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Updated: May 9, 2025
I slightly turned from him, nestling still closer under the wing of silence. A vague sound grumbled between his teeth; it could not surely be a "juron:" he was too religious for that; but I am certain I heard the word sacre.
"Do you mean we push on up this river?" broke in De Noyan, who had managed to make something out of our conversation, especially as the Puritan illustrated his knowledge by rudely tracing with a stumped forefinger a map on the board where he sat. "Sacre! 'tis the dirtiest red slough ever I navigated. Why not try the other thing? A brush with those gentlemen below would be more to my taste."
Next morning my father sent me to France with Quinet. "Et pour la France un chant sacré s'éleve; Qu'il brille pur, le ciel de nos aieux!" "Chamilly! Chamilly! This is the soil of our forefathers!" Quinet and I stood at last on the shores of France. We trod it with veneration, and looked around with joy.
"No sugar," said Cynthia, watching him, as he picked up the sugar-tongs. "No sugar? You abandon it in the war-time, eh?" "No, I never take it in coffee." "Sacre!" murmured Poirot to himself, as he brought back the replenished cup. Only I heard him, and glancing up curiously at the little man I saw that his face was working with suppressed excitement, and his eyes were as green as a cat's.
"Then we will be fish," said Colonel Clark. "Better that than food for the crows. For, if we stay here, we shall be caught like bears in a trap, and Kentucky will be at Hamilton's mercy." "Sacre'!" exclaimed Monsieur Vigo, "you are mad, mon ami. I know what this country is, and you cannot get to Vincennes."
"Sacre tonnerre! Dat's one what you call? damfool speech. Nom de Dieu! You pay for dat! Mama! You mak' shame for me on my heart!" cried the old Frenchman, beating his breast, while sobs shook his voice. Fifty years ago Blackwater town was a sawmill village on the Blackwater River which furnished the power for the first little sawmill set up by Grant Maitland's father.
In its stead the musical forms practised by composers of secular music and adopted by musicians of such small education as hardly to be worthy of the title of composers, makers of carnival songs and frottole, predominated and determined the musical character not only of the Sacre Rappresentazioni, but also of the secular lyric plays which succeeded them and which continued to exist in Italy even after the "stile rappresentativo" had been introduced in the primitive dramma per musica of Caccini and Peri.
I should have run, but they caught me, the villains! and replaced me in the house. Oh, sacre!" and rolling this word between his teeth, he came down and laid a little box on the counter. I opened it. There was within a large, glittering, curiously-cut piece of glass. I threw it aside. "The diamond!" I exclaimed.
A creature so sweet, so noble, could not long remain the slave of Anglican heresy. A little talk with Cydalise, a week's "retreat" at the Sacre Coeur, and the thing would be done. The dear girl would renounce her errors, and enter the bosom of the Mother Church. Pouff!
Memories of school and boyhood's days came over him, the tasks he had learned and recited: all about the sacre of our kings, the sainte ampoule, Clovis, Jeanne d'Arc, all the long list of glories of old France.
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