United States or South Africa ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"Mistress," said my dear teacher, "is as a fact to be compared to the strong women of the scripture. She is a godly wife." "Thank God!" said my mother, "I have never been a traitor to the faithfulness I owe unto Leonard Menetrier, my husband, and I reckon well, now that the most difficult part is passed, not to fail him till my last hour is come.
Where and with whomsoever I have lived I have always been considered to be entirely artless. These writings cannot but confirm it after my death. My Home at the Queen Pedauque Cookshop I turn the Spit and learn to read Entry of Abbe Jerome Coignard. My name is Elme Laurent Jacques Menetrier.
"Pour lui je filerais moi-meme Mon enfant, mais j'ai tant vieilli!" "Envoyez a celui que j'aime Tout le gain par moi recueilli. Rose a sa noce en vain me prie; Dieu! j'entends le menetrier!" File, file, pauvre Marie, Pour secourir le prisonnier; File, file, pauvre Marie, File, file, pour le prisonnier.
"The taverner, running up, seeing the table knocked over, the wine spilt, and Friar Ange with one foot on the cutler's head, swinging a stool with which he struck anyone approaching him, this vile taverner swore like a real devil and called for the watch. Monsieur Menetrier, do come at once and take the little friar out of the watch's clutches.
My father, Leonard Menetrier, kept a cookshop at the sign of Queen Pedauque, who, as everyone knows, wag web-footed like the geese and ducks.
I came out of my reverie on feeling my sleeve pulled, and saw standing before me Friar Ange, his face nearly hidden by his beard and cowl. "Monsieur Jacques Menetrier," he said in a very low voice, "a lady, who wishes you well, expects you in her carriage on the highway, between the river and the Porte de la Conference." My heart began to beat violently.
As he spoke Catherine the lacemaker appeared on the threshold, with her bonnet sideways over her ear and her neckerchief very much creased. Seeing her, my mother frowned and let slip three meshes of her knitting. "Monsieur Menetrier," said Catherine to my father, "come and say a word to the sergeants of the watch. If you do not, they doubtless will lock up Friar Ange.
Giry, drawing herself up, recited the letter with touching eloquence: MADAM: 1825. Mlle. Menetrier, leader of the ballet, became Marquise de Cussy. Mlle. Marie Taglioni, a dancer, became Comtesse Gilbert des Voisins. La Sota, a dancer, married a brother of the King of Spain. Lola Montes, a dancer, became the morganatic wife of King Louis of Bavaria and was created Countess of Landsfeld. Mlle.
"Nor I," said Lockton. "But nearly everyone at this table has," said Faubourg. "Mrs. Baldwin has written 'Matilda, Mr. Giles has written a tragedy called 'Queen Swaflod, I wrote a play in my youth, my 'Le Menetrier de Parme'; I'm sure Corporal has written a play. Count Sciarra must have written several; have you ever written a play?" he said, turning to his neighbour, the stranger.
"The behaviour of Madame d'Anquetil is unknown to you, and it appears that I spoke to her in the right way, because she said to me: 'Don't be troubled, Madame Menetrier; I will employ my influence in favour of your son; be sure of my zeal. And you know, Leonard, that we received before the expiration of two months the assurance that our Jacquot could return unmolested to Paris."
Word Of The Day