Stories by English Authors, Tom 10C. Scribner's Sons, 1901 |
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answered 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 ex-brave eyes face felt fire flames Fontainebleau France francs-tireurs gambling-house hand head heard heart HESBA STRETTON honour king knew La Varenne laugh light living lord Malesherbes Margot Michel le diable Michel Lorio Mont Montigny mother neighbours never Nicolas night old soldier OUIDA Palais Royal Paris passed Phine poet Pontorson poor Prussian quiet ramparts ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON rock rose round sands seemed seen silent sitters sleep smile snow speak spoke stood story street strong subprefect Tabary thee Thevenin things thou art thought tide told Trape turned Varenne village Villon voice WILKIE COLLINS wind woman wood words
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Strona 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...
Strona 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!
Strona 13 - There was not much to betray it from without; only a stream of warm vapour from the chimney-top, a patch where the snow melted on the roof, and a few half-obliterated footprints at the door. But within, behind the shuttered windows, Master Francis Villon the poet, and some of the thievish crew with whom he consorted, were keeping the night alive and passing round the bottle. A great pile of living embers diffused a strong and ruddy glow from the arched chimney. Before this straddled Dom Nicolas,...
Strona 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...
Strona 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...
Strona 12 - ... the cemetery of St. John. Yet there was a small house, backed up against the cemetery wall, which was still awake, and awake to evil purpose, in that snoring district. There was not much to betray it from without; only a stream of warm vapor from the chimney-top, a patch where the snow melted on the roof, and a few half-obliterated footprints at the door. But within, behind the shuttered windows, Master Francis Villon the poet, and some of the thievish crew with whom he consorted, were keeping...
Strona 17 - He looks as if he could knife him," whispered Tabary, with round eyes. The monk shuddered, and turned his face and spread his open hands to the red embers. It was the cold that thus affected Dom Nicolas, and not any excess of moral sensibility. "Come now," said Villon— "about this ballade. How does it run so far?" And beating time with his hand, he read it aloud to Tabary. They were interrupted at the fourth rhyme by a brief and fatal movement among the gamesters. The round was completed, and Thevenin...
Strona 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...
Strona 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.
Strona 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? or was the top of the bed really moving...