Bonaparte appeared lost among old memories.
"Ah, that Duke of Wellington's nephew!" he broke forth suddenly; "many's
the joke I've had with him. Often came to visit me at Bonaparte Hall.
Grand place I had then--park, conservatory, servants. He had only one
fault, that Duke of Wellington's nephew," said Bonaparte, observing that
the German was deeply interested in every word, "He was a coward--what you
might call a coward. You've never been in Russia, I suppose?" said
Bonaparte, fixing his crosswise looking eyes on the German's face.
"No, no," said the old man humbly. "France, England, Germany, a little in
this country; it is all I have travelled."
"I, my friend," said Bonaparte, "I have been in every country in the world,
and speak every civilised language, excepting only Dutch and German. I
wrote a book of my travels--noteworthy incidents. Publisher got it--
cheated me out of it. Great rascals those publishers! Upon one occasion
the Duke of Wellington's nephew and I were travelling in Russia. All of a
sudden one of the horses dropped down dead as a doornail. There we were--
cold night--snow four feet thick--great forest--one horse not being able to
move the sledge--night coming on--wolves.
"'Spree!' says the Duke of Wellington's nephew.
"'Spree, do you call it? says I. 'Look out.
Pages:
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58