“Yes, he is a damned infernal blackguard, and unworthy of you.”
The Marshal in his rage shot from his eyes those fulminating fires which, like Napoleon’s, broke a man’s will and judgment.
“You lie, Cottin!” said Marshal Hulot, turning white. “Throw down your baton as I throw mine! I am ready.”
The Prince went up to his old comrade, looked him in the face, and shouted in his ear as he grasped his hand:
“Are you a man?”
“You will see that I am.”
“Well, then, pull yourself together! You must face the worst misfortune that can befall you.”
The Prince turned round, took some papers from the table, and placed them in the Marshal’s hands, saying, “Read that.”
The Comte de Forzheim read the following letter, which lay uppermost:—
“To his Excellency the President of the Council.