United States or Iran ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Ironical Bakkus began to hum the old nursery song: Il etait une bergere Et ron, ron, ron, petit patapon. Suddenly he stopped. "By George! I have it! The names that will epater the English bourgeois. Ron-ron-ron and Petit Patapon. I'll be Ron-ron-ron and you'll be dear little Patapon."
"?" pantomimed the other agents, with shrugged shoulders and helplessly outspread hands. And it happened too that Bakkus, the sweet ballad-monger, found himself on the same rocks of unemployment.
Perhaps he had dealt too cruel a blow at the disillusioned owner of the pretty little tenor voice in which he could not take very much pride. Bakkus broke a silence by remarking: "I envy you your young enthusiasm. You don't think it better we were all dead?" "I should think not!" cried Andrew. "You say you know all that a circus can teach you. What does that mean?
She loved its give-and-take, its opportunities for the flash of wit or jest. Bakkus could talk about an old boot. She too. He could analyse sentiment in his mordant way. She could analyse it in her own unsophisticated fashion.
I hate it as much as you do, but we've done it honourably and decently and we'll end up in the same way." "We end now," said Bakkus, staring out of their cheap lodging house sitting-room window at the dismal rain that veiled the row of cheap lodging houses opposite. Andrew made a stride across the room, seized his shoulder and twisted him round. "What about our bookings next month?"
A man thrown away on the trivialities of life. He was born to be a Cardinal. I'm so glad you have taken to him." I murmured mild eulogy of Bakkus. We spoke idly of his beautiful voice. Conversation languished, Lackaday's eyes being turned to the entrance of the hotel some fifty yards away up the sloping street. "I'm anxious not to miss Lady Auriol," he said at last.
Bakkus looked at the cold grey water it was a cloudy morning took counsel with himself and, sitting on the sands, refused to budge from the lesser misery of the windy shore. He smoked the pipe of disquiet on an empty stomach for the half-hour during which Andrew expended unnecessary effort in progressing through many miles in an element alien to man.
I found him as Lackaday had described him, a widely read scholar and an amiable and cynical companion. But in addition to these casual encounters, I was thrown daily into his society with Lackaday and Elodie. We arranged always to lunch together, Lackaday, Bakkus and myself taking it in turns to be hosts at our respective hotels.
He shifted the table which blocked the way to the two arm-chairs by the stove. "Elodie and I are getting into training for the next campaign." He mopped his forehead, wiped his hands and, with the old acrobat instinct, jerked the handkerchief across the room. "You're looking very well," said he. "I'm splendid," said Bakkus.
As the occupation for the dismal week had mainly consisted in dragging a cursing Bakkus away from public-house whisky on damp and detested walks, and in imperturbably manoeuvring him out of an idle and potentially vicious intrigue with the landlady's pretty and rather silly daughter, his reply brought a tragic scowl to Bakkus's face.
Word Of The Day