St. Just, his heart beating with gratitude and, almost, worship for his General, whom at that moment he regarded as a hero for whom he would willingly have laid down his life, bent over Buonaparte's hand and kissed it in his enthusiasm.
The evident spontaneity of the act and its devotion pleased the General and even touched his heart.
"Go along, you silly boy," he said, with a smile; "this is not a drawing-room, but a soldier's quarters. You should reserve such acts of homage for your mistress. Now, go; I shall not lose sight of your interests." And he gave him a friendly push towards his companion, who stood waiting statue-like by the door.
The door closed upon them, and Buonaparte was alone. In a moment a change came over his countenance; the smile vanished and, with knitted brow, and hands clasped behind his back, he stood in the center of the apartment, motionless, deep in thought.
"They must not meet yet," he muttered presently; "not until I have seen her and learned what she will tell him."
St. Just's return had brought Halima to his mind. For months he had seen nothing of her, nor had he communicated with her. In fact he had discarded her, as a child throws aside a toy of which he has grown tired. At the same time, although he considered himself in no way accountable to St. Just for his relations with her, he did not care that the former lovers should meet without preparation. He knew that Halima was in Cairo, for he had given orders that she was to be watched, though unknown to her, and not allowed to leave—a selfish precaution he had taken, in case he should care to renew his intercourse with her.
However, for the moment, there were weightier matters to engage his thoughts. He turned again to some papers he had received from Paris, his consideration of which had been interrupted by the despatches from Admiral Gantheaume.
After studying them for some time attentively, he spoke aloud. "Things seem going badly in Paris. Those directors are not to be trusted. Spite of all I have done for France, they are my enemies. They think to keep me in the background, to brush me aside. Ha! we shall see. They have reason to fear me. They shall know the stuff of which I am made. But Junot was right; I must go back to France at once."
He gathered up the documents, locked them up in a drawer; then strode quickly from the room.
CHAPTER XV.