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Updated: June 2, 2025
One could have tossed a biscuit on the stone wharfs where the workmen, crouching over their tasks, straightened up at sight of us and cheered. And one cried out hoarsely, "Vous venez nous sauver, vous Americains" "You come to save us" an exclamation I was to hear again in the days that followed.
Malheureusement les trois dernieres semaines d'aout sont le seul moment ou je ne serai pas ici, et si vous venez un peu plus tot en France je vous prierais de commencer par le chateau d'Eu.... I have read the article on M'Clellan by Mr. Curtis, in the last number of the 'North American Review. It did not teach me much, for I have often talked it all over with M'Clellan, in his visits to Europe.
"Et puis vous savez, elle peut dit: `J'espere, Madame Vanburgh, que vos mademoiselles seraient tres grand amies avec mes filles. Voulez vous permittez qu'elles venez a the mercredi prochaine?" "Oui, et puis elles nous inviteraient en retourn." Christabel tossed her mane over her shoulders and smiled in anticipation.
As she crossed it with her precious burden, she looked constantly and restlessly from side to side. A terrible fear was upon her, the fear of the world beyond the bayou, the morbid and insane dread she had been under since childhood. When she was at the bayou's edge she stood there, and shouted for help as if a life depended upon it: "Oh, P'tit Maitre! P'tit Maitre! Venez donc! Au secours!
When Canaillard performs that Cavalier seul operation, does HE flinch? No: he puts on his most vainqueur look, he sticks his thumbs into the armholes of his waistcoat, and advances, retreats, pirouettes, and otherwise gambadoes, as though to say, "Regarde moi, O monde! Venez, O femmes, venez voir danser Canaillard!"
Vous venez de mettre
"Mais, oui," said the priest, with a melancholy smile. "C'est L'Isle-Adam, chez ma mere. Vous etes tres savante, ma fille." He patted her yellow turban, calling, "Venez donc, mes garcons! Il y a ici une veritable clairvoyante!" Marie was clever at fortune-telling, indulging in a light irony that amused the crowd.
In the present debate, he had just provoked a sneer that made his blood leap and his friends laugh, when Doctor Keene, suddenly rising and beckoning across the street, exclaimed: "Oh! Agricole! Agricole! venez ici; we want you." A murmur of vexed protest arose from two or three. "He's coming," said the whittler, who had also beckoned. "Good evening, Citizen Fusilier," said Doctor Keene.
"Brrrr!" ejaculated the French skipper, shrugging his shoulders and making a face, then seizing me he dragged me to a hole away in the stern deck, and pushed me down into quite a snug little cabin with a glowing stove. "Come venez. All you come," he cried, and he thrust the others down and followed quickly. "Pauvres garcons! Warm you my fire. Chauffez vous. Good you eat bread?
One could have tossed a biscuit on the stone wharfs where the workmen, crouching over their tasks, straightened up at sight of us and cheered. And one cried out hoarsely, "Vous venez nous sauver, vous Americains" "You come to save us" an exclamation I was to hear again in the days that followed.
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