"I would it might be so," she sighed; "but my mind misgives me. Come, Hermionie, it is time we sought our beds, if all the Palace is not to know of our proceedings. And you, sir," turning to St. Just, "ought not to tarry. I fear you will altogether miss your rest."
Once more he bent low over the Empress's hand. "In your service, Madame," he said gallantly, "I desire no rest. To do your will is a recreation in itself. And I pledge my word not to lay head to pillow, until I have handed your mission to the Emperor. Farewell, Madame, until I have redeemed my word."
She gave his hand a meaning pressure and whispered in his ear, "Farewell, and may God keep you. My heart goes with you, my true knight, my—lover!"
An hour later, he had started for the frontier, and was riding for all that he was worth; wholly unconscious that Colonel Tremeau had been closeted with the Palace Marshal detailing what he had overheard; and that, in consequence, the news was already on its way to Bounaparte.
CHAPTER IV.
It was night, a few days later. From above in the spangled heavens the silver moon was shedding her softened beams upon the expiring camp fires; and along the range of hills, the bugle notes rang out, above the murmur of the camp, the order, "All lights out;" the signal for the wearied army to seek forgetfulness and repose in sleep.
Away to the left, from the burning village of Wagram flames ever and anon shot up, lighting the country round and casting a ruddy glow upon a tent pitched on a mound round which the French army was encamped. Above the tent, the emblem of France's glory, the tricolor flapped and floated in the breeze. At frequent intervals, two grenadiers of the Imperial Guard, who were pacing to and fro before the tent, paused in their sentry-go to listen anxiously; for on the right of the French lines, hard by the silver streak that marked the river Danube, the distant boom of artillery and the fainter rattle of musketry could be heard. Already then, the fighting had begun.
Within the tent sat the master of these legions. Untiringly, while all around him slept, he worked. He was writing, with feverish haste, at the desk that lay open upon the table, the dim lantern casting its feeble rays upon the pale, impressive face, and reflecting just a glimmer on the gilt buttons and epaulets of the green and red Chasseur uniform he wore.
Occasionally he paused to think, and, at such moments, his glance fell on the sleeping secretary, who was, doubtless, dreaming of his cherished wife and children away in sunny France.
"Pauvre enfant!" muttered the Emperor, and resumed his writing.