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Updated: May 11, 2025
That evening, on his return to his own chamber, he danced a gavotte, using his thumb and forefinger as castanets, and he sang the following song: "Jeanne est nee a Fougere "Amour, tu vis en elle; Vrai nid d'une bergere; Car c'est dans sa prunelle J'adore son jupon, Que tu mets ton carquois. Fripon. Narquois! "Moi, je la chante, et j'aime, Plus que Diane meme, Jeanne et ses durs tetons Bretons."
Ah! par exemple, Mademoiselle, c'est trop fort! Next you will say that I am a menteur, a fripon, a lâche! You will tell me that I have no honour, and no sense of the generosity due to a woman; that I am a brute and an imbecile," and at every epithet he dashed his hands violently out in front of him, or thrust them wildly through his disordered locks.
"Sire, if so humble and low a servant as I am may dare, I should certainly be very happy to lay my congratulations at her feet." "Go, I permit you to do so, and the empress will surely receive you very kindly." "Particularly, sire, if I had a message from his majesty the emperor to deliver." "Fripon, I believe you take the liberty of guessing my thoughts! Yes, I will give you a message.
He was never dazzled by the blaze of the Tuileries and the glare of temporary success. He might have said after Boileau, J' appelle un chat un chat, et Louis un fripon.
In vain my father reminds him of Voltaire's story, in which the ship goes down with a fripon on board. In order to punish the fripon, the honest folks are drowned." "Is your father going to remain on board the ship, and share the fate of the other honest folks?" "Pas si bete. He is off to Dieppe for sea-bathing.
These remarks of the ghost, were, at least, explicit and intelligible. The theory which he stated with an honourable candour, and in language perfectly lucid, appears to have been adopted by Mr. Frederick Myers, but he puts it in a different style. Myers says 'phantasmogenetic agency, we say 'ghost'. J'appelle un chat, un chat, et Rollet un fripon.
"Sire, none that ever knew the Empress Josephine could help remembering her. For my own part, I can never forget her." "Ah, what a fripon you are, to give me such a reply! Well, I will prove to you, M. Fripon, that I have not forgotten Josephine, either. This is New-Year's-day. Would you not like to offer your congratulations to the Empress Josephine at Malmaison?"
I was but too good a prophet when I warned you to expect new extravagances from the Duc de Chaulnes's son. Some weeks ago he lost five hundred pounds to one Virette, an equivocal being, that you remember here. Paolucci, the Modenese minister, who is not in the odour of honesty, was of the party. The Duc de Pecquigny said to the latter, "Monsieur, ne jouez plus avec lui, si vous n'êtes pas de moitié." So far was very well. On Saturday, at the Maccaroni Club (which is composed of all the travelled young men who wear long curls and spying glasses), they played again: the Duc lost, but not much. In the passage at the Opera, the Duc saw Mr. Stuart talking to Virette, and told the former that Virette was a coquin, a fripon, &c., &c. Virette retired, saying only, "Voil
"It is only necessary for your majesty to make yourself known to the postmaster," said Colonel Balby. "And if he will not believe me, this fripon who declares that no one could tell by my appearance whether I was a rascal or not, this dull-eyed simpleton, who will not see the royal mark upon my brow, which my courtiers see so plainly written there? No, no, my friend, that is not the way.
And this miserable country what do you call this department?" "It is not a part of anything, sir; it is a dam, the dam of the cross-roads, we call it." "Fripon! I am not speaking of the mud in which I stuck fast, but of the district all about here. What do they call it?" "Oh, I see! They call it the county of Szabolcs." "Szabolcs, eh? Szabolcs?
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