12 avril 2008


‘“Dear God, will this never be done?” cries the Master. “Quel lourdeau! But why do I trouble you with French expressions, which are lost on such an ignoramus? A lourdeau, my dear brother, is as we might say a bumpkin, a clown, a clodpole: a fellow without grace, lightness, quickness; any gift of pleasing, any natural brilliancy: such a one as you shall see, when you desire, by looking in the mirror.’

Robert Louis Stevenson, Works, vol 5, The Master of Ballantrae (1889) Chapter V. Account of All That Passed on the Night on February 27th, 1757 (C. Scribner's Sons 1896) p. 134.

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