CHAPTER XXIV.
[THE EMPRESS CHARLOTTE].
Monsieur Piétri finished his business with Napoleon the next morning, and rose to withdraw to his own room.
The emperor looked down gravely.
"I must visit the Empress Charlotte," he said in a low tone.
"The poor empress! she is indeed to be pitied," remarked Piétri.
"Why does she cling so madly to that absurd Mexican crown?" cried Napoleon. "Can I uphold the Emperor Maximilian on a throne which he has himself undermined with his liberal ideas? He has estranged himself from the Church party, and has deeply offended the clergy, the only power that can lead the masses out there, and above all, that can get him money, which he needs so greatly; for without money he will soon have neither troops, nor generals, nor ministers, nor friends. Ought I," he continued after a pause, "ought I to continue pouring into this Mexican abyss streams of French blood and French money, without being able to fill it, now, when this German danger, which I must bear in smiling silence because I cannot act, threatens the frontier of France?" He clenched his teeth firmly together, a look of anger crossed his face. "This Mexican expedition was a great idea," he then said, "the establishment of the monarchical principle on the other hemisphere opposed to threatening North America; the rule of the Latin races. With the subjugation of the Southern States these plans became impossible; the Emperor Maximilian has not known how to find supporters for his throne; I have no longer any interest in upholding him, and I cannot do it."
"If your majesty had supported the Southern States vigorously?" suggested Piétri, with some diffidence.
"How could I alone?" cried the emperor with animation. "Did not England leave me in the lurch? England, who had a much greater interest than I, in opposing the growth and consolidation of this American Republic? who sheathed the sword that should have cut through those cotton threads, which are threads of life to proud Great Britain. Shall I draw down upon myself alone the hatred and enmity of that nation for the future, without being sure of victory, that I may maintain an emperor upon a throne where he wishes to rule with constitutional theories, joined to wild experimental politics? I am sorry for Maximilian," he continued, taking a few steps about the room; "there is something noble, something great in him; but also much mistiness; he has something of his predecessor, of Joseph II., who came into the world a hundred years too soon, and of that other Maximilian, who was born as much too late, whom the German poet called the last of the knights, forgetting Francis I. I pity him," he said, sighing; "but I cannot help him. After all, it is not so bad after this expedition again to become an archduke of Austria; there are princes who have no such line of retreat if their thrones are wrecked! I wish the Empress Charlotte had gone," he said in a gloomy voice; "she was much excited yesterday--it will be a painful visit!"
He caused the equerry on duty to be summoned, ordered his carriage, and withdrew into his dressing-room.
* * * * *
In a salon, on the bel étage of the Grand Hôtel in the Boulevard des Italiens, sat the Empress Charlotte of Mexico, dressed entirely in black. Her face once so lovely, fresh, and charming, was pale and sad; it was already marked with deep lines which gave her the appearance of premature old age, her hair was entirely concealed beneath the black lace handkerchief which came low down on her forehead, her mouth had a restless nervous movement, and her wearied eyes shone at times with an unsteady feverish brilliancy.
Before the empress stood General Almonte, the Mexican ambassador in Paris, a pleasing-looking man of the southern type. He gazed sadly at the princess, who not long before had crossed the sea to ascend the dazzling throne of Montezuma, in fabulous splendour, and who now sat before him broken down by the deepest sorrow; instead of Montezuma's diadem, she had found Guatimozin's crown of martyrdom.
"You do not believe then, general," asked the empress in a trembling voice, "that anything is to be hoped from France?"
"I do not believe it," replied the general gravely; "according to all that I have seen and heard here, the emperor is quite determined to withdraw quickly and definitely from the whole affair. If his majesty the Emperor Maximilian wishes to maintain his throne, (which I ardently desire for the sake of an unhappy country robbed by one adventurer after another)--he must not rely on France--he must find supporters in the country itself. Before all, he must endeavour to win back the firmest and mightiest support, which he has lost--the Church and the clergy; they will procure him both money and soldiers. Not here," added the general, "is help to be found; if your majesty takes my advice you will go to Rome--the pope alone can restore to the emperor the mighty power of the Mexican clergy--certainly he would require conditions, but quick action is needful, before it is too late," he added in a gloomy voice.
"Oh!" cried the empress, standing up and walking up and down the room with hasty footsteps, "oh! that my noble, unhappy husband should have listened to the enticing words of that fiend, whom men call Napoleon; that he should have forsaken our beautiful Miramar, to hurl himself into this abyss, in which we sink deeper and deeper. If you knew," she cried, with sparkling eyes, as she stood still before the general, "how I entreated him, this man--he went to St.-Cloud, to avoid me," she cried, speaking quicker and with still greater excitement; "I followed him there, I pressed myself upon him, I begged and implored him, I repressed all the anger in my heart, I prayed to him as we pray to God, I threw myself at his feet, I, the grand-daughter of Louis Philippe, threw myself at the feet of the son of that Hortense--oh! my God!"
She sank back exhausted on the sofa.
"And what did the emperor reply?" asked the general, looking with deep compassion at the unhappy lady, whose diadem weighed so heavily upon her brow.
"Nothing," sighed the empress; "phrases of regret, cold words of comfort, which sounded like scorn from his mouth. General," she cried, rising suddenly, and fixing a tragic look upon him, "general, I fear that my reason will give way. So much sorrow no human soul can bear, so many tears no eyes can shed, without falling a prey to the powers of darkness. At night," she cried, gazing into space as if her mind pursued a vision, "at night, if after long tearful watching an uneasy slumber falls upon me, I see him creep up towards me, this demon--this demon brought forth by hell; he holds out a goblet, green flames dart from it! I shudder to my heart's core, but he holds the goblet to my lips, the flames beat on my brow with frightful pain; I must quaff,--quaff the terrible drink he offers me, and this drink is blood!--the blood of my husband!" she cried, shrieking aloud, and stretching out her hands with a movement of convulsive horror.
"Your majesty! for God's sake, calm yourself!" cried the general, dismayed.
A sound was heard in the antechamber.
A lacquey entered.
"His majesty the emperor has just driven into the porte cochère," he cried, and threw open the folding door leading to the anteroom.
The Empress Charlotte rose quickly. She passed her handkerchief across her brow, the bewildered look vanished from her features, and she said with a calm and sorrowful smile:
"Leave me alone with him, general, perhaps God has softened his heart."
Napoleon appeared in the antechamber, he wore a black coat with the star and ribbon of the Order of Our Lady of Guadaloupe. Colonel Favé accompanied him.
The empress met him at the threshold of her room.
General Almonte with a deep bow withdrew into the antechamber. The servants closed the door.
Napoleon kissed the hand of the empress, led her to the sofa and placed himself in an arm-chair beside her. The empress looked at him in breathless suspense, his veiled eyes were cast on the ground.
"Is your majesty comfortable here?" he asked in a courteous tone. "I should have been happier if you would have accepted hospitality at one of my palaces."
"I want nothing," said the empress with slight impatience, "I have come to hear my fate. I implore your majesty to say if it is pronounced, and what I have to hope."
"I think I told your majesty yesterday my determination, and the political reasons upon which it was founded," said the emperor in a calm voice. "I can only regret that circumstances forbid, absolutely forbid my compliance with your majesty's wishes, as I should so much have wished," he added, with a polite bow.
The Empress Charlotte's lips trembled convulsively.
"Sire," said she in a repressed voice, "it is not a question of my wishes, they have never been directed to that distant throne. It is a question of the honour, perhaps of the life of my husband, for he will sacrifice his life to his honour."
"But madame," said the emperor, slightly twirling his moustache, "I cannot see how honour can require him madly to bury himself beneath the ruins of a throne that cannot be upheld. Your husband undertook a great and good cause; that it cannot be carried out is the fault, not of himself, but of circumstances,--no one could reproach him."
A bitter smile curved the lips of the empress.
"My husband does not thus regard it," said she, "he will not pass through life as a dethroned prince,--in his opinion a prince who has once ascended a throne should only abandon it with his life."
"The Emperor Maximilian will not drive this opinion, which really does not apply to present circumstances, to extremes," replied Napoleon. "I will send General Castelnau to him, he shall lay before him in my name a full explanation of the circumstances to which I am forced to yield, the emperor will understand them, he will return, and I heartily beg you, madame, to support the general's mission by your persuasions."
A flush passed quickly over the empress's face, her eyes sparkled, her lips quivered, and she said in a hoarse voice:
"The mission will be in vain, and I will never advise my husband to do anything he holds to be at variance with his honour and his noble chivalrous heart."
The emperor slightly bit his lips, his veiled eyes opened for a moment, and a hard, almost an inimical look, flashed upon the empress.
She saw this look, a shudder passed through her, in violent excitement she pressed her hand to her heart, and she said with a deep breath, fixing her burning eyes upon the emperor:
"Sire, it is not a question of my husband's honour alone; to care for this is certainly our own affair, but something else is staked upon this, something that touches your majesty more nearly,--and that is the honour of France."
The emperor gave a cold smile.
"My armies only withdraw from Mexico at my command, and they bring rich laurels with them," he said.
"Laurels?" cried the empress with flashing eyes, "yes, the soldiers who have bravely fought bring laurels with them, and laurels grow on the graves of the fallen, but the banners of France, who now desert the throne raised by France's emperor, the prince who went thither at the call of France, and who is rewarded by humiliation and desertion,--these banners should be veiled in crape, for they have forsaken France's honour! Oh! sire," she exclaimed, restraining herself with a great effort, "I beg you once more--I conjure you--recall your hard decision!"
The emperor's brow wore a gloomy frown, an icy smile was on his lips.
"Madame," he said, "your majesty will allow that I am the best, the only competent judge of what the honour of France demands."
The eyes of the empress flashed, a look of proud contempt appeared on her face.
"Your majesty is the judge," she said, "then let me be the advocate of the honour of France, my blood gives me this right, the blood of Henri Quatre flows in my veins, and my grandfather was the French king!"
The emperor's long eyelashes were raised, and his angry eyes gazed on the excited woman who sat trembling before him.
He stood up.
The empress also rose.
She pressed both hands upon her heart, her whole form swayed to and fro with the violent effort she made to recover her calmness.
"Sire," she said in a low soft voice, "forgive the wife who pleads for the honour and the life of her husband, if her zeal has made her speak too boldly in a cause which must ever be to her the highest and the holiest on earth. Sire, I implore you for God's sake, for the sake of eternal mercy,--have pity on us, give us your protection one year longer, or give us money, if the blood of France is too precious."
And with an imploring look of indescribable anguish she gazed up at this man, from whose mouth the words of hope could come, which she might bear back to the husband longing for her with such weary anxiety, refreshing his harassed soul with new strength.
Napoleon spoke in a cold voice.
"Madame, the greatest service at this grave moment is perfect truth and openness. I should sin against your majesty, if I allowed you to entertain vain hopes. My decision is as unalterable as the necessity that dictates it. I have nothing more for Mexico--not a man, not a franc!"
The features of the empress grew frightfully distorted, the whites of her eyes grew red as blood, a flaming brightness glowed in her gaze, her lips receded and showed her gloaming white teeth; with outstretched arms she walked close up to the emperor, and with hissing breath that seemed to drive the words from her breast, she cried in a voice which no longer sounded human:
"Yes! it is true, the image of my dream, the horrible apparition of my sleep! there he stands with his goblet of blood!--demon of hell!--executioner of my family!--murderer of my husband!--laughing devil!--murder me, the grand-daughter of Louis Philippe,--of that king who rescued you from misery, and saved you from the scaffold."
As if before some supernatural appearance the emperor slowly stepped backwards to the door. The empress stood still, and stretching out her hand towards him she cried, whilst her features grew more frightfully convulsed, and her eyes glowed more wildly:
"Hence, fiend! but take with thee my curse. The curse which God hurled at the head of the first murderer shall destroy thy throne! flames shall blot out thy house! and when thou liest in the dust from whence thou hast risen, expiring in shame and weakness, the avenging angel shall shake the depths of thy despairing soul with the cry of 'Charlotte and Maximilian!'"
Seized with horror the emperor turned round, covering his eyes with his hands. He hurried to the door, and rushed into the anteroom, where he found his equerry, and General Almonte much shocked at the dreadful sound of the empress's voice. He cried scarcely audibly--"Come, Favé, come quickly, the empress is ill."
He hurried down the steps, looking anxiously back; the equerry rushed after him.
General Almonte hastened back into the empress's room.
The unhappy princess had sunk on her knees in the middle of the salon, her left hand was pressed to her heart, her right stretched upwards, and with upturned eyes she stared vacantly at the ceiling--a statue of despair.
The general hastened to her.
"For God's sake," he cried, bending over her, "I conjure your majesty, calm, collect yourself! What has happened?"
A slight shiver passed through her limbs, she slowly turned her eyes towards the general, she looked at him with surprise, passed her hand over her brow, and allowed him to raise her, and lead her to the sofa. A lady in waiting had entered in great anxiety, and assisted the general, the lacquey stood with a frightened face at the door of the ante-room.
Suddenly the empress rose, her eyes wandered round the room. "Where is he?" she cried in a hoarse voice, "he has gone, he must not go. I will dog his heels, day and night my shrieks for revenge shall pierce his ears!"
"Your majesty!" cried the general.
"Away!" screamed the empress, "leave me: my carriage, my carriage; after him, the traitor, my husband's murderer!"
And she tore herself free from the general, and the lady in attendance, rushed through the anteroom and down the stairs, still crying, "My carriage! my carriage!"
The general hastened after her. The servant followed.
In the large court of the Grand Hôtel there was a concourse of inquisitive people, attracted by the arrival of the imperial carriage. On the large balcony sat foreigners reading newspapers and chatting.
Suddenly they heard the loud out-cry of a woman clad in black, with distorted features and blood-shot starting eyes. She appeared at the foot of the large staircase, and shrieked incessantly: "My carriage, my carriage!"
General Almonte overtook the empress. He sought to calm her, it was impossible. All eyes were fixed on the surprising apparition.
The general in great distress wishing to bring the dreadful scene to an end, desired the lacquey who was in the empress's service, to bring a carriage into the court of the hotel.
The equipage drove round.
With one spring the empress threw herself in. The general seized the door to follow her. Then her strength failed her--she collapsed, her eyes closed, white foam appeared on her lips; unconscious, with convulsive shudders, she fell back on the cushions.
Several servants hastily appeared. They carried her gently upstairs to her own room.
"What a tragedy begins," said General Almonte, shuddering, as he followed slowly; "and what a conclusion lies in the lap of the future!"
* * * * *
Late in the afternoon, the brilliant carriages belonging to the aristocracy, the haute finance, and the foreign diplomacy, drove slowly round the Bois de Boulogne. The whole Paris world had remained in town, the universal interest in the European crisis chained them to the capital; and the whole world took its accustomed slow drive before dinner, along the beautiful shores of the two lakes, in the charming, wonderfully-kept Bois de Boulogne. Between the imposing heavy-looking carriages with their powdered servants, drove the carriages belonging to the 'demi-monde,' light and graceful, with spirited prancing steeds; and the young gentlemen, without regarding the displeased looks of the ladies of the 'grande monde,' rode close to these carriages, laughingly and jestingly replying to the piquant remarks made by the ladies of the avant-scène and the Café anglais.
In an open caleche drawn by four beautiful brown horses, preceded by two piqueurs in green and gold, with an officer riding near the door, drove the emperor amongst the lively varied throng. Beside him sat General Fleury. Napoleon's face beamed with good humour, he conversed with animation to the general, responding with gracious empressement, right and left, to the salutes he received, whilst the brilliant equipage drove slowly three times round the lake. An hour later all Paris knew that the emperor was in excellent health, and that affairs must be going on well, since his majesty showed such remarkable cheerfulness.
The emperor was in the same good spirits at the dinner to which the marshals and several distinguished officers were invited. The cercle was over, the sun had set, and the warm darkness of evening was spread over the gigantic city.
The emperor entered his cabinet. He laid aside the uniform he had worn at dinner, and put on a plain black frock coat.
As soon as his valet had gone he called Piétri.
"Is my carriage without livery ready?" he asked.
"It is waiting at the side door as your majesty commanded."
"You have told me of that remarkable pupil of Lenormand," said the emperor. "Morny, too, has spoken to me of her, Madame Moreau, is she not?"
Piétri smiled.
"She has really foretold things in a wonderful way; I once visited her myself, and I was much struck by her prophecies."
"And were they fulfilled?" asked the emperor.
"Much, sire, that she foretold happened."
"I will hear her," said Napoleon; "come with me."
And he went down the staircase leading to his room; followed by his secretary.
They walked along a corridor, and passed through a side door into an inner court of the Tuileries; here stood a plain carriage with two black horses, a coachman, not in livery, sat on the box; it looked like a doctor's carriage.
The emperor stepped in.
Piétri followed him and cried to the coachman, "5, Rue Tournon."
The carriage started at a brisk trot, and drove down the Rue de Rivoli.
A second carriage, equally unremarkable, followed at a little distance.
It contained the chief of the palace police, and one of his officers.
In the old part of Paris, near the palace of the Luxembourg, is the Rue Tournon, one of those ancient streets bearing the stamp of past times, with low houses, old sashes, and small windows. The emperor's carriage stopped before No. 5; Piétri went first through a large open doorway leading into a small porte-cochère. The emperor followed him. The second carriage stopped at the corner of the street, its occupants got out, and began smoking and chatting as they slowly paced the trottoir.
Napoleon followed his secretary through the porte-cochère, and at the end of it walked up some high dark steps leading to a door. A small landing at the top of the first flight was lighted by a plain but elegant lamp, and a white china door-plate bore the name of Madame Moreau.
"It is the same house and the same apartment that Lenormand occupied," said Piétri, as he rang the bell near the door-plate.
The emperor looked round with great interest.
"Here then came Napoleon the First," said he, thoughtfully, "and here the crown was prophesied which he afterwards obtained."
The door opened. A young woman dressed like a Parisian housemaid appeared. The emperor pulled up the collar of his coat, and held his handkerchief before the lower part of his face.
Piétri stepped forwards and concealed him.
"Madame Moreau?" he asked.
"I do not know whether madame still receives," replied the girl; "it is very late."
"We are friends," said Piétri. "Madame will admit us."
"Walk into the salon, gentlemen; I will announce you."
She led the emperor and his secretary to a small, but richly and elegantly furnished room. Thick carpets covered the floor, large fauteuils stood around a table, on which lay several illustrated journals, a large lamp hung from the ceiling, and brightly lighted up the room.
"Your majesty must learn to wait in the ante-room," said Piétri, jestingly, as he wheeled a chair towards Napoleon.
He only placed his hand lightly on the back, and looked round the room with great interest. On the wall hung a large engraving, his own likeness in his coronation robes. With a slight sigh the emperor glanced at the slender, youthful figure represented; then he said, pointing it out laughingly to Piétri:
"This lady appears well disposed."
"She is a scholar of Lenormand, sire," replied Piétri, "and holds to the traditions of her mistress; also she was an especial favourite of the Duke de Morny."
A small door concealed by a very thick dark portière opened, the curtain was pushed aside, and a short, rather stout lady in a plain black dress appeared in the doorway. She was about fifty years of age, with dark smooth hair and lively black eyes, so keen and piercing, that they were an almost startling contrast to the somewhat puffy and very commonplace face to which they belonged.
Piétri advanced.
"I thank you, madame," he said, "for receiving us at this late hour. You have already given me such brilliant proofs of your art, that I have brought a friend who is travelling through Paris, and who begs you to unveil his future."
"Walk this way, messieurs," said Madame Moreau quietly, in an agreeable voice and with the manner of a lady of good society.
And she returned to her cabinet. Piétri and the emperor followed her.
This cabinet was a small square room, which had besides the door leading into the salon, a second door, through which visitors could depart who did not care to face those who might be waiting in the other apartment. This cabinet had a dark carpet. The window looking towards the courtyard was concealed by ample thick green curtains. A tall old chest stood against the wall, near to the window was a somewhat small table covered with a green cloth, and before it a large chair in which the prophetess generally sat. Upon the table stood a lamp with a dark green shade, which lighted up the surface of the table, and left the rest of the room in deep shadow. Upon the other side of the table stood a few dark green chairs and a small divan of the same colour.
The emperor seated himself in an arm-chair in the shadow, and put his handkerchief to his face.
Madame Moreau took no notice. She was accustomed to guests who desired to preserve a strict incognito.
She took her place at the table and asked, "Do you wish the grand jeu?"
"Certainly," replied Piétri, who stood close to Napoleon's chair.
"Will monsieur then show me his hand? The left if he pleases."
Napoleon rose and walked to the table, so that the shadow of the dark lamp shade fell on his face, and he held out his hand to the soothsayer; long, slender, and soft it looked much younger than his face or figure.
Madame Moreau seized this hand, turned the palm upwards, and opened the line between the thumb and forefinger to its utmost extent.
"What a tenacious, enduring will," she said, without raising her eyes from the emperor's hand; "yet there is a weakness here, a hesitating delay; this hand is formed to draw the bow with care and skill, but it will hesitate before letting the arrow fly; it wishes to remain lord of the arrow in its flight, but the arrow then belongs to fate. This hand will not quickly loose the string even when the aim is taken, and the eye perceives that the right moment has come; it will launch the arrow from the concussion of a sudden doubt,--but the arrow obeys the eternal might of Providence," she added, in a low voice. She then continued her attentive examination of the palm. "Broken soon after its beginning, the line of life winds in entwining curves, often crossed and stopped by opposing lines, then it rises in a bold, broad arch, higher and higher, until--"
She gazed with a vacant, dreamy look upon the hand, and remained silent.
"You have a remarkable hand, monsieur," she said, without looking up; "the great Fabius Cunctator must have had a hand like yours--yet here are lines which must have been found in the hand of Catiline, though without the restless haste of that conspirator, and here are the lines of Cæsar--no, of Augustus. Sir," she said, "your hand is very remarkable, it is formed slowly and carefully to knot the threads of fate, it is made to build up and to collect, to uphold and to foster, and yet fate often compels it to destroy."
"And whither does the line of life lead?" asked the emperor, in so low a voice that the sound was scarcely heard.
Madame Moreau said slowly and thoughtfully:
"It turns back to whence it came."
Napoleon looked at Piétri.
"Uncertain as the Pythia," he whispered.
Madame Moreau might have heard and understood these words or not. She said:
"The riddle which the line of life does not reveal, will perhaps be read by my cards."
She let go the emperor's hand, and taking from a drawer in her table some large cards, beautifully painted with strange figures and characters, she handed them to the emperor to shuffle.
He did so, still keeping his face in the shadow from the lamp, and gave her back the pack.
"Monsieur," she then said, "this is a combination that seldom occurs. I see you surrounded by the brightest splendour of the highest on earth, your hand links the fate of numbers. My God!" she cried, "for One only have I seen this constellation--it is so, it must be so, here is the eagle above your head; the star in the diagonal, the golden bees,--it would be unworthy to remain silent, it would lower my art."
She rose hastily and bowing deeply, with a movement possessing a certain grace and dignity, notwithstanding her short and corpulent figure, she said:
"My poor house has the happiness of beholding the monarch of France beneath its roof; sire, with the deepest respect I greet my great and beloved emperor!"
Napoleon started with surprise, then he moved out of the shadow and said laughingly:
"I must compliment you, madame, on the penetration of your cards. Since my great uncle visited your mistress, his nephew and successor may well visit the pupil. But now that we are without mask," he continued, "tell me more of the fate inscribed on your cards."
Madame Moreau returned to her chair, and seated herself at a sign from the emperor--who on his part came close to the table and sat down, looking at the out-spread cards attentively.
"Sire," said the lady, "your majesty will believe that I, who love France, and whose whole heart hangs upon your great race, have often tried in solitude to read by my art the fate of the empire; wonderful to say, this very constellation has each time appeared, the very same which now lies unchanged before me, in the cards your imperial hand has shuffled. I cannot be deceived. It would be absurd of me to tell of your majesty's past, from the cards now lying before me; one thing only I would say,"--she added with hesitation, "may I speak?" and she glanced at Piétri.
"I have no secrets from this gentleman," said Napoleon.
"Sire," proceeded Madame Moreau, still gazing on the cards, "your majesty is happy in a noble consort possessing every virtue--and yet--"
"And yet?" asked the emperor in a voice in which surprise mingled with slight impatience.
"Sire," said she slowly and solemnly, "the life of your majesty lies on the border land of the powers of light and darkness, a bright and glittering star beams down upon it, but the deep shadow of a demon-like fate often threatens to obscure its pure light. Beneath the brilliance of that star, beneath the influence of its blessed rays, the young heart of your majesty first opened to the warm breath of youthful poetry, and an absorbing love: the great emperor's blessing, the noble martyr of St. Helena, rested on this love; it would have lighted and warmed your majesty's heart; and this love was responded to by a heart in whose veins flowed the blood of your great predecessor."
The emperor looked down with emotion, a melancholy expression appeared on his face.
"Sire," continued Madame Moreau, "the dark shadow prevailed, the night of fate closed over that love and its hopes. The heart that beat for you has grieved during a sad and solitary life, and you have missed the guide, the good genius of your youth, who would have led you onwards beneath the rays of your star, and who would often have strengthened your doubting heart."
The emperor was silent. A sigh heaved his breast.
"Go on," he then said.
"Even now, sire," said Madame Moreau, "your heart is in doubt, to-day two opposing spirits wrestle in your soul, you balance between war and peace,--oh! wonderful," she proceeded, gazing attentively at the cards and pointing to some of the pictures, "the men of the sword urge peace."
The emperor listened with surprise.
"Sire," she said, "you have broken the pride of Russia, you have led England's queen to the grave of your uncle, you have revenged upon the house of Hapsburg the humiliations of the King of Rome. Sire, your star's bright beams have lighted you brilliantly on your course; beware of Germany," she said in a hoarse tone, "there the demon-like shadow of your evil fate prevails. Beware! beware!" she cried vehemently, lifting up her hands as if to conjure him, "pause, before you throw the iron dice of war!"
The emperor gazed before him. A slight shudder passed through his limbs.
"And you will pause," continued she, perusing the pictures on her cards, and drawing long lines over the out-spread pack, "for I see you surrounded by the smiling images of peace, and only in the back-ground the god of war zealously whets his sword for future days."
"And shall France thus humble herself?" said Napoleon in a low voice, as if expressing his thoughts aloud, "shall she yield, draw back!"
"I see no humiliation," said Madame Moreau, with sparkling eyes gazing at the cards; "I see dazzling splendour, brighter even than that which surrounded your uncle's throne, I see all the nations of the world assembled around the steps of your imperial throne, I see emperors and kings, all the princes of Europe,--almost of the earth,--surrounding you in a brilliant circle; the Sultan greets the imperial lord of France, the successor of Peter the Great, ah! what is this!" she cried. "Sire, watch, watch over the duty sacred to a guest, murder lurks for Alexander on the soil of France, yet God averts the blow. I see new splendour, brilliant splendour and proud joy, all the people of Europe, Asia, and America, even the swarthy Nubians of Africa, uniting in astonished admiration at the glory of imperial France."
The emperor's eyes were fully opened, they flashed with pride.
"And then?" he asked.
"Sire," said Madame Moreau, "your conquering star has reached the zenith, then clouds arise, bloody lightning flashes through them, I see the points of lances sparkle, I see the war-god in tempestuous thunder stride over the earth, I see your majesty at the head of a moving army, I see you in Germany,"--she covered her eyes with her hands. "Ah! that is far away!" she said slowly; "my eyes are dazzled, I have not powers like the great Lenormand to see into the distant future, later on it will be clear, but to enduring peace fate has not destined you sire, see here!" And in prophetic tones she said: "If the olive tree overshadows France, her laurels must fade!"
The emperor looked at her thoughtfully.
"For the present, then, peace will bring me happiness and glory, but I must not let the olive trees overpower the laurels?"
She slightly nodded her head, still gazing at the cards. Her face quivered, she opened her lips as if to speak, but she was silent.
Napoleon stood up. Once more his eyes looked searchingly round the room.
"In this room, then, Madame Lenormand entertained the emperor?" he asked.
"In this very room, sire," said Madame Moreau, rising, "only the arrangement of the furniture has been slightly changed."
"I thank you, madame," said Napoleon, "follow my horoscope, I shall be glad to hear more from you!"
And with a friendly smile, he walked to the door, which Madame Moreau opened for him, the lamp in her hand.
On the stairs he took Piétri's arm and said:
"Stay, madame, I do not wish to be recognized. I rely on your discretion. Adieu!"
The quiet-looking carriage drove quickly back to the Tuileries.
When he re-entered his cabinet, the emperor seated himself at his writing-table. Piétri stood beside him:
Napoleon wrote:
"My dear Monsieur Drouyn de Lhuys,--
"I herewith send you an explanation of the reasons which, according to my unalterable decision, render a moderate policy necessary on the part of France, with regard to recent events in Germany. I do not doubt that you will entirely share my views, and I beg you to believe in my sincere friendship."
And he signed it, "Napoleon."
He handed the paper silently to Piétri.
"Sire," he said, after reading it, "who does your majesty destine to be the successor of Monsieur Drouyn de Lhuys?"
"Moustiers knows the state of affairs in Berlin well," said the emperor; "prepare a letter to him beforehand, to inquire if he will undertake the guidance of foreign affairs."
Piétri bowed.
"One thing more," said Napoleon, "let Hansen come to me early to-morrow morning, we will make one more effort."
"At your majesty's command."
"What do you think of Madame Moreau?" asked the emperor, who had already turned towards the door leading to his private apartments, as he paused for a moment. "How could she know that episode of my youth?" he whispered in a low voice.
"Sire," replied Piétri, "it is difficult to say."
"'There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy,'" said Napoleon in perfect English; and with a friendly nod he dismissed his secretary.