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St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England by Robert Louis Stevenson
page 39 of 373 (10%)
Keroual de Saint-Yves?' said he.

'Well,' said I, 'I do not call myself all that; but I have a right
to, if I chose. In the meanwhile I call myself plain Champdivers,
at your disposal. It was my mother's name, and good to go
soldiering with.'

'I think not quite,' said he; 'for if I remember rightly, your
mother also had the particle. Her name was Florimonde de
Champdivers.'

'Right again!' said I, 'and I am extremely pleased to meet a
gentleman so well informed in my quarterings. Is monsieur Born
himself?' This I said with a great air of assumption, partly to
conceal the degree of curiosity with which my visitor had inspired
me, and in part because it struck me as highly incongruous and
comical in my prison garb and on the lips of a private soldier.

He seemed to think so too, for he laughed.

'No, sir,' he returned, speaking this time in English; 'I am not
"BORN," as you call it, and must content myself with DYING, of
which I am equally susceptible with the best of you. My name is
Mr. Romaine--Daniel Romaine--a solicitor of London City, at your
service; and, what will perhaps interest you more, I am here at the
request of your great-uncle, the Count.'

'What!' I cried, 'does M. de Keroual de St.-Yves remember the
existence of such a person as myself, and will he deign to count
kinship with a soldier of Napoleon?'
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