"Tell your Josephine what troubles you," she resumed in pleading tones, when they were seated. "Forget for one short hour the cares of State, and let us be all in all to one another."
Nervously he clasped her hand in his, and, with eyes cast down upon the ground in very shame at the base part he was about to play, he strove to speak. But his words did not come willingly.
"How—how can I tell you," he began; "but I must, though it cuts me to the heart. Josephine! my dear Josephine! You know how I have loved you!.... To you, to you alone, I owe the only moments of happiness I have tasted in this world. But, Josephine, my destiny is not to be controlled by my desire. My dearest affections must yield to the interests of France. They—the Ministers wish me to separate from you. They—they say that it is necessary for the welfare of France that I should have an heir to follow me in the Empire I have founded. They tell me I must marry again." His voice had sunk lower and lower, till the last words had become all but inaudible.
"And who are they," she cried impetuously, "that dare to tell the conqueror of Egypt, of Italy, of Austria; the ruler of the foremost country in the world, that he must do anything?" Then, changing her tone to one of supplication, she continued. "You talk of marrying again; do I not already enjoy few enough of a wife's privileges, that you should think of putting me away? You do not give me the opportunity of wearying you, for you are so much away on your numerous campaigns. I do not complain, for what is a woman in comparison to affairs of State; but I feel your frequent absences sorely.
"Oh! Napoleon, think how we have loved each other; recall the days of old when you were troubled, and came to Josephine for sympathy and consolation."
She rose to her feet and faced him. "You have raised me to an exalted station, to a position that any woman would be proud of; it is a great thing to be an Empress; doubtless I am the envy of millions of my sex! But it is not the Emperor, it is Napoleon whom I love. These trappings are as naught to me, without your love; this imperial mantle, I cast it from me; this sparkling bauble, I tear it from my brow;" and, suiting her action to her words, she tossed the mantle from her shoulders and dashed her tiara on the ground.
"Sire, I come to you, all powerful, as you now are; I come to you, a suppliant, as you once came to me." She cast herself upon her knees before him. "Oh! do not mock me with the State; what right has it to intervene between two loving hearts, to abrogate God's ordinances? Oh! Napoleon, say you love me." She grovelled at his feet and clasped her arms around his knees; she could scarce proceed for the tears that were streaming down her face and the sobs that she could not repress. "Oh! be Emperor in deed as well as name," she went on in broken accents. "Why should you vex yourself about a son to follow you as Emperor and King, you who can make Emperors and Kings at will? And for the State, you are the State, as Louis le Grand in his time proudly said he was."
Then, seeing his unbending look, "I see my appeal is useless. Say no more, I understand you. I expected this, but the blow is not the less mortal."
She sank exhausted on the floor before him.
Hard and selfish, as he was, he had some heart, and at the sight of her killing grief and the lovely, tear-stained face, that he had never before seen, except wreathed in smiles, a wave of pity for a moment rolled over his resolve, and almost stifled it. Her pleadings had raised strong emotions. He rose and began to pace the gallery, with head bent forward and hands clasped behind his back. "Stay," he said. Then he began to mutter to himself, "Yes, I would I could defy them." His hands twitched nervously. Suddenly he snapped his fingers. "Yes, and I will defy them. Am I not Emperor, and shall they dictate to me? By Heavens, no. They will only cringe before me, when I tell them that I refuse to be coerced by them." His hand strayed unconsciously to his pocket, and touched something. "And yet—" Then all at once his manner changed. A man was advancing along the gallery. It was St. Just, resplendent in his uniform as Captain of the Empress's guards. Napoleon's eye fell on him, and he remembered what Colonel Tremeau had said about him, he had called him the paramour of the Empress.