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Updated: June 12, 2025
'Of course; but, mon cher Armine, what a fine day this is! What are you going to do with yourself? 'Nothing; I never do anything, said Ferdinand, in an almost mournful tone. 'A melancholy man! Quelle bêtise! I will cure you. I will be your friend and put you all right.
I think she must be of Spanish descent. She's so quiet, so religious, and has a very dark complexion. And yet wonderful light blue eyes. 'Quelle histoire! Qu'est-ce-que ca fait? 'The poor girl is mad about Aylmer. He doesn't seem to know it, but he makes her worse by his indifference, Edith said. 'Why aren't you jealous of her, ma chere? No, I won't ask you that the answer is obvious.
My gals used to come in here and find me cryin' as often as not.... 'Comment, Madame, they used to say, 'pourquoi pleurez vous? Tout va si bien! Quelle clientele, et pas chiche' I suppose you understand French? However about this trip to the country, look on it as settled. I'll pack up now and away we go in the afternoon. And not to any of your measly Hotels or village inns.
"Et les jeunes Americaines?" said Mademoiselle Viefville, laconically. "My dear mademoiselle, your question is terrific! Mr. Blunt has informed me that they actually giggle!" "Quelle horreur!" "It is bad enough, certainly; but I ascribe the report to calumny. No; if I must speak, let me have Paris for its society, and Naples for its nature. As respects New York, Mr. Blunt, I suspend my judgment."
But if she said little, her sister on one side and Willie Woodley on the other expressed themselves in lively alternation. "Look at that green dress with blue flounces," said Mrs. Westgate. "Quelle toilette!" "That's the Marquis of Blackborough," said the young man "the one in the white coat.
Grand ciel and quelle horreur punctuated the selections.
Je crois rêver sous un ciel de féerie, l'âme encore grisée de ton premier baiser! And M. Cartel, lifting his head, broke in with the single electric cry of Julian the lover: 'Louise! Then, as if answering to the personal note, Jacqueline melted into Louise's sweet admission of absolute surrender: 'Quelle belle vie!
Demain vient, et nous laisse encore plus malheureux. Quelle est l'erreur, helas! du soin qui nous devore, Nul de nous ne voudroit recommencer son cours. De nos premiers momens nous maudissons l'aurore, Et de la nuit qui vient nous attendons encore, Ce qu'ont en vain promis les plus beaux de nos jours," &c. It is in these detached passages that the English have hitherto excelled.
The red-faced woman stood with her hands on her hips looking at him in astonishment, while he laughed and laughed. "Mais quelle gaite, quelle gaite," she kept saying. The straw under him rustled faintly with every sleepy movement Andrews made in his blankets.
I have always known it must. Monsieur le Prince knows all the truth. Quelle scène! Incroyable pour un viellard! And I am banished. I have none now but you, mon ami. What shall you do with me, Joseph?" And, as she spoke, her arms crept sinuously about the young man's stiff figure, and she drew him, by degrees, to the couch, at her side.
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