General Leclerc approached him respectfully. “Sire,” he said, “Admiral Bruix, to whom I delivered the orders of your majesty, replied to me that the review could not take place to-day because there would be a storm.”
The emperor frowned, and an angry flash from his eyes met the face of the adjutant.
“I must have misunderstood you, sir.” he said. “What did the admiral reply when you delivered my orders to him?”
“Sire, he said it was impossible to carry them out, for a storm was drawing near, and he could not think of ordering the ships to leave their moorings.”
The emperor stamped violently his foot. “Let Admiral Bruix be called hither at once!” he exclaimed, in a thundering voice, and two orderlies immediately left the circle and hastened away.
Several minutes elapsed; Napoleon, his arms folded, his threatening eyes steadfastly turned toward the side on which the admiral would make his appearance, still stood in front of his barrack, in the midst of his suite. His eagle eye now discovered the admiral in the distance, who had just left his boat and stepped ashore. No longer able to suppress his impatience and anger, Napoleon hastened forward to meet the admiral, while the gentlemen of his staff followed him in a long and silent procession.
The emperor and the admiral now stood face to face. Napoleon’s eyes flashed fire.
“Admiral,” exclaimed the emperor, in an angry voice, “why did not you carry out my orders?”
The admiral met Napoleon’s wrathful glance in a calm though respectful manner. “Sire,” he said, “a terrible storm is drawing near. Your majesty can see it just as well as I. Do you want to endanger unnecessarily the lives of so many brave men?”
And as if Nature wanted to confirm the words of the admiral, the distant roll of thunder was heard, and the atmosphere commenced growing dark.