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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"Uncle Bernac A Memory of the Empire"


So frightened was she, that she began to run towards the fireplace, upon
which Madame de Remusat, who had no wish to form a rearguard upon such
an occasion, began running also, and the two of them, like a pair of
startled hens, came rustling and fluttering back to the seats which they
had left. There they cowered whilst the Emperor, with a convulsed face
and a torrent of camp-fire oaths, stamped and raged about the room.
'You, Constant, you!' he shouted; 'is this the way in which you serve
me? Have you no sense then--no discretion? Am I never to have any
privacy? Must I eternally submit to be spied upon by women?
Is everyone else to have liberty, and I only to have none? As to you,
Josephine, this finishes it all. I had hesitations before, but now I
have none. This brings everything to an end between us.'
We would all, I am sure, have given a good deal to slip from the room--at
least, my own embarrassment far exceeded my interest--but the Emperor
from his lofty standpoint cared as little about our presence as if we
had been so many articles of furniture.


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