"It very properly punishes me," said the emperor. "We must play seriously."
The game proceeded. It became more and more intricate; the chances were soon in favor of the automaton, and the emperor was in danger of losing the game. Forgetting who was his antagonist, he remembered only that he was about to lose a game, and became serious. He played hastily, and for the third time tried to cheat by moving a knight contrary to the rules. The automaton shook its head vehemently, and upset the whole chess-board.
"Ah, it refuses to continue the game," exclaimed Napoleon; "it despises my swindling, and forgets that it is itself a swindle. You may be thankful, M. Mälzl, that we are no longer in the middle ages; formerly they would have burned you at the stake as a sorcerer, attempting to do what God alone is able to do."
"Sire, permit me to repeat that this machine was not made by myself, but by Kempeler. But I hope your majesty will permit me to show you my own automaton, and allow it to indulge in a little music before you."
"Where is it?"
"Here," said Mälzl, opening the closed curtains of one of the windows, and pointing at the handsome figure visible behind them.
"Ah, a postilion!" exclaimed Napoleon, "and it will blow us a tune on the bugle?"
"Sire, it begs leave to play the Marseillaise to your majesty," said Mälzl, moving the figure on rollers into the middle of the room.
"Let it commence," said Napoleon.
The postilion raised its arm, seized the bugle hanging on a silken string around its neck, put it to its mouth and commenced blowing.