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She got down Ariosto and began to read to me the adventure of Ricciardetto with Fiordespina, an episode which gives its beauty to the twenty-ninth canto of that beautiful poem which I knew by heart. She imagined that she was the princess, and I Ricciardetto. She liked to fancy, 'Che il ciel L'abbia concesso, Bradamante cangiata in miglior sesso. When she came to the lines;
Ever know any folks there, George?" "Don't have no mem'ry for 'em, Doctah." "You're lucky again. They're the orneriest, lowest-down, minchin', pinchin', pizen trash that ever tainted the sweet air of Heaven by breathing it, George." "You don' sesso, Doctah Suhtaine, suh." "I do sess precisely so, George. Does the name McQuiggan mean anything to you?" "Don' mean nothin' at-tall to me, Doctah."
We had a Count Velo, a Count Sesso, a Count Trento all very amiable companions. They invited us to accompany them to the casino, where Madame C shone by her charms and her coquettish manners. After we had spent two hours in that place, P C invited all his new friends to supper, and it was a scene of gaiety and profusion.
We had a Count Velo, a Count Sesso, a Count Trento all very amiable companions. They invited us to accompany them to the casino, where Madame C shone by her charms and her coquettish manners. After we had spent two hours in that place, P C invited all his new friends to supper, and it was a scene of gaiety and profusion.
I gwine on a weddin'-trip down ter Pine Bluff, an' I wants time ter pick out a few little weddin'-presents to fetch home ter Pete." "Pete!" I cried. "Pete is going with you, of course?" "Pete gwine wid me? Who sesso? No, ma'am! Why, missy, how would it look fur me ter go a-skylarkin' roun' de country wid Pete an' me in mo'nin'? "No, indeedy!
"Who are these people?" asked the physician, in an undertone, looking up at the quadroon, and pausing with the prescription half torn off. She shrugged her large shoulders and smiled perplexedly. "Mizzez Reechin?" The tone was one of query rather than assertion. "Dey sesso," she added.
Shelby paid no more attention to her than he paid to the quarreling jays in the holly trees, and the order was sharply repeated. "Oh, are you a-speakin' to me, ma'am?" he then said. "Certainly. I wish my dog handed to me." Shelby looked at the pampered poodle and then at its mistress. Then with a guileless smile remarked: "Now you don't sesso?
Merveilleuse Histoire de Pierre Schlemihl. Enrichie d'une savente preface, ou les curieux pourront apprendre ce que c'est que l'ombre. Paris et Nurnberg, 1838. With illustrations. This translation was revised by Chamisso. L'Uomo senz' Ombra. Dono di simpatia al gentil sesso. Milano, 1838. Published as an Annual, with a Calendar, and Engravings.
"She po'ly, Marse Dave, an' she ain' nebber leabe dis year house. Marse Dave," said Lindy earnestly, lowering her voice and taking a step closer to me, "I done reckon de Mistis gwine ter die ob lonesomeness. She des sit dar an' brood, an' brood an' she use' ter de bes' company, to de quality. No, sirree, Marse Dave, she ain' nebber sesso, but she tink 'bout de young Marsa night an' day.
Leandro is in the right of it!" said the young Conte Beppo Farini; "a small matter to find somebody who promises even to read his verses! I should think not, indeed! Where will you find another to do as much?" "Riconciliato col bel sesso! I should think you were, indeed!" cried another; "she absolutely thanks you for sending her your rhymes! Nobody ever did as much as that before, Leandro mio!
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