NIGHT AND MORNING NEAR PARIS.
So the allied armies encamped and rested round the bivouac-fires, while, at a house in the suburbs of La Chapelle, the plenipotentiaries of the sovereigns were still negotiating with the French marshals the terms on which the city was to be surrendered. But he who now rode along the road to Paris at a gallop in an open carriage knew no peace or rest. His quivering features were expressive of alarm; ruin sat enthroned on his forehead, covered with perspiration. By his side sat Caulaincourt; behind him, Berthier and Flahault. The carriage thundered along at the utmost speed. "Caulaincourt, I shall arrive at Paris in time," murmured the emperor; "we are already at Fromenteau; in an hour we shall be there. The watch-fires of the enemy are seen on the opposite bank of the Seine. Ah, I shall extinguish them; to-morrow night the enemy will not be so near.—But what is that? Do you hear nothing? Have the carriage stopped!"
Berthier shouted to the driver—the carriage stopped. They all heard a sort of hollow noise.
"It is a squad of cavalry riding along this road," whispered
Caulaincourt.
"It is artillery," murmured Napoleon. "Forward! They can only be our own men. But why are they retreating from Paris? Forward!"
The carriage rolled on. And from the other side of the road a dark mass, with a rumbling noise, moved toward them. Napoleon was not mistaken, nor was Caulaincourt mistaken.
"Who is there?" shouted the emperor to the horsemen at the head of the column. "Halt!"
"It is the emperor!" cried a voice, in amazement, and a horseman dismounting in a moment approached the carriage.
"It is General Belliard," exclaimed the emperor, and alighted hastily from his carriage. "General, whither are you moving? What about Paris?"
"Sire, all is lost!" said Belliard, after a mournful pause.