in the sun.
II
Gallop! Gallop! The General
brooks no delay. Make way, good people,
and scatter out of his path, you, and your hens, and your dogs,
and your children. The General is returned from Egypt,
and is come
in a `caleche and four to visit his new property. Throw
open the gates,
you, Porter of Malmaison. Pull off your cap, my man,
this is your master,
the husband of Madame. Faster! Faster! A
jerk and a jingle
and they are arrived, he and she. Madame has red eyes. Fie! It
is for joy
at her husbands return. Learn your place, Porter. A
gentleman here
for two months? Fie! Fie, then! Since
when have you taken to gossiping.
Madame may have a brother, I suppose. That -- all green,
and red,
and glitter, with flesh as dark as ebony -- that is a slave; a bloodthirsty,
stabbing, slashing heathen, come from the hot countries to cure
your tongue
of idle whispering.
A fine afternoon it is, with tall bright clouds sailing over the
trees.
Bonaparte, mon ami, the trees are golden like my star, the star
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