"My God, have mercy on me!" sighed the princess, and raised her eyes imploringly to heaven. She was now in the cabinet, and Duroc withdrew to the door. Napoleon stood in the middle of the room; the brightly-burning fire shed a light over his whole figure, and rendered prominent his stern features.
"Sire," exclaimed the princess, falling on her knees, "I beseech you have mercy on my husband! Mercy, sire, mercy!"
"Mercy!" ejaculated Napoleon, harshly. "Do you know the crime of which your husband stands accused?"
"Sire, I know only that he worships your majesty; I therefore do not believe in his guilt," exclaimed the princess.
"He has acted the part of a miserable spy," added Napoleon, raising his voice. "After he had already sworn to me the oath of obedience and fealty, he mailed a letter to the King of Prussia, in which he reported to him the number, the spirit, and movements of the French troops. That is the act of a traitor and a spy, and as such he will be found guilty by the court-martial to-morrow."
"Sire, it is impossible! My husband cannot have done any thing of the kind. Oh, believe me, your majesty, he is innocent! He has been slandered in order to bring about his ruin; but he is innocent—assuredly he is innocent! He never wrote such a letter; he cannot have written it!" The emperor quickly walked to his desk, and took from it a paper, which he handed to her. "Here is the letter," he said. "Do you know your husband's handwriting?"
The princess fixed her eyes, dimmed by tears, on the paper she held in her trembling hands. She then uttered a cry, so piercing and heart-rending, that Duroc, who was standing at the door, felt the tears starting into his eyes. Napoleon himself could not help shuddering.
"It is his handwriting!" muttered the princess, dropping the paper upon the floor. Her quivering lips had now no longer the strength and courage to repeat her prayer—her head fell on her breast, and she uttered only low groans and sobbed.
The emperor seemed to be touched by her wordless yet eloquent grief. His manner, which had hitherto been stern, became gentle and kind, and he looked down with an expression of compassion on that kneeling, despairing form. He stooped, picked up the letter, and placed it in the hands of the princess. "Madame," he said, "here is the letter. Do with it what you please. For this letter is the only thing proving his guilt."
The princess looked up to him with a joyous, surprised glance. The emperor smiled, and pointed silently to the fire-place. She rose hastily from her knees, rushed toward the fire, and threw the paper into it.