"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.
"Private and Confidential.
"ALGIERS.
"MY DEAR PRINCE,—We have a very ugly business on our hands, as
you will see by the accompanying documents.
"The story, briefly told, is this: Baron Hulot d'Ervy sent out to
the province of Oran an uncle of his as a broker in grain and
forage, and gave him an accomplice in the person of a storekeeper.
This storekeeper, to curry favor, has made a confession, and
finally made his escape. The Public Prosecutor took the matter up
very thoroughly, seeing, as he supposed, that only two inferior
agents were implicated; but Johann Fischer, uncle to your Chief of
the Commissariat Department, finding that he was to be brought up
at the Assizes, stabbed himself in prison with a nail.
"That would have been the end of the matter if this worthy and
honest man, deceived, it would seem, by his agent and by his
nephew, had not thought proper to write to Baron Hulot. This
letter, seized as a document, so greatly surprised the Public
Prosecutor, that he came to see me. Now, the arrest and public
trial of a Councillor of State would be such a terrible thing—of
a man high in office too, who has a good record for loyal service
—for after the Beresina, it was he who saved us all by
reorganizing the administration—that I desired to have all the
papers sent to me.
"Is the matter to take its course? Now that the principal agent is
dead, will it not be better to smother up the affair and sentence
the storekeeper in default?
"The Public Prosecutor has consented to my forwarding the
documents for your perusal; the Baron Hulot d'Ervy, being resident
in Paris, the proceedings will lie with your Supreme Court. We
have hit on this rather shabby way of ridding ourselves of the
difficulty for the moment.
"Only, my dear Marshal, decide quickly. This miserable business is
too much talked about already, and it will do as much harm to us
as to you all if the name of the principal culprit—known at
present only to the Public Prosecutor, the examining judge, and
myself—should happen to leak out."