Three loud slaps rang out.
Madame Boche, meanwhile, was trying to discover the wash-house boy.
"Charles! Charles! Wherever has he got to ?" And she found him in the front rank, looking on with his arms folded.
He was a big fellow, with an enormous neck.

He was laughing and enjoying the sight of the skin which the two women displayed.

The little blonde was as fat as a quail.

It would be fun if her chemise burst open.
"Why," murmured he, blinking his eye, "she's got a strawberry birthmark under her arm." "What! You're there!" cried Madame Boche, as she caught sight of him.
"Just come and help us separate them.

You can easily separate them, you can!" "Oh, no! thank you, not if I know it," said he coolly.