Ah, dear, dear!" "When I looked round," said Bonaparte, "the red and yawning cavity was above me, and the reprehensible paw raised to strike me.

My nerves," said Bonaparte, suddenly growing faint, "always delicate--highly strung--are broken--broken! You could not give a little wine, a little brandy my friend ?" The old German hurried away to the bookshelf, and took from behind the books a small bottle, half of whose contents he poured into a cup.
Bonaparte drained it eagerly.
"How do you feel now ?" asked the German, looking at him with much sympathy.
"A little, slightly, better." The German went out to pick up the battered chimneypot which had fallen before the door.
"I am sorry you got the fright.

The birds are bad things till you know them," he said sympathetically, as he put the hat down.
"My friend," said Bonaparte, holding out his hand, "I forgive you; do not be disturbed.

Whatever the consequences, I forgive you.

I know, I believe, it was with no ill-intent that you allowed me to go out.