Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 17, 2025
For the space of a few seconds Chauvelin had felt that his own life was in jeopardy, and that the Scarlet Pimpernel would indeed make a desperate effort to save himself and his wife. But the fear was short-lived: Marguerite as he had well foreseen would never save herself at the expense of others, and she was tied! tied! tied! That was his triumph and his joy!
I sat up, and remained for a long time filled with the delight and charm of the delicate little convolvulus that twined among the barley stems, the pimpernel that laced the ground below. Then that question returned. What was this place? How had I come to be sleeping here? I could not remember. It perplexed me that somehow my body felt strange to me.
"You see, my point is this. We feel that in a measure now the Scarlet Pimpernel is in our power.
Who is it?" asked the men. "An Englishman," came in weak accents from the ground. "Your name?" "I am called Kulmsted." "Bah! An aristocrat!" "No! An enemy of the Scarlet Pimpernel, like yourselves. I would have delivered him into your hands. But you let him escape you. As for me, he would have been wiser if he had killed me."
The impeccable Scarlet Pimpernel, the noble and gallant English gentleman, has agreed to deliver into our hands the uncrowned King of France in exchange for his own life and freedom. Methinks that even his worst enemy would not wish for a better ending to a career of adventure, and a reputation for bravery unequalled in Europe.
As Marguerite, sick with horror, listened to Chauvelin's directions to his underling, the whole of the plan for the capture of the Scarlet Pimpernel became appallingly clear to her. Chauvelin wished that the fugitives should be left in false security waiting in their hidden retreat until Percy joined them.
Then they recollected how the amnesty, the pardon, the national fete, this brilliant procession had come about, and somebody in the crowd shouted: "Allons! les us have a look at that English spy!..." "Let us see the Scarlet Pimpernel!" "Yes! yes! let us see what he is like!"
It was middle morning now, and a few passers-by were hurrying along wrapped to the nose in mufflers, for the weather was bitterly cold. Agnes waited until there was no one in sight, then she leaned forward over the table and whispered under her breath: "They say, citizen, that you alone in Paris know the whereabouts of the English milor' of him who is called the Scarlet Pimpernel...."
My daily notes are full of complimentary allusions to the weather. Once in a while it rained, and under date of the 6th I find this record, "Everybody complaining of the heat;" but as terrestrial matters go, the month was remarkably propitious up to the 25th. Then, all without warning, unless possibly from the pimpernel, which nobody heeded, a violent snow-storm descended upon us.
As in a dream, he heard the curt words of command: "Pass on, in the name of the Republic!" And all the while the thought hammered in his brain: "Something must be done! This is impossible! This cannot be! It is not I Chauvelin who am sitting here, helpless, unresisting. It is not that impudent Scarlet Pimpernel who is sitting there before me on the box, driving me to utter humiliation!"
Word Of The Day
Others Looking