This romance novel is set in France following the Revolution as well as the expulsion of the Bourbons. The central plot revolves around the intrigues of their followers as well as those of Napoleon Bonaparte. Crystal, a beautiful lady, is the only daughter of the old and long-exiled snobbish royalist, Comte de Cambray. She is about to marry Victor de Marmont, who is secretly an ardent Bonapartist. Bobby Clyffurde, An Englishman is also in love with Crystal. Crystal has another admirer, Maurice de St. Geni. Who will eventually marry Crystal? Will Victor de Marmont's political beliefs be exposed?

"The Bronze Eagle: A Story of the Hundred Days" by Emmuska Orczy Baroness Orczy is a 1915 novel set in a post-French-Revolution world. A romance that follows in the aftermath of Napoleon's takeover of France through the eyes of Crystal, the story's main character. A book full of romance and intrigue, the story will grip readers from the very first page.

Unlike some other reproductions of classic texts (1) We have not used OCR(Optical Character Recognition), as this leads to bad quality books with introduced typos. (2) In books where there are images such as portraits, maps, sketches etc We have endeavoured to keep the quality of these images, so they represent accurately the original artefact. Although occasionally there may be certain imperfections with these old texts, we feel they deserve to be made available for future generations to enjoy.

Where the broad highway between Grenoble and Gap parts company from the turbulent Drac, and after crossing the ravine of Vaulx skirts the plateau of La Motte with its magnificent panorama of forests and mountain peaks, a narrow bridle path strikes off at a sharp angle on the left and in wayward curves continues its length through the woods upwards to the hamlet of Vaulx and the shrine of Notre Dame.Far away to the west the valley of the Drac lies encircled by the pine-covered slopes of the Lans range, whilst towering some seven thousand and more feet up the snow-clad crest of Grande Moucherolle glistens like a sea of myriads of rose-coloured diamonds under the kiss of the morning sun.There was more than a hint of snow in the sharp, stinging air this afternoon, even down in the valley, and now the keen wind from the northeast whipped up the faces of the two riders as they turned their horses at a sharp trot up the bridle path.Though it was not long since the sun had first peeped out above the forests of Pelvoux, the riders looked as if they had already a long journey to their credit; their horses were covered with sweat and sprinkled with lather, and they themselves were plentifully bespattered with mud, for the road in the valley was soft after the thaw. But despite probable fatigue, both sat their horse with that ease and unconscious grace which marks the man accustomed to hard and constant riding, though-to the experienced eye-there would appear a vast difference in the style and manner in which each horseman handled his mount.One of them had the rigid precision of bearing which denotes military training: he was young and slight of build, with unruly dark hair fluttering round the temples from beneath his white sugar-loaf hat, and escaping the trammels of the neatly-tied black silk bow at the nape of the neck; he held himself very erect and rode his horse on the curb, the reins gathered tightly in one gloved hand, and that hand held closely and almost immovably against his chest.