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Updated: June 12, 2025
My mother promised it, O gai, vive le roi! To a gentleman of the king, Vive le roi, la reine! To a gentleman of the king, Vive Napoleon!" This was chanted lightly, airily, with a sweetness almost absurd, coming as it did from so uncouth a musician. The last verses had a touch of pathos, droll yet searching: "Oh, say, where goes your love? O gai, rive le roi! Oh, say, where goes your love?
"Gai, gai, mariez vous, Mettez vous dans la misere! Gai, gai, mariez vous, Mettez vous la corde au cou!" There is generally a good reason for prolonged celibacy, a reason which the bachelor as generally does not betray: Kinglake remained single, by his own account, because he had observed that women always prefer other men to their own husbands.
But he was pardoned, probably because Richard was a troubadour himself in his leisure moments, and had a fellow-feeling for all who loved the 'gai sçavoir. Meanwhile, the Lord of Gourdon was not to be gained over by fair words or bribes, and Richard besieged his castle, some ruins of which may still be seen on the rock that overhangs the little town of Gourdon in the Quercy.
Then follows a minute description of his lodgings, of Kew itself the gardens, the river, the different boats upon it and he concludes: "Tiens, voila que je redeviens un peu gai, ce qui est bon signe; peut- etre, quand j'aurai recu une lettre de toi cela ira mieux. A few days later: "Je suis alle aujourd'hui au musee Britannique continuer mes etudes.
Beneath the sword of Louis the Martyr, the great treasure of the parish, presented to this church by Marie Antoinette, sat Monsieur Garon, his thin fingers pressed to his mouth as if to stop a sound. Presently, out of pure spontaneity, there ran through the church like a soft chorus: "O, say, where goes your love? O gai, vive le roi! He wears a silver sword, Vive Napoleon!"
And is that true love?" "Love should kill love, if need were." "Love shall," said Vincent in a whisper. Whereupon Isoult smiled on him. They fell to chatting again, discussing possibilities, or facts, which were safer ground. Isoult heard the stroke of ten. Presently after, the page-in-waiting sang out a challenge. A shuffling step stopped, a cracked voice asked for Messire Prosper le Gai.
He followed this extraordinary speech with a plan for making an ingenious coup for Valmond, when his Kalathumpians should parade the streets on the evening of St. John the Baptist's Day. With hands clasped the new recruits sang: "When from the war we come, Allons gai!
He was a correspondent of David Hume and of Mme. du Deffand, who always referred to him affectionately as "Mon petit Crauford"; in a letter in which she urges her desire that he should become more intimate with Horace Walpole, she writes, "Vous etes melancholique, et lui est gai; tout l'amuse et tout vous ennuie." Crawford was called the Fish at Eton, a name which clung to him throughout life.
"That's right, growl ahead, thou, tes beaux jours sont passes, but for me l'amour, l'amour que c'est gai, que c'est frais!" he half sung, half shouted. The moving mass of color, the Breton caps, and the Norman faces, the gold crosses that fell from dented bead necklaces, the worn hooped earrings, the clean bodices and home-spun skirts, streamed out past our windows as we looked down upon them.
But when once he had stooped to her, for the very fact, she made haste to set him up on high in her heart, and in more seemly guise. So she would never get him out of armour again. Her god might not stoop. The story returns to Prosper le Gai and his broken head. The blow had been sharp, but Peering Pool was sharper.
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