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Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894

"St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England"

) 'Ah, my dear young
lady,' I continued, 'there are many of your countrymen languishing
in my country, even as I do here. I can but hope there is found
some French lady to convey to each of them the priceless
consolation of her sympathy. You have given me alms; and more than
alms--hope; and while you were absent I was not forgetful. Suffer
me to be able to tell myself that I have at least tried to make a
return; and for the prisoner's sake deign to accept this trifle.'
So saying, I offered her my lion, which she took, looked at in some
embarrassment, and then, catching sight of the dedication, broke
out with a cry.
'Why, how did you know my name?' she exclaimed.
'When names are so appropriate, they should be easily guessed,'
said I, bowing. 'But indeed, there was no magic in the matter. A
lady called you by name on the day I found your handkerchief, and I
was quick to remark and cherish it.'
'It is very, very beautiful,' said she, 'and I shall be always
proud of the inscription.--Come, Ronald, we must be going.' She
bowed to me as a lady bows to her equal, and passed on (I could
have sworn) with a heightened colour.
I was overjoyed: my innocent ruse had succeeded; she had taken my
gift without a hint of payment, and she would scarce sleep in peace
till she had made it up to me.


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