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Updated: June 2, 2025
"If Anne Dillon made up her mind to be Impress of France, I dunno annythin' nor anny wan that cud hould her back; an' perhaps the on'y thing that kep' her from tryin' to be Impress was that the Frinch had an Impress already. I know they had, because I heard her ladyship lamentin', whin we wor in Paris, that she didn't get a letther of introduction to the Impress from Lady Skibbereen.
'Let us pro-ceed, says th' impartial an' fair-minded judge, 'to th' thrile iv th' haynious monsther Cap Dhry-fuss, he says. Up jumps Zola, an' says he in Frinch: 'Jackuse, he says, which is a hell of a mane thing to say to anny man. An' they thrun him out. 'Judge, says th' attorney f'r th' difinse, 'an' gintlemen iv th' jury, he says. 'Ye're a liar, says th' judge.
"'By the powdhers o' war, I'm all right, says I; 'there's a house there. And, sure enough, there was, and a parcel of men, women, and childher, ating their dinner round a table, quite convanient. And so I wint up to the door, and I thought I'd be very civil to them, as I heerd the Frinch was always mighty p'lite intirely, and I thought I'd show them I knew what good manners was.
"The intellects of the Frinch are so handsome!" cried O'Kimmon, the tears of delighted laughter in his eyes. "Faix, that is what makes 'em so close kin to the Oirish!" Soon their presence seemed a matter of course. The Indians had recurred to their methods of suave hospitality.
Murty, left helpless, said a few strong things as he looked after the retreating pair. "It's a guinea to a gooseberry he's taken Frinch lave wid him," he said, "bitther tongued little whipper-snapper that he is! Sure if Bobs gets rid av him it'll serve him sorry, so 'twill. But phwat'll I do about it, at all?" He scratched his head reflectively.
"'Tis thrue," admitted Mrs. Dempsey, "that he seems to be a sort iv a Dago, and too coolchured in his spache for a rale gentleman. But ye may be misjudgin' him. Ye should niver suspect any wan of bein' of noble descint that pays cash and pathronizes the laundry rig'lar." "He's the same thricks of spakin' and blarneyin' wid his hands," sighed Katy, "as the Frinch nobleman at Mrs.
If ye knew annything, ye'd not have an opinyon wan way or th' other. They'se niver been a matther come up in my time that th' American people was so sure about as they ar-re about th' Dhryfliss case. Th' Frinch ar-re not so sure, but they'se not a polisman in this counthry that can't tell ye jus' where Dhry-russ was whin th' remains iv th' poor girl was found. That's because th' thrile was secret.
You may be sure Molly was proud iv that same, though she never spoke a word about it; until at last the news kem home that Billy Malowney was surrounded an' murdered by the Frinch army, under Napoleon Bonyparty himself.
The Irishman saw me upon the instant of my emerging from the companion, and immediately shouted: "Here, Misther Conyers, ye're just the man we want! Do you spake Frinch?" "Yes," answered I, believing that I saw my opportunity. "Why?"
"Keep still, Cap'n," said Bob, taking my hand from the fillet and placing it by my side. "Och! by my sowl, he's over it; thank the Lord for His goodness!" said Chane, an Irish soldier. "Over what? what has happened to me?" I inquired. "Och, Captin, yer honour, you've been nearly murthered, and all by thim Frinch scoundhrels; bad luck to their dirty frog-atin' picthers!" "Murdered!
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