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Updated: May 28, 2025
"Mille tonerres!" cried Ardan, greatly excited; "what is that? Can it be another projectile?" M'Nicholl, wiping his spectacles, looked again, but made no reply. Barbican looked puzzled and uneasy. A collision was quite possible, and the results, even if not frightful in the highest degree, must be extremely deplorable.
The colonel listened interested at first, then looked mystified. At last he frowned. "You hesitate mille tonerres! Haven't I told you that I will condescend to argue with you as a friend?" "Yes, colonel," answered Lieutenant D'Hubert softly, "but I am afraid that after you have heard me out as a friend, you will take action as my superior officer." The attentive colonel snapped his jaws.
As he was not accustomed to think except on professional matters connected with the welfare of men and horses and the proper use thereof on the field of glory, his intellectual efforts degenerated into mere mental repetitions of profane language. "Mille tonerres!... Sacré nom de nom..." he thought.
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