“Here is the letter in which I ask it of your king, my lord, and it is to be quite sure that it reaches his Britannic Majesty that I ask Lord Grenville’s nephew to be my messenger.”
“It shall be done as you desire, citizen; and were I the uncle, instead of the nephew, I should promise more.”
“When can you start?”
“In an hour I shall be gone.”
“You have no wish to express to me before leaving?”
“None. In any case, if I have any, I leave my affairs to my friend, Roland.”
“Shake hands with me, my lord; it will be a good omen, as you represent England and I France.”
Sir John accepted the honor done him by Bonaparte, with the exact measure of cordiality that indicated both his sympathy for France, and his mental reserves for the honor of his own nation.
Then, having pressed Roland’s hand with fraternal effusion, he bowed again to the First Consul and went out. Bonaparte followed him reflectively with his eyes; then he said suddenly: “Roland, I not only consent to your sister’s marriage with Lord Tanlay, but I wish it. Do you understand? I wish it.”
He laid such emphasis upon those three words, that to any one who knew him they signified plainly, not “I wish,” but “I will.”