blanquette

The lump of butter cast into the frying-pan sizzled, and Blanquette sighed again.

One night, a few weeks later, Blanquette appeared in my little student's attic.

She suffered, poor Blanquette, from the spretæ injuria formæ with reason even more solid than the forsaken Dido.

You will be bringing a maîtresse of your own here soon, and then you won't want Blanquette any longer.

I felt unreasonably angry that any one, save myself or perhaps Blanquette, should pity my beloved master.