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Updated: May 18, 2025
"Champdivers, my lad, your health!" said a voice in my ear, and stopped me and there are few things I am more glad of in the retrospect than that it did. It must have been about four in the afternoon at least the rain had taken off, and the sun was setting with some wintry pomp when the current of my reflections was effectually changed by the arrival of two visitors in a gig.
We looked each other up and down. 'The situation is original, he resumed. 'Quite, said I. 'But let me tell you frankly you are blowing a cold coal. I owe you so much for your kindness to the prisoner Champdivers. 'Meaning that the lady's affections are more advantageously disposed of? he asked, with a sneer. 'Thank you, I am sure.
At this I became aware of his eyes set upon me with a considering look, and brought up sharply. "Well, well," said he. "Good-night to you, Champdivers. Come to me at breakfast-time to-morrow, and we'll talk of other subjects." I fully admit the man's conduct was not bad: in writing it down so long after the events I can even see that it was good.
The poor French prisoner, Champdivers, might be in a perpetual danger of arrest; but the rich travelling Englishman, St.-Ives, in his post-chaise, with his despatch-box by his side, could smile at fate and laugh at locksmiths. I repeated the proverb, exulting, Love laughs at locksmiths!
I did for him what I was able, nursed him, kept him covered, watched over his slumbers, sometimes held him in my arms at the rough places of the road. "Champdivers," he once said, "you are like a son to me like a son." It is good to remember, though at the time it put me on the rack. All was to no purpose.
Come, child, time to go to by-by. And as I still resisted, 'Champdivers! he said, 'this is weakness. You pain me. 'Ay, off to your beds with you! said Goguelat, and named us in a company with one of his jovial gross epithets. Accordingly the squad lay down in the dark and simulated, what they certainly were far from experiencing, sleep. It was not yet late.
I picked it up and unfolded it: "I, the Viscount Anne de Kéroual de Saint-Yves, formerly serving under the name of Champdivers in the Buonapartist army, and later under that name a prisoner of war in the Castle of Edinburgh, hereby state that I had neither knowledge of my uncle the Count de Kéroual de Saint-Yves, nor expectations from him, nor was owned by him, until sought out by Mr.
You had supposed, as like as not, it was a form of secrecy! But not so in the least. A part of England is already buzzing with the name of Champdivers; a day or two more and the mail will have carried it everywhere: so wonderful a machine is this of ours for disseminating intelligence! Think of it! When my father was born but that is another story.
Let Champdivers let the noble go the first." I confess there was a notable pause before the noble in question got his voice. But there was no room for choice. I had been so ill-advised, when I first joined the regiment, as to take ground on my nobility. I had been often rallied on the matter in the ranks, and had passed under the by-names of Monseigneur and the Marquis.
'Have I any news, said I, 'of a needle in a bundle of hay? "'The corporal I'm speaking of, said he, 'is or was called Champdivers. 'Was! I cried, 'you are not going to tell me he is dead? and I declare to you, comrade, the tears came into my eyes. 'No, he is not, said the stranger, 'and the best proof is that he will be here inquiring for letters before long.
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