My God!
how little can I remember of the next few minutes! He was a boxer, this
shred of a man. He had been trained to strike. I tried to catch him by
the hands. Pac, pac, he came upon my nose and upon my eye. I put down
my head and thrust at him with it. Pac, he came from below. But ah!
I was too much for him. I hurled myself upon him, and he had no place
where he could escape from my weight. He fell flat upon the cushions
and I seated myself upon him with such conviction that the wind flew
from him as from a burst bellows.
"Then I searched to see what there was with which I could tie him. I
drew the strings from my shoes, and with one I secured his wrists, and
with another his ankles. Then I tied the cravat round his mouth again,
so that he could only lie and glare at me. When I had done all this,
and had stopped the bleeding of my own nose, I looked out of the coach
and ah, monsieur, the very first thing which caught my eyes was that
candle--that dear little candle--glimmering in the window of the
minister. Alone, with these two hands, I had retrieved the capitulation
of an army and the loss of a province. Yes, monsieur, what Abercrombie
and 5,000 men had done upon the beach at Aboukir was undone by me,
single-handed, in a hackney coach in Harley Street.
Pages:
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322