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Updated: June 19, 2025
"Prut!" said Annot, her sabots clattering loudly on the brick floor as she moved more rapidly in her wrath. "Prut! Madame Giraud, indeed! There was a time, and it was but two years ago, that she was but plain Mere Giraud, and no better than the rest of us; and it seems to me, neighbors, that it is not well to show pride because one has the luck to be favored by fortune.
"Art thou the Baron Otto?" said she. "Yes," answered Otto. "Prut!" said she, "and is that so! Why, I thought that thou wert a great tall fellow at least, and here thou art a little boy no older than Carl Max, the gooseherd." Then, after a little pause "My name is Pauline, and my father is the Baron.
I gave up following them after a while they were too quick for me in the alder tangle and came out of the swamp to the ridge. There I ran along a deer path and circled down ahead of them to a thicket of cedar, where I thought they might pass the night. Presently I heard them coming Whit-kwit? pr-r-r, pr-r-r, prut, prut! and saw five or six of them running rapidly.
I want to try my own sword on my own armour, and I will not give that mail coat to any one but who will face me for the best of three blows and a thrust in the fair field; and it is your chief's upon these terms." "Hut, prut, man take a drink and go to bed," said the Highlander, in great scorn. "Are ye mad?
"So!" he said, as I stopped and stared like a goose, "you peep at me, I peep at you, and this is not bad, but see, I am not pleasanting when I say, haf you a wish for German?" "Yes, but you are too busy. I am too stupid to learn," I blundered out, as red as a peony. "Prut! We will make the time, and we fail not to find the sense.
"Prut," said one-eyed Hans, with a grin, "the Baron is too big a fly to see such a little gnat as I; but wolf-hounds or no wolf-hounds, I can never go hence without showing thee the pretty things that I have brought from the town, even though my stay be at the danger of my own hide."
It was growing late; already an owl had hooted, and the roosting place was still far away. Prut, prut, pr-r-r-reee! called the leader, and the chatter ceased as the whole flock listened. I turned my head to the hillside to listen also for the laggards; but there was no answer.
Had this volume been a farce, which, unless every one's life and opinions are to be looked upon as a farce as well as mine, I see no reason to suppose the last chapter, Sir, had finished the first act of it, and then this chapter must have set off thus. Ptr...r...r...ing twing twang prut trut 'tis a cursed bad fiddle.
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