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Reade, Charles, 1814-1884

"White Lies"


Presently, as if they had started from the earth, up popped between
Edouard and the sky, first a cocked hat that seemed in that light to be
cut with a razor out of flint; then the wearer, phosphorescent here and
there; so brightly the keen moonlight played on his epaulets and steel
scabbard. A step or two nearer, and Edouard gave a great shout; it was
Colonel Raynal.
After the first warm greeting, and questions and answers, Raynal told
him he was on his way to the Rhine with despatches.
"To the Rhine?"
"I am allowed six days to get there. I made a calculation, and found I
could give Beaurepaire half a day. I shall have to make up for it by
hard riding. You know me; always in a hurry. It is Bonaparte's fault
this time. He is always in a hurry too."
"Why, colonel," said Edouard, "let us make haste then. Mind they go
early to rest at the chateau."
"But you are not coming my way, youngster?"
"Not coming your way? Yes, but I am. Yours is a face I don't see every
day, colonel; besides I would not miss THEIR faces, especially the
baroness's and Madame Raynal's, at sight of you; and, besides,"--and the
young gentleman chuckled to himself, and thought of Rose's words, "the
next time we meet;" well, this will be the next time.


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