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Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge), 1825-1900

"Springhaven : a Tale of the Great War"

I have often hoped to hear of
it."
"You will never do that, sire," Scudamore answered, looking calmly and
firmly at the deep gray eyes, whose gaze could be met by none of the
millions who dread passion; "England will not submit, even if you
conquer her."
"It is well said, and doubtless you believe it," Napoleon continued,
with a smile so slight that to smile in reply to it would have been
impertinent; "but England is the same as other nations, although the
most obstinate among them. When her capital is occupied, her credit
ruined, her great lords unable to obtain a dinner, the government (which
is not the country) will yield, and the country must follow it. I have
heard that the King, and the Court, and the Parliament, talk of
flying to the north, and there remaining, while the navy cuts off our
communications, and the inferior classes starve us. Have you heard of
any such romance as that?"
"No, sire:" Scudamore scarcely knew what to call him, but adopted this
vocative for want of any better. "I have never heard of any such
plan, and no one would think of packing up, until our fleet has been
demolished."
"Your fleet? Yes, yes. How many ships are now parading to and fro, and
getting very tired of it?"
"Your Majesty's officers know that best," Scudamore answered, with his
pleasant open smile. "I have been a prisoner for a month and more, and
kept ten miles inland, out of sight of the sea."
"But you have been well treated, I hope.


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