"Sire, I was formerly Viscountess Beauharnais; now I am—"
"The wife of the First Consul!" exclaimed the prince, drawing back in terror—" the wife of him who is pursuing me, and who, as Fouche says, means to bring me to the scaffold."
"Oh, sire, forgive him!" implored Josephine; "he is not wicked, he is not cruel; but circumstances compel him to act as he does. God Himself, it would seem, has chosen him to restore, with his heroic sword and his heroic spirit, peace and prosperity to this unfortunate land, bleeding from a thousand wounds. He was the savior of France, and the grateful nation hailed him with paeans, and full of confidence laid the reins of government in his hands. Through his victories and his administration of affairs, France has again grown strong and great and happy; and yet he is daily threatened by assassins, yet there are continual conspiracies whose aim is to murder the man to whom France is indebted for its new birth. What wonder that he at last, to put an end to these conspiracies, and these attempts upon his life, will, by a deed of horror, inspire the conspirators with fear? He is firmly resolved on this. The lion has been aroused from his calmness by new conspiracies, and the shaking of his mane will this time annihilate all who venture to conspire against him. Sire, I do not accuse you; I do not say that you do wrongly to make every attempt to regain the inheritance of your fathers. May God judge between you and your enemies! But your enemies have the power in their hands, and you must yield to that power. Oh, my dear, unfortunate, pitiable lord, I conjure you, save yourself from the anger of the First Consul, and from the pursuers who have been sent out to seek you. If you are found, you are lost, and no one in the world will then be able to save you. Fly, therefore—fly, while there is still time!"
"Fly!" cried the young prince, bitterly, "evermore fly! My whole life is a perpetual flight, a continuous concealment. Like the Wandering Jew, I must journey from land to land—nowhere can I rest, nowhere find peace. Without a home, without parents, without a name, I wander around, and, like a hunted wild beast, I must continually start afresh, for the hounds are close behind me. Well, be it so, then; I am weary of defying my fate longer; I surrender myself to what is inevitable. The First Consul may send me as a conspirator to the scaffold. I am prepared to die. I shall find that peace in death at least that life so cruelly denies me. I will not fly—I will remain. The example of my parents will teach me how to die."
"Oh, speak not so!" exclaimed Josephine. "Have pity on me, have pity on yourself. You are still so young, life has so much for you yet, there remains so much to you yet to hope for. You must live, not to avenge the death of your illustrious parents, but to make its memory less poignant. Son of kings, you have received life from God, and from your parents, you may not lightly throw it away, but must defend it, for the blessing of your mother rests upon your head, which you must save from the scaffold."
"You must live," said Fouche, "for your death would bring joy to those who were the bitter enemies of Queen Marie Antoinette, and who would be your mocking heirs. Will you grant to the Count de Lille the uncontested right of calling himself Louis XVIII.?—the Count de Lille, who caused Marie Antoinette to shed so many tears."
The prince flamed up at this, and his eyes flashed.
"No," he cried, "the Count de Lille shall not have this joy. He shall not rest his curse-laden head upon the pillow with the calm consciousness that he will be the king of the future. My vision shall disturb his sleep, and the possibility that I shall return and demand my own again, shall be the terror that shall keep peace far from him. You are right, madame, I must live. The spirit of Marie Antoinette hovers over me, and demands that I live, and by my life avenge her of her most bitter enemy. Let it be so, then. Tell me, Fouche, whither shall I go? Where shall the poor criminal hide himself, whose only offence lies in this, that he is alive, and that he is the son of his father? Where is there a cave in which the poor hunted game can hide himself from the hounds?"
"Sire, you must away, away into foreign lands. The arm of the First Consul is powerful, and his eagle eye scans all Europe, and would discover you at any point."
"You must for the present find a home beyond the sea," said Fouche, approaching nearer. "I have already taken measures which will allow you to do so. There are ships sailing southward from Marseilles every day, and in one of these you must go to America. America is the land of freedom, of adventures, and of great deeds. You will there find sufficient occupation for your spirit and for your love of work."