But one can hardly call one's nose a weapon." "Will you or will you not pull my nose ?" said the Marquis in exasperation.

"Come, come, Mr.Syme! You wanted to do it, do it! You can have no conception of how important it is to me.

Don't be so selfish! Pull my nose at once, when I ask you!" and he bent slightly forward with a fascinating smile.

The Paris train, panting and groaning, had grated into a little station behind the neighbouring hill.
Syme had the feeling he had more than once had in these adventures--the sense that a horrible and sublime wave lifted to heaven was just toppling over.

Walking in a world he half understood, he took two paces forward and seized the Roman nose of this remarkable nobleman.