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Updated: June 8, 2025
The practical pun upon Simon Renard's name embodied in the fox-tail, with the allusion to the effect of the manifold squibs perpetrated by that most bitter and lively enemy upon Granvelle, were understood and relished by the multitude.
The practical pun upon Simon Renard's name embodied in the fox-tail, with the allusion to the effect of the manifold squibs perpetrated by that most bitter and lively enemy upon Granvelle, were understood and relished by the multitude.
One of us, at least, was stirred at Renard's calm assumption the assumption so common to artists, who, when they see a good thing at once count on its possessorship, as if the whole world, indeed, were eternally sitting, agape with impatience, awaiting the advent of some painter to sketch in its portrait. "Oh, it'll be easy enough. She makes two francs a day with her six basketfuls.
There was a wine that went with the sauce; this fact Monsieur Paul explained, on our sitting down to the noonday meal; one which, in remembrance of Monsieur Renard's injunctions, he would suggest our trying. He crossed the courtyard and disappeared into the bowels of the earth, beneath one of the inn buildings, to bring forth a bottle incrusted with layers of moist dirt.
Your Majesty can judge whether such a thing has ever entered my thoughts. I have laughed at it as a ridiculous invention. This gross forgery is one of Renard's."
The practical pun upon Simon Renard's name embodied in the fox-tail, with the allusion to the effect of the manifold squibs perpetrated by that most bitter and lively enemy upon Granvelle, were understood and relished by the multitude.
They would say: 'That is Renard's place'; and nobody would have gone there, not even Monsieur Plumeau, who is well known, be it said without any offense, for poaching on other people's preserves. "Well, I returned to this place of which I felt certain, just as if I had owned it. I had scarcely got there on Saturday, when I got into Delila, with my wife.
No, don't beg me, I don't need to be importuned; I know what that dear Renard's wine is. Au revoir et a bientot and remember," and here he lifted his arms cane and all, high in the air "all you need do is to close your eyes and to open your arms. God himself is doing the same." High up he stood, with uplifted hands, the smile irradiating a face that glowed with a saint's simplicity.
Gay, joyous sunsets; light laughter; delicate feasting in Renard's garden, hard by the Tuileries. To remember that fairer and different scene was to recall the freshness of youth, the romance of a first love. Here in the Mall there was gaiety enough and to spare. A crowd of fine people that sometimes thickened to a mob, hustled by the cits and starveling poets who came to stare at them.
What would you do?" He knew that she gave good advice. She answered: "You needn't be afraid; he can't live through the day. And the mayor won't stop our burying him to-morrow, because he allowed it for Maitre Renard's father, who died just during the planting season." He was convinced by this argument, and left for the fields. His wife baked the dumplings and then attended to her housework.
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