"The means to subdue a woman's pride, Sire, and make her thankful to marry me," replied de Marmont promptly.
"A title, what?" queried the Emperor. "You have everything else, you rogue, to please a woman's fancy and make her thankful to marry you."
"A title, Sire, would be a welcome addition," said de Marmont lightly, "and the freedom to go and woo her, until France and my Emperor need me again."
"Then go and do your wooing, man, and come back here to me in three months, for I doubt not by then the flames of war will have been kindled against me again."
CHAPTER VIII
THE SOUND OF REVELRY BY NIGHT
I
But the hand had lost its cunning, the mighty brain its indomitable will-power. Genius was still there, but it was cramped now by indecision—the indecision born of a sense of enmity around, suspicion where there should have been nothing but enthusiasm, and the blind devotion of the past.