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  The dissolution of the marriage was a great tie between them. Somuch that, seeing how much she looked up to Raynal, the doctor saidone day to the baronessbitcoin lightning network usage, "If I know anything of human nature, theywill marry again, provided none of you give her a hint which way herheart is turning."They, who have habituated themselves to live for others, can sufferas well as do great things. Josephine kept alive. A passion suchas hers, in a selfish nature, must have killed her.

"Nor I myself, governor.""What do you come for?""A suit of regimentals, and money to take me to Paris.""And suppose, instead of that, I turn out a corporal's guard, andbid them shoot you in the courtyard?""It would be the drollest thing you ever did, all things considered,"said the other coolly, but bitterly.solana beach car rentalThe governor looked for the book he had lately consulted, found thepage, handed it to the rusty officer, and watched him keenly: theblood rushed all over his face, and his lip trembled; but his eyedwelt stern yet sorrowful on the governor.

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"I have read your book, now read mine." He drew off his coat andshowed his wrists and arms, blue and waled. "Can you read that,sir?""No.""All the better for you: Spanish fetters, general." He showed awhite scar on his shoulder. "Can you read that? This is what I cutout of it," and he handed the governor a little round stone as bigand almost as regular as a musket-ball."Humph! that could hardly have been fired from a French musket.""Can you read this?" and he showed him a long cicatrix on his otherarm."Knife I think," said the governor."You are right, sir: Spanish knife. Can you read this?" and openinghis bosom he showed a raw wound on his breast."Oh, the devil!" cried the governor.

The wounded man put his rusty coat on again, and stood erect, andhaughty, and silent.The general eyed him, and saw his great spirit shining through thisman. The more he looked the less could the scarecrow veil the herofrom his practised eye. He said there must be some mistake, or elsehe was in his dotage; after a moment's hesitation, he added, "Beseated, if you please, and tell me what you have been doing allthese years.""Suffering.""Not all the time, I suppose.""Without intermission.""But what? suffering what?""Cold, hunger, darkness, wounds, solitude, sickness, despair,prison, all that man can suffer.""Impossible! a man would be dead at that rate before this.""I should have died a dozen deaths but for one thing; I had promisedher to live."There was a pause. Then the old soldier said gravely, but morekindly, to the young one, "Tell me the facts, captain" (the firsttime he had acknowledged his visitor's military rank).When the other servants had retired with their wages, one Jacintharemained behind, and begged permission to speak to the baroness.

"What would you with me, my child?" asked that lady, with an accentin which a shade of surprise mingled with great politeness."Forgive me, madame," began Jacintha, with a formal courtesy; "buthow can I leave you, and Mademoiselle Josephine, and MademoiselleRose? I was born at Beaurepaire; my mother died in the chateau: myfather died in the village; but he had meat every day from thebaron's own table, and fuel from the baron's wood, and died blessingthe house of Beaurepaire. I CANNOT go. The others are gone becauseprosperity is here no longer. Let it be so; I will stay till thesun shines again upon the chateau, and then you shall send me awayif you are bent on it; but not now, my ladies--oh, not now! Oh! oh!oh!" And the warm-hearted girl burst out sobbing ungracefully."My child," said the baroness, "these sentiments touch me, and honoryou. But retire, if you please, while I consult my daughters."Jacintha cut her sobs dead short, and retreated with a formalreverence.

The consultation consisted of the baroness opening her arms, andboth her daughters embracing her at once. Proud as they were, theywept with joy at having made one friend amongst all their servants.Jacintha stayed.

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As months rolled on, Rose de Beaurepaire recovered her naturalgayety in spite of bereavement and poverty; so strong are youth, andhealth, and temperament. But her elder sister had a grief all herown: Captain Dujardin, a gallant young officer, well-born, and hisown master, had courted her with her parents' consent; and, evenwhen the baron began to look coldly on the soldier of the Republic,young Dujardin, though too proud to encounter the baron's irony andlooks of scorn, would not yield love to pique. He came no more tothe chateau, but he would wait hours and hours on the path to thelittle oratory in the park, on the bare chance of a passing word oreven a kind look from Josephine. So much devotion gradually won aheart which in happier times she had been half encouraged to givehim; and, when he left her on a military service of uncommon danger,the woman's reserve melted, and, in that moment of mutual grief andpassion, she vowed she loved him better than all the world.Letters from the camp breathing a devotion little short of worshipfed her attachment; and more than one public mention of his name andservices made her proud as well as fond of the fiery young soldier.Still she did not open her heart to her parents. The baron, aliveat that time, was exasperated against the Republic, and all whoserved it; and, as for the baroness, she was of the old school: apassionate love in a lady's heart before marriage was contrary toher notions of etiquette. Josephine loved Rose very tenderly; butshrank with modest delicacy from making her a confidante offeelings, the bare relation of which leaves the female hearer achild no longer.So she hid her heart, and delicious first love nestled deep in hernature, and thrilled in every secret vein and fibre.

They had parted two years, and he had joined the army of thePyrenees about one month, when suddenly all correspondence ceased onhis part.Restless anxiety rose into terror as this silence continued; andstarting and trembling at every sound, and edging to the window atevery footstep, Josephine expected hourly the tidings of her lover'sdeath.Months rolled on in silence.Then a new torture came. He must not be dead but unfaithful. Atthis all the pride of her race was fired in her.

The struggle between love and ire was almost too much for nature:violently gay and moody by turns she alarmed both her mother and thegood Dr. Aubertin. The latter was not, I think, quite withoutsuspicion of the truth; however, he simply prescribed change of airand place; she must go to Frejus, a watering-place distant aboutfive leagues. Mademoiselle de Beaurepaire yielded a languid assent.

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To her all places were alike.But when they returned from Frejus a change had taken place. Rosehad extracted her sister's secret, and was a changed girl. Pity,and the keen sense of Josephine's wrong, had raised her sisterlylove to a passion. The great-hearted girl hovered about her lovely,suffering sister like an angel, and paid her the tender attentionsof a devoted lover, and hated Camille Dujardin with all her heart:

hated him all the more that she saw Josephine shrink even from herwhenever she inveighed against him.At last Rose heard some news of the truant lover. The fact is, thisyoung lady was as intelligent as she was inexperienced; and she hadasked Jacintha to tell Dard to talk to every soldier that passedthrough the village, and ask him if he knew anything about CaptainDujardin of the 17th regiment. Dard cross-examined about a hundredinvalided warriors, who did not even recognize the captain's name;but at last, by extraordinary luck, he actually did fall in withtwo, who told him strange news about Captain Dujardin. And so thenDard told Jacintha; and Jacintha soon had the men into the kitchenand told Rose. Rose ran to tell Josephine; but stopped in thepassage, and turned suddenly very cold. Her courage failed her; shefeared Josephine would not take the news as she ought; and perhapswould not love her so well if SHE told her; so she thought toherself she would let the soldiers tell their own tale. She wentinto the room where Josephine was reading to the baroness and Dr.Aubertin; she sat quietly down; but at the first opportunity madeJosephine one of those imperceptible signals which women, and aboveall, sisters, have reduced to so subtle a system. This done, shewent carelessly out: and Josephine in due course followed her, andfound her at the door."What is it?" said Josephine, earnestly."Have you courage?" was Rose's reply."He is dead?" said Josephine, turning pale as ashes.

"No, no;" said Rose hastily; "he is alive. But you will need allyour courage.""Since he lives I fear nothing," said Josephine; and stood there andquivered from head to foot. Rose, with pitying looks, took her bythe hand and drew her in silence towards the kitchen.Josephine yielded a mute submission at first; but at the very doorhung back and faltered, "He loves another; he is married: let mego." Rose made no reply, but left her there and went into thekitchen and found two dragoons seated round a bottle of wine. Theyrose and saluted her.

"Be seated, my brave men," said she; "only please tell me what youtold Jacintha about Captain Dujardin.""Don't stain your mouth with the captain, my little lady. He is atraitor.""How do you know?""Marcellus! mademoiselle asks us how we know Captain Dujardin to bea traitor. Speak."Marcellus, thus appealed to, told Rose after his own fashion that heknew the captain well: that one day the captain rode out of the campand never returned: that at first great anxiety was felt on hisbehalf, for the captain was a great favorite, and passed for thesmartest soldier in the division: that after awhile anxiety gaveplace to some very awkward suspicions, and these suspicions it washis lot and his comrade's here to confirm. About a month later heand the said comrade and two more were sent, well mounted, toreconnoitre a Spanish village. At the door of a little inn theycaught sight of a French uniform. This so excited their curiositythat he went forward nearer than prudent, and distinctly recognizedCaptain Dujardin seated at a table drinking between two guerillas;then he rode back and told the others, who then came up andsatisfied themselves it was so: that if any of the party hadentertained a doubt, it was removed in an unpleasant way; he,Marcellus, disgusted at the sight of a French uniform drinking amongSpaniards, took down his carabine and fired at the group ascarefully as a somewhat restive horse permitted: at this, as if bymagic, a score or so of guerillas poured out from Heaven knowswhere, musket in hand, and delivered a volley; the officer incommand of the party fell dead, Jean Jacques here got a broken arm,and his own horse was wounded in two places, and fell from loss ofblood a few furlongs from the French camp, to the neighborhood ofwhich the vagabonds pursued them, hallooing and shouting and firinglike barbarous banditti as they were."However, here I am," concluded Marcellus, "invalided for awhile, mylady, but not expended yet: we will soon dash in among them againfor death or glory. Meantime," concluded he, filling both glasses,"let us drink to the eyes of beauty (military salute); and to therenown of France; and double damnation to all her traitors, likethat Captain Dujardin; whose neck may the devil twist."Ere they could drink to this energetic toast, a low wail at thedoor, like a dying hare's, arrested the glasses on their road, andthe rough soldiers stood transfixed, and looked at one another insome dismay. Rose flew to the door with a face full of concern.

Josephine was gone.Then Rose had the tact and resolution to say a few kind, encouragingwords to the soldiers, and bid Jacintha be hospitable to them. Thisdone she darted up-stairs after Josephine; she reached the maincorridor just in time to see her creep along it with the air andcarriage of a woman of fifty, and enter her own room.

Rose followed softly with wet eyes, and turned the handle gently.But the door was locked."Josephine! Josephine!"No answer."I want to speak to you. I am frightened. Oh, do not be alone."A choking voice answered, "Give me a little while to draw mybreath." Rose sank down at the door, and sat close to it, with herhead against it, sobbing bitterly. She was hurt at not being letin; such a friend as she had proved herself. But this personalfeeling was only a fraction of her grief and anxiety.

A good half hour elapsed ere Josephine, pale and stern as no one hadever seen her till that hour, suddenly opened the door. She startedat sight of Rose couched sorrowful on the threshold; her stern lookrelaxed into tender love and pity; she sank, blushing, on her knees,and took her sister's head quickly to her bosom. "Oh, my littlelove, have you been here all this time?"--"Oh! oh! oh!" was all thelittle love could reply. Then the deserted one, still kneeling,took Rose in her lap, and caressed and comforted her, and pouredwords of gratitude and affection over her like a warm shower.They rose hand in hand.

Then Rose suddenly seized Josephine, and looked long and anxiouslydown into her eyes. They flashed fire under the scrutiny. "Yes, itis all over; I could not despise and love. I am dead to him, as heis dead to France."This was joyful news to Rose. "I hoped it would be so," said she;"but you frightened me. My noble sister, were I ever to lose youresteem, I should die. Oh, how awful yet how beautiful is yourscorn. For worlds I would not be that Cam"-- Josephine laid herhand imperiously on Rose's mouth. "To mention his name to me willbe to insult me; De Beaurepaire I am, and a Frenchwoman. Come,dear, let us go down and comfort our mother."They went down; and this patient sufferer, and high mindedconqueror, of her own accord took up a commonplace book, and readaloud for two mortal hours to her mother and Aubertin. Her voiceonly wavered twice.To feel that life is ended; to wish existence, too, had ceased; andso to sit down, an aching hollow, and take a part and sham aninterest in twaddle to please others; such are woman's feats. Howlike nothing at all they look!

A man would rather sit on the buffer of a steam-engine and ride atthe Great Redan.Rose sat at her elbow, a little behind her, and turned the leaves,and on one pretence or other held Josephine's hand nearly all therest of the day. Its delicate fibres remained tense, like agreyhound's sinews after a race, and the blue veins rose to sight init, though her voice and eyes were mastered.

So keen was the strife, so matched the antagonists, so hard thevictory.For ire and scorn are mighty. And noble blood in a noble heart isheroic. And Love is a giant.Chapter 2The French provinces were now organized upon a half military plan,by which all the local authorities radiated towards a centre ofgovernment. By-the-by, this feature has survived subsequentrevolutions and political changes.

In days of change, youth is at a premium; because, though experienceis valuable, the experience of one order of things unfits ordinarymen for another order of things. So a good many old fogies inoffice were shown the door, and a good deal of youth and energyinfused into the veins of provincial government. For instance,Edouard Riviere, who had but just completed his education withsingular eclat at a military school, was one fine day ordered intoBrittany to fill a responsible post under Commandant Raynal, ablunt, rough soldier, that had risen from the ranks, and bore a muchhigher character for zeal and moral integrity than for affability.This officer was the son of a widow that kept a grocer's shop inParis. She intended him for spice, but he thirsted for glory, andvexed her. So she yielded, as mothers will.

In the armies of the republic a good soldier rose with unparalleledcertainty, and rapidity, too; for when soldiers are being mowed downlike oats, it is a glorious time for such of them as keep theirfeet. Raynal mounted fast, and used to write to his mother, andjoke her about the army being such a bad profession; and, as he wasall for glory, not money, he lived with Spartan frugality, and savedhalf his pay and all his prize money for the old lady in Paris.But this prosperous man had to endure a deep disappointment; on thevery day he was made commandant and one of the general's aides-de-camp, came a letter into the camp. His mother was dead after ashort illness. This was a terrible blow to the simple, ruggedsoldier, who had never had much time nor inclination to flirt with alot of girls, and toughen his heart. He came back to Paris honoredand rich, but downcast. The old home, empty of his mother, seemedto him not to have the old look. It made him sadder. To cheer himup they brought him much money. The widow's trade had taken awonderful start the last few years, and she had been playing thesame game as he had, living on ten-pence a day, and saving all forhim. This made him sadder, if anything.

"What," said he, "have we both been scraping all this dross togetherfor? I would give it all to sit one hour by the fire, with her handin mine, and hear her say, 'Scamp, you made me unhappy when you wereyoung, but I have lived to be proud of you.'"He applied for active service, no matter what: obtained at once thispost in Brittany, and threw himself into it with that honest zealand activity, which are the best earthly medicine for all ourgriefs. He was busy writing, when young Riviere first presentedhimself. He looked up for a moment, and eyed him, to take hismeasure; then put into his hand a report by young Nicole, asubordinate filling a post of the same nature as Riviere's; and badehim analyze that report on the spot: with this he instantly resumedhis own work.Edouard Riviere was an adept at this sort of task, and soon handedhim a neat analysis. Raynal ran his eye over it, nodded coldapproval, and told him to take this for the present as a guide as tohis own duties. He then pointed to a map on which Riviere'sdistrict was marked in blue ink, and bade him find the centre of it.

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Perspectives of a 2x entrepreneur turned VC at @UpfrontVC#

Mark Suster

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2x entrepreneur. Sold both companies (last to salesforce.com). Turned VC looking to invest in passionate entrepreneurs 〞 I*m on Twitter at @msuster

Both Sides of the Table

Perspectives of a 2x entrepreneur turned VC at @UpfrontVC, the largest and most active early-stage fund in Southern California. Snapchat: msuster

Mark Suster

Written by

2x entrepreneur. Sold both companies (last to salesforce.com). Turned VC looking to invest in passionate entrepreneurs 〞 I*m on Twitter at @msuster

Both Sides of the Table

Perspectives of a 2x entrepreneur turned VC at @UpfrontVC, the largest and most active early-stage fund in Southern California. Snapchat: msuster