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How often have I occasion to bless Providence for having made me one of the descendants of those pious ancestors who cast their fortunes in the wilderness in preference to giving up their hold on faith and charity! The building is much inferior in comfort and true taste to the commoner American churches, and met with my unqualified disapprobation." "Est il possible que cela soit vrai, ma chere!"
"No I wouldn't do that at any rate." "C'est vrai. I ask you 'ave an air un peu souffrant. Well, never mind. It's droll though I think about you just when you ring up I 'ave a damn pain not ze tummy-ache this time and I say: 'Le pauvre jeune homme, 'ere is a chance for 'im to pay me out for kissing 'im when 'e don't want to be kissed. You remember I say I send for you one day.
Vistment! only think o' the owld Dutch sinner bringin' a whole kig wid 'im, an' keepin' it all to himself. Yez are sure now it's the stuff?" "Oui! oui! C'est liqueur! aguardiente." "Agwardenty, ye say, div ye?" "Oui! c'est vrai, Monsieur Barney. I have him smell, ver many time. It is of stink tres fort: strong! good!" "But why cudn't ye stale it yerself?
Whenever you hear it said of a man, "Il s'est conduit en vrai gentilhomme," be sure that it means no more than that he performed a simple act of justice in a courteous and graceful manner.
I have heard many foreigners speak my native language better; but their conversation has not been nearly as interesting as yours. I understand the sense of your words perfectly, and that is the principal thing which interests me in you." The last time we parted she wrote the following words in my album: "L'art c'est le vrai!
Are you my wife or not?" "Monstre!" murmured Adele, opening her eyes. "There you hear she owns me!" said the German, appealing to the company with a triumphant air. "C'est vrai!" said the soft voice of the policeman. "And now, pray don't let us disturb your amusements any longer. We have a fiacre at the door. Remove your lady, Monsieur Bihl." "Monsieur Lofe!
Ma foi! c'est d'agir en vrai gentilhomme," says Florac, delighted. "Touchez-la, mon petit Kiou. Tu as du coeur. Godam! you are a brave! A brave fellow!" and the Viscount reached out his hand cordially to Lord Kew. His purpose was evidently pacific. From Kew he turned to the great guardsman, and taking him by the coat began to apostrophise him.
As for instance, 'Il est vrai qu'on s'y perd, mais que voulez-vous que je vous dise? il y a bien du pour et du contre; un petit Resident ne voit gueres le fond du sac. Il faut attendre. Those sort of expletives are of infinite use; and nine people in ten think they mean something.
Their commissions, which they have no desire to lose, will make them tractable; for those gentlemen, though all men of honor, are of Sosia's mind, 'que le vrai Amphitrion est celui ou l'on dine'. The Tories and the city have engaged to support Pitt; the Whigs, the Duke of Newcastle; the independent and the impartial, as you well know, are not worth mentioning.
"Commodore Kendall, are you going to wear that ribbon to Paris?" she asked, as Paul touched his cap to her. "Certainly I am. I should as soon think of going without my coat as without that," replied he. "But how absurd!" "Absurd? Vous ne pouvez pas faire un sifflet de la queue d'un cochon," added he, very seriously. "C'est vrai; but what has that to do with the ribbon?
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