"I followed a servant through some winding corridors, but an officer suddenly appeared. I fled, opened the first door I came to, saw myself in a dressing-room, opened another, and found myself in the closet connecting with your cabinet."
All of which was literally true, and implicated neither Gaston nor Félice, I hoped. The Consul signed to me to go on with my story.
"All would have been well, and I should have slipped out the way I came, had not the First Consul decided to take a bath."
I was watching my auditor narrowly as I talked, for I felt my life depended upon his change of mood, and I thought I saw here the least glimmer of a twinkle in his eye; but if it was there it was banished instantly, and his face was as set and stern as before.
"I have never heard any words, your"—I started to say "your Majesty," caught myself, and stumbled miserably—"your—your—Excellency, that filled me with greater dismay than these: 'Tell my valet to prepare my bath'!"
Again I thought I caught that fleeting twinkle of the eye, but could not be sure.
"There was no hope for me," I went on, "but to wait for the First Consul to finish his bath; but, unfortunately for me, he is fonder of his bath than most men, and I stood in that dark closet in an agony of suspense, and revolving in my mind every conceivable plan of escape, for what seemed to me many long hours. All might still have been well,—for in the nature of things even the First Consul's bath must come to an end sometime,—had I not made a slight noise which the quick ears of the Consul and the Mameluke heard. I was discovered, and there was nothing for me to do but to flee through the audience-chamber and the main corridor, surprising the guard at the door, who, in his turn, raised the whole palace in pursuit.
"I was distancing my pursuers, and should have gotten out of the palace without difficulty, but that at the head of the grand staircase I met the Chevalier Le Moyne, running from the opposite end of the corridor. I would not under ordinary circumstances refuse a sword encounter with the chevalier (though I would prefer an opponent with a nicer sense of honor), but there was no time for such an encounter now if I would not have the whole palace upon me, and, besides, it was most important that the chevalier should not recognize me. There was nothing to do but to hide my face with my arm as if shielding it from his sword, and trip him up, as he says, school-boy fashion. I am sorry that it should have hurt his self-esteem to be vanquished by such a youthful trick, and regret still more that he should have suffered in the estimation of his fellow-officers thereby."
This time the twinkle in the Consul's eye was unmistakable, and I could hear the chevalier grinding his teeth with rage.
"As for your sentry," I continued, "he was aiming his gun to fire at me. There was no time for ceremony. I could have spitted him upon my sword, which was in my hand, and it might have been more respectful; but I dislike bloodshed, unless it is absolutely unavoidable, and so I threw up his gun with my arm, and sent him spinning after it in the dark. I had left my mare Fatima—who is no trick horse, but a young Arabian trained by myself from colthood to do my bidding—in a pine thicket close by. I was on her back and away just in time to escape your mounted guards, who thundered out the gates of the park scarce twenty paces behind me. Had Fatima been less swift I had not been here to tell the tale. I hope the First Consul will believe me when I say I have suffered much from remorse for my rash and thoughtless act. It was a wild spirit of adventure that led me into it, but I see clearly now that does not in the least excuse it, and I am ready to atone for it in any way you decree."