“Bonaparte, state the reply you are going to make to the Count de Provence,” she said, anxious to withdraw his attention from the contemplation of this fascinating beauty.
“A reply?” asked Bonaparte. “What shall I reply to?”
“General, to this letter, which the Count de Provence has intrusted to me, and which I have solemnly pledged myself to deliver to you personally,” said Marianne, handing Bonaparte a sealed paper, with an imploring glance.
Bonaparte did not take it at once, but looked sternly at the two ladies who stood before him, turning their beautiful and deeply moved faces toward him with an air of supplication.
“It is a perfect conspiracy, then, ladies? A complete surprise of the fortress?” he asked. “You want to compel me forcibly to open the gates of my eyes to you? Do you not know, then, Josephine, that I have sworn not to accept any letters from the Pretender, in order not to be obliged to make a harsh reply to him?”
“Keep your oath, then,” said Josephine, smiling; “do not accept the letter, but permit me to do so, and let me read the contents of the letter to you.”
“Oh, women, women!” exclaimed Bonaparte, smiling. “They are born sophists, and I believe they would be able to outwit the devil himself! Well, I will comply with your request; take the letter and read it to me.”
Josephine uttered a joyful cry, and took the letter from Marianne’s hands. While she broke the seal and unfolded the paper, Bonaparte had risen from his arm-chair, and commenced slowly pacing the room. He knew, perhaps, that Marianne’s eyes were fixed upon him with a searching expression, and her glances were disagreeable to him.
Josephine read as follows:
“Men like you, sir, never inspire suspicion and uneasiness, whatever their conduct may be. You have accepted the exalted position which the French people offered to you, and I am grateful to you for so doing. You know better than anybody else how much strength and power are required to secure the happiness of a great nation. Save France from her own fury, and you will have fulfilled the foremost and greatest desire of my heart; restore her king to her, and future generations will bless your memory. But you hesitate very long to give my throne back to me, and I almost fear you will allow the opportunity to pass by unimproved. Hasten, therefore, and designate the positions you desire for yourself and for your friends. You will always be too indispensable to the state for me ever to be able to discharge the obligations of my ancestors and my own, even by means of the most influential positions. My character, as well as motives of sound policy, will induce me to pursue a liberal course. We are able to secure the happiness of France. I say we, for you cannot secure the happiness of France without me, and I cannot do any thing for France without you. General, Europe has fixed her eyes on you, and immortal glory awaits you.” [Footnote: This letter is historical.—Vide “Memoires d’un Homme d’Etat,” vol. vii., p. 393.]