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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"Uncle Bernac A Memory of the Empire"


'Sapristi! I will do even that if it will make her the happier!' he
cried, and he shook the hand which I extended towards him. 'The Hussars
of Bercheny are quartered over yonder, where you see the lines of
picketed horses. If you will send for Lieutenant Etienne Gerard you
will find a sure blade always at your disposal. Let me hear from you
then, and the sooner the better!' He shook his bridle and was off, with
youth and gallantry in every line of him, from his red toupet and
flowing dolman to the spur which twinkled on his heel.
But for four long days no word came from my cousin as to her quest, nor
did I hear from this grim uncle of mine at the Castle of Grosbois.
For myself I had gone into the town of Boulogne and had hired such a
room as my thin purse could afford over the shop of a baker named Vidal,
next to the Church of St. Augustin, in the Rue des Vents. Only last
year I went back there under that strange impulse which leads the old to
tread once more with dragging feet the same spots which have sounded to
the crisp tread of their youth.


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