Uncle Bernac: A Memory of the Empire

by Arthur Conan Doyle

'This is Mademoiselle de Bergerot.'

'How old are you?'

'Twenty-three, sire.'

'It is time that you were married. Every woman should be married at twenty-three. How is it that you are not married?'

The poor girl appeared to be incapable of answering, so the Empress gently remarked that it was to the young men that that question should be addressed.

'Oh, that is the difficulty, is it?' said the Emperor. 'We must look about and find a husband for you.' He turned, and to my horror I found his eyes fixed with a questioning gaze upon my face.

'We have to find you a wife also, Monsieur de Laval,' said he. 'Well, well, we shall see—we shall see. What is your name?' to a quiet refined man in black.

'I am Gretry, the musician.'

'Yes, yes, I remember you. I have seen you a hundred times, but I can never recall your name. Who are you?'

'I am Joseph de Chenier.'