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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"Uncle Bernac A Memory of the Empire"


'I have been looking over Lenormand's accounts, Josephine,' said he.
'Are you aware how many dresses you have had last year? You have had a
hundred and forty--no less--and many of them cost as much as twenty-five
thousand livres. I am told that you have six hundred dresses in your
wardrobes, many of which have hardly ever been used. Madame de Remusat
knows that what I say is true. She cannot deny it.'
'You like me to dress well, Napoleon.'
'I will not have such monstrous extravagance. I could have two
regiments of cuirassiers, or a fleet of frigates, with the money which
you squander upon foolish silks and furs. It might turn the fortunes of
a campaign. Then again, Josephine, who gave you permission to order
that parure of diamonds and sapphires from Lefebvre? The bill has been
sent to me and I have refused to pay for it. If he applies again, I
shall have him marched to prison between a file of grenadiers, and your
milliner shall accompany him there.'
The Emperor's fits of anger, although tempestuous, were never very
prolonged. The curious convulsive wriggle of one of his arms, which
always showed when he was excited, gradually died away, and after
looking for some time at the papers of de Meneval--who had written away
like an automaton during all this uproar--he came across to the fire
with a smile upon his lips, and a brow from which the shadow had
departed.


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