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Uncle Bernac - A Memory of the Empire by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
page 27 of 213 (12%)
chiefly drawn, for there, beside the lamp and the book, lay an open
basket, from which projected the knuckle-end of a ham, the corner of a
loaf of bread, and the black neck of a bottle.

If my host had been suspicious and cold at our first meeting he was now
atoning for his inhospitality by an overdone cordiality even harder for
me to explain. With many lamentations over my mud-stained and sodden
condition, he drew a box close to the blaze and cut me off a corner of
the bread and ham. I could not help observing, however, that though his
loose under-lipped mouth was wreathed with smiles, his beautiful dark
eyes were continually running over me and my attire, asking and
re-asking what my business might be.

'As for myself,' said he, with an air of false candour, 'you will very
well understand that in these days a worthy merchant must do the best he
can to get his wares, and if the Emperor, God save him, sees fit in his
wisdom to put an end to open trade, one must come to such places as
these to get into touch with those who bring across the coffee and the
tobacco. I promise you that in the Tuileries itself there is no
difficulty about getting either one or the other, and the Emperor drinks
his ten cups a day of the real Mocha without asking questions, though he
must know that it is not grown within the confines of France. The
vegetable kingdom still remains one of the few which Napoleon has not
yet conquered, and, if it were not for traders, who are at some risk and
inconvenience, it is hard to say what we should do for our supplies.
I suppose, sir, that you are not yourself either in the seafaring or in
the trading line?'

I contented myself by answering that I was not, by which reticence I
could see that I only excited his curiosity the more. As to his account
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