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Updated: June 25, 2025
"We cannot part quite so soon, Monsieur l'Aristocrat," said he; "and, though I much regret that I cannot have the honour of accommodating you in the Temple, near your friend Monsieur Louis Capet, yet you may rely on my services in procuring a lodging for you in one of the most agreeable prisons in Paris."
'Le paysan, c'est l'aristocrat de l'avenir, French people say; and true enough we see every day sons of peasants like the late Paul Bert, enrolled in the professional ranks, attaining not only a respectable position, but eminence in science, literature, and art.
Ah, bah! what blind bats the best of you are! They have gambled, or bet, or got into hot water, or fought too many duels or caused a court scandal, or something; all the aristocrats that come to Africa are ruined. What ruined you, M. l'Aristocrat?" "Aristocrat? I am none. I am a Corporal of the Chasseurs." "Diable! I have known a Duke a Corporal! What ruined you?"
You were born in the noblesse bah, I know an aristocrat at a glance! What ruined you, Monsieur l'Aristocrat?" "Aristocrat? I am none. I am Louis Victor, a corporal of the chasseurs." "You are dull, mon brave." Cigarette left him, and made her way to the officers' quarters.
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