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Updated: June 12, 2025
"I wish I were of his age," said the venerable Colchicum, with a sigh, as he inclined his purple face towards a large goblet of claret. "C'te Jeunesse. Peuh! je m'en fiche" said Madame Brack, Coralie's mamma, taking a great pinch out of Lord Colchicum's delicate gold snuff-box. "Je m'aime que les hommes faits, moi. Comme milor.
Claude Lemoine declared that Laporte's mouth literally opened for the call which would have summoned the sergeant of the guard into the room and ordered the summary arrest of this impudent stranger. During the veriest fraction of a second life and death hung in the balance for the gallant English milor. In the heart of Laporte every evil passion fought the one noble fibre within him.
"Inglis milor," said Girasole, with a sharp, quick accent, his face flushing up as he spoke "Inglis milor, dere is no price as you mean, an' no ransom. De price is one dat you will not wis to pay." "Oh, come, now, my good fellow, really you must remember that I'm tied up, and not in a position to be chaffed. Bother your Italian humbug!
“A Frenchman!” shouted Milor. “From Paris, your grace.” “Will you sell me your Joan of Arc?” was the furious demand. “I will cover it with pounds sterling twice over.” “Le Comte de Barbebiche—” “You have promised it to him?” “Yes!” gasped Herr Wechsel, catching at the idea. “Enough!” cried the English nobleman; and he strode into the street.
Two English noblemen, Milor Cricri and Milor Hanneton, appear as descending from a balloon, and one of them communicates to the public the philosophic observations which were made in the course of his aerial tour.
The signorini Popkins, two fine bouncing girls, looked to their brother Tom, who had taken lessons in boxing; and as to the dandy himself, he was sure no scaramouch of an Italian robber would dare to meddle with an Englishman. The landlord shrugged his shoulders and turned out the palms of his hands with a true Italian grimace, and the carriage of Milor Popkins rolled on.
He glanced at the card—smiled at himself complacently in the mirror before him, and answered in a gracious voice, “Let Milor Mountpleasant come up.”
Now, petite maman," he added, turning to the old woman, "are you going to be brave?" "I will do anything, milor," she replied quietly, "to help my old man." "Well, then," said Sir Percy Blakeney in that optimistic, light-hearted yet supremely authoritative tone of which he held the secret, "you and Rosette remain here and wait for the gendarmes.
'My dear young friend, said the lady, extending her white hand with an air of joyous welcome, 'this is Lucretia, my daughter. We love you already. Lord Monmouth will be so charmed to see you. What beautiful eyes he has, Mr. Rigby. Quite like Milor.
Milor told him in his usual light-hearted way that he had given the Committee's spies the slip. "I do that very easily, you know," he explained. "I just slip into my rooms in the Rue Jolivet, change myself into a snuffy and hunchback violin-maker, and walk out of the house under the noses of the spies.
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