Oh, how strange you are with that mustache and those eyebrows!...
The driver, tall, dark-haired and unshaven with a pencil-thin mustache, set down his hamburger.
It was the same guy as Delaware and Alabama only the mustache is gone.
When the officers had emptied and smashed their glasses, Kirsten filled others and, in shirt sleeves and breeches, went glass in hand to the soldiers' bonfires and with his long gray mustache, his white chest showing under his open shirt, he stood in a majestic pose in the light of the campfire, waving his uplifted arm.
My mustache, my beloved mustache!
"He'd just shave his mustache off, maybe dye his hair and lose weight," Betsy grumbled.
"So?" the mustache finally said.
He might have a mustache, black hair or a shaved head for all we know, and two and a half million could buy a face-job making him look like Robert Redford.
Jonathan was dressed in a dark suit and had a mustache and goatee.
His face with its long mustache was serious as always, only his eyes were brighter than usual.
The captain chewed on his mustache and eyed Bordeaux thoughtfully.
They summarily dismissed his request for a mustache and disguise and refused to give him a gun for protection.
Mustache was Alfred Nota, from Boston, and tic-face was Homer Flanders, from Philadelphia.
"And I'm Carl," a thin man with a graying mustache said, pumping Alex's hand.
Exactly opposite Weyrother, with his glistening wide-open eyes fixed upon him and his mustache twisted upwards, sat the ruddy Miloradovich in a military pose, his elbows turned outwards, his hands on his knees, and his shoulders raised.
The man pulled up his mask enough for Howie to see a mustache and glasses but little else.
Like all infantry officers he wore no mustache, so that his mouth, the most striking feature of his face, was clearly seen.
A light footstep and the clinking of spurs were heard at the door, and the young count, handsome, rosy, with a dark little mustache, evidently rested and made sleeker by his easy life in Moscow, entered the room.
His servant was also a yellow, wrinkled old man, without beard or mustache, evidently not because he was shaven but because they had never grown.
Her mustache and eyebrows were extraordinarily becoming.
"Look, his mustache and eyelashes are all white!" said one of the strange, pretty, unfamiliar people--the one with fine eyebrows and mustache.
He slipped his arms under the cloak that covered her head, embraced her, pressed her to him, and kissed her on the lips that wore a mustache and had a smell of burnt cork.
On the way back Nicholas drove at a steady pace instead of racing and kept peering by that fantastic all-transforming light into Sonya's face and searching beneath the eyebrows and mustache for his former and his present Sonya from whom he had resolved never to be parted again.
"I see someone with a mustache," said Natasha, seeing her own face.
This inevitability alone can explain how the cruel Arakcheev, who tore out a grenadier's mustache with his own hands, whose weak nerves rendered him unable to face danger, and who was neither an educated man nor a courtier, was able to maintain his powerful position with Alexander, whose own character was chivalrous, noble, and gentle.
The lower jaw of an old Frenchman with a thick mustache trembled as he untied the ropes.
In one thin, translucently white hand he held a handkerchief, while with the other he stroked the delicate mustache he had grown, moving his fingers slowly.
"It's a great pity," and he gazed straight before him, absently stroking his mustache with his fingers.
A beard and mustache covered the lower part of his face, and a tangle of hair, infested with lice, curled round his head like a cap.
Nicholas sighed, bit his mustache, and laid out the cards for a patience, trying to divert his mother's attention to another topic.
As she listened to it she saw before her his smooth handsome forehead, his mustache, and his whole face, as she had so often seen it in the stillness of the night when he slept.
At tea all sat in their accustomed places: Nicholas beside the stove at a small table where his tea was handed to him; Milka, the old gray borzoi bitch (daughter of the first Milka), with a quite gray face and large black eyes that seemed more prominent than ever, lay on the armchair beside him; Denisov, whose curly hair, mustache, and whiskers had turned half gray, sat beside countess Mary with his general's tunic unbuttoned; Pierre sat between his wife and the old countess.
Denisov was a small man with a red face, sparkling black eyes, and black tousled mustache and hair.
An hussar was Natasha, and a Circassian was Sonya with burnt-cork mustache and eyebrows.
The lieutenant colonel of hussars smiled beneath his mustache at the orderly's tone, dismounted, gave his horse to a dispatch runner, and approached Bolkonski with a slight bow.
Having done that, the officer, lifting his elbow with a smart gesture, stroked his mustache and lightly touched his hat.
The tune he was whistling, his gait, and the gesture with which he twirled his mustache, all now seemed offensive.
His eyes shone and his mustache twitched as if he were smiling to himself at some amusing thought.
On the third day he was taken with the others to a house where a French general with a white mustache sat with two colonels and other Frenchmen with scarves on their arms.
"Put that down, that's bad... very bad," sternly remarked the general with the white mustache and red flushed face.
Senor Medena sat beside his desk and a heavy Spanish looking man with a mustache sat in Senor Medena's big chair.
As he removed the beginnings of a mustache from his upper lip, he glanced at her in the mirror and grinned.
Denisov sat gloomily biting his mustache and listening to the conversation, evidently with no wish to take part in it.
For a moment he dozed, but in that short interval innumerable things appeared to him in a dream: his mother and her large white hand, Sonya's thin little shoulders, Natasha's eyes and laughter, Denisov with his voice and mustache, and Telyanin and all that affair with Telyanin and Bogdanich.
"I think this used to be Natasha," thought Nicholas, "and that was Madame Schoss, but perhaps it's not, and this Circassian with the mustache I don't know, but I love her."
It seemed to him that it was only today, thanks to that burnt-cork mustache, that he had fully learned to know her.