human
gasped Lady Maréchale, again shrinking back behind the azure curtains; the projectiles she had shot with such vindictive severity, such delighted acrimony, from the murderous mortar of malice, recoiling back upon her head for once, and crushing her to powder. What reception would they have _now_ at the Court? Von Rosenläu would be powerless; the Pullingers themselves would be better off! Pérette's pot of milk was smashed and spilt!
gpt
Adieu, veau, vache, cochon, couvée!
human
I have not seen you at the palace yet? asked her Grace of Frangipane.
gpt
We do not see you at the Court, mesdames? asked M. de la Croix-et-Cordons.
human
How did it happen you were not at the Duchess's ball last night? asked