The Story of an African Farm, a novel by Olive Schreiner
page 40 of 369 (10%)
page 40 of 369 (10%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
kinsman;' and so Bonaparte Blenkins became my name--Bonaparte Blenkins.
Yes, sir," said Bonaparte, "there is a stream on my maternal side that connects me with a stream on his maternal side." The German made a sound of astonishment. "The connection," said Bonaparte, "is one which could not be easily comprehended by one unaccustomed to the study of aristocratic pedigrees; but the connection is close." "Is it possible!" said the German, pausing in his work with much interest and astonishment. "Napoleon an Irishman!" "Yes," said Bonaparte, "on the mother's side, and that is how we are related. There wasn't a man to beat him," said Bonaparte, stretching himself--"not a man except the Duke of Wellington. And it's a strange coincidence," added Bonaparte, bending forward, "but he was a connection of mine. His nephew, the Duke of Wellington's nephew, married a cousin of mine. She was a woman! See her at one of the court balls--amber satin-- daisies in her hair. Worth going a hundred miles to look at her! Often seen her there myself, sir!" The German moved the leather thongs in and out, and thought of the strange vicissitudes of human life, which might bring the kinsman of dukes and emperors to his humble room. Bonaparte appeared lost among old memories. "Ah, that Duke of Wellington's nephew!" he broke forth suddenly; "many's the joke I've had with him. Often came to visit me at Bonaparte Hall. |
|