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ĦĦĦĦFinally, he said to the prisoner, with a slow and singularly ferocious tone:,ĦĦĦĦ"Why, you have whitewash on your back!",ĦĦĦĦBoyanches-tu (bois-tu), do you drink? But perpetual movement remains its law, nevertheless.. !ĦĦĦĦ*"Ah, it's you! Do you want something to eat? Don't be afraid, they won't hurt you.". .
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;,ĦĦĦĦNicholas was with the Russian army in Paris when the news of his father's death reached him. He at once resigned his commission, and without waiting for it to be accepted took leave of absence and went to Moscow. The state of the count's affairs became quite obvious a month after his death, surprising everyone by the immense total of small debts the existence of which no one had suspected. The debts amounted to double the value of the property.,,ĦĦĦĦAnother pretext would be her snuff, which would seem too dry or too damp or not rubbed fine enough. After these fits of irritability her face would grow yellow, and her maids knew by infallible symptoms when Belova would again be deaf, the snuff damp, and the countess' face yellow. Just as she needed to work off her spleen so she had sometimes to exercise her still-existing faculty of thinking- and the pretext for that was a game of patience. When she needed to cry, the deceased count would be the pretext. When she wanted to be agitated, Nicholas and his health would be the pretext, and when she felt a need to speak spitefully, the pretext would be Countess Mary. When her vocal organs needed exercise, which was usually toward seven o'clock when she had had an after-dinner rest in a darkened room, the pretext would be the retelling of the same stories over and over again to the same audience.,,; Find out more.
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,,ĦĦĦĦMiloradovich, who said he did not want to know anything about the commissariat affairs of his detachment, and could never be found when he was wanted- that chevalier sans peur et sans reproche* as he styled himself- who was fond of parleys with the French, sent envoys demanding their surrender, wasted time, and did not do what he was ordered to do. , ,ĦĦĦĦCosette, utterly overwhelmed by this unexpected blow, had hastily penned a couple of lines to Marius.,ĦĦĦĦHe declared that he had "a system."!Find out more.
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,,ĦĦĦĦThe countess, sobbing heavily, hid her face on her daughter's breast, while Nicholas rose, clutching his head, and left the room.,ĦĦĦĦ"Eh!,ĦĦĦĦ"Hougomont," said the peasant woman.,...ĦĦĦĦ"Well, good-by!" said Prince Andrew, bending over to Alpatych. "You must go away too, take away what you can and tell the serfs to go to the Ryazan estate or to the one near Moscow.",The cardinals of Rome, which are theologues, and friars, and schoolmen, have a phrase of notable contempt and scorn towards civil business: for they call all temporal business, of wars, embassages, judicature, and other employments, sbarene\', which is, under-sheriffiies; as if they were but matters for under-sheriffs and catohpoles; though many times, those under-sheriffiies do more good than their high speculations. St Paul, when he boasts of himself, he doth oft interlace; I speak like a fool; but speaking of his calling, he saith....ĦĦĦĦAlpatych, understanding the question to refer to their departure for Bogucharovo, replied that they had left on the seventh and again went into details concerning the estate management, asking for instructions.!
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BOOK NINE: 1812;CAMERA brings us to Red.,,ĦĦĦĦ"No... Why should it be? On the contrary... But why do you ask me?",ĦĦĦĦThe countess began to soothe Natasha, who after first listening to her mother's words, suddenly interrupted her:;ĦĦĦĦit was all over; he beheld the monstrous aspects of his past reappear and live once more around him, with all that there is formidable in reality.,RED,And yet, where there is no eminent odds in sufficiency, it is better to take with me more passable, than with the more able. And besides, to speak truth, in base times, active men are of more use, than virtuous. It is true that in government, it is good to use men of one rank equally: for to countenance some extraordinarily, is to make them insolent, and the rest discontent; because they may claim a due. ....ĦĦĦĦThrough the shades of twilight they could hear the pieces being loaded; the matches all lighted, like the eyes of tigers at night, formed a circle round their heads; all the lintstocks of the English batteries approached the cannons, and then, with emotion, holding the supreme moment suspended above these men, an English general, Colville according to some, Maitland according to others, shouted to them, "Surrender, brave Frenchmen!" Cambronne replied, "-----.",ĦĦĦĦ"Oh! how glad you are!";
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ĦĦĦĦ"Well, Karabakh! We'll do some service tomorrow," said he, sniffing its nostrils and kissing it.,ĦĦĦĦ"Pardi!"; .ĦĦĦĦHe told of his adventures as he had never yet recalled them. He now, as it were, saw a new meaning in all he had gone through. Now that he was telling it all to Natasha he experienced that pleasure which a man has when women listen to him- not clever women who when listening either try to remember what they hear to enrich their minds and when opportunity offers to retell it, or who wish to adopt it to some thought of their own and promptly contribute their own clever comments prepared in their little mental workshop- but the pleasure given by real women gifted with a capacity to select and absorb the very best a man shows of himself. Natasha without knowing it was all attention: she did not lose a word, no single quiver in Pierre's voice, no look, no twitch of a muscle in his face, nor a single gesture. She caught the unfinished word in its flight and took it straight into her open heart, divining the secret meaning of all Pierre's mental travail.!ĦĦĦĦA murmur of gloomy and energetic assent followed these words..ĦĦĦĦHe was a bit of a mason, a bit of a gardener, something of a doctor; he bled a postilion who had tumbled from his horse; Louis Philippe no more went about without his lancet, than did Henri IV..ĦĦĦĦAlpatych did not insist further. He had managed people for a long time and knew that the chief way to make them obey is to show no suspicion that they can possibly disobey. Having wrung a submissive "I understand" from Dron, Alpatych contented himself with that, though he not only doubted but felt almost certain that without the help of troops the carts would not be forthcoming.,ĦĦĦĦHe descended from the commode as softly as possible, taking care not to make the least noise....
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ĦĦĦĦOn tremble a chaque instant qu'elle ne vous la mouche ,ĦĦĦĦTattered, blue-purple clouds, reddening in the east, were scudding before the wind. It was growing lighter and lighter. That curly grass which always grows by country roadsides became clearly visible, still wet with the night's rain; the drooping branches of the birches, also wet, swayed in the wind and flung down bright drops of water to one side. The soldiers' faces were more and more clearly visible. Rostov, always closely followed by Ilyin, rode along the side of the road between two rows of birch trees.,ĦĦĦĦThe weather was already growing wintry and morning frosts congealed an earth saturated by autumn rains. The verdure had thickened and its bright green stood out sharply against the brownish strips of winter rye trodden down by the cattle, and against the pale-yellow stubble of the spring buckwheat. The wooded ravines and the copses, which at the end of August had still been green islands amid black fields and stubble, had become golden and bright-red islands amid the green winter rye. The hares had already half changed their summer coats, the fox cubs were beginning to scatter, and the young wolves were bigger than dogs. It was the best time of the year for the chase. The hounds of that ardent young sportsman Rostov had not merely reached hard winter condition, but were so jaded that at a meeting of the huntsmen it was decided to give them a three days' rest and then, on the sixteenth of September, to go on a distant expedition, starting from the oak grove where there was an undisturbed litter of wolf cubs.,ĦĦĦĦHe could not see an aim, for he now had faith- not faith in any kind of rule, or words, or ideas, but faith in an ever-living, ever-manifest God. Formerly he had sought Him in aims he set himself. That search for an aim had been simply a search for God, and suddenly in his captivity he had learned not by words or reasoning but by direct feeling what his nurse had told him long ago: that God is here and everywhere. In his captivity he had learned that in Karataev God was greater, more infinite and unfathomable than in the Architect of the Universe recognized by the Freemasons. He felt like a man who after straining his eyes to see into the far distance finds what he sought at his very feet. All his life he had looked over the heads of the men around him, when he should have merely looked in front of him without straining his eyes.,ĦĦĦĦThree or four times a year, Jean Valjean donned his uniform and mounted guard; he did this willingly, however; it was a correct disguise which mixed him with every one, and yet left him solitary. Jean Valjean had just attained his sixtieth birthday, the age of legal exemption; but he did not appear to be over fifty; moreover, he had no desire to escape his sergeant-major nor to quibble with Comte de Lobau; he possessed no civil status, he was concealing his name, he was concealing his identity, so he concealed his age, he concealed everything; and, as we have just said, he willingly did his duty as a national guard; the sum of his ambition lay in resembling any other man who paid his taxes. This man had for his ideal, within, the angel, without, the bourgeois.,ĦĦĦĦOne fair-haired young soldier of the third company, whom Prince Andrew knew and who had a strap round the calf of one leg, crossed himself, stepped back to get a good run, and plunged into the water; another, a dark noncommissioned officer who was always shaggy, stood up to his waist in the water joyfully wriggling his muscular figure and snorted with satisfaction as he poured the water over his head with hands blackened to the wrists. There were sounds of men slapping one another, yelling, and puffing.;ĦĦĦĦNow Toussaint, as though she had been destined to be Jean Valjean's servant, was not curious. She stammered in her peasant dialect of Barneville:,!