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St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England by Robert Louis Stevenson
page 54 of 373 (14%)
Anne de Keroual de Saint-Yves, a private soldier.'

'I knew it!' cried the boy; 'I knew he was a noble!'

And I thought the eyes of Miss Flora said the same, but more
persuasively. All through this interview she kept them on the
ground, or only gave them to me for a moment at a time, and with a
serious sweetness.

'You may conceive, my friends, that this is rather a painful
confession,' I continued. 'To stand here before you, vanquished, a
prisoner in a fortress, and take my own name upon my lips, is
painful to the proud. And yet I wished that you should know me.
Long after this, we may yet hear of one another--perhaps Mr.
Gilchrist and myself in the field and from opposing camps--and it
would be a pity if we heard and did not recognise.'

They were both moved; and began at once to press upon me offers of
service, such as to lend me books, get me tobacco if I used it, and
the like. This would have been all mighty welcome, before the
tunnel was ready. Now it signified no more to me than to offer the
transition I required.

'My dear friends,' I said--'for you must allow me to call you that,
who have no others within so many hundred leagues--perhaps you will
think me fanciful and sentimental; and perhaps indeed I am; but
there is one service that I would beg of you before all others.
You see me set here on the top of this rock in the midst of your
city. Even with what liberty I have, I have the opportunity to see
a myriad roofs, and I dare to say, thirty leagues of sea and land.
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