Uncle Bernac: A Memory of the EmpireDoyle, Arthur Conan
History
Uncle Bernac: A Memory of the Empire
Doyle, Arthur Conan
France -- History -- Consulate and First Empire, 1799-1815 -- Fiction
'To denounce him!' cried the girl. 'I know that it was you who set him
on, who encouraged him, who held him to it whenever he tried to draw
back. Oh, you villain! you villain! What have I ever done, what sin of
my ancestors am I expiating, that I should be compelled to call such a
man Father?'
My uncle shrugged his shoulders as if to say that it was useless to
argue with a woman's tantrums. The hussar and I made as if we would
stroll away, for it was embarrassing to stand listening to such words,
but in her fury she called to us to stop and be witnesses against him.
Never have I seen such a recklessness of passion as blazed in her dry
wide-opened eyes.
'You have deceived others, but you have never deceived me,' she cried.
'I know you as your own conscience knows you. You may murder me, as you
murdered my mother before me, but you can never frighten me into being
your accomplice. You proclaimed yourself a Republican that you might
creep into a house and estate which do not belong to you. And now you
try to make a friend of Buonaparte by betraying your old associates, who
still trust in you. And you have sent Lucien to his death! But I know
your plans, and my Cousin Louis knows them also, and I can assure you
that there is just as much chance of his agreeing to them as there is of
my doing so. I'd rather lie in my grave than be the wife of any man but
Lucien.'
'If you had seen the pitiful poltroon that he proved himself you would
not say so,' said my uncle coolly. 'You are not yourself at present,
but when you return to your right mind you will be ashamed of having
made this public exposure of your weakness. And now, lieutenant, you
have something to say.'
'My message was to you, Monsieur de Laval,' said the young hussar,
turning his back contemptuously upon my uncle. 'The Emperor has sent me
to bring you to him at once at the camp at Boulogne.'
My heart leapt at the thought of escaping from my uncle.
'I ask nothing better,' I cried.
'A horse and an escort are waiting at the gates.'
'I am ready to start at this instant.'
'Nay, there can be no such very great hurry,' said my uncle. 'Surely
you will wait for luncheon, Lieutenant Gerard.'
'The Emperor's commissions, sir, are not carried out in such a manner,'
said the young hussar sternly. 'I have already wasted too much time.
We must be upon our way in five minutes.'
My uncle placed his hand upon my arm and led me slowly towards the
gateway, through which my cousin Sibylle had already passed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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