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
'And so do I, Sibylle,' I cried; 'you carried yourself like an angel,
and it is a lucky man who is blessed with your love. I trust that he
may be worthy of it.'
She turned cold and proud in an instant when anyone threw a doubt upon
this wretched lover of hers.
'I know him as neither the Emperor nor you can do,' said she. 'He has
the heart and soul of a poet, and he is too high-minded to suspect the
intrigues to which he has fallen a victim. But as to Toussac, I should
have no pity upon him, for I know him to be a murderer five times over,
and I know also that there will be no peace in France until he has been
taken. Cousin Louis, will you help me to do it?'
The lieutenant had been tugging at his moustache and looking me up and
down with a jealous eye.
'Surely, mademoiselle, you will permit me to help you?' he cried in a
piteous voice.
'I may need you both,' said she. 'I will come to you if I do. Now I
will ask you to ride with me to the edge of the camp and there to leave
me.'
She had a quick imperative way which came charmingly from those sweet
womanly lips. The grey horse upon which I had come to the camp was
waiting beside that of the hussar, so we were soon in the saddle.
When we were clear of the huts my cousin turned to us.
'I had rather go alone now,' said she. 'It is understood, then, that I
can rely upon you.'
'Entirely,' said I.
'To the death,' cried Gerard.
'It is everything to me to have two brave men at my back,' said she, and
so, with a smile, gave her horse its head and cantered off over the
downland in the direction of Grosbois.
For my part I remained in thought for some time, wondering what plan she
could have in her head by which she hoped to get upon the track of
Toussac. A woman's wit, spurred by the danger of her lover, might
perhaps succeed where Fouche and Savary had failed. When at last I
turned my horse I found my young hussar still staring after the distant
rider.
'My faith! There is the woman for you, Etienne!' he kept repeating.
'What an eye! What a smile! What a rider! And she is not afraid of
the Emperor. Oh, Etienne, here is the woman who is worthy of you!'
These were the little sentences which he kept muttering to himself until
she vanished over the hill, when he became conscious at last of my
presence.
'You are mademoiselle's cousin?' he asked. 'You are joined with me in
doing something for her. I do not yet know what it is, but I am
perfectly ready to do it.'
'It is to capture Toussac.'
'Excellent!'
'In order to save the life of her lover.'
There was a struggle in the face of the young hussar, but his more
generous nature won.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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