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Despite the cheeky sign on the door of the grand building on Rue de Londres — “I’m feeling lucky” — I wasn’t the only one with mal de mer.

The gold miners, untouched by mal de mer, sang jolly songs and played cards to amuse themselves.

"Horrid thing, mal de mer!" remarked my lord, with a gleam of humor in his eye.

Our friend Frank, in his voyage to the polar ice-fields, suffered somewhat from mal de mer—it sounds far nicer in French than in English—but he bravely stuck to the deck.

It seemed to them like a personal affront for anyone not to succumb to mal de mer.