The Russian officer recognized Napoleon as quickly as the other. The Emperor advanced, the soldiers crowding after threw themselves upon the renegades immediately, while the Emperor strode forward alone. The young Russian noble was a quicker witted man than his countrymen ordinarily were. He saw a chance to end everything then and there, to do his country a great service, although his life would be forfeited instantly in the doing of it.
"My chance," he shouted, raising Pierre's pistol.
The shot was an easy one. It was impossible to miss. Marteau had stepped forward. The thrill in the tones of the man's voice attracted his attention. One glance and he saw all. He threw himself in front of the Emperor just as the Russian pressed the trigger. At the same moment the Countess Laure, who stood nearest him, struck up the Russian's arm. The bullet buried itself in the ceiling above.
"Thank God!" cried Marteau as the sound died away and he saw the Emperor standing unharmed.
Napoleon's keen eye had seen everything.
"It is this lady," said he gracefully, "to whom my safety is due. And I am not unmindful that you interposed your own body between the bullet and your Emperor."
"Your Majesty," cried Marteau, now that his Emperor was safe, fain to discharge his duty, "I have tidings of the utmost importance. I have held this château and detained this convoy the Russians had captured. It contains powder, food, guns——"
"I know," said the Emperor. "It comes in the nick of time."
"And I have to report, Sire, that the corps of Wittgenstein, Wrede and of the Field-Marshal Blücher, himself, are strung out at long intervals to the eastward of Champaubert. They have no idea of your proximity."
"Are the divisions in supporting distance of one another?"