Alfred; or, The Adventures of a French Gentleman — page 94: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

OF A FRENCH GENTLE\AN. Ct “Ah! he is a dutiful son, then,” continued Belle-Rose, affecting an interest in the domestic matters of the poor family—an interest which he did not feel. ‘ And his wife’’’ added he coolly. ‘¢ Alas! she is no more,” returned the old woman solemnly, while Jeannette wiped away the tears from her eyes, and stifled a convulsive sob. ‘‘ Behold the secret of that sensitive child’s melancholy,” said De Rosann within himself: ‘‘ she has not yet forgotten the delights of ma- ternal affection.” Belle-Rose saw that he had touched upon a tender cord, and hastened to turn the conversation. ‘ Tam sure, my good woman,” said he, addressing the old crone in a complimentary style, ‘‘I am sure I hardly know how to thank you sufficiently for the hospitable entertainment we have received: be assured, however, that neither I nor my companion will readily forget Mies ‘¢ T would that my poor cabin had better fare to offer you,”’ answered the grandmother, ‘‘ but such as it is, you are most welcome.” “ Oh!” exclaimed Belle-Rose with his usual nonchalance, ‘‘ we are old soldiers, and are accustomed to hardships of every kind.” ‘* Soldiers! are you soldiers?” cried Jeannette, a transient delight beaming in her blue eyes; then, fearful that her sudden vivacity might displease, she hung down her head and blushed deeply. ‘“‘ Yes, my pretty child, we are soldiers,’ returned Belle-Rose with- out the slightest embarrassment; “and have just returned from the wars. “ T thought France was at peace,” said the old woman. “Ono!” answered Relle-Rose; ‘‘ the Chinese have commenced hostilities against us, and the island of Madagascar has revolted.” ‘‘ Then Algiers is in China, I suppose,’ cried the grandmother, “ and it was the Chinese army which the great Marshal Bourmont defeated.”’ ‘“ Precisely, my good woman. I and my companion were engaged in all the campaigns, and have brought away ever-blooming laurels with us. ' & Ah! IT should like to see those laurels,’’ said the old woman, while De Rosann had the greatest difficulty to suppress a laugh. ‘What kind of men are the Chinese?” inquired Jeannette. ‘““ Giants, my love—seven feet high—mounted upon crocodiles, and clothed in armour,” replied Belle-Rose. ‘ Their king, whose name is Chinchangentopemandandarallah, is as tall as the church steeple of Brest, and as fierce as the lions in the Jardin des Plantes at Paris. He devours ten oxen at one meal, drinks up a river, and tramples upon his subjects as he walks abroad. Ah! as for his ferocity, God knows some of our poor countrymen can answer for it!” “ Bah! and you have seen all that?” exclaimed the old woman. ‘“ Every atom of it—the king—the crocodiles—and the ten oxen,” returned Belle- Rose after a pause, during which he assured himself by a single glance that he was not regarded with looks of incredulity on the part of the grandmother and Jeannette. ‘‘I once saw him take up a cow by the tail, just as you, my pretty maiden, would si% a pear by its stalk, and hurl the poor beast a thousand yards.” ’ CORNICE OOOKS (SO)