While I professed my readiness to comply with the suggestion, we drove into the court of the Tuileries. It was so early that, except the officers of the Consul's staff and some of those on guard, we were the only persons visible.
“We are the first arrivals,” said the general, as we drew up at the door of the pavilion. “I am not sorry for it; we shall have our audience over before the crowd assembles.”
Giving our names to the usher, we mounted the stairs, and passed on from room to room until we came to a large salon, in which seats were formally arranged in a semicircle, an armchair somewhat higher than the rest occupying the centre. Several full-length portraits of the generals of the Revolutionary armies adorned the walls, and a striking likeness of the Consul himself, on horseback, held the principal place. I had but time to see thus much, when the two sides of the folding-doors were flung open, and Madame Bonaparte, followed by Mademoiselle de Meudon, entered. Scarcely were the doors closed, when she said, smiling,—
“I heard of your arrival. General, and guessed its purport, so came at once. Monsieur Burke, I am happy to see you at liberty once more.”
“That I owe it to you, Madame, makes it doubly dear to me,” said I, faltering.
“You must not overrate my exertions on your behalf,” replied the Consulesse, in a hurried voice. “There was an amende due to you for the treatment you met with at Versailles,—all Savary's fault; and now I am sincerely sorry I ever suffered myself to become a party to his schemes. Indeed, I never guessed them, or I should not. General d'Auvergne has made you his aide-decamp, he tells me.”
“Yes, Madame; my good fortune has showered favors on me most suddenly. Your kindness has been an augury of success in everything.”
She smiled, as if pleased, and then said, “I have a piece of advice to give you, and hope you 'll profit by it.” Then, turning towards the general, who all this time was deeply engaged in talking to Mademoiselle de Meudon, she added, “Don't you think. General, that it were as well Monsieur Burke should not be in the way of meeting the Consul for some short time to come. Is there any garrison duty, or any service away from Paris, where for a week or so he could remain?”
“I have thought of that, Madame,” said the général. “Two of the regiments in my brigade are to march tomorrow for the east of France, and I intend my young friend to proceed to Strasburg at once.”
“This is not meant for banishment,” said she to me, with a look of much sweetness; “but Bonaparte will now and then say a severe thing, likely to dwell in the mind of him to whom it was addressed long after the sentiment which dictated it has departed. A little time will efface all memory of this sad affair, and then we shall be happy to see you here again.”