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Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894

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

There could be
no mistake: my uncle enjoyed the situation as he had enjoyed few
things in the last quarter of a century. The fires of life scarce
survived in that frail body; but hatred, like some immortal
quality, was still erect and unabated.
Nevertheless my cousin persevered.
'I speak at a disadvantage,' he resumed. 'My supplanter, with
perhaps more wisdom than delicacy, remains in the room,' and he
cast a glance at me that might have withered an oak tree.
I was only too willing to withdraw, and Romaine showed as much
alacrity to make way for my departure. But my uncle was not to be
moved. In the same breath of a voice, and still without opening
his eyes, he bade me remain.
'It is well,' said Alain. 'I cannot then go on to remind you of
the twenty years that have passed over our heads in England, and
the services I may have rendered you in that time. It would be a
position too odious. Your lordship knows me too well to suppose I
could stoop to such ignominy. I must leave out all my defence--
your lordship wills it so! I do not know what are my faults; I
know only my punishment, and it is greater than I have the courage
to face. My uncle, I implore your pity: pardon me so far; do not
send me for life into a debtors' jail--a pauper debtor.'
'Chat et vieux, pardonnez?' said my uncle, quoting from La
Fontaine; and then, opening a pale-blue eye full on Alain, he
delivered with some emphasis:

'La jeunesse se flatte et croit tout obtenir;
La vieillesse est impitoyable.


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