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Updated: May 16, 2025
'Rouge gagne, impair, et manque! He had not seen him again. "Come in to the Frying-pan and have tea," said Jolly, and they went in. A stranger, seeing them together, would have noticed an unseizable resemblance between these second cousins of the third generations of Forsytes; the same bone formation in face, though Jolly's eyes were darker grey, his hair lighter and more wavy.
Mais non, mes opinions sont en effet changees avec ma fortune, et, dans l'evenement heureux dont je profite, j'ai reellement decouvert la raison determinante qui jusque-la m'avait manque." The influence of prosperity acts still more freely upon the American than upon strangers.
The same heavy stillness, emphasised by the continuous chink, chink of gold and silver, and broken only by the announcement of events at different tables: "Onze, noir, impair et manque"; "Rien ne va plus"; "Zèro!" The same onze; the same rien n'va plus; the same zèro heralded in the same secretly joyous, outwardly apologetic tone, by the croupiers fortunate enough to produce it.
Vous savez que j'ai a great taste for it; mais il faut vous avouer une triste verite, c'est que je manque absolument de loisir pour le lire. Ne m'en envoyez plus; car je me sens peine d'avoir sous les yeux de si bonnes choses, dont je n'ai pas le temps de tue nourrir." "In the year 1817," Lady Trevelyan writes, "my parents made a tour in Scotland with your uncle.
Tokens chips, as they are called are being placed on various numbers, on the chance of a red number, or the chance of a black number, on the chance of an even or on the chance of uneven, pair or Impair, passé or manqué. It is so elementary that even the dullest of Europeans can grasp the game at a few glances. The ball spins round. It rattles.
"Notre coeur est un instrument incomplet une lyre ou il manque des cordes, et ou nous sommes forces de rendre les accens de la joie, sur le ton consacre aux soupirs." * Quid aegrotus unquam somniavit quod philosophorum aliquis non dixerit? You ask me to give you some sketch of my life, and of that bel mondo which wearied me so soon.
Through the sweetness of her lips and the affection of her pretty eyes, through all his half-possession of all her charms and graces, must have come dully the sense of his great occasion manque, that dear day of love when it leaves the mark of its claim. And in one's regret there is perhaps some alloy of pity, that less respectful thing.
Mie Mie is more satisfied with his talents; she thought him an excellent Escaramouche; ce seroit quelque chose au moins. But I am more disposed to think that Mr. Lewis is in the right, and I hope, for the young nobleman's own sake, that toutes les fois qu'il s'avise de se donner en spectacle, et faire de pareilles folies, il aura manque a sa vocation.
So the oration goes on to the end. He asserts, addressing himself to Piso, that if he saw him and Gabinius crucified together, he did not know whether he would be most delighted by the punishment inflicted on their bodies or by the ruin of their reputation. He declares that he has prayed for all evil on Piso and Gabinius, and that the gods have heard him, but it has not been for death, or sickness, or for torment, that he had prayed, but for such evils as have in truth come upon them. Two Consuls sent with large armies into two of the grandest provinces have returned with disgrace. That one meaning Piso has not dared even to send home an account of his doings; and the other Gabinius has not had his words credited by the Senate, nor any of his requests granted! He Cicero, had hardly dared to hope for all this, but the gods had done it for him! The most absurd passage is that in which he tells Piso that, having lost his army which he had done he had brought back nothing in safety but that "old impudent face of his." Altogether it is a tirade of abuse very inferior to Cicero's dignity. Le Clerc, the French critic and editor, speaks the truth when he says, "Il faut avouer qu'il manque surtout de modération, et que la gravité d'un orateur consulaire y fait trop souvent place
Forrester and the Baroness were alone and, in a deep Chesterfield near the tea-table, Madame von Marwitz leaned an arm, bared to the elbow, in cushions and rested a meditative head on her hand. She half rose to greet Betty. "This is kind of you, Lady Jardine," she said. "I feared that I had lost my Karen for the afternoon. Elle me manqué toujours; she knows that."
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