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Updated: June 10, 2025
A une demi-lieue de Hama, nous trouvames la rivière et nous la passames sur un pont. Elle étoit débordée, quoiqu'il n'eût point plu. Mois, je voulus y faire boire mon cheval; mais la rive étoit escarpée et l'eau profonde, et infailliblement je m'y serois noyé si le mamelouck n'étoit venu
Trois gros navires sont arrives, Charges d'avoine, charges de ble. Nous irons sur l'eau nous y prom-promener, Nous irons jouer dans l'ile... "And now? Another song: which?" Without waiting for a reply he struck in ... "No? not that one ... Claire Fontaine? Ah! That's a beautiful one, that is! We shall all sing it together."
This I mention as a necessary piece of information to those who may be inclined to follow the same route. We likewise found it convenient to lay in store of l'eau de vie, or brandy, for the use of the rowers, who always expect to share your comforts. On a meagre day, however, those ragamuffins will rather die of hunger than suffer the least morsel of flesh-meat to enter their mouths.
It's L'Eau Dormante, Sleeping Water, an Injin name." "And what does that prove?" returned Teresa. "Only that Indians clap a nick-name on any stranger, white or red, who may camp with them. Why, even his own father, a white man, the wretch who begot him and abandoned him, HE had an Indian name Loup Noir." "What name did you say?" "Le Loup Noir, the Black Wolf.
Soon after Chikaia shouts: Le cuisinier est tombé dans l'eau, and a little way ahead is seen a canoe apparently upside down close to the bank and twelve or fifteen black heads bobbing up and down in the water. Mountmorres is just ahead in his canoe and easily within reach but to my surprise his paddlers suddenly turn away from the bank and make for mid-stream evidently straining every muscle.
Another household incident that fixed itself in Burton's mind was the loss of their "elegant and chivalrous French chef," who had rebelled when ordered to boil a gigot. "Comment, madame," he replied to Mrs. Burton, "un gigot! cuit a l'eau, jamais! Neverre!" And rather than spoil, as he conceived it, a good leg of mutton he quitted her service.
Je passe l'eau sans nacelle, Je passe l'eau sans bateau, Ma mere est oiselle, Mon pere est oiseau.* * My father is a bird, my mother is a bird. I cross the water without a barque, I cross the water without a boat. My mother is a bird, my father is a bird. "Good," said Gringoire. "At what age did you come to France?" "When I was very young." "And when to Paris?" "Last year.
He glanced at his own white taper fingers, shuddering slightly in spite of himself, and passed on, till he came to those lovely stanzas upon Venice: "Sur une gamme chromatique, Le sein de perles ruisselant, La Vénus de l'Adriatique Sort de l'eau son corps rose et blanc.
The nurse was gone for an hour, and we sat quietly, Cressida with her eyes fixed on Bouchalka, and I absorbed in the strange atmosphere of the house, which seemed to seep in under the door and through the walls. Occasionally we heard a call for "de l'eau chaude!" and the heavy trot of a serving woman on the stairs. On the floor below somebody was struggling with Schubert's Marche Militaire on a coarse-toned upright piano. Sometimes, when a door was opened, one could hear a parrot screaming, "Voil
"Help me to support her, Monsieur while I seek de l'eau de Cologne." Ormond, seized with sudden tremor, could scarcely advance. Dora sunk on the sofa, clasping her beautiful hands, and exclaiming, "The companion of my earliest days!"
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