Stories by English Authors, Band 3C. Scribner's sons, 1896 |
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
answered archangel St arms asked bade Baron de Rosny bedtop Berceau de Dieu Bernadou Boisrosé boxwood break the bank called child cold Count of Auvergne croupier d'Entragues dark dead Delphine door eyes face Faulkner felt fire flames Fontainebleau France francs-tireurs gambling-house hand head heard heart HESBA STRETTON honour invisible circle king knew La Varenne laugh leagues light living looked lord Malesherbes Margot Michel Lorio Mont St Montigny mother neighbours never Nicolas night old soldier Palais Royal Paris passed Phine Pontorson poor Prussian quiet ramparts Reine Allix rock rose round sands scarcely seemed seen silent sitters sleep smile snow spoke stood story straight river street subprefect Tabary thee Thevenin things thought tide told Trape turned Varenne village Villon voice WILKIE COLLINS wind woman women wood words
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 13 - So he straddled, grumbling, and cut the room in half with the shadow of his portly frame. On the right, Villon and Guy Tabary were huddled together over a scrap of parchment, Villon making a ballade which he was to call the " Ballade of Roast Fish," and Tabary spluttering admiration at his shoulder.
Seite 36 - And he rose and paced the lower end of the apartment, struggling with anger and antipathy. Villon surreptitiously refilled his cup, and settled himself more comfortably in the chair, crossing his knees and leaning his head upon one hand and the elbow against the back of the chair. He was now replete and warm ; and he was in nowise frightened for his host, having gauged him as justly as was possible between two such different characters. The night was far spent, and in a very comfortable fashion after...
Seite 16 - Think of rhymes to 'fish,' " he said. "What have you to do with Latin? You'll wish you knew none of it at the great assizes, when the devil calls for Guido Tabary, clericus— the devil with the hump-back and red-hot finger-nails. Talking of the devil," he added in a whisper, "look at Montigny!
Seite 14 - Thevenin, poor soul, was in great feather: he had done a good stroke of knavery that afternoon in the Faubourg St Jacques, and all night he had been gaining from Montigny. A flat smile illuminated his face; his bald head shone rosily in a garland of red curls; his little protuberant stomach shook with silent chucklings as he swept in his gains. 'Doubles or quits?' said Thevenin. Montigny nodded grimly. 'Some may prefer to dine in state,' wrote Villon, 'On bread and cheese on silver plate.
Seite 25 - He shut the wicket and retired deliberately into the interior of the house. Villon was beside himself; he beat upon the door with his hands and feet, and shouted hoarsely after the chaplain. "Wormy old fox !" he cried. "If I had my hand under your twist, I would send you flying headlong into the bottomless pit.
Seite 26 - He passed a street-corner where, not so long before, a woman and her child had been devoured by wolves. This was just the kind of weather, he reflected, when wolves might take it into their heads to enter Paris again ; and a lone man in these deserted streets would run the chance of something worse than a mere scare. He stopped and looked upon the place with an unpleasant interest — it was a centre where several lanes intersected each other; and he looked down them all, one after another, and held...
Seite 35 - you cannot separate the soldier from the brigand; and what is a thief but an isolated brigand with circumspect manners? I steal a couple of mutton-chops, without so much as disturbing people's sleep; the farmer grumbles a bit, but sups none the less wholesomely on what remains. You come up blowing gloriously on a trumpet, take away the whole sheep, and beat the farmer pitifully into the bargain. I have no trumpet; I am only Tom, Dick, or Harry; I am a rogue and a dog, and hanging's too good for me...
Seite 39 - I think that we desire them more, and suffer more sharply for their absence. I speak to you as I think you will most easily understand me. Are you not, while careful to fill your belly, disregarding another appetite in your heart, which spoils the pleasure of your life and keeps you continually wretched...
Seite 38 - I should be a heretic to question it," said Francis. " It has made you lord of Brisetout and bailly of the Patatrac; it has given me nothing but the quick wits under my hat and these ten toes upon my hands. May I help myself to wine? I thank you respectfully.
Seite 124 - Where the feathers — three white, two green? Not there! In place of the hat and feathers, what dusky object was it that now hid his forehead, his eyes, his shading hand? Was the bed moving? I turned on my back and looked up. Was I mad? drunk? dreaming? giddy again?