Bonaparte smiled at this solicitude of his tender friend, yet he listened to his pressing alarms, and, instead of opening and reading the letter, he passed it to Junot.
“Read it yourself, if you have the courage to do so,” said be, familiarly shaking his head.
Junot rapidly broke the black seal and tore the red paper. Then, fixing his eyes on it, he threw it aside, and broke into loud, merry laughter.
“Well,” asked Bonaparte, “what does the letter contain?”
“A mystery, my general—nothing more than a mystery,” cried Junot, presenting the letter to Bonaparte.
The letter contained but these words:
“Macbeth, you will be king.
“THE RED MAN.”
Junot laughed over this mysterious note, but Bonaparte shared not in his merriment. With compressed lips and frowning brow he looked at these strange, prophetic words, as if in their characters he wanted to discover the features of him who had dared to look into the most hidden recesses of his soul; then he threw the paper into the chimney-fire, and slowly and thoughtfully paced the room, while in a low voice he murmured, “Macbeth, you will be king.”