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I arrived at Thornton's chambers in the Rue St. Dominique. "Monsieur, est-il chez lui?" said I to the ancient porteress, who was reading one of Crebillon's novels. "Oui, Monsieur, au quatrieme," was the answer. I turned to the dark and unclean staircase, and, after incredible exertion and fatigue, arrived, at last, at the elevated abode of Mr. Thornton.
This was quite an event, and gave a fillip to the inertness of Madame de Fontanges, whose curiosity was excited. "A-t-il bonne mine, Charlotte?" "Oui, madame, c'est un bel homme." "Et où est-il?" "Avec Nicholas." "Et Monsieur?" "Monsieur dort."
Then Ormond, excused to himself, sprang forward, "Friend of my childhood!" cried he: "yes, my sister: your father promised me this friendship this happiness," said he supporting her, as she raised herself from the sofa. "Ou est-il? ou est-il? Where is he, Monsieur Ormond?" cried Mademoiselle, throwing open the door. "Ah ciel, comme il est beau! A perfect Frenchman already!
She related that a certain Prince Henri d'Angleterre had buzzed at his ear annoyingly. 'Et Gascoigne, ou est-il? called the King, and the Judge stepped forth to correct the obstreperous youth. The Judge was Jennings, clearly prepared by my father to foil the Prince no other than Edbury.
"Est-il possible!" "C'est possible. You speak English? parlez-vous anglais?" added Paul. "I speak un pere," replied the pilot. "What vessel that is?" he continued, pointing to the galiot, which was following in the wake of the Josephine. "She is a Dutch vessel, that was upset yesterday. We saved her. The captain and his family are on board, but none of us have been able to speak a word to him."
"Ah! qu'il est heureux. Et Cupidon ou est-il?" "Il est ici au coin, madame. Il boude." "Qu'est-ce qu'il a fait donc?" "Ah, madame! Il a vole le dindon roti, et l'a tout mange." "Ah, le petit polisson! Venez ici, Cupidon."
One such figure was filling a narrow alley, swaying from right to left, with a jeering crowd at his heels. "Est-il assez ridicule, lui? with his cap over his nose, and his knees knocking at everyone's door? Bah! ca pue! " the group of lads following him went on, shouting about the poor sot, as they pelted him with their rain of pebbles and paper bullets.
"You are as retiring as a nun," he went on, "never display your arms and shoulders, but bear yourself in accordance with your years." "Why don't you leave me alone?" returned Paulina Karpovna, and turning to Raisky she added: "Est-il bete, grossier." "Because I wish to marry you, we are a suitable pair." "It will be difficult to find a wife for you." "We are well matched.
I arrived at Thornton's chambers in the Rue St. Dominique. "Monsieur, est-il chez lui?" said I to the ancient porteress, who was reading one of Crebillon's novels. "Oui, Monsieur, au quatrieme," was the answer. I turned to the dark and unclean staircase, and, after incredible exertion and fatigue, arrived, at last, at the elevated abode of Mr. Thornton.
Marston, pressing her hand; "but Mr. Marston has twice desired me to tell you, what you will hear with far less pain than it costs me to say it." Mademoiselle de Barras stole another flashing glance at her companion, but did not speak. "Mr. Marston still persists, mademoiselle, in desiring that we shall part." "Est-il possible?" cried the Frenchwoman, with a genuine start.
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