by Mary Dillon
CHAPTER XXIII
THE CONSUL'S SENTENCE
"'Tis an old maxim in the schools, That flattery's the food of fools; Yet now and then your man of wit Will condescend to take a bit."
"I wonder what her cousin will say about it? He is her next of kin,and I suppose will have some authority."
"You mean the young Duc d'Enghien? He is in Baden, you know, and notin a position to say anything. He is still emigre, and likely toremain so; for the First Consul distrusts all Bourbon princes."
"Yes; but he might use his authority with his royal cousin, even at adistance. I had always thought he and the Comte d'Artois had otherplans for the comtesse--that she was to strengthen their house by analliance with one of the royal houses of Europe."
"Without doubt that was their plan, but the other side of the housegot ahead of them. It is to prevent just such an alliance, I believe,that the wily old duchesse is planning this marriage with thechevalier. He is too far down in the royal ranks to be a dangerous_parti_."
"Have her estates been restored, do you know?"
"I am not sure, but I think not. I have heard that Bonaparte is makingthis marriage a condition. He, too, wants to prevent anything thatwill strengthen the power of the Bourbons."
"Oh, then the marriage is assured, and the duchesse has accomplishedher purpose. I am sorry. I wish the comtesse had remained a littlelonger in America."
"I am not quite so sure about it. It seems the comtesse herself ismaking difficulties. Perhaps, now that she has discovered her truerank, she does not consider the chevalier sufficiently noble."
"It will make no difference what she thinks or feels, poor child; withthe duchesse and the First Consul both against her, she is as helplessas a bird in the snares of the fowler."
I was one of the group where this conversation took place, and so,though I had no part in it, I could not be considered an eavesdropper(for I had sworn that, rather than listen again to what was notintended for my hearing, I would go about with my ears stuffed withwax and be deaf to the whole world). No name had been mentioned, yet Iknew well it was of the Comtesse de Baloit they were speaking, andevery word pierced my soul like a knife.
A stir at the upper end of the grand salon put a stop to theconversation. Every voice was hushed, and all eyes were turned towhere Madame Bonaparte and the First Consul were making a grand entry.They were followed by a throng of ladies and gentlemen in attendance,and the scene could not have been more magnificent had they been kingand queen holding royal court, with lords and ladies in waiting.
I had eyes at first for no one but Madame Bonaparte (since coming tolive at the Tuileries she was no longer called Citizeness Bonaparte),whom I had not yet seen, this being my first levee, and of whom I hadheard almost as much as of the First Consul. I had heard that she wasnot faultlessly beautiful, but of great charm, and I could see at oncethat this was true. I do not know why she was not perfectlybeautiful--perhaps her features were a little heavy, her nose a littlelong, her cheek-bones a little high, which just prevented her facefrom being faultless; but her eyes were large and lustrous and beamingwith kindness, and her hair was soft and dark and abundant andgathered under a Grecian _filet_ in rich waves and curls, and her skinwas of that creamy whiteness so often seen in creoles, and which setsoff so well dark hair and eyes. I have never seen more beautiful neckand shoulders and arms; they looked to me more like some of thosebeautiful figures in marble in the Louvre Museum, that Bonapartebrought back with him from Italy, than like real flesh and blood.
She was dressed all in white, and my aunt whispered to me that theFirst Consul liked her best in white, and that it was said when MadameBonaparte (who was herself fond of more gorgeous costumes) appeared inwhite, it was a sign either that she was jealous of her husband andwas trying to win back his straying affections, or that she wantedsome special favor granted. Very likely this was only idle courtgossip, but it might easily be true, for I could hardly think her sonearly beautiful in any other dress as in that softly falling white,with high girdle of gold, richly jeweled, and her dark waves of haircaught in a golden net under the Grecian filet.
The First Consul was very magnificent also; I think he likes dress aswell as his wife. When I had looked well at these two, I had leisureto look at their retinue; and I looked first at the gentlemen, many ofwhom were wearing the brilliant uniforms of army officers. To mychagrin, my eyes fell almost instantly upon the Chevalier Le Moyne,wearing the very gorgeous uniform of aide to General Bonaparte. As Ilooked at him his eye caught mine, and I saw him start, turn pale, andthen color violently. In a moment he forced a quick smile to his lips(to his teeth, I had almost said, for there was always somethingwolfish to me in his smile), and then he bowed. I returned his bowvery coldly, and his presence there suggesting to me that I mightpossibly find Pelagie among the court ladies (for so 'tis the fashionto call them in jest), I turned to look for her. Yes, she was there,and, like Madame Bonaparte, all in white. Only Pelagie's white wasfilmy and lacy, and fuller and more flowing than madame's, with jewelsshining in its folds and in her waving hair. And whereas MadameBonaparte made me think of a Greek goddess, Pelagie reminded me of oneof Mr. Shakspere's fairies, sparkling, graceful, exquisite.
She did not seem to see me, and I could gaze at her no longer, for theFirst Consul was already moving about from group to group of theassembled guests, saying a few words to each, and he was justapproaching our party. He greeted my aunt and uncle and those standingwith us, whom he knew, very affably; then he turned his quick glanceon me, and my uncle presented me.
"Ah," he said, "I was not mistaken. I thought you were from Americawhen I saw you in church on Easter morning"; and, turning to my uncle,he added:
"We do not grow such great fair men in France, Citizen Minister."
"No," said my uncle, quickly; "we have small dark great men in France,Citizen First Consul."
Bonaparte laughed, pleased both with the play on words and my uncle'scompliment, and turned quickly to the next group before I had time tostammer out how flattered I felt at his remembering me.
The next group happened to be the English ambassador, Lord Whitworth,and his friends. The Consul had been very affable with us, and I haddiscovered that his smile was of rare sweetness and gave great beautyto his face. But as he turned to Lord Whitworth the smile vanished andhis brows were drawn together in a dark frown. Without the slightestword of greeting, he spoke to him abruptly and harshly:
"I find your nation wants war again."
Lord Whitworth bowed low, and a dull red slowly spread over his faceas he answered:
"No, sir; we are very desirous of peace."
"You have just finished a war of fifteen years," said Bonaparte again,in the most offensive of tones, almost a sneer.
The ambassador bit his lip in his effort at self-control, but heanswered with great suavity:
"It is true, sir; and that was fifteen years too long."
"But you want another war of fifteen years," insisted Bonaparte, histones every moment harsher and louder, so that every one in that partof the salon could not help but hear. All conversation ceased, andevery one listened with strained and painful attention. Lord Whitworthquietly reiterated:
"Pardon me, sir; we are very desirous of peace."
Then, in a tone that rang out like the harsh clang of crossing swords,Bonaparte cried:
"I must either have Malta or war!"
A shock ran through the whole assembly. No man dared look at hisneighbor. This was nothing less than a declaration of war, and in themost insulting manner. Whether the proud representative of thehaughtiest nation on the globe would receive such a rude insult tohimself and his country calmly was very doubtful, and we all awaitedLord Whitworth's reply in trembling silence. With compressed lips andeyes that flashed in spite of himself, but with a calmness in markedcontrast to Bonaparte's petulance, he replied:
"I am not prepared, sir, to speak on that subject; and I can onlyassure you, Citizen First Consul, that we wish f
or peace."
Bonaparte's frown grew darker, but he said no more; and with a curtnod, and almost a sneer on his lips, he withdrew at once into a smallcabinet opening into the salon, leaving the rest of his guests withoutaddressing a word to them, which I was told afterward was veryunusual with him, and showed that his irritation must be very great.
An embarrassed silence followed the First Consul's exit. I had beenlooking forward to this levee for weeks, but it promised to be a veryuncomfortable occasion for me as well as for others. I had a greatdesire to speak to the British ambassador and assure him of mysympathy, for none of the Frenchmen so much as dared to look at him,now that he was in disgrace, lest it be reported to the Consul, andthey themselves fall under suspicion. But I feared it would bepresumption in one so young and unknown, and I dreaded meeting thehaughty British stare with which an Englishman petrifies one heconsiders unduly forward. Much to my relief, and indeed to the reliefof the whole company, my uncle turned to him and began at once to talkin a most animated manner of the doings in the American Congress. Thatthe relief was general was evident, for conversation was at onceresumed, and with a gaiety that was somewhat feverish, I thought.
It was our turn now to pay our respects to Madame Bonaparte. I hadbeen eager to meet her until I discovered the presence of Pelagie; butnow it had suddenly become a trying ordeal to walk forward and salutemadame, and perhaps stand talking to her a few moments, conscious thatPelagie's eyes, if they cared to, might be watching every movement.Should I be awkward (as I feared I would under such a scrutiny), I wassure there would be the old mocking light in them I had so often seen,and dreaded to see, in St. Louis. I resolved not to glance at heronce while I was going through my ordeal, lest she should prove myundoing; and I tried to think only of the charming woman who smiledbewitchingly when I made gallant speeches, and who tapped me with herfan in much the same playful fashion as Mistress Madison had tapped mewith her jeweled snuff-box. Indeed, she reminded me much of the lovelyWashington lady. Both had the same kind way of putting an awkward ladat his ease, and seeming to like him and be pleased with his speeches,especially if they savored a little of audacity. But Madame Bonapartehad not the dash and sparkle of Mistress Madison; instead, she had alazy Southern fashion of speech and a wonderfully winning gentlenessthat I am not sure was not more charming than the gay brilliancy ofthe other.
She kept me talking to her longer than I had expected (or hoped for),and I began to see significant glances exchanged, while my color wassteadily rising; and I was sure mademoiselle (if she looked at me atall), noting my shining curls, as yellow as the gold lace on my whitesatin court-dress, and my cheeks flaming like any girl's, was sayingto herself with infinite scorn, "Pretty boy!"
I think Madame Bonaparte saw the significant glances also, for shesaid presently:
"You must meet the Comtesse de Baloit. She has just returned from yourAmerica, and you will have much in common to talk about."
And so I found myself bowing low over Pelagie's hand, and a momentlater looking straight down into her lovely dark eyes, which lookedstraight up at mine with no hint of scorn in their shadowy depths, butonly a great wonder, and a little of something else that set my pulsesto beating like trip-hammers.
"I cannot understand, Monsieur," she said. "I shall have to ask you,as you asked me in Washington--how did you get here?"
"It was a lodestar drew me," I murmured.
But the warm light in her eyes changed quickly to proud disdain.
"I like not idle gallantries between old friends. Keep those forMadame Bonaparte. I saw they pleased her greatly, and that you weremuch flattered by their reception."
Could the Comtesse de Baloit be jealous? or was it the haughtyFaubourg St. Germain scorning the parvenue of the Tuileries? I hopedit was the first, but in either case it behooved me to make quick_amende_.
"Forgive me, Comtesse," I said, as coldly as she had spoken, but inEnglish, and so low that I hoped no listener could understand even ifhe knew the tongue. "It was true, but you could not know how true, andI have no right to tell you. I know well how great a distance liesbetween the proud Lady of France and a simple American gentleman.Permit me to inform you, Comtesse, that I have been in Paris for morethan a month with my uncle, Monsieur Barbe Marbois. And permit me toadd, as a simple fact in which you may be interested or not, that thisis the moment for which I have lived through that month--the momentwhen I should meet again the Comtesse de Baloit."
It had ever been the way with the little Pelagie in America to meether hauteur with hauteur, but I was not sure it would work here, and Itrembled inwardly while I spoke so calmly. But it did. Her lidsdropped for a moment, and a soft color stole up to her temples. Whenshe lifted her eyes again, there was a sweet, shy light in them.
"Monsieur," she said softly, in her pretty English, "why do you callme Comtesse? Have you forgotten?"
"Is it still to be Mademoiselle?" I cried eagerly, and had hard worknot to pick her up in my arms and run away with her, so adorable wasshe in her sweet friendliness.
"Mademoiselle always, unless it is--" But then she broke off suddenlyand turned a rosy red, and added quickly, with something of her oldsauciness: "Never Comtesse, unless I am very, _very_ naughty."
My heart told me what she had meant to say, and I whispered proudly:
"Unless it is some day--Pelagie"; and I know my eyes told her all therest I did not dare to say, for she looked away from me quickly, andI, glancing up, met a black scowl on the face of the chevalier, who, Iknew, must have been watching this little by-play, though he could nothave heard a word, such was the buzz and clatter of conversation aboutus. His face cleared instantly, and he stepped quickly forward with aforced smile and an extended hand.
"Permit me to greet an old friend," he said gaily. "When did youarrive in Paris?"
It would have been well for me if I could have swallowed my pridesufficiently to take his proffered hand; but it seemed to me the handof a scoundrel and a dastard, and I could not bring myself to touchit. I pretended not to see it, and I hoped the chevalier and those whowere looking on might be deceived into thinking I did not, as Ianswered politely enough:
"The Chevalier Le Moyne is very kind to welcome me so cordially toParis."
And then, with a sudden recollection of our last encounter, and hopingto throw him off the track, I added:
"I have been in Paris but a short time; this is my first visit to theTuileries."
But I had not deceived him. The black scowl returned quickly at myrejection of his proffered hand, and stretching himself to his fullheight, so as to be as near my ear as possible, he said between histeeth:
"It may be your first visit to the Tuileries, Monsieur; but, if Imistake not, you have been at St. Cloud before. If I had known youwere in Paris I would have been at no loss to account for themysterious horse and his rider. I suppose you have brought thataccursed mare with you?"
I may have turned pale, for I saw black ruin yawn before me, but Ianswered steadily:
"I do not understand you, Monsieur. I beg you will explain."
"Diable! You understand well enough, Monsieur," he sneered, andturned and walked away with an exaggerated limp--it had been scarcelyperceptible when he came to greet me.
I had little time to worry over this new peril that threatened, for myuncle came up to present me to more of the "court ladies," and I didmy best to talk and be merry, while in the background of my thoughts Iwas trying to plan some way of escape from the meshes of the net I sawclosing around me. Paris was no longer any place for me. I must tellmy uncle at the first opportunity, and ask his help in getting away asquietly as possible to America; and at that thought, and that I wascutting myself off from ever seeing again the Comtesse de Baloit, Igroaned inwardly, and could have cursed the reckless folly that hadbrought me to such a pass.
In the midst of my troubled thoughts I saw an officer approach theComtesse de Baloit (for, no matter to whom I might be talking, theComtesse was ever in my sight), bow low, and apparently d
eliver somemessage to her. I saw her turn to the lady who stood near her (the onewith whom I had seen her driving, whose bearing was so stern andhaughty, and who, I did not doubt, was the duchesse I had heard spokenof as desiring to marry her to the chevalier), and then the officeroffered an arm to each of them and bore them away to the cabinet towhich the First Consul had withdrawn.
I did not know why this should be cause for anxiety on my part, butnone the less I felt anxious. When, a few minutes later, the sameofficer approached the Chevalier Le Moyne and delivered to him also amessage, and the chevalier deliberately turned to me with a smile oftriumph, and then followed the officer to the same cabinet, I feltdoubly anxious. Indeed, so great had my anxiety become that it wasalmost impossible for me to keep up longer the semblance of gayconverse with the witty beauties about me.
The chevalier's smile of triumph meant one of two things--eitherterrible for me, but one impossible to think of. It meant, "You see,now I have my chance to denounce you to the First Consul, and I shalluse it"--which would mean nothing less than death for me; or, itmeant, "You see, the First Consul is bringing his influence to bearupon my marriage with the Comtesse de Baloit; it is allarranged"--which would mean something far worse than death for me.
I was not surprised, therefore, and I was almost relieved when tenminutes later the officer touched me on the shoulder.
"The First Consul desires your presence in his cabinet, Monsieur," hesaid; and I turned and followed him, conscious that I was followed inturn by all eyes. There had been no surprise when first the comtesseand then the chevalier had been summoned, for every one thought heunderstood--the First Consul's powerful influence was to be brought tobear upon a recalcitrant maiden; and while some pitied, none doubtedthat the First Consul's influence would avail. But no one knew whatconnection I could have with the affair, and the first moment ofstartled surprise was followed by a murmur of curious surmises.
Amid that murmur I walked as one who goes to his execution; for fromthe moment the officer touched me upon the shoulder I had known whatthe chevalier's smile of triumph meant, and I knew that I was on myway to be accused and condemned, and, for aught I knew, marched off toinstant execution under the eyes of the Comtesse de Baloit. As Ipassed Monsieur Marbois, his eyes, filled with a startled alarm, metmine. I tried to reassure him with a smile, but I fear it was sorrywork, for a sudden rush of remembrance of all his goodness to meoverwhelmed me and came near to unmanning me.
Just inside the door of the cabinet the officer stopped, and motionedto me also to stay my steps. On whatever errand I had been sent for,it was evident that neither the First Consul nor any one else wasquite ready for me. The Consul was seated, while on one side of himstood the chevalier, and on the other the duchesse and the Comtesse deBaloit; and that any man should remain seated in the presence of thecomtesse filled me at once with a blind rage that ill prepared me toplay my part in what was about to follow. The attitude of the threestruck me at once as significant: the duchesse complacent, with almosta smile upon her haughty features, and to the best of her abilitybeaming upon the First Consul; the chevalier eager, obsequious,fawning; the comtesse her head held proudly up, a little frown betweenher brows, her eyes flashing; impatience, annoyance, disdain expressedin every feature. The First Consul was speaking as we entered, and Ithought his tones were meant to be persuasive; they were less raspingthan I had often heard them.
"The estates are very great, Mademoiselle." (And again I was indignantthat he should address her as Mademoiselle, a title which I feltbelonged to no man to use but to me. I knew, of course, that it wasbut the common usage,--that titles were not permitted in republicanFrance,--but none the less I was angry.) "Your father was almost therichest man in France," he was saying. "Should I restore these estatesto you, I must have some guaranty that they will be used for thewelfare of the republic, and not against it. Citizen Le Moyne is sucha guaranty. His sword is already pledged to the service of therepublic, and to the Citizeness Le Moyne I will restore all theestates of her father."
A bright red spot burned in each of Pelagie's cheeks. I know not whatshe might have said (though she looked not as if she would meeklyyield assent to this powerful plea), for at that moment the FirstConsul discovered our entrance and turned to the chevalier.
"Citizen Le Moyne," he said, "you asked us to send for this young man.He is here. What has the nephew of Monsieur Marbois to do with thismatter?"
A malicious smile played round the chevalier's lips.
"If you remember, Citizen First Consul," he said "I told you that atone time mademoiselle was not averse to my suit--that in allprobability I would have won her hand in St. Louis, but that her mindwas poisoned against me by malicious insinuations and fabrications,the work of a rival who desired to win her for himself?"
The chevalier waited for the Consul's reply, and he nodded curtly.
"Well?"
"Citizen First Consul, that rival is the nephew of Minister Marbois,and I have brought him here to ask him to renounce publicly all claimsto the hand of the Citizeness de Baloit."
I saw a flash in the beautiful eyes, and a proud toss of the littlehead that I well knew meant, "He has no claim," and I hastened tospeak.
"Sire," I said quickly, and then stopped in confusion. How could Ihave made such an egregious blunder as to address the first citizen ofthe republic by a royal title? Yet it was a natural enough mistake,for no Czar or Sultan or Grand Mogul was ever a more autocratic rulerthan he, or made men tremble more at his nod. I thought I had no doubtruined my cause in the very outset, for a dark frown gathered betweenthe Consul's brows, but it quickly disappeared.
"I believe you spoke innocently, young man," he said, with a smile ofrare sweetness. "Speak on!"
"Pardon, Citizen First Consul," I said--"it was indeed an innocentmistake"; and then I added with a sudden impulse of audacity, "but avery natural one."
The Consul answered me only with his flashing smile, that transfiguredhis face, and I hurried on:
"I wish to say, sir, that I have no claim to the hand of Mademoisellela Comtesse." I saw from the tail of my eye her head take a prouderpose and her lips curl scornfully as she perceived that I was tamelyrenouncing my "claim" at the chevalier's bidding; but I went calmlyon: "I have always known that there was a great gulf fixed between theproud Lady of France of royal blood and a simple American gentleman.Mademoiselle la Comtesse has never given me any reason to hope thatthat gulf could be crossed, but," and I turned and looked straight atthe chevalier,--and if my head was flung back too proudly and my eyesflashed too fiercely and my voice rang out too defiantly, it was fromno lack of respect to the great Bonaparte, but because my soul wasseething with wrath and indignation against that cowardly villain "butshould Mademoiselle la Comtesse give me the faintest hope that thehonest love of an honest American heart could weigh with her againstlands and titles, that the devotion of a lifetime to her every thoughtand desire could hope to win her love, then no argument the ChevalierLe Moyne could bring to bear would have a feather's weight with me. Iwould renounce my 'claim to her hand' only with my life!"
The First Consul's eyes were smiling as I ceased speaking; there wasno frown on his brow. The duchesse looked aghast, as if it wereinconceivable blasphemy that I should think of aspiring to thecomtesse, and the chevalier's face was dark, with an ugly sneerdistorting his lips. But I cared little how Consul or duchesse orchevalier took my speech: I cared only for what mademoiselle mightthink. I glanced quickly at her. Her head was drooping, her longlashes were sweeping her cheek, her face was rosy red, and ahalf-smile was playing about her mouth. My heart beat high withexultant joy. I turned proudly to the chevalier and awaited thethunderbolt I knew was sure to fall. He, too, had seen mademoiselle'ssoft and drooping aspect, and the sight had lashed him to fury. Butbefore he had a chance to speak, the First Consul himself spoke withgood-natured raillery:
"I think, Citizen Le Moyne, your golden-haired giant makes a very goodplea for himself. Suppose I offer him a position on my staff
and makea Frenchman of him, and then let the Citizeness de Baloit choosebetween you? Perhaps her estates would be as safe in his hands as inyours."
Had the First Consul uttered his speech with the purpose of lashingthe chevalier to fury and goading him to still greater venom againstme, he could have taken no better course to accomplish it.
"Safe!" he hissed. "Safe in the hands of an assassin! You would givemademoiselle and her estates to the man who hid in your closet toattempt your life in your bath! Regardez! the coward--the sneak--thevillain! When your Mameluke discovers him he flees. I run to yourdefense. Does he meet me with his sword like an honorable gentleman?No! he trips me with the foot like a school-boy, and throws me downthe stair, to be the laughing-stock of my fellow-officers! Because heis a giant, he falls upon your sentry of small stature and hurls himdown the terraces! He calls to his trick horse,--trained in thecircus, I do not doubt,--and rides away in the dark, and thinks no onewill ever know! But _I_ know. I have seen his tricks in America. Heis a clown--a mountebank! No gentleman would touch his hand!"
The chevalier's voice had grown shriller and higher with each word,till he ended in a scream, tearing his hair, rushing up and down thecabinet in his fury, and pointing every epithet with a long fingerextended toward me. I could have smiled at such childish rage but thatit was too serious a matter to me for smiling. Mademoiselle's eyeswere wide with terror and amaze, and the Consul's brow grew darkerwith every word of the chevalier's.
"Officer, call the guard!" he said in his rasping voice, as soon asthe chevalier gave him a chance to speak, and I knew my doom wassealed.
But mademoiselle sprang forward, one arm outstretched to stay theofficer, and one extended toward the Consul in supplication.
"No, no, officer, not yet!" she cried, and then to Bonaparte:
"Oh, Citizen Consul, it is all a terrible mistake! I know him well. Hecould not be guilty of so dreadful a crime! He could not do anythingmean or low or dishonorable. There is no gentleman in the world moregenerous and noble! And the man who denounces him owes his life tohim!"
"Look at him, Mademoiselle," said the Consul, harshly, "and see if hislooks do not confess him the culprit."
I knew that I must look the very picture of conscious guilt, for everyword mademoiselle had uttered had pierced me like a two-edged sword. Imight have braved the chevalier's accusations and the First Consul'ssuspicions (for, after all, neither had any evidence against me), butI could not bear her generous confidence in me, feeling that I had somiserably forfeited my right to it by indulging in a foolish boyishprank. I did not raise my head (where it had sunk in shame), but byreason of being so much taller I yet could see her turn toward me, seeher look of implicit trust change slowly to doubt and fear. Then Iheard her utter one low cry, "Oh, Monsieur, Monsieur!" and turn away.In a moment my resolve was taken. I would make a clean breast of it;she should not think me worse than I was. I lifted my head.
"Mademoiselle!" I cried, and she turned quickly toward me and lookedstraight into my eyes with a look that was hard to bear. "I am guiltyMademoiselle! I am the man who was in the First Consul's closet, andwho escaped on Fatima's back."
The Consul made a motion toward the officer, but I turned to himquickly.
"I beg you, sire,"--and this time I did not know that I had said it,not until long afterward, when one of those who heard told me ofit,--"that you will not send your officer for the guard until I havemade my confession; then you can send for it, and I will go awayquietly, without resistance."
"Very well, officer; you can wait," said Bonaparte, still harshly. Therest of my confession I addressed directly to him.
"I am no clown, mountebank, or circus rider in my own country, sir, asthe Chevalier Le Moyne would have you believe; I am the son of aPhiladelphia gentleman, and the nephew of Madame Marbois.Unfortunately, life in my native land has bred in me a spirit ofadventure that has many times been near my undoing. It has also bredin me a great love for the life of a soldier, and a great admirationfor the famous soldiers of history. When I accompanied my uncle to St.Cloud, and knew that he was summoned there to meet the First Consul, Iwas seized with a desire to enter the palace and roam through therooms where the First Consul dwelt. When I found admission was notpermitted I thought it would be a fine adventure to find my way inwithout permission. It was a boy's wild spirit of daring, and a boy'salmost idolatrous hero-worship that led me into such a scrape."
The Consul interrupted me here, but I thought his tones a little lessharsh than before:
"Did your uncle know of your intention to enter the palace?"
"Most certainly not, Citizen First Consul," I answered, "else had Inever accomplished it."
"Then how did you find your way to my closet?"
"I followed a servant through some winding corridors, but an officersuddenly appeared. I fled, opened the first door I came to, saw myselfin a dressing-room, opened another, and found myself in the closetconnecting with your cabinet."
All of which was literally true, and implicated neither Gaston norFelice, I hoped. The Consul signed to me to go on with my story.
"All would have been well, and I should have slipped out the way Icame, had not the First Consul decided to take a bath."
I was watching my auditor narrowly as I talked, for I felt my lifedepended upon his change of mood, and I thought I saw here the leastglimmer of a twinkle in his eye; but if it was there it was banishedinstantly, and his face was as set and stern as before.
"I have never heard any words, your"--I started to say "your Majesty,"caught myself, and stumbled miserably--"your--your--Excellency, thatfilled me with greater dismay than these: 'Tell my valet to prepare mybath'!"
Again I thought I caught that fleeting twinkle of the eye, but couldnot be sure.
"There was no hope for me," I went on, "but to wait for the FirstConsul to finish his bath; but, unfortunately for me, he is fonder ofhis bath than most men, and I stood in that dark closet in an agony ofsuspense, and revolving in my mind every conceivable plan of escape,for what seemed to me many long hours. All might still have beenwell,--for in the nature of things even the First Consul's bath mustcome to an end sometime,--had I not made a slight noise which thequick ears of the Consul and the Mameluke heard. I was discovered,and there was nothing for me to do but to flee through theaudience-chamber and the main corridor, surprising the guard at thedoor, who, in his turn, raised the whole palace in pursuit.
"I was distancing my pursuers, and should have gotten out of thepalace without difficulty, but that at the head of the grand staircaseI met the Chevalier Le Moyne, running from the opposite end of thecorridor. I would not under ordinary circumstances refuse a swordencounter with the chevalier (though I would prefer an opponent with anicer sense of honor), but there was no time for such an encounter nowif I would not have the whole palace upon me, and, besides, it wasmost important that the chevalier should not recognize me. There wasnothing to do but to hide my face with my arm as if shielding it fromhis sword, and trip him up, as he says, school-boy fashion. I am sorrythat it should have hurt his self-esteem to be vanquished by such ayouthful trick, and regret still more that he should have suffered inthe estimation of his fellow-officers thereby."
This time the twinkle in the Consul's eye was unmistakable, and Icould hear the chevalier grinding his teeth with rage.
"As for your sentry," I continued, "he was aiming his gun to fire atme. There was no time for ceremony. I could have spitted him upon mysword, which was in my hand, and it might have been more respectful;but I dislike bloodshed, unless it is absolutely unavoidable, and so Ithrew up his gun with my arm, and sent him spinning after it in thedark. I had left my mare Fatima--who is no trick horse, but a youngArabian trained by myself from colthood to do my bidding--in a pinethicket close by. I was on her back and away just in time to escapeyour mounted guards, who thundered out the gates of the park scarcetwenty paces behind me. Had Fatima been less swift I had not beenhere to tell the tale. I hope the First Consul will believe me when
Isay I have suffered much from remorse for my rash and thoughtless act.It was a wild spirit of adventure that led me into it, but I seeclearly now that does not in the least excuse it, and I am ready toatone for it in any way you decree."
The eye of the First Consul, clear, piercing, heart-reading, had beenupon me through the whole of this recital; but I, feeling that I waskeeping nothing back (save only Gaston and Felice), and being nervedup to meet whatever fate should befall, bore its scrutiny well. He wassilent for a moment after I had finished speaking, and my heart sanksteadily down, for life looked very bright to me and I began to bevery sure I had forfeited it by my foolishness. Suddenly the Consulspoke, but it was not to me nor to the chevalier; he turned toPelagie.
"Mademoiselle, that was a boyish escapade, certainly, and it was avery pretty boy that contrived it. What do you think would be suitablepunishment for such a crime? You shall be the arbiter of his fate."
Mademoiselle gave me one fleeting glance, saucy merriment dancing inher eye; then she turned to Bonaparte, and, curtsying low, she saidwith pretty archness:
"Citizen First Consul, I know him well, and I know that only deathcould be a greater punishment to him than to be called a 'pretty boy'!Do you not think his crime is atoned for?"
Bonaparte's wonderful smile lighted his face and fell on mademoisellewith almost too great sweetness, I thought.
"It is as you say, Mademoiselle," he replied. "Officer, you need notcall the guard."
But I, suddenly relieved from the fear of death, stood there scarletwith confusion, head drooping, and ready to sink through the floorwith shame, while I mentally anathematized my yellow curls and rosycheeks and blue eyes, and most of all my _domtiferous_ vanity that hadled me to array myself in shining white satin and glittering goldlace, that I was sure made me look fairer and rosier and more thanever like a big blond baby.