“Monsieur le Comte de Provençe, brother of Louis XVI.”
“Consequently Louis XVIII., since his nephew, the Dauphin, is dead.”
Bonaparte looked at the stranger again. It was evident that Morgan was a pseudonym, assumed to hide his real name. Then, turning his eyes on the letter, he read:
January 3, 1800.
Whatever may be their apparent conduct, monsieur, men like you
never inspire distrust. You have accepted an exalted post, and
I thank you for so doing. You know, better than others, that
force and power are needed to make the happiness of a great
nation. Save France from her own madness, and you will fulfil
the desire of my heart; restore her king, and future generations
will bless your memory. If you doubt my gratitude, choose your
own place, determine the future of your friends. As for my
principles, I am a Frenchman, clement by nature, still more so
by judgment. No! the conqueror of Lodi, Castiglione and Arcola,
the conqueror of Italy and Egypt, cannot prefer an empty
celebrity to fame. Lose no more precious time. We can secure
the glory of France. I say we, because I have need of Bonaparte
for that which he cannot achieve without me. General, the eyes
of Europe are upon you, glory awaits you, and I am eager to
restore my people to happiness.
LOUIS.
Bonaparte turned to the young man, who stood erect, motionless and silent as a statue.
“Do you know the contents of this letter?” he asked.
The young man bowed. “Yes, citizen First Consul.”
“It was sealed, however.”
“It was sent unsealed under cover to the person who intrusted it to me. And before doing so he made me read it, that I might know its full importance.”
“Can I know the name of the person who intrusted it to you?”