[Posing loftily] I am a brigand: I live by robbing the rich.
The Brigands drop into their former places.
It does not matter: each brigand thinks himself scum, and likes to hear the others called dregs.
The Brigands disperse into groups lazily.
Until a movement shows itself capable of spreading among brigands, it can never hope for a political majority.
But are your brigands any less honest than ordinary citizens?
A cat may look at a king; and even a President of brigands may look at your sister.
I am a brigand, an outcast.
Mendoza descends, passing behind the fire and coming forward, whilst Tanner and Straker, in their motoring goggles, leather coats, and caps, are led in from the road by brigands.
The theft of the brigand-poetaster from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle is deliberate; and the metamorphosis of Leporello into Enry Straker, motor engineer and New Man, is an intentional dramatic sketch for the contemporary embryo of Mr H. G. Wells’s anticipation of the efficient engineering class which will, he hopes, finally sweep the jabberers out of the way of civilization.
[The brigands come running back scared].
Straker whistles his favorite air, which falls on the ears of the brigands like a funeral march.
The brigands, struggling with an over-whelming impulse to hide behind one another, look as unconcerned as they can.
The officer in command steps down from the road in to the amphitheatre; looks hard at the brigands; and then inquiringly at Tanner.
An irrepressible grin runs from face to face among the brigands.
[Tavy comes to the steps, Tanner whispers loudly to him] Violet has married a financier of brigands.
I’ve introduced him to Mendoza, Limited; and left the two brigands together to talk it out.
Yes, only to be stopped by a lovesick brigand and run down like a truant schoolboy.
The complete reality comes back with a rush: in a moment it is full morning in the Sierra; and the brigands are scrambling to their feet and making for the road as the goatherd runs down from the hill, warning them of the approach of another motor.
But I am well aware that the ordinary man—even the ordinary brigand, who can scarcely be called an ordinary man [Hear, hear!
There are no more uses of "brigand" in the book.
Show samples from other sources
The road is not safe because of roving brigands.
He sounds charming, but has the morals of a remorseless brigand.