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Updated: June 29, 2025
The door opened, and other officers came in with waterproofs sagging round their legs and top-boots muddy to the tags, abashed because they made pools of water on polished boards. "Pardon, Madame." "Ca ne fait rien, Monsieur." There was a klip-klop of horses' hoofs in the yard.
She would often repeat those pretty lines of the good La, Fontaine: 'Soyez-vous l'un a l'autre un monde toujours beau, Toujours divers, toujours nouveau; Tenez-vous lieu de tout; comptez pour rien le reste. And we did not fail to put the advice into practice, for never did a minute of ennui or of weariness, never did the slightest trouble, disturb our bliss.
"Ça ne fait rien," he interrupted, striding past her impatiently. With the muddled feeling of sleep still upon him he unlocked his own door and went through to the bathroom, where he hastily washed his face in cold water. Then as he dried it with a bath-towel he took a quick survey of the room.
This Athenian of the Roman time is a true disciple of Epicurus in all matters of sight, hearing, and intelligence a crumpled rose-leaf disturbs him. "Une ombre, un souffle, un rien, tout lui donnait la fievre." What all this softness wants is strength, creative and muscular force. His range is not as wide as I thought it at first.
She had a feeling as if she were employed in executing two great culprits, who deserved cruel tortures at her hands; and, with them, she slew now and forever the foolish fancy she had called her love. By a strange association of ideas, the famous composition, so praised by M. Regis, came back to her memory, and she cried: "Je ne veux me souvenir.... me souvenir de rien!"
Fitzgerald had addressed to her sister, during his last visit, and, thinking she had discovered an important secret, she was disposed to use her power mischievously. Without waiting for a repetition of his request, she sang: "Petit blanc, mon bon frère! Ha! ha! petit blanc si doux! Il n'y a rien sur la terre De si joli que vous."
The only sounds were the occasional clickings of the ivory chips, like the chattering of teeth, and the monotones of the croupier announcing the results of the play: "Faites vos jeux. Le jeu est fait; rien ne va plus." I began to study the personnel of this clinic of chance.
Then, on the other side, I would hear, "Do you know, Mrs. Moulton, that the Communists have just taken seven millions of francs from the Bank of France?" The distant, squeaky voice of Thiers trying to penetrate space, said, "La force ne fonde rien, parce qu'elle ne resout rien." And when I was hoping to comprehend why "La force" did not "fonder" anything I would hear Mr.
Every one had finished except Maida and the Chauffeulier, who had only got as far as the chicken and salad stage; and when Mamma proposed going, a look came over the Prince's face which I translated to myself as, "Rien
Iokanaan, Iokanaan, tu as ete le seul homme que j'ai aime. Tous les autres hommes m'inspirent du degout. Mais, toi, tu etais beau. Ton corps etait une colonne d'ivoire sur un socle d'argent. C'etait un jardin plein de colombes et de lis d'argent. C'etait une tour d'argent ornee de boucliers d'ivoire. Il n'y avait rien au monde d'aussi blanc que ton corps.
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