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Updated: June 25, 2025
Ho Saint Siobe, cap de Gascoigne, ta pla dormy jou, quand aquoest taquain me bingut estee. The venturous roister inviteth him again to the duel, but the Gascon, without condescending to his desire, said only this: He paovret jou tesquinerie ares, que son pla reposat. Vayne un pauque te pausar com jou, peusse truqueren. Thus, in forgetting his loss, he forgot the eagerness which he had to fight.
She unhitched her horse, rolled up her picket rope, and stood waiting with disturbed face. As the rider drew near she called, "Perault! Ho, Perault!" "Hola!" exclaimed Perault, a wizened, tough-looking little Frenchman, pulling up his pony with a jerk "Bo jou, Mam'selle," he added, taking off his hat. Perault's manner is reassuring, indeed quite gay. "What is it, Perault? Why are you come back?
"Bo' jou' an' bon voyage. Gare a vous on de Longue Rapide. You mak' de portage hon dat rapide, n'est ce pas?" "No, sir. No portage for me, Duprez. I'll run her." "Prenez garde, M'sieu le Docteur," answered Duprez, shrugging his shoulders. "Maudit! Dat's ver' fas' water!" "Don't worry about me," cried the doctor. "Just watch me take this little riffle."
'Aw right, says Conly, 'awsk him to cam in eah to me. You should 'a seen the owld josser's feaches wnoy towld im. 'Oyd zoyred jou to sy e was to cam in eah to me. 'Shloy gow and tell him again? I says, as cool as ennything. 'Now, says he, 'Oil gow myself. Thets wot Aw loike in Conly. He tikes tham fellers dahn wen they troy it on owver im." Meanwhile, Mr.
"Och hone! oeh hone!" she cried, wringing her hands, "masther dear, why will jou lave the wife and the childher? The poor crathur is breakin' her heart intirely at partin' wid you. Shore an' the war is nothin' to you, that you must be goin' into danger; an' you wid a broken leg. Och hone! Och hone! come back to your home you will be kilt, and thin what will become of the wife and the wee bairns?"
Je n'i quier entrer, mais que j'aie Nicolete, ma très douce amie que j'aime tant.... Mais en enfer voil jou aler. I seek not to enter there, so that I have Nicolette, my most sweet friend, whom I love so well.... But to Hell will I go.
There were greetings as the newcomers approached, the dogs were called off, and a burly man rose and came to the roadside to meet them. "Bona jou," he said, smiling, his teeth milk white under his stringy black mustache. Markham returned the salutation. The caravaner glanced at Hermia's costume and swept off his hat. "You go to Alenon for the fte?" he asked in very bad French. Markham nodded.
After the first double-barrelled "bo' jou', bo' jou'," they paid no further attention to me. In a few moments the portage was completed. The woman thrust her paddle against the stream's bottom and the canoe, and so embarked. The man stepped smoothly to his place like a cat leaping from a chair. They shot away with the current, leaving behind them a strange and mysterious impression of silence.
Of the three the Indian was the first to recover. "Bo' jou', bo' jou'," said he, calmly. Sam collected himself to a reply. Dick said nothing, but fell behind, with his rifle across his arm. All marched on in silence to where lay the dog-sledge, guarded by May-may-gwán.
Bestow upon thy abject and self-despising slave wherewithal to commemorate the golden hour when, by a blessed dispensation, he was permitted to lay his trembling forehead against thy victorious feet!" "Jou-jehennum, toom sooa! Go to Gehenna, you pig! What are you bothering about, with your 'boxes, 'boxes, nothing but 'boxes'? Insatiable brutes! Jou!
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