"At the moment of my writing, St. Helena, the living tomb of the great Emperor, is fading out of sight.
"He is dying; so they told me yesterday. More than a year ago I saw him. With the help of our friend Brenneau—you remember him, the merchant captain—I landed at St. Helena. He had a message for this Sir Hudson Lowe, whom, they have placed as keeper of the Emperor.
"When he had delivered this, we walked as far as Longwood, where Napoleon lives.
"Night was falling, and a strong desire came over me to see him. I concealed myself until it was quite dark, and then tapped gently at a window. It was opened, and Count Bertrand looked out. This was better luck than I had expected, for he knew me instantly, and helped me through the window.
"In a few minutes, I stood before the Emperor. I saw a great change in his appearance. He had gained much flesh since I had last seen him, and there was a flabbiness, with an unhealthy pallor, about his face, that indicated disease. The brightness of his eye was gone, and he looked woefully dejected.
"He received me kindly, and seemed glad to see me, and talked with me of by-gone days and various persons and events in France.
"I fell on my knees and begged him to forgive me for having mixed myself up in plots against him.
"'Rise, Colonel St. Just,' he said, and he took me by the hand—me who had conspired against him—'It is a pity we so long misunderstood each other.'
"Then I wept. 'Ah Sire,' I cried, 'Had I known before what I have since discovered, I should have acted differently.'
"'Ah, my friend,' he said, 'how many of us would act differently, did we but know in time. But we cannot unlive the past, and regrets are vain. I forgive you any wrong you did me. Think kindly of Napoleon, no matter what the world may say of him.'