“Yes, Sire, and if your Majesty would permit me to deal with him, I would have his information, if he possess any, and that ere long, too.”
“Eh, gaillard,” said he, laughing, as he pinched the old general’s ear in jest, “I believe you, with all my heart.”
The full truth flashed upon my mind. I was in presence of the Emperor himself. As, however, up to this moment I was unconscious of his presence, I resolved now to affect ignorance of it throughout.
“Had you despatches, sir?” said he, turning towards me with a look of stern severity. “Were any despatches found upon him when he was taken?” This latter question was directed to the aide-de-camp who introduced me, and who still remained at the door.
“No, Sire, nothing was found upon him except this locket.”
As he said these words he placed in Napoleon’s hands the keepsake which St. Croix had left with me years before in Spain, and which, as the reader may remember, was a miniature of the Empress Josephine.
The moment the Emperor threw his eyes upon it, the flush which excitement had called into his cheek disappeared at once. He became pale as death, his very lips as bloodless as his wan cheek.
“Leave me, Lefebvre; leave me, Cambronne, for a moment. I will speak with this gentleman alone.”
As the door closed upon them he leaned his arm upon the mantelpiece, and with his head sunk upon his bosom, remained some moments without speaking.
“Augure sinistre!” muttered he within his teeth, as his piercing gaze was riveted upon the picture before him. “Voilà la troisième fois peut-être la dernière.” Then suddenly rousing himself, he advanced close to me, and seizing me by the arm with a grasp like iron, inquired:—