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Updated: June 29, 2025
There was a Cuban journalist, who was satisfactorily dirty, of whom Bonafoux used to say that he not only ate his plate of soup but managed to wash his face in it at the same time. There was a Catalan guitar player, besides some girls from Madrid who walked the tight rope, whom we used to invite to join us at the cafe from time to time.
"We are hardly ten minutes' walk from it." "But it is not in sight." "That hill prevents you from seeing it." "May we go for a stroll on the beach before breakfast is served?" "By all means. Well, your horse is still saddled. I will order mine I will come back for you." Marouin went out. Bonafoux remained at the window, absorbed in his thoughts.
He arrived in a few minutes, and almost immediately afterwards galloped off at full speed to Toulon, in order to find out from M. Bonafoux why the boat had not been sent to the king. On reaching the captain's house, he found it occupied by an armed force. They were making a search for Murat.
After riding along for ten minutes, Bonafoux went close to his companion and touched him on the thigh "Marouin," he said, "I have an important secret to confide to you." "Speak, captain. After a father confessor, you know there is no one so discreet as a notary, and after a notary an avocat." "You can quite understand that I did not come to your country house just for the pleasure of the ride.
King Louis XVIII remounted his throne, consequently Murat lost all hope of remaining in France; he felt he was bound to go. His nephew Bonafoux fitted out a frigate for the United States under the name of Prince Rocca Romana. The whole suite went on board, and they began to carry on to the boat all the valuables which the exile had been able to save from the shipwreck of his kingdom.
The sentinel, a faithful adherent to discipline, continued to pace up and down with his measured step, without troubling any more about the stranger's presence. A few moments later a group of several persons appeared from the direction of Les Lices. The night was magnificent, and the moon brilliant. Marouin recognised Bonafoux, and went up to him.
Marouin wished to have the horses unsaddled, but Bonafoux objected, saying that he must go back to Toulon immediately after lunch. Indeed, the coffee was hardly finished before he rose and took leave of his hosts. Marouin, called back to town by his work, mounted his horse too, and the two friends rode back to Toulon together.
"We are hardly ten minutes' walk from it." "But it is not in sight." "That hill prevents you from seeing it." "May we go for a stroll on the beach before breakfast is served?" "By all means. Well, your horse is still saddled. I will order mine I will come back for you." Marouin went out. Bonafoux remained at the window, absorbed in his thoughts.
He arrived in a few minutes, and almost immediately afterwards galloped off at full speed to Toulon, in order to find out from M. Bonafoux why the boat had not been sent to the king. On reaching the captain's house, he found it occupied by an armed force. They were making a search for Murat.
I believe this story to have been a pure fabrication, but I feel perfectly certain that Estevanez knew beforehand that the crime was to be attempted. Speaking of Estevanez, I recall also Bonafoux, whom I saw frequently. According to Gonzalez de la Pena, the painter, he held my versatility against me. "Bonafoux," remarked Pena, "feels that you are too versatile and too volatile." "Indeed?
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