He paused for a moment in the doorway and then came forward. The light from the lamp, modified, as it was, by the green shade, made his countenance, always pale and passionless, look almost death-like now, and emphasized by contrast the wondrous eyes which flashed and glistened with vitality and movement. He wore the uniform of an officer of Artillery, and with scarce a decoration. His nether limbs were encased in white breeches and silk stockings; a sash of tricolor completed his costume.
His eyes fixed the two men in the room; both felt their magnetic force, and one seemed almost turned to stone. But almost instantly, both bent before him.
"So!" he began, in a hard, dry voice, "Mons. St. Just, you have come to life again. I will inquire into that anon. Meantime, perhaps you, Mons. de Talleyrand, will explain the meaning of this—gentleman's presence here." He stamped his foot impatiently.
"Sir," began Talleyrand, in his icy tones, "I ventured to send for Mons. St. Just with a view to his being despatched to England on the mission we have discussed together. You left in my hands the selection of the agent, and, for several reasons which I shall be happy to give you when we are alone, I deemed him suitable."
"An assassin, a prisoner from the Temple! I congratulate you on the felicity of your selection," was the ironical rejoinder.
"A prisoner whom your clemency has freed. You cannot, General, have forgotten the token from Mons. St. Just I handed you."
Buonaparte had not forgotten, but for a purpose he affected to have done so. The Man of Destiny forgot nothing. "Token, what token?" he asked sharply. He dropped into a chair, then leisurely took snuff.
"This charm, Sir," said St. Just respectfully. He stepped forward and held out the trinket. "This jewel given to me by Madame Buonaparte in your presence, one memorable night, when you attached a promise to it."
"I now remember, Sir," answered the First Consul sternly, "and the pledge I gave you, but I little guessed that I should be reminded of it in such circumstances as the present. I did not expect that, in the fulfillment of my promise, I should be called upon to save a would-be assassin, and a deserter from his colors from the penalty of his crimes. But I will respect my word, Sir; your life is spared. See that you make a worthier use of it in the future." Then, in a voice of thunder, he concluded, "But have a care, Sir, have a care, lest you try my patience and forbearance beyond their limits. Never again put that trinket to so vile a use, or I fear me you will find that it has lost its virtue. Nay, I marvel that, on this occasion, you should have shielded yourself with its protection. A brave man dishonored, is glad to hide his dishonor in the grave."
The countenance he turned upon St. Just was awful in its sternness and contempt, and the confusion and abasement of the wretched man were piteous to behold. He bent his head to his chest, and trembled in every limb, and his face rivaled in its pallor even Buonaparte's. The scathing words of the First Consul had so affected him that, for the moment, he felt that death itself would have been preferable, and regretted that the talisman had been employed to save his life. His breath came hard and fast, and he made several ineffectual attempts to speak; at last he gasped out: