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Updated: May 15, 2025
Quel charmant homme, n'est-ce pas?" "Infinitely so," said I. "But I would not willingly detain you any further with a story, the details of which it must naturally be more or less unpleasant for you to hear.
Tender young flowers, are we not torn from our convent gardens, and flung into a world of which the air poisons our pure life, and withers the sainted buds of hope and love and faith? Faith! The mocking world tramples on it, n'est-ce pas? Love! The brutal world strangles the heaven-born infant at its birth. Hope!
The n'est-ce que cela, the inability to enjoy, of successful ambition and favoured, passionate love, is famous; and short of love even and ambition, we all know the flatness of long-desired pleasures.
Ah, Léonie, tu vas en faire de nouveau, n'est-ce pas, pour ce monsieur?" A little woman in black, with a shawl over her shoulders, had just glided into the room. She had a small, wrinkled face, bright eyes, and a much-flattened nose. "Tout de suite, monsieur," she said, quickly, and disappeared with the teapot.
Madame Pasta's daughter once said to Charles Young, who enthusiastically admired her great genius, "Vous trouvez qu'elle chante et joue bien, n'est-ce pas?" "Je crois bien," replied he, puzzled to understand her drift.
The minute I heard what had happened I held up my head and said, Everything may go so long as the credit of the Guion name is saved. N'est-ce pas? We can't live in debt to the old man who advanced your papa the money." "He isn't an old man at all," Olivia explained, quickly. "Ça ne fait rien. His age isn't the question.
Ratsch; though, indeed, too, when Ivan Matveitch addressed him at table with some such question as: 'N'est-ce pas, M. le Commandeur, c'est Montesquieu qui a dit cela dans ses Lettres Persanes? he had still, sometimes dropping a spoonful of soup on his ruffle, responded profoundly: 'Ah, Monsieur de Montesquieu?
Let us continue the pleasant conversation and forget business until business hours." "When are your business hours, Mr. Harleston and where's your office?" "I have no office and my business hours depend on the business in hand." "And the business in hand depends primarily on whether you are interested in the subject matter of the business, n'est-ce pas?"
Yes?" the Frenchman interrogated. "Well, naturally I told the chief. He knew who it was." "Bien! There is not how do you say? flies on Archer, n'est-ce pas? And then?" "The chief guessed who it was from the captain's description." Fox nodded his head at Beamish. "You met him, eh, captain?" "He stood me a drink," the big man answered, "but what he did it for I don't know."
'It is my profession to make compliments, Villedo broke in; and then, turning to Morenita, 'N'est-ce pas, ma belle créature? But really' he turned to me again 'but very sincerely, all that there is of most sincerely, dear madame, your libretto is made with a virtuosity astonishing. It is du théâtre. And with that a charm, an emotion...! One would say
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