“Indeed,” said Napoleon, laughing. “Your agents are clever fellows. What did you find in the memorandum-book? Love letters and unpaid bills, I suppose?”
“No, sire, I found in it an important document; an agreement, by virtue of which the lady is to pay the major, in case he should obtain for her an interview with your majesty, a gold-piece for every minute of its duration.”
Napoleon laughed. “The lady is as rich as Croesus, then?” he asked.
“Yes, sire, the princess is said to?”
“Princess! What princess?”
“Sire, the lady to whom your majesty has granted an audience is the Princess von Eibenberg.”
“The Princess von Eibenberg,” replied Napoleon, musingly. “Did I not hear that name on some former occasion? Yes, yes, I remember,” he said, in a low voice, after a short pause, as if speaking to himself; “the agent of the Count de Provence, who delivered to me the letter, and whom I then expelled from Paris.”
“Have you got the diary of the mistress of ceremonies and the other papers with you?” he then asked the governor.
“I have, sire, here they are,” replied M. de Vincennes, drawing a few papers from his bosom. “Here is also the singular agreement of the princess.”
“Give them to me,” said Napoleon; and taking the papers, he looked over them and read a few lines here and there. “Indeed,” he then said, “this affair is piquant enough; it begins to excite my curiosity. Constant, where is the lady?”