"On the contrary, this is the happiest event that could happen under the canopy. You don't see that Bonaparte falls into the little trap I set for him. His return is folly. He will reach Paris without striking a blow, for the Bourbons are execrated. But before a month, all Europe will march against France."
Without waiting for Fouché to finish his speech, the various persons in the hall fled to the door, each a prey to a different fear.
CHAPTER IX.
WATERLOO.
The Hundred Days were over. They had passed like the lightning in a stormy night. Relying only on his genius and his army, Napoleon had staked upon the turn of a battle his Empire and the independence of the country. This battle, of Waterloo, he lost, in spite of the super-human heroism of his soldiers.
May the name of Napoleon be accursed!
Several days had passed since that great disaster. In the cloth shop of John Lebrenn, in St. Denis Street, under the sign of the 'Sword of Brennus,' the following scene was enacting.
General Oliver, back wounded from the battle of Waterloo, where he had bravely conducted himself, was engaged in conversation with his former master.
"Well, Oliver," Lebrenn was saying to the wounded warrior, "your Bonaparte has led France to her doom. We have lost the frontiers conquered by the Republic. A second time the stranger is in the heart of our country."
"Ah, would that I had remained at Waterloo, like so many others of my companions-in-arms. But death would not take me!"
"I reproach you not, Oliver. You are defeated and unhappy; you have returned to us. Let us draw the curtain over the past."