Alexandre Dumas,
My Memoirs, Vol. I, 1802 to 1821
“ The priming burnt, but the shot did not go off.This was a sad misfortune.I tried to let off one of M. Deviolaine's expressive oaths, but it was a half-hearted attempt: they did not seem to suit me. I never could swear properly, even in my angriest moments.I pricked my gun, I primed it, and I waited.M. Moquet had certainly not deceived me: a third hare came in the wake of its predecessors, and, like the last one, it crossed at right angles to me, within twenty paces! As before, I aimed and, when I had covered it carefully with my gun, I pressed my finger on the trigger. ”
