for persons and things, of using continually the French locution:
"Fi! fi donc!" which he pronounced with a slight lisping.

The dining-room of the Chateau d'Uville was a large and regal hall,
the ancient mirrors of which constellated with bullet holes, and
the high Flanders tapestries, slashed with sword cuts and hanging
in shreds at certain places, told the tale of Mademoiselle Fifi's
favorite occupations and pastime during his hours of idleness.

On the walls, three family portraits, a warrior wearing his armor,
a Cardinal and a Chief Justice, were smoking long porcelain pipes,
while in its frame, ungilt by age, a noble lady in a tight waist,
was showing with an arrogant air an enormous pair of mustache
crayoned with charcoal.

And the Officers' luncheon went off almost silently in this mutilated
room, darkened by the shower outside, sad and depressing in its
vanquished appearance, the old oak parquet floor of which had become
solid like the floor of a bar room.

Having finished eating, it was time for smoking; they began to drink
and, reverting to their usual topic, they spoke of their monotonous
and tedious life. Bottles of cognac and liqueur passed from hand
to hand, and seating back on their chairs, they were all absorbing
their liqueur in repeated sips, holding at the corner of their
mouths the long curved pipes ending in a meerschaum bowl, invariably
daubed as if to seduce Hottentots.

As soon as their glasses were empty, they refilled them with
a gesture of resigned weariness. But Mademoiselle Fifi broke his