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"Pouf!" said the Curd, letting out a big sigh as he came to a standstill and mopped his brow. "Had ever poor man such trouble with his flock? and the thermometer at twenty-eight, too! Advance, my children you first, Maman Vacher; and Heaven grant the good father here may compose your differences!" Here the Cure himself a peasant flung out both hands as if resigning the case.
Them clothes was only fit to put on a scarecrow, an' I cut 'em up, and picked out the best bits, and split up a wold sack and sewed on every mortial rag myself; and I made a border out of a wold red skirt o' mine." "And a handsome thing it is too, my dear," said Betty admiringly. "They was Abel's clothes, though," said Jenny; "ye can't get out o' that, Miss Vacher."
Keynes surveyed his intended with a lowering brow, and gruffly advised her to give over. "'Tis a pity to upset yourself so much," said Miss Vacher, with a shrill laugh. "I don't believe he be dead. Somebody 'ud ha' wrote if he was. The papers you can't credit what they say in them papers." "Oh, he's dead, sure enough," cried Jenny, suddenly recovering herself.
There is likewise a superb general view of Venice, by Wyld; a fine exterior view of Rheims Cathedral, by Buckley; an exterior view of St Peter's at Caën, by Charles Vacher; and the interior of St Germain des Prés at Paris, by Duval."
Had you but used your eyes on the way hither they might have counted old vine-stocks by the score; they lie this way and that amid the heather on either side of the calvary. Many of the inhabitants yet alive can remember the phylloxera destroying them." "Which came, moreover, from the Rouergue!" snapped Maman Vacher. "Be silent, my daughter.
"Well, don't you go a-carryin' on that way," said Sam, still unmollified and eyeing her threateningly. "You don't lay a finger on the clock," said Susan Vacher with spirit. "Who told you that clock was Abel's? It's a-been there ever since my mother's time, and I've a-wound it up myself every Saturday night."
Viotti had but few pupils, but among them were a number of highly gifted artists. Rode, Robrechts, Cartier, Mdlle. Gerbini, Alday, La-barre, Pixis, Mari, Mme. Paravicini, and Vacher are well-known names to all those interested in the literature of the violin.
When the French shelled Algiers in 1683, the Vicar Apostolic, Jean de Vacher, who was acting as consul, and had worked untiringly among the poor captives for thirty-six years, was, by order of Mezzomorto, with many of his countrymen, blown from the cannon's mouth; and the same thing happened to his successor in 1688, when forty-eight other Frenchmen suffered the same barbarous death.
Rendered desperate by the carnage around him, the new Dey ordered all the French captives who had been collected into the city to be cruelly murdered, and binding Father Vacher, the French Resident, hand and foot, had him tied to a mortar and fired off like a bomb against the French fleet.
The door opened and the figure of a stout elderly woman stood outlined against the glow of firelight within. She peered out, shading her eyes from the level rays of the sinking sun, and starting back at sight of Jenny. "'Tis you, be it? Well, I didn't think you'd have the face to come, so soon." "I did just look in to say a word o' consolation, Miss Vacher," said the girl, drawing herself up.
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