Free Betsy and the Emperor (9781439115879) by Staton Rabin Page A

still the long white robe like an Arabian prince. His ragged beard was now completely gray, though, and almost reached his navel.
    He shuffled toward me, extending his long, bony arms. “Oh, my dear child! How you have grown!” Huff embraced me, and I daresay he shed a tear or two. “Let me look at you.”
    He stepped backward, and it was then that he noticed I was not alone, for Bonaparte had been lurking, sword aready, in the shadows. Oddly, it seemed the emperor had been intent on defending me, should the need arise.
    â€œHave I…interrupted you, my dear?” Huff said, embarrassed. “I will go, of course….” And he turned to leave. I was puzzled at first by his unease. And then it dawned on me: He thought he’d interrupted a romantic tryst!
    I couldn’t contain a laugh. “No, no!” I said, almost choking with laughter. “Please don’t go. It’s nothing like that. He’s just a…”
    Bonaparte listened expectantly, waiting to see what word I’d supply to describe him, I suppose. But I was at a loss.
    â€œAcquaintance,” Bonaparte supplied in my behalf. “Of the most respectful kind.”
    â€œAh,” Huff said, as if that made everything clear.
    Apparently, his eyesight was none too good. He clearly did not recognize the emperor.
    â€œI hope you don’t mind my bringing him here,” I said to the old tutor. “We didn’t mean to give you a start.”
    â€œQuite all right,” Huff said, tugging at his beard. “I can use the company. You look to be an officer, young man. Betsy, you’ve done well for yourself, my dear.” He clapped Bonaparte feebly on the back. It was clear the emperor was not accustomed to such familiarities, but he did not protest.
    â€œYes,” Bonaparte said, amused. “An officer, indeed.”
    â€œWell, that’s a most commendable profession,” Huff said, lowering himself slowly into a chair. “Where are you stationed?”
    Bonaparte seemed to be enjoying the charade. “St. Helena,” he said. “My orders are that I shall be assigned here…indefinitely.”
    â€œMarvelous! Then we shall be seeing a lot of you,” Huff replied, peering through a lens at an insect specimen pinned to the table. Huff scribbled a few notes with a quill and stood up with agonizing slowness. He extended a veiny, arthritic hand to the emperor. “What is your name, young man?”
    Bonaparte said nothing but gave the old man his hand. I wanted to break the news to Huff as gently as possible. But there was no time for shilly-shallying.
    â€œThis is Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte of France,” I said.
    To my astonishment, Huff grabbed on to the seat of his chair and lowered himself painfully to one knee. He doffed his hat and bowed his head. The lamplight danced off his shiny bald spot.
    â€œForgive me, Your Majesty,” Huff said quietly.
    Bonaparte seemed as mystified as I by the oldman’s actions, but he was clearly pleased. For my part, I was afraid Huff would fall and break his hip.
    â€œHuff!” I protested, taking him by the arm. “No need to do that. Please stand up, my friend. He’s just a prisoner now.”
    Bonaparte’s eyes flashed fire at me.
    Huff raised his bowed head and stared at me with what can only be described as horror.
    â€œJust a prisoner?!” Huff said. I’d never known him to look so angry. He pounded the seat of the chair, albeit weakly. “Young lady, it seems they have not taught you properly in your fancy school!”
    â€œNow, now, old man,” Bonaparte said, helping Huff to his feet. I was surprised by the tenderness the emperor showed him. He could not have been more gentle had he been assisting his own mother. “No need to kneel to me. I can see you are a man of accomplishment yourself.” He glanced around the room. “Why secrete it away here?”
    â€œThank you,