Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 8, 2025
B. said "He's a Belgian, a friend of Count Bragard, his name is Monsieur Pet-airs." From time to time Monsieur Pet-airs remarked something delicately and pettishly in a gentle and weak voice. His adam's-apple, at such moments, jumped about in a longish slack wrinkled skinny neck which was like the neck of a turkey. To this turkey the approach of Thanksgiving inspired dread.
The Surveillant smiled and bowed and wound and unwound his hands behind his back and denied anything of the sort. It seems that B. had heard that the kindly nobleman wasn't going to Paris at all. Moreover, Monsieur Pet-airs had said to B. something about Count Bragard being a suspicious personage Monsieur Pet-airs, the R.A.'s best friend.
I know that some days later he, along with that deadly and poisonous criminal Monsieur Auguste and that aged archtraitor Monsieur Pet-airs, and that incomparably wicked person Surplice, and a ragged gentle being who one day presented us with a broken spoon which he had found somewhere the gift being a purely spontaneous mark of approval and affection who for this reason was known as The Spoonman and the vast and immeasurable honour of departing for Precigne pour la duree de la guerre.
From time to time M. Pet-airs looked about him sidewise as if he expected to see a hatchet. His hands were claws, kind, awkward and nervous. They twitched. The bony and wrinkled things looked as if they would like to close quickly upon a throat. B. called my attention to a figure squatting in the middle of the cour with his broad back against one of the more miserable trees.
"Never," said Monsieur Pet-airs with solemn desperation, "have I seen such an incorrigible child, a perfectly incorrigible child," and he shook his head and immediately dodged a missile which had suddenly appeared from nowhere.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking