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Updated: June 12, 2025
"Me, impudent? how daur ye speak against my charackter, that's kenned for decency o' baith sides the Firrth." "Oh, ye're sly enough to beguile the men, but we ken ye." Christie. If ye're no ben your hoose in ae minute, I'll say that will gar Liston Carnie fling ye ower the pier-head, ye fool-moothed drunken leear Scairt!"* *A local word; a corruption from the French Sortez.
More sternly rejoined her kinsman "Sortez d'ici!" "I will send for Pere Silas: on the spot I will send for him," she threatened pertinaciously. "Femme!" cried the Professor, not now in his deep tones, but in his highest and most excited key, "Femme! sortez a l'instant!" He was roused, and I loved him in his wrath with a passion beyond what I had yet felt.
If my reader has seen and heard Mademoiselle Rachel utter her famous Sortez, in "Virginie," he knows exactly with what a gesture and tone the Johnstone uttered this word. "Hech! what a spite Flucker Johnstone's dochter has taen against us." Christie. "Scairt!" "Aweel! what's a' your paession, my boenny woman?" Christie. "Scairt!" Beeny retired before the thunder and lightning of indignant virtue.
Then it was that Madame Carthame, blissfully ignorant of the fact that she had neglected to remove her nightcap, stood up in her place, with her wrapper gathered about her in a statuesque fashion, and in a tragic tone uttered the single word: "Sortez!" And the Count went!
Lola gave a cry and rushed forward. I pushed her aside, and glared at him. I was in a furious rage. We glared at each other eye to eye. I pointed to the door. "Monsieur, sortez!" I went to it and flung it wide. Anastasius Papadopoulos trotted into the room. His entrance was so queer, so unexpected, so anti-climatic, that for the moment the three of us were thrown off our emotional balance.
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