He, too, had crept into the confidence of the revolutionary party by a series of deceptions, equally well contrived, and by the same contrivers who had put forward the diplomatist.
It is true, the leaders of the people were not unsuspicious of him. The hero of the Boulogne expedition, with the tamed eagle perched upon his shoulder, was not likely to prove a soldier of Freedom, nor yet its apostle; and in spite of his revolutionary professions, they looked upon him with distrust.
Had they seen him, as he set forth from England to assume the Presidency of France, loaded with bags of gold—the contributions of the crowned heads to secure it—they might have been sure of the part he was about to play.
He had been employed as a dernier ressort—a last political necessity of the despots. Twelve months before they would have scorned such a scurvy instrument, and did.
But times had suddenly changed. Orleans and Bourbon were no longer available. Both dynasties were defunct, or existing without influence. There was but one power that could be used to crush republicanism in France—the prestige of that great name, Napoleon, once more in the full sunlight of glory, with its sins forgiven and forgotten.
He who now represented it was the very man for the work, for his employers knew it was a task congenial to him.
With coin in his purse, and an imperial crown promised for his reward, he went forth, dagger in hand, sworn to stab Liberty to the heart!
History records how faithfully he has kept his oath!