So you consider your place a sinecure ?" "Indeed, Monsieur le comte, I have watched the woods so many nights that I'm ill from it.

I've got a chill, and I suffer such pain this morning that my wife has just made me a poultice in that saucepan." "My good fellow," said the count, "I don't know of any pain that a coffee poultice cures except that of hunger.

Listen to me, you rascal! I rode through my forest yesterday, and then through those of Monsieur de Soulanges and Monsieur de Ronquerolles.

Theirs are carefully watched and preserved, while mine is in a shameful state." "Ah, monsieur! but they are the old lords of the neighborhood; everybody respects their property.

How can you expect me to fight against six districts?
I care for my life more than for your woods.