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I am sure that you yourself, when you consider more impartially what you have said, will be induced to believe, according to these lines of Du Bellay: "C'est chercher Rome en Rome, Et rien de Rome en Rome ne trouver."

The language he speaks is the language of that French criticism which we have Sainte-Beuve's authority for it is best described by the motto of Montaigne, "Un peu de chaque chose et rien de l'ensemble, a la francaise," and the thought he tries to express in it is thought torn and strained by the constant effort to reach the All, the totality of things: "What I desire is the sum of all desires, and what I seek to know is the sum of all different kinds of knowledge.

It does not suit the gallantry of the French, Monsieur le Count, said I, to show it against invalids. An animated blush came into the Count de B-'s cheeks as I spoke this. Ne craignez rien Don't fear, said he. Indeed, I don't, replied I again.

A moins que tu ne penses peut-être, parceque l'oeil de l'homme n'a rien vu au-del

Nous vinmes loger dans un caravanserai qui étoit éloigné de toute habitation. Nous y trouvâmes de l'orge et de la paille, et il eût été d'autant plus aisé de nous en approvisionner, qu'il n'y avoit d'autre gardien qu'un seul valet. Mais on n'a rien de semblable

He came over to her, after a moment, and spoke over her shoulders as he just touched her waist with his fingers. "A la bonne heure Sophie!" "Oh, it isn't it isn't right," she said, her body slightly inclining from him. "One minute out of a whole life What does it matter! Ce ne fait rien! Good-bye-Sophie." Now she inclined towards him.

I asked her if she wanted anything Rien que pour pisser, said Madame de Rambouliet. Grieve not, gentle traveller, to let Madame de Rambouliet p-ss on. -And, ye fair mystic nymphs! go each one PLUCK YOUR ROSE, and scatter them in your path, for Madame de Rambouliet did no more.

I have written such tomes to Mr. Conway, Madam, and so nothing new to write, that I might as well, methinks, begin and end like the lady to her husband; "Je vous écris parceque je n'ai rien

Outside the boudoir door stood Aline, her brows drawn together under her ragged fringe of hair, her thin lips set in a line that betokened anxiety. "Monsieur, monsieur," she exclaimed accusingly, "dites moi, qu'est-ce que vous avez fait?" "Je n'ai rien fait, Aline," he replied coldly; "je ne sais rien." She gazed at him in a puzzled fashion.

Pasgrave replied, that he did look at it, he supposed; that he saw it was a ten-guinea note; it might be stained, it might not be stained; he could not pretend to be certain about it. He repeated his assurances that he was ignorant of business, and of every thing in this world but dancing. "Pour la danse, je m'y connois pour les affaires, je n'en sais rien, moi."

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