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In place of the eternal eulogies on facts, that one hears on all public occasions in this country, I would substitute some plain and clear expositions of principles; or, indeed, I might say, of facts as they are connected with principles." "Mais, la musique, Monsieur," interrupted Mademoiselle Viefville, in a way so droll as to raise a general smile, "qu'en pensez-vous?"
What a word! What have you done? I assure you you've done nothing." "Qu'en savez-vous; all my life has been... cher... They'll remember everything... and if they find nothing, it will be worse still," he added all of a sudden, unexpectedly. "How do you mean it will be worse?" "It will be worse." "I don't understand."
The death of Alfonso's son, Fernando, in 1211 from an illness contracted in the course of a campaign against the infidels was lamented by Guiraut de Calanso, a Gascon troubadour. Lo larc e·l franc, lo valen e·l grazitz, Don cuiavon qu'en fos esmendatz Lo jove reys, e·n Richartz lo prezatz E·l coms Jaufres, tug li trey valen fraire.
You will see that to-morrow we shall have a splendid day." "Qu'en savez-vous? To-morrow I shall go away." "Where shall you go?" "Anywhere away from here. Back to Silberstadt. I shall write to the Reigning Prince." The young man turned a little and looked at her, with his crayon poised. "My dear Eugenia," he murmured, "were you so happy at sea?"
It was a dangerous experiment that she tried, in leaving him so long; but it seems she knew her man. I pity you for the inundation of your good countrymen, which overwhelms you; 'je sais ce qu'en vaut l'aune. It is, besides, expensive, but, as I look upon the expense to be the least evil of the two, I will see if a New-Year's gift will not make it up.
"Well, I reckon a sour-dough prospector wouldn't have bothered about a tent. Looks as if one of them was a tenderfoot. Qu'en pense-tu?" The Metis' keen eyes had wandered round the camp and he nodded. "But, yes! Dat man sait vivre; he lak' it comfortable." "A city man!" Thirlwell remarked, with a frown. How many packers?" "Quat," said the Metis. "Voyageurs?"
FOOTNOTES: The most charming chapter of Adolphe Monod's Saint Paul is on the subject of these two paragraphs. It is difficult to quote from it, because one would like to quote it all; but I allow myself the pleasure of borrowing these golden sentences: "C'est qu'en dépit de tant de promesses faites
"DEAR DON, or Doctor Giovanni, "Can you really be thinking of taking Wa-Wa by the coach and I think you said outside? Think of Johnny, and be careful of this little man. Are you par hazard something in the state of the poor capitaine des dragons that comes in singing: 'Comment? Parbleu! Qu'en pensez vous, Bon gentilhomme, et pas un sous'?
Take courage and, as though you were this very day beginning to recognize the value of life, strive at every moment to make the most of it." This humdrum Chinese philosophy is not without merit. It suggests the moralizing of the fabulist: "... Qu'on me rende impotent, Cul-de-jatte, goutteux, manchot, pourvu qu'en somme Je vive, c'est assez: je suis plus que content."
As they went along they passed a battalion of the 113th Regiment of the Line, heavy with their knapsacks, their red trousers dusty, returning from the long morning march, and singing as they went that very old regimental ditty which every soldier of France knows so well: "La Noire est fille du cannon Qui se fout du qu'en dira-t-on. Nous nous foutons de ses vertus, Puisqu'elle a les tétons pointus. Voil
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