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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"Uncle Bernac A Memory of the Empire"


'Well, mademoiselle, what luck?' he asked excitedly, clanking towards
us.
For answer Sibylle shook her head.
'Ah, I feared as much, for the Emperor is a terrible man. It was brave,
indeed, of you to attempt it. I had rather charge an unshaken square
upon a spent horse than ask him for anything. But my heart is heavy,
mademoiselle, that you should have been unsuccessful.' His boyish blue
eyes filled with tears and his fair moustache drooped in such a
deplorable fashion, that I could have laughed had the matter been less
serious.
'Lieutenant Gerard chanced to meet me, and escorted me through the
camp,' said my cousin. 'He has been kind enough to give me sympathy in
my trouble.'
'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.


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