And he drew from a drawer the dagger he had taken from Roland and laid it on the table within reach of Morgan’s hand.
“But,” he added, “there is some distance between Bonaparte’s breast and an assassin’s dagger. Try.”
And he advanced to the young man with a flaming eye.
“I did not come here to assassinate you,” said the young man, coldly. “Later, if I consider your death indispensable to the cause, I shall do all in my power, and if I fail it will not be because you are Marius and I the Cimbrian. Have you anything else to say to me, citizen First Consul?” concluded the young man, bowing.
“Yes. Tell Cadoudal that when he is ready to fight the enemy, instead of Frenchmen, I have a colonel’s commission ready signed in my desk for him.”
“Cadoudal commands, not a regiment, but an army. You were unwilling to retrograde from Bonaparte to Monk; why should you expect him to descend from general to colonel? Have you nothing else to say to me, citizen First Consul?”
“Yes. Have you any way of transmitting my reply to the Comte de Provençe?”
“You mean King Louis XVIII.?”
“Don’t let us quibble over words. To him who wrote to me.”
“His envoy is now at the camp at Aubiers.”