"Oh, dear mamma," cried the child, with a triumphant air, "I can understand very well, for my papa has often played war on the floor with me, and we have built fortresses. And not long ago, papa emperor told me, too, that he was going to the army, and he spoke of his enemies. I remember them very well; they are the Emperor of Russia—who once kissed my papa's hand, and thanked God that papa emperor consented to be his friend; the King of Prussia, from whom my papa could have taken all his states; the crown prince of Sweden, who learned the art of war from my papa, and is a faithless servant; and last, the Emperor of Austria. But tell me, mamma, is not he your father? And did you not tell me that I ought to pray every night for my grandfather, the Emperor of Austria?"
"I did tell you so, Napoleon," whispered the empress, whose eyes filled with tears.
The boy looked down for a moment musingly; and then, lifting his large blue eyes to his mother, "Mamma," he said, "henceforth I shall never again pray for the Emperor of Austria, for he is now my papa's enemy, and, therefore, no longer my grandfather. No, no, I shall not pray for him, but only as my papa likes me to do." And the boy knelt down, lifting up his hands, and exclaiming in a loud voice, "Good God, I pray to Thee for France and for my father!"
Expressions of deep emotion were heard in the room. The empress covered her face with her handkerchief, and wept bitterly. The little king was still on his knees, with his eyes raised toward heaven. Suddenly the door at which the empress had looked so long and anxiously, opened. It was not King Joseph who entered, but the adjutant of General Clarke, the regent's minister of war. Approaching the empress, he begged leave to communicate a message from the minister.
"Speak," said Maria Louisa, hastily, "and loud enough for every one to hear the news."
"His excellency, the minister of war, has commissioned me to implore your majesty in his name to leave without a moment's delay. He believes that every minute increases the danger, and that an hour hence it might be impossible for you to get away, because your majesty would then run the risk of falling into the hands of roving bands of Cossacks. The Russian corps are already near, and we shall soon hear their cannon thunder at the very gates of Paris." [Footnote: Meneval, "Marie Louise," vol. II., p. 266.]
"Well, then," said Maria Louisa, with quivering lips, "be it so! Let us set out."
All felt that the decisive hour was at hand. The empress quickly advanced a few steps. "Come!" she exclaimed, in feverish agitation. "Let us set out for Rambouillet!"
Suddenly her son grasped her hand and endeavored to draw her back. "Dear mamma," he cried, anxiously, "do not go! Rambouillet is an ugly old castle. Let us not go, but stay here!" [Footnote: The little king's words. Ibid.]
"It cannot be, my son; we must go!"