His manners are not those of a
gentleman. While I was speaking to him, he actually turned his back upon
me, and cleared his throat! Every one hates him as much as fears him, of
all who are in the rank of gentlemen. How would it pay me to throw him
over, denounce my own doings, excuse them as those of a Frenchman and a
French officer, and bow the knee to Farmer George? Truly if it were not
for my mother, who has sacrificed her life for me, I would take that
course, and have done with it. Such all-important news would compel
them to replace me in the property of my forefathers; and if neighbours
looked coldly on me at first, I could very soon conquer that nonsense. I
should marry little Dolly, of course, and that would go half-way towards
doing it. I hate that country, but I might come to like it, if enough of
it belonged to me. Aha! What would my mother say, if she dreamed that
I could have such ideas? And the whole of my life belongs to her. Well,
let me get back to my ruins first. It would never do to be captured by
a British frigate. We had a narrow shave of it last time. And there will
be a vile great moon to-night."
With these reflections--which were upon the whole more to his credit
than the wonted web of thought--Carne with his long stride struck into
a path towards the beach where his boat was waiting. Although he knew
where to find several officers who had once been his comrades, he kept
himself gladly to his loneliness; less perhaps by reason of Napoleon's
orders than from the growing charm which Solitude has for all who begin
to understand her.
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