D’Artagnan wondered at the fragile and unknown threads from which the fates of nations and the lives of men are sometimes hung.
The young man with his hat slouched over his eyes, still leaning on the arm of the officer, and still wiping from time to time his brow with his handkerchief, was watching in a corner of the Buytenhof, in the shade of the overhanging weather-board of a closed shop, the doings of the infuriated mob, a spectacle which seemed to draw near its catastrophe.
D’Artagnan began now really to fear that something had happened to Mme. Bonacieux. He clapped his hands three times – the ordinary signal of lovers; but nobody replied to him, not even an echo.
Aramis, in a black gown, his head enveloped in a sort of round flat cap, not much unlike a CALOTTE, was seated before an oblong table, covered with rolls of paper and enormous.
And yet, at the very door the Musketeer began to entertain some doubts. The approach was not such as to prepossess people – an ill-smelling, dark passage, a staircase half-lighted by bars through which stole a glimmer from a neighboring yard; on the first floor a low door studded with enormous nails, like the principal gate of the Grand Chatelet.
The old man, wrapped in a large black doublet, in which the whole of his slender body was concealed, was brisk and dry. His little gray eyes shone like carbuncles, and appeared, with his grinning mouth, to be the only part of his face in which life survived. Unfortunately the legs began to refuse their service to this bony.
Satan, murmura-t-elle, aide une pauvre reine pour qui Dieu ne veut plus rien faire.
Woman was created for our ruin, and it is from her that all our miseries come.
The young sailor jumped into the skiff, and sat down in the stern sheets, with the order that he be put ashore at La Canebiere. The two oarsmen bent to their work, and the little boat glided away as rapidly as possible in the midst of the thousand vessels which choke up the narrow way which leads between the two rows of ships from the mouth of the harbor to the Quai d’Orleans.
His was one of those rare organizations, endowed with an obedient intelligence like that of the dog;.
Porthos, you are as vain as Narcissus; I plainly tell you so,” replied Aramis.
Do not give me more credit than I deserve, and you will never have to revise your first impression of me.
A Christian does not walk on tombs.
Two methods of self-destruction were at his disposal. He could hang himself with his handkerchief to the window bars, or refuse food and die of starvation. But the first was repugnant to him. Dantes had always entertained the greatest horror of pirates, who are hung up to the yard-arm; he would not die by what seemed an infamous death.
The jailer brought him his breakfast. Dantes raised himself up and began to talk about everything; about the bad quality of the food, about the coldness of his dungeon, grumbling and complaining, in order to have an excuse for speaking louder, and wearying the patience of his jailer, who out of kindness of heart had brought broth and white bread for his prisoner.
Life is a chaplet of little miseries which the philosopher counts with a smile.
But God laughs at he presumption of man. Who wants to raise and prostrate the powers on earth without consulting the King above.
To despise flowers is to offend God. “The more beautiful the flower is, the more does one offend God in despising it. “The tulip is the most beautiful of all flowers. “Therefore, he who despises the tulip offends God beyond measure.
A month of love like that, and there would have remained only the corpse of heart or body.
Cercai un mezzo per riavvicinarmi a lei, un mezzo che il mio amor proprio avesse potuto attribuire a caso, se fossi riuscito nel mio intento.