The Son of Clemenceau 
 
The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Son of Clemenceau, by Alexandre 
(fils) Dumas 
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Title: The Son of Clemenceau 
Author: Alexandre (fils) Dumas 
Release Date: October 1, 2004 [eBook #13572] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SON 
OF CLEMENCEAU*** 
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THE SON OF CLEMENCEAU 
A Novel of Modern Love and Life 
A Sequel to The Clemenceau Case by 
ALEXANDER DUMAS (FILS) 
 
CHAPTER I. 
STUDENT AND SOLDIER. 
The sunset-gun had been fired from the ramparts of the fortifications of 
Munich and the shadows were thickly descending on the famous old 
city of Southern Germany. The evening breeze in this truly March 
weather came chill over the plain of stones where Isar flowed darkly,
and at the first puff of it, forcing him to wind his cloak round him, a 
lonely wanderer in the low quarter recognized why "the City of Monks" 
was also called "the Realm of Rheumatism." 
The new town, which he had not yet seen, might justify yet another of 
its nicknames, "the German Athens," but here were, in this southern 
and unfashionable suburb, only a few modern structures, and most of 
the quaint and rather picturesque dwellings, overhanging the stores, 
dated anterior to the filling up of the town moat in 1791. 
The stranger was clearly fond of antiquarian spectacles, for his eye, 
though too youthful to belong to a Dryasdust professor, and unshaded 
by the almost universal colored spectacles of the learned classes, 
gloated on the mansions, once inhabited by the wealthy burghers. They 
were irregular in plan and period of erection; the windows had 
ornamental frames of great depth, but some were blocked up, which 
gave the facades a sinister aspect; the walls had not only ornamental 
tablets in stucco, but, in a better light, would have shown rude fresco 
paintings not unworthy mediæval Italian dwellings. Many of the fronts 
resembled the high poops of the castellated ships of three hundred years 
ago, and they cast a shadow on the muddy pavement. As they 
resembled ships, the slimy footway seemed the strand where they had 
been beached by the running out of the tide. 
As the darkness increased, the amateur of architecture became more 
solitary in the streets where the peasants in long black coats, their 
holiday wear, were hurrying to leave by the gates, and the storekeepers 
had renounced any hope of taking more money, in this ward, gloomy, 
neglected and remote from the mode, no display of goods was made 
after dark. But the man, finding novel effects in the obscurity, 
continued to gaze on the rickety houses and bestowed only a transient 
portion of his curiosity on the few wayfarers who stolidly trudged past 
him to cross a bridge of no importance a little beyond his post. 
One or two of the passengers, rather those of the gentler sex than the 
rude one, had, however, given attention to the figure which the flowing 
cloak did not wholly muffle. With his dark complexion and slender 
form, not much in keeping with the thickset and heavy-footed natives,
and his glistening black eyes, he made the corner where he ensconced 
himself appear the nook where an Italian or Spanish gallant was 
waylaying a rival in love. 
Presently there was a change in the lighting of the scene, the gloom had 
become trying to his sight. Not only were two lamps lit on the small 
bridge, one at each end in the ornate iron scroll work, which Quintin 
Matsys would not have disavowed, but, overhead, the sky was 
reddened by the reflection of the thousands of gas jets in the north and 
west; the gay and spendthrift city was awakening to life and mirth 
while the working town was going to bed. This glimmer gave a fresh 
attraction to the architectural features, and still longer detained the 
spectator. 
"Superb!" he muttered, in excellent German, without local peculiarity, 
as if he had learned it from professors, but there was a slight trace of an 
accent not native. "It has even now the effect which Gustavus Adolphus 
termed: 'a gilded saddle on a lean jade!'" Then, shivering again, he 
added, struck as well by the now completely deserted state of the ways 
as by the cold wind: "How bleak and desolate! One could implore these 
carved wooden statues to come down and people the odd, interesting 
streets!" 
He was about to leave the spot, when, as though his wish was gratified, 
a strange sound was    
    
		
	
	
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