"You try to mock me," said the spectre, "for your heart is filled with doubt, and your soul with pride. But beware, Bonaparte—beware, I tell you for the last time—your hour has come, and every step you advance is a step toward your ruin. Turn back, Bonaparte, if you intend to be saved, for ruin awaits you on the battle-fields of Russia! Turn back, for the souls of your victims cry to God for vengeance, and demand your blood for theirs—your punishment for the ruthlessly destroyed happiness of whole nations! Bonaparte, escape from the soil of Germany, and dare no longer to set foot upon it, for disgraceful defeats are in store for you! Return to France, and endeavor to conciliate those who are cursing you as a perjurer and renegade!"
"Who are they who dare call me a perjurer and renegade?" asked
Napoleon, hastily.
"Who are they?" repeated the spectre, advancing a step toward the emperor and fixing her menacing eyes upon him. "The men to whom you once vowed eternal fidelity, and whom you called your brethren— Philadelphians!"
The emperor started in terror, and his cheeks turned livid. His features, which had hitherto had a sneering, scornful air, were now gloomy, and he stared with an expression of undisguised fear at the lady who stood before him in an imposing attitude, with her arm lifted in a menacing manner.
"The Philadelphians?" asked Napoleon, timidly. "I do not know them."
"You do!" said the spectre, solemnly. "You do know that the invisible ones are watching you, and will punish you because you have broken your oath!"
"I know of no oath!"
"Woe to you if you have forgotten it. I will repeat it to you! It was in 1789, at the forest of Fontainebleau, that you appeared at the meeting of the brethren and requested to be initiated. The Philadelphians admitted you into their league and received your oath. Shall I repeat this oath to you?"
"Do so if you can!"
"You swore that never again should a freeman obey kings, and that death to tyrants under all titles and in all governments is justifiable."