Marie ain't the kind that blats all she knows just to hear herself talk.

Marie, in fact, was quite hopeless, the "ugly duckling" of a good-looking family, and for this reason an object of dislike and resentment to her mother.

She said that, of course, I understood that I was still Mary and Marie, even if Jerry did call me Mollie; and that if Marie had married a man that wasn't always congenial with Mary, she was very sure Mary had enough stamina and good sense to make the best of it; and she was very sure, also, that if Mary would only make a little effort to be once in a while the Marie he had married, things might be a lot easierfor Mary.

Moreover, Marie was no longer in a position to oppose the pretensions of the Duc d'Epernon, even had she felt it expedient to do so; the unlimited confidence which she had reposed in him since the death of her royal consort having invested him with a factitious importance, by which he was enabled to secure a strong party in his favour upon every question in which he was personally interested.

And, you must admit, Marie is a devilish good-looking girl.

The Campo di Marie is a vast Place outside the town.

She was firmly persuaded that Marie was her daughter, and she wanted to see her before she died.

Madame Marie, probably the pasteur's widow, was a witness at the first baptism.

If she hadn't loved you do you think for one minute she'd come riding all the way out here to give you a warning?" "Marie and I are friends," he admitted.

Marie, indeed, was an admirable narrator.

Many affected to believe that Marie was the victim of sorcery, and that such was the real source of the influence of Leonora; and thus the heart-broken mother and unhappy wife, whose morbid imagination had caused her to consider her trials as the result of magical arts, was herself accused of having employed them against her royal benefactress.

" "Marie, what in the world is the matter with you?

Marie was a wife, a mother, and a queen; and in each of these characters she was insulted and outraged.

Marie was the epitome of all charms and graces.

To make matters worse, poor Jeanne-Marie had become a tad too taken with MacDonald Lindsay.

Marie is my new maid.

CAROLINE-MARIE, b. 1782; married Marat in 1800; became Grand-duchess of Berg and Clèves, then queen of Naples; died at Florence, 1839.

Concerning the latter, Agnew (French Protestant Exiles, i. p. 100) gives the following information: "Jean Marie, pasteur of Lion-sur-mer, was a refugee in England from the St. Bartholomew massacre.

She said that, of course, I understood that I was still Mary and Marie, even if Jerry did call me Mollie; and that if Marie had married a man that wasn't always congenial with Mary, she was very sure Mary had enough stamina and good sense to make the best of it; and she was very sure, also, that if Mary would only make a little effort to be once in a while the Marie he had married, things might be a lot easierfor Mary.

The comparative tranquillity which succeeded this new adjustment of the differences between the Queen and the Marquise continued until the month of September, on the 17th day of which Marie became the mother of a Dauphin (subsequently Louis XIII), at the palace of Fontainebleau, where, as had already been the case at the Louvre, the apartments of the favourite adjoined her own.

In their eyes now I was a German spy and Marie was my accomplice.

A consensus of critical opinion presumes that Marie was a subject of the English Crown, born in an ancient town called Pitre, some three miles above Rouen, in the Duchy of Normandy.

ye r't excellent ry't heich and mychte princess Marie be ye grace of God queen of Scottis douarrier of France on that ane pairt and ye ry't noble and potent prince James duke of Orkney erle

She was treated as a young lady; her mother absolutely wanted to make a lady of her, and I had not the heart to oppose her wish, so little Marie was a pet, in lovely silk skirts trimmed with ribbons.