Sir Percy Hits Back
Baroness Emma Orczy
Historical Romance/Adventure
Published 1927
Synopsis
During the French Revolution, the aristocratic Fleurette is thrust into danger when her family is accused of treason by revolutionary authorities. Her father, the notorious French agent Armand Chauvelin, finds himself in the unusual position of having to seek the help of his arch-enemy, the British Scarlet Pimpernel, to save his daughter. The story unfolds against the backdrop of revolutionary suspicion and the perils of being labeled a traitor, which juxtaposes Chauvelin’s ruthless revolutionary zeal with Sir Percy’s audacious gallantry and cunning, resulting in an uneasy collaboration between nemeses for a common, urgent goal: saving Fleurette’s life.
Novel Excerpt
Parting is not such sweet sorrow as the greatest of all poets would have us believe. At any rate Fleurette did not find it at all sweet, on this her eighteenth birthday, which should have been a very happy one.
It was bad enough saying “adieu” to Bibi. But Fleurette was accustomed to that. Of late Bibi had been so often and so long absent from home; sometimes weeks—nay! months—would elapse and there would be no Bibi to fondle Fleurette and bring life and animation within those whitewashed walls that held all that was dearest to her in the world. It was undoubtedly heartrending to bid Bibi adieu: but in a way, one knew that the darling would come back to Lou Mas as soon as he was able, come for one of those surprise visits that made Fleurette as gay as a linnet all the while they lasted. But to say goodbye to Amédé was a different matter. He was going into the army. He was going to fight the English. Le Bon Dieu alone knew if Amédé would ever come back. Perhaps he would be killed. Perhaps—oh! perhaps—
Never in her life had Fleurette been so sad.
And now the last goodbyes had been said. Bibi, accompanied by M’sieu’ Colombe and Amédé, had walked away in the direction of the village, where he would pick up his horse, and start along the main road that led to Serres and thence to Paris.
Fleurette remained on the bridge for some time, shading her eyes against the sun, because they ached so from all the tears which she had shed. The three men had become mere specks, ’way down the road: old Louise had gone back to her kitchen with Adèle, only Fleurette remained standing on the bridge alone. Tears were still running down her cheeks, whilst with aching eyes she strove to catch a last sight of Bibi as he and his two companions disappeared round the bend of the road. Or was it Amédé she was trying to see?