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Updated: June 13, 2025
"Vill you come to Rue Taitbout?" said he. "Wherever you please, monsieur," said Esther, rising. "Verever I please!" he echoed in rapture. "You are ein anchel from de sky, and I lofe you more as if I was a little man, vile I hafe gray hairs " "You had better say white, for they are too fine a black to be only gray," said Asie. "Get out, foul dealer in human flesh!
I nodded my head in acquiescence, hardly feeling inclined for the recital of some revolutionary anecdote, which I thought was going to be related to me. Monsieur Parole, however, astonished me with quite a different narration. "Leesten," said he. "When I did leeves my Paris beloved, helas! I was tored from my lofe my fiancee dat I adore! I leaves her in hopes and au desespoir.
"Then you do not love him?" The puzzled dancer hesitated, her long lashes lowered, and outlined against her cheeks. "Lofe? Dat vas not nice vord as eet come to me. I know not ver' vell just vat. Maybe if I not lofe him I marry him si; I no care den. I make him to suffer, but not care; ees eet not so? Anyhow, I vat you call dat? respect dis Señor Brown mooch, ver' mooch.
To his whispered word, Mercedes fluttered promptly forth through the shadowed doorway, and pressed her face lovingly against the pony's quickly uplifted nose. "See," she whispered, patting Brown's brawny arm even while she continued toying playfully with the silken mane, "he know me, he lofe me. He bettah as any man, for he nevah tell lie, nevah, only be nice all de time.
Monsieur Lofe!" cried, or rather screeched the epicier, darting across the room, and seizing the chef by the tail of his coat, just as he was half way through the door, "come back! Quelle mauvaise plaisanterie me faites-vous ici? Did you not tell me that lady was single? Am I married or not: Do I stand on my head or my heels?" "Hush-hush! mon bon bourgeois!" whispered Mr.
Surely this is not my nice boy Jack's Miss Meredith?" The girl reddened and then paled. "I beg, Lady Washington " she began; but the baroness, who had noted her change of colour, cut her off. "You haf a lofer," she cried, "and nevair one word to me told? Ach, ingrate! And your lofe I zought it was mine. "Miss Meredith is very different, then, from a certain gentleman," remarked Mrs.
And your voice, little fool, a thing of caprice, zat comes and goes as he will, not you will. Hein? like a barrel-organ, which he turns ze handle. Mon Dieu! Why did I leave her?" Mr. Pericles struck his brow with his wrist, clutching at the long thin slice of hair that did greasy duty for the departed crop on his poll. "Did I not know it was a woman? And so you are, what you say, in lofe."
"Maybe you tink I not know how ride? Maybe you tink I vas 'fraid of de dark? or dat I lose my vay? You tink me leetle girl," and she snapped her fingers indignantly. "Do dat? Of course I do dat! Sapristi! Eet vas easy. Just ride twenty mile. Bah! I do dat lots o' times. My pony he take me in tree, four hour sure. He nice pony, an' he lofe Mercedes."
Oh, you bad mans, you break girls' hearts and serve you right somebody cut your head off!" "Wish they would," I said, out of all patience with the fellow. "First he can't marry Rosalie because her uncle's a murderer. Now he can't marry her because her uncle's a liar. Disprove that, and he'd dig up some fresh objection!" "I lofe her! I lofe her!" protested Silver Tongue.
"Well, then what was it?" He instantly lay down again, pulling up the sides of the hammock. Presently his voice came from its depths, appealing in hollow tones to the sky. "He asks me thees friend of my soul, thees brother of my life, thees Pancho that I lofe what it was?
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