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Updated: June 5, 2025
But almost immediately the playing began again. "Now," thought Suvaroff, "why is the Italian not frightened? The door has been opened and he goes on playing, undisturbed.... It must be that he is sitting with his back to the door. If this is so, God help him!... Well, why need I worry? What is it to me?
It may be that I can get some word to them though it would cost me dear if Prince Mikail discovered that I had done it." "Boris Suvaroff and his father would help me," said Fred. "But Boris is a prisoner, and so is Prince Alexander, if my uncle tells the truth! And the American ambassador though I suppose he could do nothing." "I will do what I can.
"It was this battle," writes Admiral de la Gravière, "which for two years delivered over the Mediterranean to the British and called thither the squadrons of Russia, which shut up our army in the midst of a hostile people and led the Porte to declare against us, which put India beyond our reach and thrust France to the brink of ruin, for it rekindled the hardly extinct war with Austria and brought Suvaroff and the Austro-Russians to our very frontiers."
He should be receiving thanks and honors instead of being on his way to headquarters as a prisoner of war, condemned, as he well knew, in advance. For Fred had no illusions. He knew the power of Mikail Suvaroff, who was so plainly an important member of the high Russian command. Against so great a man his word would be valueless.
By this time that is to say, shortly before six bells in the afternoon watch the two fleets were heading about East-South-East, running in parallel lines, our own line leading that of the enemy by about a mile, while the Alexander Third was, like the Oslabia and Suvaroff, in flames and blazing furiously.
In Italy all the generals were doing badly. The Russian field marshal Suvaroff, with an Austro-Russian army, was sweeping everything before him. On the 27th of April he defeated Moreau at Cassano; he then occupied Milan, and drove the French south into Genoa. At this moment Macdonald, who had succeeded Championnet at Naples, was marching northwards to join Moreau.
He weighed Kelly's letter once more in his hand, then restored it to the bearer. "It's all right, Lieutenant McNeill. I'll pass you through. You read Byron?" "Yes," said Lieutenant McNeill briefly. "He's a great poet. 'Don Juan, now, and Suvaroff at Ismail He made no answer, but he took the city. The bivouac, too, in Mazeppa."
A shadow with an enormous nose appeared; and a fly, as big as a bumblebee, lit upon the nose and sat rubbing its legs together in insolent content. A hand, upraised, struck at the fly. The nose disappeared as if completely annihilated by the blow, while the fly hovered safely aloof. Feeling encouraged, Suvaroff took another drink.
During the war of the Spanish succession, the Duke of Vendôme, filthiest of generals, not excepting Suvaroff, commanded the French army in Italy.
Fred wasn't tired, for he had enraged Suvaroff, who had seemingly wanted him to be frightened, by sleeping during the journey to Virballen whenever he could. It had been comfortable enough on the train; he had not been treated as a prisoner, but as a guest. And he had, as a matter of fact, been aroused only an hour before the train had reached the frontier.
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