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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"Uncle Bernac A Memory of the Empire"

He is good-humoured and easy. But at that time he had got
nothing, but coveted everything. His glance frightened women.
He walked the streets like a wolf. People looked after him as he
passed. His face was quite different--it was craggy, hollow-cheeked,
with an oblique menacing gaze, and the jaws of a pike. Oh, yes, this
little Lieutenant Buonaparte from the Military School of Brienne was a
singular figure. "There is a man," said I, when I saw him, "who will
sit upon a throne or kneel upon a scaffold." And now look at him!'
'And that is ten years ago,' I exclaimed.
'Only ten years, and they have brought him from a barrack-room to the
Tuileries. But he was born for it. You could not keep him down.
De Bourrienne told me that when he was a little fellow at Brienne he had
the grand Imperial manner, and would praise or blame, glare or smile,
exactly as he does now. Have you seen his mother, Monsieur de Laval?
She is a tragedy queen, tall, stern, reserved, silent. There is the
spring from which he flowed.'
I could see in the gentle, spaniel-eyes of the secretary that he was
disturbed by the frankness of de Caulaincourt's remarks.


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