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Updated: May 17, 2025
Un homme examinoit un dessin representant la coupe d'un vaisseau construit en Hollande; quelqu'un lui dit, "Est-ce que monsieur entend le Hollandois?" Un homme de loi disoit qu'on ne pouvait pas faire une stipulation valable avec un muet. Un des ecoutans lui dit, "Monsieur le docteur, et avec un boiteux, seroit-elle bonne?"
Ainsi quand on entend lire un Essai sur les dialectes Tchutchiens, on comprend tout cela de suite, et s'instruit enormement. La QUESTION est une specialite. Celui qui en fait metier ne fait jamais des reponses. La question est une maniere tres commode de dire les choses suivantes: "Me voila! Je ne suis pas fossil, moi, je respire encore! J'ai des idees, voyez mon intelligence!
He asserted that he had an important communication to make to her mistress, but had never found an opportunity to address himself to her in person. "Tais-toi donc on nous entend!" And from now on nothing was to be heard but whispering and giggling. Mary felt now a wave of hotness, started from her nape and overflowing her face. Listening and with beating heart, she sat there.
Two of them were sitting aft under the lee of the weather-bulwark, as Seymour was walking the deck to and fro. They were in earnest conversation, when Seymour stopped near to them, carelessly leaning over the weather-quarter, watching the long following seas, when he overheard one say to the other "Taisez, peut-etre qu'il nous entend."
"There are people, you know," Joan broke in earnestly, "who think that if they can secure Tony for a picnic the weather will be fine." "And does he know it?" asked Dorothy, rather shortly. "Tony?" laughed Joan. "Of course not. He never thinks about anything like that." "Le sage entend a demi mot."
"Et tout tremble, Irun, Coïmbre, Santander, Almodovar, Sitôt qu'on entend le timbre Des cymbales de Bivar." The redbreasts and the brooks of Europe, in that dry and songless land; brave old names and wars, strong cities, cymbals, and bright armour, in that nook of the mountain, sacred only to the Indian and the bear!
Then the Sergeant said to him: "Would you like to learn the song of the grunting pigs?" "How does your song go?" The Sergeant begins in a high, shrill voice: Quand en passant dedans la plai-ai-ne On entend les cochons... Cela prouve d'une facon certai-ai-ne Qu'ils non pas l'trooo du... bouche. Auger begins to laugh; everybody laughs.
I was never more conscious of the former danger than when I heard a lecture given in London by M. Silvain, of the Comédie Francaise, on the art of speaking on the stage. He has a large, round, vibrating voice, over which he has perfect command. "M. Silvain," says M. Catulle Mendès, "est de ceux, bien rares au Théâtre Français, qu'on entend même lorsqu'ils par lent bas."
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