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'Lose no time now, but make a dash for it, and you'll get away. And so, without more ado, Bonaparte turned his horse's head round, and, driving his spurs into him, set out at top speed. "This was the signal for the Mameluke charge; and down they came. Sacristi! how the infidels rode us down!
Very well, it was she who extracted the hundred thousand francs from the Marquis de Villiers. Madame now gives largely to charity and goes to mass." "Blackmail, Emile?" "Of the worst kind, and so monsieur sees how easily one can be mistaken, is it not so? Sacristi! one never knows." "But are you certain you are not mistaken about your Austrian, Emile?" I ventured.
"And big bad luck to ye, Major Jones, for the same, every day ye see a paving stone," was the faint sub-audible ejaculation of Father Luke, when he was recovered enough to speak. "Sacristi! Que nous sommes attrappes," said the Abbe, scarcely able to avoid laughing at the situation in which they were placed. "Well, there's the quarter chiming now; we've no time to lose Major Jones! Major, darling!
Monsieur le Curé slid the long chair up to my fire, bent his straight, black body forward, and rubbing his chilled hands briskly before the blazing logs, announced with a smile of content: "Marianne is out of jail." "Sacristi!" I exclaimed, "and in mid-winter! It must be cold enough in that hut of hers by the marsh poor old girl." "And not a sou to be earned fishing," added the curé.
He crossed the room to the sideboard and, having assured himself the Camembert was of the right age, went singing into Suzette's kitchen to glance at the salad. "Bravo, my little one, for your romaine!" I heard him exclaim. Then a moment's silence ensued, while he tasted the dressing. "Sacristi! My child, do you think we are rabbits. Hélas! Not a bit of astragon in your seasoning!
"Upstairs, making her bed another dry day," he muttered, half to himself, half to me. "She will stay dry for some days," I returned. "The wind is well set from the northeast." "Sacristi! a dirty time," he growled. "My steers are as dry as an empty cask."
"Sacristi!" she exclaimed, examining a rent, "there's one door that the little north wind won't knock twice at before he enters. Keep still, ma petite, I've got thread and a needle." She drew from her trousers' pocket a leather wallet in which lay four two-sous pieces, an iron key and a sail needle driven through a ball of linen thread.
Eh bien! sacristi, and the statement, waxing louder, rolls off into a reverberation of oaths, the speaker glaring about for sympathy, and everybody nodding his head to him in the name of peace. The ruddy Northman told some tales of his own prowess in keeping order: notably one of a Marquis. 'Marquis, I said, 'if you take another step I fire upon you. You have committed a dirtiness, Marquis.
How he does love to shoot and what a rattling good shot he is! Neither Tanrade nor myself, and we have shot with him day in and day out on the marsh and during rough nights in his gabion, has ever beaten him. On we flew, past the hamlet of Fourche-la-Ville, past Javonne, past Les Roses. Sacristi! I thought, what if the gasoline gave out or the spark refused to sparkle, what if they had Why worry?
Still, he dared not at once inquire into the clauses of the will and the amount of the fortune, so to work round to these interesting facts he asked: "And what did he die of, poor Marechal?" Maitre Lecanu did not know in the least. If M. Jean should refuse the money, it is to go to the foundling hospitals." Old Roland could not conceal his delight and exclaimed: "Sacristi!
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