Noticing her gaze, the Chevalier de Coriolus excused himself, stepped aside from his companions, and approached her, smiling. “I am astonished to find such a beautiful, charming lady is not the centre of ʼer own circle of admirers.” Eliza scoffed at the Frenchman’s rakish expression. “Why are you really going to the East Indies, monsieur le chevalier?” Smiling again, he simply said, “A Frenchman likes ʼis secrets, Mademoiselle. As for these feudal appellations, consign them to the dustbin together with ʼair powder and knee breeches. I am – simply – Monsieur, or, if you prefer, Citoyen.” “”Citizen?” Eliza laughed, opening her fan, for she was slightly flushed. “I can imagine only one reason why a French naval officer like yourself, in the prime of your career, would resign his commission and sail off to the Indian Ocean.” “Please,” Coriolus chuckled, “I am intrigued to ʼear your speculation.” “You intend to become a privateer.”
Posted on: Wed, 12 Jun 2013 20:53:59 +0000
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