“And nearly succeeded,” Ivan continued sadly. “All our joy in the present, all our happy plans for the future, might to-day have been turned into mourning. And not ours only—”
“But how was it?” Emile interrupted.
“It occurred to his cook, contrary to his usual practice, to taste the wine laid ready for his master’s use at dinner. The poor fellow’s life has been saved with the utmost difficulty.”
“That is abominable!” cried Emile. “If I but knew the miscreant who did it, I would spare the executioner a bad business. Peste! if we want a victim, we Imperialists—and perhaps it is not unnatural we should—we ought to take Gneisenau who proposed a scaffold for the Emperor, Talleyrand who deceived and betrayed everybody impartially all round, or old Louis himself who ran away from his throne without striking a blow. We might spare at least the one chivalrous enemy who always spared us.”
“It would be better for yourselves,” said Ivan. “And for others too. Baron Muffling[66] says he is longing to get the Czar out of Paris, as, if he is assassinated, or even insulted, no power on earth would be able to avert a general massacre of the inhabitants by the Allies.”
“Which you would take part in, Prince Ivan.”
Ivan was silent for a moment, then he said in a tone of deep feeling, “Do not ask me. I am a Christian, I hope, but I am a man also. I know not what I would do. God grant I may not be put to the test.”
There was a pause, then Emile asked, “What does he say?”
“If I tell you, will you scoff?”
“At him? No; that I can promise you.”