He rushed out of the room, and hastened through the anteroom and down-stairs to the front door.
Bonaparte had already entered his carriage; his escort had formed in line, the driver had seized the reins and whip in order to give the impatient horses the signal to start.
At this moment, the pale and humble face of the Marquis de Gallo appeared at the carriage door. Bonaparte did not seem to see him. Leaning back into the cushions, he gloomily looked up to heaven.
“General,” said the marquis, imploringly, “I beseech you not to depart!”
“Marquis,” replied Bonaparte, shrugging his shoulders, “it does not become me to remain peaceably among my enemies. War has been declared, for you have not accepted my ultimatum.”
“But, general, I take the liberty to inform you that the Austrian plenipotentiaries have resolved to accept your ultimatum.” Bonaparte’s marble countenance did not betray the slightest emotion of surprise and joy; his large eyes only cast a piercing glance upon the marquis.
“You accept it without subterfuge or reserve?” he asked, slowly.
“Yes, general, precisely as you have stated it. We are ready to sign the treaty of peace, and accept the ultimatum. Just be kind enough to alight once more, and continue the conference with us.”
“No, sir,” said Bonaparte, “nulla vestigia retrorsam! Being already in my carriage, I shall not return to you. Besides, the delegates of the Venetian Republic are waiting for me at Passeriano, and I believe it is time for me to inform them too of my ultimatum. At the end of three hours, I ask you, marquis, and Count Cobenzl to proceed to my headquarters at Passeriano. There we will take the various stipulations of the treaty into consideration, and agree upon the public and secret articles.”
“But you forget, general, that your orderly is already on the way to the Austrian headquarters in order to announce the reopening of hostilities.”