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Updated: May 1, 2025
"From Lavalette, monsieur, in the province of Var." "Very good; and you think that perhaps your Christian name only is on the address Sidoine?" "My cousin always calls me Sidoine." "His cousin is right," said a sulky voice in the corner.
But to return to our dialogue: "Excuse me, sir," said the clerk, "did you say your name is spelt with Dar or Tar?" "Tar, sir, Tar! " "With a D?" "No, sir, with a T., Tarboriech!" "We have nothing for you, sir." "Oh, sir, impossible! there certainly must be a letter for me." "There is no letter, sir; nothing commencing with T." "Did you look for my Christian name, Sidoine?"
"But, sir, we don't arrange the mail according to Christian names." "But you know, sir, I am a younger son, and at home I am called Sidoine." This interesting dialogue was now drowned by the angry complaining of some young men, who in a state of exasperation stamped up and down the room jerking out an epigrammatic psalm of lamentations.
Their small heads, planted at the top of their long bodies, wore English hats of the strangest build. And the old maids, thinner yet, opening their characteristic jaws to the wind, seemed to threaten one with their long, yellow teeth. On passing them, one could notice the smell of rubber and of tooth wash. Sidoine repeated, with growing anger: "Disgusting!
The other day I was present at a strange scene caused by the association of seven syllables. An unhappy-looking wretch went up to the railing and gave out his name Sidoine Tarboriech these two words inflicted on us the following dialogue: "Is it all one name?" asked the clerk, without deigning to glance at the unfortunate owner of these syllables.
Suddenly I heard my name called. I turned around. I beheld one of my old friends, Henri Sidoine, whom I had not seen for ten years. We shook hands and continued our walk together, talking of one thing or another. Suddenly Sidoine, who had been observing the crowd of passengers, cried out angrily: "It's disgusting, the boat is full of English people!" It was indeed full of them.
Their small heads, planted at the top of their long bodies, wore English hats of the strangest build. And the old maids, thinner yet, opening their characteristic jaws to the wind, seemed to threaten one with their long, yellow teeth. On passing them, one could notice the smell of rubber and of tooth wash. Sidoine repeated, with growing anger: "Disgusting!
Suddenly I heard my name called. I turned around. I beheld one of my old friends, Henri Sidoine, whom I had not seen for ten years. We shook hands and continued our walk together, talking of one thing or another. Suddenly Sidoine, who had been observing the crowd of passengers, cried out angrily: "It's disgusting, the boat is full of English people!" It was indeed full of them.
"Two names," said the man, timidly, as if he were fully aware of the disgrace inflicted upon him at the baptismal font. "Did you say Antoine?" said the clerk. "Sidoine, Monsieur." "Is it your Christian name?" "'Tis the name of my godfather, Saint Sidoine, 23 of August." "Ah! there is a Saint Sidoine, is there? Well, Sidoine ... Sidoine what else?" "Tarboriech." "Are you a German?"
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