As he did so, I could not help observing the whiteness of his hands and the sparkle of a huge brilliant on his little finger.
He was a pale, slender, olive-hued man, with very dark eyes, and glittering teeth, and a black moustache inclining superciliously upwards at each corner; somewhat too _nonchalant_, perhaps, in his manner, and somewhat too profuse in the article of jewellery; but a very elegant gentleman, nevertheless.
"_Bon_!" said he.

"I am glad you have bought it.

I would have taken it myself, had the thing happened a week or two earlier.

Poor Duchesne! To think that he should have come to this, after all!" "I am sorry for him," said Dalrymple; "but it is a case of wilful ruin.
He made up his mind to go to the devil, and went accordingly.

I am only surprised that the crash came no sooner." M.de Simoneourt twitched at the supercilious moustache.
"And you think you would not care to take the black mare with the Tilbury ?" said he, negligently.
"No--I have a capital horse, already." "Hah I--well--'tis almost a pity.