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Updated: May 8, 2025
And his other comoun houshold is with outen nombre: and thei alle han alle necessaries, and alle that hem nedethe, of the emperoures court. And he hathe in his court many barouns, as servytoures, that ben Cristene and converted to gode feythe, be the prechynge of religiouse Cristen men, that dwellen with him: but there ben manye mo, that wil not, that men knowen that thei ben Cristene.
And his questions were echoed by the others, who at this moment were shaking me by the hand, as if they had not seen me for a twelvemonth. Gode seemed to be the most perplexed man of the party. "Mon Dieu! run over; tramp by von million buffles, et ne pas mort! 'Cr-r-re matin!" "We were hunting for your body, or rather, the fragments of it," said Saint Vrain.
Saith Dr. Luther, "When I saw Dr. Gode begin to tell his puddings hanging in the chimney, I told him he would not live long!" Yet, now I think of it, Uncle Jack hung the puddings in the chimney, but he did not persuade my father to tell them.
"Sacre!" muttered Gode, with true Gallic aspirate, as he handed the wet rag. I felt the cold application. Then a bunch of soft raw cotton, the best dressing it could have, was laid over the wound, and fastened by strips. The most skilful surgeon could have done no more. "Close as a clamp," added Saint Vrain, as he fastened the last pin, and placed me in the easiest position.
"`Las ninas de Durango Commigo bailandas, Al cielo saltandas, En el fandango en el fan-dang o. "Ah! here comes Monsieur Saint Vrain. Ecoutez! He never go to fandango. Sacre! how monsieur dance! like un maitre de ballet. Mais he be de sangre blood Francais. Ecoutez! "`Al cielo saltandas, En el fandango en el fan-dang ." "Ha! Gode!" "Monsieur?"
It zevethe him victorye of his enemyes, in plee and in werre; zif his cause be rightefulle: and it kepethe him that berethe it, in gode wytt; and it kepethe him fro strif and riot, fro sorwes and from enchauntementes and from fantasyes and illusiouns of wykked spirites.
Come, drink! it'll make you feel as strong as a buffalo. See! it seethes like a soda spring! like `Fontaine-qui-bouille'; eh, Gode?" "Oui, monsieur; ver like Fontaine-qui-bouille. Oui." "Drink, man, drink! Don't fear it: it's the pure juice. Smell the flavour; taste the bouquet. What wine the Yankees will one day squeeze out of these New Mexican grapes!" "Why?
"`Wal, an iv it does, repeated the trapper, `we'll walk out o' this hyar jug afore sun-up, an' upon a good hard trail too. "The expression of every face was changed, as if by magic. Several leaped to their feet. Gode, the Canadian, skilled in snow-craft, ran to a bank, and drawing his hand along the combing, shouted back "`C'est vrai; il gele; il gele!
Accounts vary exceedingly as to the number of the slain, some authorities giving as many as 20,000, others no more than 2,700. "Many faire ladie lose hir lord that day, And many gode bodie slayn at Leans lay. The nombre none wrote, for tell them might no man. But He that alle wote, and alle thing ses and can."
How he would twirl his dirty brush round and dab down a lump of Prussian blue, imagining it to be sepia, hastily correcting it a moment afterwards with a lump of lake, and then say chuckling to himself: 'By Gode, dat is fine! dat is very nearly a good purple. Fenwick, my boy, mark me you vill not find a good purple no-vere! Some-vere in de depths of Japanese art dere is a good purple.
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