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Updated: June 2, 2025


"La mission est délicate," fit Lord Odo: "mais j'aime les missions délicates. Je vais voir ce que je puis faire." Il alla rejoindre Dizzy dans la chambre

It is always embarrassing to attempt to describe a new smell, for, such is our inexperience in the nasal field, that a new smell must invariably be described in terms of other smells, and by reason of a curious, inherited prudery this province has been left severely alone by English writers. "J'aime les odeurs!" he said to me one day as we sat sipping a siem-bok on the piazza, of the residency.

"Si Cesar m'avait donne La gloire et la guerre, Et qu'il me fallait quitter L'amour de ma mere, Je dirais au grand Cesar: Reprends ton sceptre et ton char, J'aime mieux ma mere, o gue! J'aime mieux ma mere!" The wild and tender accents with which Combeferre sang communicated to this couplet a sort of strange grandeur.

Gudule's deep bell, tolling slowly two, marked the moment for which I had been waiting. At the foot of the narrow back-stairs that descended from my room, I met M. Pelet. "Comme vous avez l'air rayonnant!" said he. "Je ne vous ai jamais vu aussi gai. Que s'est-il donc passe?" "Apparemment que j'aime les changements," replied I. "Ah! je comprends c'est cela-soyez sage seulement.

Le Colonel Alfred de Hamal suits me far better. Va pour les beaux fats et les jolis fripons! Vive les joies et les plaisirs! A bas les grandes passions et les severes vertus!" She looked for an answer to this tirade. I gave none. "J'aime mon beau Colonel," she went on: "je n'aimerai jamais son rival. Je ne serai jamais femme de bourgeois, moi!"

Ernest Lefevre, who was dining beside me: De ces bons animaux la viande me fait mal. J'aime tant les chevaux que je hais le cheval. February 4. The weather is becoming milder. A crowd of visitors this evening. Proclamation by Gambetta. February 5. The list of candidates of the Republican journals appeared this morning. I am at the head of the list. Bancal is dead.

One thing is horrid, though, and that is, that every girl has to make a remark in French every day at dinner. The remarks are about a subject. Mrs. Nipson gives out the subjects. To-day the subject was 'Les oiseaux, and Rose Red said, 'J'aime beaucoup les oiseaux, et surtout ceux qui sont rotis, which made us all laugh.

I hardly think nursing would suit them very well." I did not immediately answer, and Sylvia's quick mind divined the reason of my reluctance. "Let us talk en français," she said; "that will not disturb this good man, and he can go to sleep if he likes." "Très bien," I said, "parlons nous en français." "Il serait charmant," said she; "j'aime la belle langue."

"Good-bye, good-bye, my friend, good-bye." "You'll see Fyodor Matveyevitch, sir..." "Yes, my friend, yes... Fyodor Petrovitch... only good-bye." "You see, my friend... you'll allow me to call myself your friend, n'est-ce pas?" Stepan Trofimovitch began hurriedly as soon as the trap started. "You see I... J'aime le peuple, c'est indispensable, mais il me semble que je ne m'avais jamais vu de pres.

But then, with a little cry of vexation, he caught up the pocket-book from the table and darted a quick glance of suspicion at me. I was more amazed than angry, and my smile caused him confusion, for he saw that I had detected his fear. "In truth my French is a school-boy's French. I can tell the parts of the verb J'aime, tu aimes, il aime; it goes so far, sir, and no farther."

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