She threw back her veil as he spoke. As she turned towards the table, I saw the pale, almost deathlike features of Marie de Meudon. Such was the shock, I scarce restrained a cry from bursting forth, and a film fell before my eyes as I looked, and the figures before me floated like masses of vapor before my sight.
The Empress now spoke to the general, but no longer could I take notice of what was said. Voices there were, but they conveyed nothing to my mind. A terrible rush of thoughts, too quick for perception, chased one another through my brain, and I felt as though my temples were bursting open from some pressure within.
Suddenly the general moved forward, and knelt to kiss the Empress's hand; he then took that of Mademoiselle de Meudon, and held it to his lips. I heard the word “Adieu!” faintly uttered by her low voice; the veil fell once more over her features. That moment a stir followed, and in a few minutes more we were descending the stairs alone, the general leaning on my arm, his right hand pressed across his eyes.
When we reached the court, several officers of rank pressed forward, and I could hear the buzz of phrases implying congratulations and joy, to which the old general replied briefly, and with evident depression of manner. The dreadful oppression of a sad dream was over me still, and I felt as though to awake were impossible, when, to some remark near him, the general replied,—
“True! Quite true, Monseigneur; I have made her my wife. There only remains one reparation for it, which is to make her my widow.”
“His wife!” said I, aloud, re-echoing the word without knowing.
“Even so, mon ami,” said he, pressing my hand softly; “my name and my fortune are both hers. As for myself,—we shall never meet again.”
He turned away his head as he spoke, nor uttered another word during the remainder of the way.
When we arrived at the Rue de Rohan the horses were harnessed to the carriage, and all in readiness for our departure. The rumor of expected war had brought, a crowd of idlers about the door, through which we passed with some difficulty into the house. Hastily throwing an eye over the now dismantled room, the old general approached the window that looked out upon the Tuileries. “Adieu!” muttered he to himself; “je ne vous reverrai jamais!” And with that he pressed his travelling-cap over his brows, and descended the stairs.
A cheer burst from the mob; the postilion's whip cracked loudly; the horses dashed over the pavement; and ere the first flurry of mad excitement had subsided from my mind, Paris was some miles behind us, and we were hastening on towards the frontier.