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Next Saturday I will dare to hold a reception in this place, with the permission of the good Bull I do forget myself I mean the distinguished master. And when you come, I promise you that I will not offer you coffee pouf! it is not for the brave boys I see before me, non," and the Count became very roguish.
Marry, sir, thy tongue will run thee into a blind alley! I told thee that the boy could sing, but not that he could act or dance." "Pouf, sir, words! I know my place: one peg below the dean, sir, nothing less: 'Magister, et cetera' 'tis so set down.
You have called her an old maid there!" "Good heavens! what an atrocity! Surely surely you malign me." "No, I don't; I heard you. And it was to me, too, you said it." "What! I called you an old maid!" "Pouf! No!" laughing gaily. "That's out of your power." "It is indeed," says Hescott slowly. He is looking at her, the little, pretty, sweet, lovely thing!
No, they imprison them upon the boat, and so, pouf! off for the gulf. Nor has any trace of them been found from that time till now. A rumor goes that the gentleman who owns the yacht is at this time in New Orleans, but as for that unfortunate young lady, where is she to-night? I demand that, Monsieur. Ah! And she is beautiful." "Now, is not this a most extraordinary tale you bring, Jean?
Now, I am at home only in the theater, in places which are unreal and artificial. You are a great actress, a great singer; and yet, as O'Mally would say, you don't belong." Kitty had forgotten what she had started out to say. La Signorina laughed. "Pouf! You have been reading too many novels. To the molo, Pompeo." At the molo, the great quay of Venice, they disembarked.
We watched him go down the grape arbor to the canoe, and no one spoke but Cassion. "Pouf! he thinks well of himself, that young cockerel, and 'twill likely be my part to clip his spurs. Still 'tis good policy to have him with us, for 'tis a long journey. What say you, Chevet?" "That he is one to watch," answered my uncle gruffly. "I trust none of La Salle's brood."
"Pouf! Are you a soldier?" "I'm your ladyship's most thorough-paced admirer and obedient slave!" Tom answered gallantly, his mutton-chop whiskers fairly bristling with a grin. "Prove it, then, this night!" "As if I hadn't! Well all's well, Your Ladyship, I'm on the job! Crib, crupper and breakfast-time, yours truly!"
He stretched up proudly and swelled up his broad chest, enjoying his manhood. "You will go back?" she asked, tentatively. "Well that depends. Father wants me to stay. He begins to see that I am worth something. But pouf! how do people live in this crowded up town in the winter! It is dirtier than ever. The Americans have not improved it much.
She had shot the man pouf! What of that? She had shot men before, as all Africa knew. She would defend a half-fledged bird, a terrified sheep, a worn-out old cur; but a man! Men were the normal and natural food for pistols and rifles, she considered.
Indeed, she was so cock-a-hoop about it that she stickled for this, and she stickled for that until the attendants, who were at first inclined to be civil, began to look askance, and Foster-father had to bid her hold her tongue. "Wise folk leave steel traps alone," he said; "fiddling with them lets off the spring. Then pouf!" He shook his head significantly.
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