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Take the word from me, and cry all, "VIVE LE ROI, ET VIVE L'INCONNU!" Like people awaking from a dream so great was their astonishment the company complied and with the utmost heartiness.
After this brief reply ensued a long interval of silence, broken only by the convulsive beating of the heel of the young man on the floor. The old man endeavored to change the conversation; it was leading to thoughts much too sinister. "My lord," said he, "what is the meaning of all the noise which preceded me? What are these people crying 'Vive le Roi! for?
"Then it grieves me deeply, but I must fulfil my office." "Monsieur le Procureur du Roi," said Pierrat abruptly, "How shall we begin?" Charmolue hesitated for a moment with the ambiguous grimace of a poet in search of a rhyme. "With the boot," he said at last.
It struck me as improper that the cheers which welcomed the new Viceroy had practically to do duty for the departure of Lord Curzon. They say, "Le roi est mort, vive le Roi," but in this case, "Le Roi" wasn't dead, but on the contrary must have been painfully alive to the sounds of cannons booming and cheers ringing to welcome his successor.
"Would it be any use, if I did not allow it, you pushing man?" "Very well: "'Recois mes compliments, charmant roi de la Chine." "But he is an Emperor." "Yes, but that is a politeness towards you, sire, who are only a King!" "Only!" "I continue: "'Ton trone est done place sur la double colline On sait dans l'Occident, que malgre mes travers J'ai toujours fort aime les rois qui font des vers!"
Say the one word to him, 'Enfant'; he will reply, 'De roi! Give him the child, and may Heaven bless you all for the help you have given me this night!" "But you, Blakeney?" reiterated Tony with a note of deep anxiety in his fresh young voice. "I am straight for Paris," he said quietly. "Impossible!" "Therefore feasible." "But why? Percy, in the name of Heaven, do you realise what you are doing?"
I have only got my deserts for coming here to look after an inheritance, instead of painting in my studio." "If you will allow me to offer you a piece of advice," said the procureur du roi, "you will take a carriage to-night, which the postmaster will lend you, and return to Paris by the diligence from Bourges."
Lowington in his cabin, and politely informing him that he could no longer endure the insults of the Josephines, or countenance their want of appreciation of the privilege of having such a professor of Greek as he was; and that he felt compelled to resign his present position, in order that "Le Roi de Belge" might avail himself of his valuable services.
Buffon, says M. Flourens, was born at Montbar, on the 7th of September 1707; he died in Paris, at the Jardin du Roi, on the 16th of April 1788, aged 81 years. More than fifty of these years, as he used himself to say, he had passed at his writing-desk. His father was a councillor of the parliament of Burgundy. His mother was celebrated for her wit, and Buffon cherished her memory.
To be a d'Angely was a privilege, in our eyes, which not only supplied gilding for the gingerbread, but for the most economical substitutes. "Ne roi je suis, Ne prince aussi, Je suis le Sire d'Angely," calmly remarked the gentleman of Louis XI.'s time, who became famous for hanging as many retainers as he liked, and defending his action by originating the family motto.
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