Perhaps, I might have told Joe about the pale
young gentleman, if I had not previously been betrayed into those enormous inventions to which I had confessed.
faintly murmured Fernand, but the word seemed to die away on his pale
agitated lips, and a convulsive spasm passed over his countenance.
Well, it has happened to me to do so in our Blaisois forests, and I remember that the first time I encountered one with its eyes fixed upon me, curled up, swinging its head and pointing its tongue, I remained fixed, pale
and as though fascinated, until the moment when the Comte de la Fere "
But when he beheld her pale
and hollow cheek, and found how her strength was wasted, he must have known that her appointed home was in a better land.
The last call was answered immediately by a small fair creature with pale
auburn hair and grey eyes, little more than four years old, who ran out silently and put her hand into her mother's.
With his vast strength, his shaggy hair, his smoky aspect, and the indescribable earthiness that incrusted him, he seemed to represent man's physical nature; while Aylmer's slender figure, and pale
, intellectual face, were no less apt a type of the spiritual element.
The persons of their world lived in an atmosphere of faint implications and pale
delicacies, and the fact that he and she understood each other without a word seemed to the young man to bring them nearer than any explanation would have done.
The smoke from the chimneys hung over it, a pale
blue haze; and the tall roofs, the spires of the churches, gave it a pleasantly medieval air.
Madame de Belliere was pale
, trembling, and full of respectful attentions for madame la surintendante, who, with one hand on her husband's, was looking anxiously towards the door by which Pelisson had gone out to bring D'Artagnan.
Yes, it was he, pale
, thin, with a changed and strangely softened but agitated expression on his face.
Her blooming full-pulsed youth stood there in a moral imprisonment which made itself one with the chill, colorless, narrowed landscape, with the shrunken furniture, the never-read books, and the ghostly stag in a pale
fantastic world that seemed to be vanishing from the daylight.
The songs of pale
emaciate hours, The fungus-growth of years of peace, Withered before us like mown flowers; We found no pleasure more in these When bullets fell in showers.