United States or Chad ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Then when the battalion filed off to the right to go to the barracks, Zébédé asked permission of Captain Vidal to go home with his father, and gave his gun to his nearest comrade. We went together to the rue de Capucins. The old man said: "You know that grandmother is so old that she can no longer get out of bed, or she would have come to meet you too."
"How many copies of Ducange did you place last journey?" asked Porchon of his partner. "Two hundred of Le Petit Vieillard de Calais, but to sell them I was obliged to cry down two books which pay in less commission, and uncommonly fine 'nightingales' they are now." "And besides," added Vidal, "Picard is bringing out some novels, as you know.
"But he came and more bad will come from his visit, more and more of evil things. One knows. Seguro que si; one knows. But I will tell you and the señorita; no one else knows of it. It was while in the Casa Blanca men are shooting, while Roderico Nortone will make his arrest of poor Vidal who is dead now." He crossed himself and drew a thoughtful puff from his cigarette.
We know what to do," said Vidal. "You agree to the scheme?" "Yes, man." Pastiri gave them three pesetas apiece and the four left the tavern, crossed the Ronda and made their way in the crowds of El Rastro.
The ragdealer looked over the contents of the bundle, made a second inventory, and then in a jesting tone, with a rough voice, asked: "Where did you steal this?" The three associates chorused their protestation, but the ragpicker paid no heed. "I can't give you more than three pesetas for the whole business." "No," answered Vidal. "Rather than accept that we'll take the bundle with us."
But for four long days no word came from my cousin as to her quest, nor did I hear from this grim uncle of mine at the Castle of Grosbois. For myself I had gone into the town of Boulogne and had hired such a room as my thin purse could afford over the shop of a baker named Vidal, next to the Church of St. Augustin, in the Rue des Vents.
We have been promised twenty per cent on the published price to make the thing a success." "Very well, at twelve months," the publisher answered in a piteous voice, thunderstruck by Vidal's confidential remark. "Is it an offer?" Porchon inquired curtly. "Yes." The stranger went out. After he had gone, Lucien heard Porchon say to Vidal: "We have three hundred copies on order now.
All the fair words he can speak all the fine tunes he can play Renault Vidal will be to my eyes ever a dark and suspicious man, with features always ready to mould themselves into the fittest form to attract confidence; with a tongue framed to utter the most flattering and agreeable words at one time, and at another to play shrewd plainness or blunt honesty; and an eye which, when he thinks himself unobserved, contradicts every assumed expression of features, every protestation of honesty, and every word of courtesy or cordiality to which his tongue has given utterance.
While Miss Pollingray was speaking, my eyes were fixed on a Vidal crayon drawing, faintly coloured with chalks, of a foreign lady I could have sworn to her being French young, quite girlish, I doubt if her age was more than mine. She is pretty, is she not? said Miss Pollingray.
"My lord," said Vidal, "I am already rewarded, both by the honour, and by the liveries, which better befit a royal minstrel than one of my mean fame; but assign me a subject, and I will do my best, not out of greed of future largess, but gratitude for past favours." "Gramercy, good fellow," said the Constable.
Word Of The Day