“Doesn’t the general know everything?” cried Bourrienne.
“Well, about the Chartreuse; are there any monks there now?”
“No; only ghosts—”
“Are you, perchance, going to tell me a ghost-story?”
“And a famous one at that!”
“The devil! Bourrienne knows I love them. Go on.”
“Well, we were told at home that the Chartreuse was haunted by ghosts. Of course, you understand that Sir John and I, or rather I and Sir John, wanted to clear our minds about it. So we each spent a night there.”
“Where?”
“Why, at the Chartreuse.”
Bonaparte made an imperceptible sign of the cross with his thumb, a Corsican habit which he never lost.