I knew that I must look the very picture of conscious guilt, for every word mademoiselle had uttered had pierced me like a two-edged sword. I might have braved the chevalier's accusations and the First Consul's suspicions (for, after all, neither had any evidence against me), but I could not bear her generous confidence in me, feeling that I had so miserably forfeited my right to it by indulging in a foolish boyish prank. I did not raise my head (where it had sunk in shame), but by reason of being so much taller I yet could see her turn toward me, see her look of implicit trust change slowly to doubt and fear. Then I heard her utter one low cry, "Oh, Monsieur, Monsieur!" and turn away. In a moment my resolve was taken. I would make a clean breast of it; she should not think me worse than I was. I lifted my head.
"Mademoiselle!" I cried, and she turned quickly toward me and looked straight into my eyes with a look that was hard to bear. "I am guilty Mademoiselle! I am the man who was in the First Consul's closet, and who escaped on Fatima's back."
The Consul made a motion toward the officer, but I turned to him quickly.
"I beg you, sire,"—and this time I did not know that I had said it, not until long afterward, when one of those who heard told me of it,—"that you will not send your officer for the guard until I have made my confession; then you can send for it, and I will go away quietly, without resistance."
"Very well, officer; you can wait," said Bonaparte, still harshly. The rest of my confession I addressed directly to him.
"I am no clown, mountebank, or circus rider in my own country, sir, as the Chevalier Le Moyne would have you believe; I am the son of a Philadelphia gentleman, and the nephew of Madame Marbois. Unfortunately, life in my native land has bred in me a spirit of adventure that has many times been near my undoing. It has also bred in me a great love for the life of a soldier, and a great admiration for the famous soldiers of history. When I accompanied my uncle to St. Cloud, and knew that he was summoned there to meet the First Consul, I was seized with a desire to enter the palace and roam through the rooms where the First Consul dwelt. When I found admission was not permitted I thought it would be a fine adventure to find my way in without permission. It was a boy's wild spirit of daring, and a boy's almost idolatrous hero-worship that led me into such a scrape."
The Consul interrupted me here, but I thought his tones a little less harsh than before:
"Did your uncle know of your intention to enter the palace?"
"Most certainly not, Citizen First Consul," I answered, "else had I never accomplished it."
"Then how did you find your way to my closet?"