherlock Holmes, of Arsene Lupin, of Craig Kennedy, or a host of others of our fiction mystery characters. The appeal is in the mystery. The detective's case is solved at the end, however.
A mauve silk dress with eighteen flounces, and about eighteen hundred steel buttons that glittered your sight away; a "zouave" jacket worked with gold; a black turban perched on the top of her skull, garnished in front with what court milliners are pleased to term a "plume de coq," but which, by its size and height, might have been taken for a "coq" himself, while a white ostrich feather was carried round and did duty behind, and a spangled hair net hung down to her waist.
With one stroke of the club he drove the ball over the roofs of Coq nearly to Maison Blanche, half a league away. The blow was so violent that the iron struck fire against a pebble. “Good St. Antony! I am lost, unless you come to my aid,” murmured the wheelwright of Coq. He struck tremblingly; but, though his arm was uncertain, the club seemed to have acquired a new vigour.
The mystery was solved! The robber of the Duchess of Brokedale stood before me." A suppressed murmur of excitement went through the assembled spirits, and even Messrs. Hawkshaw and Le Coq were silent in the presence of such genius. "My plan of action was immediately formulated. The man was completely at my mercy. He had stolen the tiara, and had it concealed in the lining of his hat.
The merchant directed her to his home, which was not far distant, and assuring her of a hearty welcome from his wife, left her abruptly to attend to his own concerns. On arriving at the house, she met Mme. le Coq, who was highly indignant to learn that her husband sent her a young woman to entertain, accompained by a rustic who carried her clothing.
Roger was never able to understand how he ran, or rather flew so fast, and without fatigue. In short, he did not lose a single game, and won the souls of the six defunct golfers. Belzébuth rolled his eyes like an angry tom-cat. “Shall we go on?” said the wheelwright of Coq. “No,” replied the other; “they expect me at the Witches’ Sabbath on the hill of Copiémont.
The mystery was solved! The robber of the Duchess of Brokedale stood before me." A suppressed murmur of excitement went through the assembled spirits, and even Messrs. Hawkshaw and Le Coq were silent in the presence of such genius. "My plan of action was immediately formulated. The man was completely at my mercy. He had stolen the tiara, and had it concealed in the lining of his hat.
The magnificent meleagris, shining in metallic lustre, with spread wings and tail, offers a tempting aim to the hunter's rifle as it promises to afford him a rich repast; and the coq de prairie, and its gigantic congener the "sage grouse," whirr up at intervals along the path.
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