“Always the same strain,” muttered Bonaparte, “always the story of the column surmounted by the statue of the First Consul crowning the Bourbons, while his bleeding corpse is to be the foundation of the column!”
“He is reflecting,” whispered Josephine to the princess. “That shows, at least, that he has not yet made up his mind to reject the offer of the Count de Provence.”
At this moment Bonaparte turned toward the two ladies and approached them rapidly.
“Are you authorized to receive my reply?” he asked, turning his gloomy eyes toward the princess.
“I shall feel happy and honored by any message you may be pleased to intrust to me,” said Marianne.
Bonaparte nodded to her.
“Will you permit me to write a letter here, Josephine?” he asked. Instead of making a reply, Josephine hastened to her desk, in order to take out some paper, to draw a chair to the table, and then to hand the pen to Bonaparte, with a fascinating smile. When he commenced writing, she supported herself in breathless suspense on the back of his arm-chair and looked over the Consul’s shoulder, while the Princess von Eibenberg, standing not far from them, looked at both with sparkling eyes.
Bonaparte hastily wrote a few lines, threw the pen aside, and turning around to Josephine, he handed her the letter.
“There, read it,” he said, “and read it aloud, so that the beautiful emissary of your M. de Bourbon may learn my reply, and know the contents of the message she is to deliver to him.”
Josephine took the paper, and read, in a tremulous voice, frequently interrupted by her sighs: