Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 20, 2025
"I should be far easier in my mind if monsieur would permit me to go by way of his garden, rather than run the risk of his front door." "What's this?" "In these little affairs, monsieur, I try to make it a rule to avoid covering the same ground twice." "You have the insolence to imply I would lend myself to treachery!" "I beg monsieur's pardon very truly for suggesting such a thing.
That Mouchi is the granddaughter of Monsieur's late surgeon. Her mother, La Forcade, had been appointed by my son the gouvernante of his daughter and son, and thus the young Forcade was brought up with the Duchesse de Berri, who married her to Monsieur Mouchi, Master of the Wardrobe to the Duke, and gave her a large marriage-portion.
Monsieur's purse afforded no holiday-dress but a shroud; three of these in requisition within so short a time quite scanted the wardrobe of the other children.
With each hour Monsieur's spirits flagged and his speech became less frequent; until presently when the light was nearly gone and the dusk was round us the brother and sister rode hand in hand, silent, gloomy, one at least of them weeping. The cold shadow of the Cardinal, of Paris, of the scaffold fell on them, and chilled them.
She talked of this little occurrence all the time of her 'coucher'; though she only complained that one of Monsieur's guards should have had the effrontery to speak to her. Her Majesty added that he ought to have respected her incognito; and that that was not the place where he should have ventured to make a request.
There remain, therefore, only our two young neighbors. They imagine they have the camp wholly at their orders, while they really have only the red troops. All the rest, being Monsieur's men, will not act, and my troops will arrest them. However, I have permitted them to appear to obey. If they give the signal at half-past eleven, they will be arrested at the first step.
"How is Monsieur's arm?" replied Basque. "Better. Is your master up?" "Which one? the old one or the new one?" "Monsieur Pontmercy." "Monsieur le Baron," said Basque, drawing himself up. A man is a Baron most of all to his servants. He counts for something with them; they are what a philosopher would call, bespattered with the title, and that flatters them.
The old man had, it appeared, come out of Picardy, where he lived on soupe maigre in a corner of the ancestral castle, while his son and daughter were at court, the one in Monsieur's suite, the other in that of the Queen-mother. He had come purely to meet his dear young cousin, and render him all the assistance is his power, conduct him to Paris, and give him introductions.
The afternoon sun glimmered through the dense foliage of the interminable straight-ruled avenue that skirts the terrace. The young wife's veil fluttered aloft as they sped through the air, and wound itself right round Monsieur's head. It took a long time to put it in order again, and Madame's hat had to be adjusted ever so often.
"And how long have you known this?" asked Monsieur. "Since this morning." Then, as the import of the question struck him, he fell back with a groan. "Ah, Monsieur, if you can ask that, I have no more to say. It is useless." He turned away into the darkness. That they should part thus was too miserable to be endured. I was sure Monsieur's question was no accusation, but the groping of bewilderment.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking