“Des dieux que nous servons connais la différence:
Les tiens t’ont commandé le meurtre et la vengeance:
Et le mien, quand ton bras vient de m’assassiner,
M’ordonne de te plaindre et de te pardonner.”
As he half whispered the line,
“Et le mien, quand ton bras vient de m’assassiner,”
I could not refrain from raising my eyes and looking at him. He smiled, and went on repeating the verses. In truth, at that moment I did believe that he had deceived his wife and everybody else, and was planning a grand scene of magnanimous pardon. I caught eagerly at this idea, and it restored me to composure. My imagination was very juvenile in those days, and I longed so much to be able to hope!
“You like poetry?” Bonaparte asked me. How I longed to answer, “Especially when the lines are applicable;” but I did not dare to utter the words. I may as well mention in this place that the very day after I had set down the above reminiscence, a friend lent me a book entitled “Mémoires Secrètes sur la Vie de Lucien Bonaparte.” This work, which is probably written by a secretary of Lucien’s, is inaccurate in several instances. Some notes added at the end are said to be written by a person worthy of belief. I found among them the following, which struck me as curious: “Lucien was informed of the death of the Duc d’Enghien by General Hullin, a relative of Mme. Jouberthon, who came to her house some hours after that event, looking the image of grief and consternation. The Military Council had been assured that the First Consul only purposed to assert his authority, and fully intended to pardon the prince, and certain lines from ‘Alzire’, commencing
‘Des dieux que nous servons connais la différence,’
had been quoted to them.”