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"Ah lady, lady mine," broke in the voice softly, "the night too is sweet, soft as thine eyes. Will you not greet me?" The girl made no sign. After a moment the song went on. "Trois filles d'un prince, Vole, mon coeur, vole! Trois filles d'un prince Sont endormies dessous." "Will not the princess leave her sisters of dreams?" whispered the voice, fantastically. "Will she not come?"
Madame Bathilde Chalumeau, her black cotton frock tucked up round her plump figure over her scarlet-flannel petticoat, was dusting the windows of her shop in the Rue Dessous l'Arche. It was only six o'clock and the air as yet was cool, but the trees leaning over the wall of Avocat Millot's garden opposite were grey with dust and parched with the heat of an exceptionally warm September.
For is not the world a stage? Le troisieme dessous is the lowest cellar under the stage at the Opera where the machinery is kept and men stay who work it, whence the footlights are raised, the ghosts, the blue-devils shot up from hell, and so forth. Every word of this language is a bold metaphor, ingenious or horrible. In this idiom everything is savage.
Is it not as true of Rousseau and Voltaire, acting in a small society, as it is of Buddha or Mahomet acting on vast groups of races, that 'leur point de vue était le seul auquel les multitudes échelonnées au dessous d'eux pouvaient se mettre? Did not they too seize, 'by a happy stroke of circumstance, exactly those traits in the social union, in the resources of human nature, in its deep-seated aspirations, which their generation was in a condition to comprehend, liberty, equality, fraternity, progress, justice, tolerance?
The only, and all the efficient people they have, are in the House of Lords: for since Mr. Pitt has firmly engaged Charles Townshend to him, there is not a man of the court side, in the House of Commons, who has either abilities or words enough to call a coach. Lord B is certainly playing 'un dessous de cartes', and I suspect that it is with Mr.
This is what we have designated as the le troisieme dessous. It is the grave of shadows. It is the cellar of the blind. Inferi. This communicates with the abyss. There disinterestedness vanishes. The demon is vaguely outlined; each one is for himself. The I in the eyes howls, seeks, fumbles, and gnaws. The social Ugolino is in this gulf.
"Que vaut-il le mieux être, évêque ou juge?" "Oh!" fait Henry Smith, "évêque. Car le juge, au plus, peut dire: 'Allez vous faire pendre; mais l'évêque peut vous damner." "Oui," dit le maître de Balliol, "mais si le juge dit: 'Allez vous faire pendre, vous êtes effectivement pendu." Ici Smith avait le dessous.
What is it in the Frenchwoman which makes her so utterly unique? A daughter in one of Anatole France's books says to her mother: "Tu es pour les bijoux, je suis pour les dessous." The Frenchwoman spiritually is pour les dessous. There is in her a kind of inherited, conservative, clever, dainty capability; no matter where you go in France, or in what class country or town you find it.
Anything more engaging than Miss Trumpet looked could not be imagined. The tiniest pink satin slippers peeped out of billows of exquisite dessous. Her little face seemed a mass of dimpling smiles. Not a trace of embarrassment appeared in her manner. "I say, Duke," she called, "you have got a sweet place here. We have been watching for the monk to pass, but he has not come yet."
I got up, and, seeing me limp in my attempt to walk, Sir Adrian gave me his arm; and so we went round the great room bras dessus, bras dessous, and it already seemed quite natural to feel like an intimate friend in that queer dwelling.
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