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Updated: June 22, 2025
I had climbed the Sancy, and entered a little inn, near a pilgrim's chapel called Notre-Dame de Vassiviere, when I saw a queer, ridiculous-looking old woman breakfasting alone at the end table. She was at least seventy years old, tall, skinny, and angular, and her white hair was puffed around her temples in the old-fashioned style.
"I do believe the young gentlemen have leagued together to provoke me! And this is not all, there are three more in water up-stairs." "You might take the first that came; perhaps that would be the best plan." "Would you have me take this ridiculous-looking thing, with only one camellia in it!
He was a degenerated, ridiculous-looking old object, a man with the most touching confidence in his tailor, which the latter invariably betrayed by never making him a garment that fitted him. He had begun by admiring Evadne, and had endeavoured to pay his senile court to her with fulsome flatteries in the manner approved of his kind but he ended by being afraid of her.
The only teacher was a tall woman of thirty, who plaited her hair, which was of the colour of flax, into a ridiculous-looking crown on the top of her head. But her expression, I remember, was one of perpetual severity, and when she spoke through her thin lips she clipped her words with great rapidity, as if they had been rolls of bread which were being chopped in a charity school.
"Oh, you ridiculous-looking little chap! Come and sit down." "No, won't. You 'tick um pin in poor lil nigger behind leg 'gain." "I will not, 'pon my honour," I cried. "Oh, you did look comic." "Made um feel comic dicklus," cried Pomp, catching up the two words I had used. "Did hurt." "Come and sit down." "You no 'tick um pin in 'gain?" "I haven't got a pin," I said.
"The King turned in surprise And when he saw the ragged old fellow tending him the ridiculous-looking hat, he flew into a great rage and cried angrily: 'How comes this varlet here, interrupting his Sovereign's nuptials and desecrating our Tomb of Kings? Away with him to prison, and let him repent his insolence as he rots in a dungeon!" "Why did he do that, Daddy?"
I got in when my turn came, giving myself airs, because the concierge and some of the shopkeepers were watching. My aunt then sprang in lightly, but by no means calmly, after giving her orders in English to the stiff, ridiculous-looking coachman, and handing him a paper on which the address was written.
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