This was one of the most successful acts of usurpation recorded
in modern history. It has its parallels, I know; but I cannot now stop
to comment on them, or on my own folly and precipitation. I was as
firmly fixed behind the carriage, as Bonaparte was on the throne of
France after the battle of Eylau.
We stopped at a large _porte cochere_, being the entrance to a very
grand house, with lamps at the door, within a spacious court yard;
we drove in and drew up. I was down in a moment, opened the carriage
door, and let down the steps. The lady descended, laid her hand on my
arm without perceiving that she had changed her footman, and tripped
lightly up the stairs. I followed her into a handsome saloon, where
another servant in livery had placed lights on the table. She turned
round, saw me, and fainted in my arms.
It was, indeed, Eugenia, herself; and with all due respect to my
dear Emily, I borrowed a thousand kisses while she lay in a state of
torpor, in a fauteuil to which I carried her. It was some few minutes
before she opened her eyes; the man-servant, who had brought the
lights, very properly never quitted the room, but was perfectly
respectful in his manner, rightly conceiving that I had some authority
for my proceedings.
"My dearest Frank," said Eugenia, "what an unexpected meeting! What,
in the name of fortune, could have brought you here?"
"That," said I, "is a story too long, Eugenia, for a moment so
interesting as this.
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