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Updated: June 28, 2025
He had not gazed a moment when his excitement became intensified. "Mon Dieu, Jacques!" he sang out. "Il-y-a quelqu'un a bord! Deux personnes, et des garcons je crois; mais, ils sont morts!" "Pas possible," cried the helmsman, showing a little more interest. "Really?" "Parbleu, c'est vrai! Vire que nous nous en approchions."
From Butte des Morts to the Portage, the distance by land is about seventy miles; by water, it is not less than a hundred and thirty, so serpentine is the course of the river through the low swampy prairies which stretch over a great portion of this part of the country.
Ah, those were days! Dieu why couldn't the republic have continued those glories ces gloires? Aujourd'hui nous ne sommes que des morts instead of prisoners to handle to watch and work, like so many good machines there is only the dike yonder to keep in repair! What changes mon Dieu! what changes!" And the shape wrung his hands. It was, in truth, a touching spectacle of grief for a good old past.
"Civil," said the fellow with an oath; "but that's just like you; with you it is a blow, and all over. Civil! I suppose you would have him stay here, and get into all my secrets, and hear all I may have to say to my two morts." "Two morts!" said the girl, kindling up, "where are they? Speak for one, and no more. I am no mort of yours, whatever some one else may be.
It is enough to make the dead rise out of their graves. 'Oh, I will answer for les morts! they will give nobody any trouble, he said with a laugh. I went in and reproved the man severely, finding that, as I supposed, he had attempted to cheat my good mother in the price of the wood. Fortunately she had been quite as clever as he was.
On the Jour des Morts, I once went to the Père-Lachaise and found in the family lot of a duchesse with a grand name, a stuffed dog of the rare old breed known as mongrel. In America he would have slouched at the heels of a stevedore or any sort of a man who shuffles in his walk and smokes a short black pipe.
Perhaps the most interesting exhibit is the "ethnographic village," designed to represent the life of the Hungarian provinces, though made rather ridiculous by the rigidity of the waxwork figures, arranged about the quaint and impossibly clean houses in their various occupations, but having the air of "tableaux morts" rather than of "tableaux vivants."
Some of the designs in the medieval series would certainly have appealed to the average bourgeois Roman of the Trimalchio type e.g., "Les Trois Vifs et les Trois Morts," the three men riding gaily out hunting and meeting their own skeletons. Such crude contrasts are just what one would expect to find at Pompeii.
That can do no one any harm; and as we have spoken up, as we have empowered him to offer handsome terms to Messieurs les Morts It was intolerable. Precisely at the moment when our fortune hung in the balance, and when, perhaps, an indiscreet word 'Arrest that fellow, I said. 'Riou, you are an official; you understand your duty.
Why takes it not the accusing shape of thy mouldering kinsman?" and Dalibard would answer, for he was a philosopher in his cowardice: "Il n'y a que les morts qui ne reviennent pas." It is the notable convenience of us narrators to represent, by what is called "soliloquy," the thoughts, the interior of the personages we describe.
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