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Updated: June 13, 2025
See him casually, as the rest of the guests, and this is how it would be forever for ever and ever. Lord Bracondale had passed what he termed a dog's day. He had gone racing, and there had met, and been bitterly reproached by, Esclarmonde de Chartres for his neglect. Qu'est-ce qu'il a eu pour toute une semaine?
"Ah! qu'il est heureux. Et Cupidon ou est-il?" "Il est ici au coin, madame. Il boude." "Qu'est-ce qu'il a fait donc?" "Ah, madame! Il a vole le dindon roti, et l'a tout mange." "Ah, le petit polisson! Venez ici, Cupidon."
"Qu'est-ce que c'est, le nom de cette village?" Followed a flood of words apparently about the village. A third time. "Qu'est-ce que c'est, le nom de cette village?" At last: "Ah, M'sieur, Villiers," with an air of surprise, as if he thought the Subaltern had known all the time, and had asked merely to start a polite conversation.
He writes in a tone new for him; admits that he perceives that he did many a wrong to his first wife; did not always rightly guide and bear with her weakness; was no prop to the "child," and believes himself absolved by this severe castigation. Qu'est-ce qu'il me chante?
M. Thiers's conversation on the war, the Commune and the siege was very interesting. He said to me: 'Certainement je suis pour la Republique! Sans la Republique qu'est-ce que je serais, moi? bourgeois, Adolphe Thiers. He described the withdrawal of the troops from Paris, which was his own act.
The company broke up; and, as we were going out of the room, I maliciously asked M'Leod, why he, who could say so much in his own defence, had suffered himself to be so completely silenced? He answered me, in his low, deliberate voice, in the words of Moire "'Qu'est-ce que la raison avec un filet de voix contre une gueule comme celle-la? At some other time," added Mr.
I was working on my engine in the sunlit barrack yard when I heard a muffled Pom! somewhere to the right. Two French drivers who were putting a tire on their car jumped up with a "Qu'est-ce que c'est que ça?" We stood together looking round.
"Qu'est-ce qu'il y a, mon ami?" said Madame de Fontanges, rising hastily, and running up to her husband. M. de Fontanges answered by putting the governor's letter into his wife's hands. "Ah! les barbares!" cried Madame de Fontanges; "est-il possible? Pauvre Monsieur Nutong! On l'amène au cachôt." "Au cachôt!" cried all the coloured girls at a breath and bursting into tears "Oh, ciel!"
"Qu'est-ce qu'elle porte autour de son cou?" whispered the messenger in a curious but awed voice. Carefully Roger lifted a mauve, mudstained wet scarf, the two ends of which were knotted about the throat. Some object was fastened securely to the middle of the strip of silk, tied by a ribbon. He examined it wonderingly. It was the broken, jagged neck of a bottle.
"Je suis pere de famille!... Je suis un soldat de France!... Dans les tranchees pour cinq mois!... Qu'est-ce que mes camarades vont dire, 'cre nom de Dieu? et mon capitaine? C'est emmordant apres toute ma service comme brave soldat. Mais, quoi donc, mon vieux!" "Viens donc, saligaud," growled the agent de police. The crowd was against the policeman.
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