t is I who saved your life, after
buying you with my money when you were not valued at more than
twenty-five louis. It is I who have passed three days and two nights in
cramming charcoal under your boiler. It is my father who gave you the
clothes you now have on. You are in our house. Drink the little glass of
brandy Gothon just brought you; but for God's sake give up the habit of
calling me rascal, of calling my mother 'Good Mother.' and of flinging
our friends into the street and calling them beggarly pandours!"
The colonel, all dumbfounded, held out his hand to Leon, M. Renault and
the doctor, gallantly kissed the hand of Mme. Renault, swallowed at a
gulp a claret glass filled to the brim with brandy, and said in a
subdued voice:
"Most excellent friends, forget the vagaries of an impulsive but
generous soul. To subdue my passions shall hereafter be my law. After
conquering all the nations in the universe, it is well to conquer one's
self."
This said, he submitted his ear to M. Nibor, who finished dressing it.
"But," said he, summoning up his recollections, "they did not shoot me
then?"
"No."
"And I wasn't frozen to death in the tower?"
"Not quite."
"Why has my uniform been taken off? I see! I am a prisoner!"
"You are free."
"Free! _Vive l'Empereur!_ But then, there's not a moment to lose! How
many leagues is it to Dantzic?"
"It's very far."
"What do you call this chicken coop of a town?"
"Fontainebleau."
"Fontainebleau! In France?"
"Prefecture of Seine-et-Marne. We are going to introduce to you the
sub-prefect, whom you just pitched into the street."
"What the Devil are your sub-prefects to me? I have a message from the
Emperor for General Rapp, and I must start, this very day, for Dantzic.
God knows whether I'll be there in time!"
"My poor Colonel, you will arrive too late. Dantzic is given up."
"That's impossible! Since when?"
"About forty-six years ago."
"Thunder! I did not understand that you were ... mocking me!"
M. Nibor placed in his hand a calendar, and said: "See for yourself! It
is now the 17th of August, 1859; you went to sleep in the tower of
Liebenfeld on the 11th of November, 1813; there have been, then,
forty-six years, all to three months, during which the world has moved
on without you."
"Twenty-four and forty-six; but then I would be seventy years old,
according to your statement!"
"Your vitality clearly shows that you are still twenty-four."
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