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Updated: June 13, 2025
It was not less incongruous and curious when one group presently broke out into 'God save the Queen', and another into the 'Marseillaise', and another still into 'Malbrouck s'en va t'en guerre'. At last songs and soldiers were absorbed in the battalion at the rendezvous, and the long dusty march to the village gave a disciplined note to the gaiety of the militant habitant.
A few strokes took them to the dingy lugger, at whose side were gathered about a dozen dirty-looking men and boys, for the most part in scarlet worsted caps, blue jerseys, and stiff canvas petticoats, sewn between the legs, to make believe they were trousers. "Va t'en chien de Francais.
A fortnight or so after Wolfe's army and Saunders's fleet had sat down before Quebec, McGilveray, having been told by a sentry at Montmorenci where Anstruther's regiment was camped, that a French girl on the other side of the stream had kissed her hand to him and sung across in laughing insolence: "Malbrouk s'en va t'en guerre,"
McGilveray gave the pass-word, and presently he was on the bank saluting the sentry he had left three hours before. "Malbrouk s'en va t'en guerre!" said the girl again with a gay insolence, and pushed the boat out into the stream. "A minnit, a minnit, me darlin'," said McGilveray. "Keep your promise," came back, softly. "Ah, come back wan minnit!" "A flirt!" said the sentry.
They get their bidons filled. Wish I had a bidon, a dis-donc bidon n'est-ce pas. Faut pas t'en faire, who sang or said that? PEE-p.... We're off. I am almost asleep. Or myself. What's the matter here? Sardines writhing about, cut it out, no room for that sort of thing. Jolt. "Paris." Morning. Morning in Paris.
They stunned him for a moment, and then presently, as if in defiance of his own thoughts, he began to sing softly: "Malbrouk s'en va t'en guerre." Suddenly, in one confused moment, he was seized, and a hand was clapped over his mouth. Three French soldiers had him in their grip-stalwart fellows they were, of the Regiment of Bearn.
"The Great Western!" What boundless ideas are suggested by this title, &c., &c. Well, never mind my reasons. I had made up my mind to go. That's enough. "Marlbrook s'en va t'en guerre," mais as MARLBROOK Junior I may say, "Je reviendrai." Politics to the winds! or, colloquially, Politics be blowed! I'm off to TOM TIDDLER'S ground. Nice fellow, TIDDLER. Knew him years ago.
"Tink!" replied mademoiselle, "I don't tink about it; but have not I said enough? Open your eyes; make your own comparaisons." Before Lady Augusta had made her comparisons, a knock at the door from her maid came to let her know that Lord George was waiting. "Ah! milord George! I won't keep you den: va t'en."
T'en to your regimen'." He faced about and took the sword his valet proffered. "Au revoir, messieurs!" "Serviteur, madame!" And, buckling his sword-belt as he went, he swept out, leaving the door wide open, Belmont following, Wentworth saluting and the guards presenting arms. "Come, sir," said the captain in a subdued voice, his eyes avoiding Ruth's face.
These lines I read, and getting them by rote, took them for my device, for they bid the lover thrust himself foremost in the press, and in breach, mine, and escalade. S'en assault viens, devant te lance, En mine, en eschielle, en tous lieux Ou proesce les bons avance, Ta Dame t'en aimera mieux.
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