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Updated: June 25, 2025
Barton could persuade him to drop a French epigram. At last, in answer to her allusions to knights of old and la galanterie, the old lord could only say: 'L'amour est comme l'hirondelle; quand l'heure sonne, en dépit du danger, tous les deux partent pour les rivages célestes. A pretty conceit; but Milord was not en veine that morning.
He felt himself en veine; he was equal to attacking the situation. He felt that he approached it with alluring and chivalric delicacy. He almost believed all that he said. But the pellucid blueness of the gaze that met his was confusingly unstirred by any shade of suitable timidity or emotion.
I do not advise you to risk more than twenty francs the first time; on the other hand, if you feel en veine, if the luck seems persistent it sometimes is when one first plays with gold then be bold, and do not hesitate!" Sylvia, feeling rather bewildered, slipped into her friend's place, and Anna kept close behind her.
An excellent Parisian company from the Variétés has been playing "La Veine" of M. Alfred Capus, and this week it is playing "Les Deux Ecoles" of the same entertaining writer. The company is led by Mme. Jeanne Granier, an actress who could not be better in her own way unless she acquired a touch of genius, and she has no genius.
I recall, gentlemen, those fine lines which Victor Hugo applied to himself, as explaining the inspiration of his life: Fidèle au double sang qu'ont versé dans ma veine, Mon père vieux soldat, ma mère vendéenne. That double fidelity to ideas and aspirations, quite distinct, is our glory in Canada.
"The year you were born I was the handsomest man in the army, they used to say but I was no such beauty and giant as you, Marquess. The gods were en veine when they planned you." "When I was younger," said Roxholm, "it angered me to hear my looks praised so much; I was boy enough to feel I must be unmanly.
"Pavel Dmitrievitch's luck has been against him in this expedition, such a veine de malheur" he added in a careful but pure French pronunciation, again giving me to think that I had seen him, and seen him often, somewhere. "I know Pavel Dmitrievitch very well.
A few days after seeing "La Veine" I went to Wyndham's Theatre to see a revival of Sir Francis Burnand's "Betsy." "Betsy," of course, is adapted from the French, though, by an accepted practice which seems to me dishonest, in spite of its acceptance, that fact is not mentioned on the play-bill. But the form is undoubtedly English, very English.
M. Brasseur is preposterously natural, full of aplomb and impertinence. He never flags, never hesitates; it is impossible to take him seriously, as we say of delightful, mischievous people in real life. I have been amused to see a discussion in the papers as to whether "La Veine" is a fit play to be presented to the English public.
[Footnote 18: «La dénomination de granit veiné que j'ai,
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