Napoleon And Blucher Part 65

"Who told you so?"

"Sire, we could distinctly hear your majesty's voice in the antechamber; and, when the prince opened the door, the rest, like myself, saw your threatening att.i.tude. In an hour all Paris will know it."

"Well?"

"Sire, the Prince de Benevento is not the man to forgot an insult, and it will mortify him doubly that the world will hear of it."

"Let it mortify him!" cried Napoleon. "All of you have insinuated to me that Talleyrand is a traitor, deserving punishment. I have chastised him; that is all."

"Sire, the chastis.e.m.e.nt was either too severe, or not severe enough," said Savary, gravely. "Had it been too severe, the generous heart of your majesty would think of offering him some satisfaction; but I know Talleyrand, and am firmly convinced of the truth of my statement--I p.r.o.nounce him a plotter of dangerous intrigues. Your majesty therefore cannot chastise him too severely; and, having gone so far, you must now go still farther."

"How so? What do you mean?"

"Sire, I mean that your majesty, instead of allowing the Prince de Benevento to return home, ought to send him to Vincennes, and recommend him to the special care of your friend General Daumesnil."

"Ah, I ought to have him arrested!" cried Napoleon, shrugging his shoulders. "I ought to make a martyr out of a traitor!"

"No, sire, punish a traitor, neither more nor less! I know that Talleyrand is one. He is in secret communication with the legitimists, corresponding with the Bourbons, through other hands; at his house, meetings of malcontents and secret royalists are held every day; there the fires are kindled that will soon burst into devouring energy, unless your majesty extinguish them in time. You have disdained to regain Talleyrand by promises or honors. You have insulted him, and he will revenge himself, if the power of doing so be left him. Sire, I venture to remind your majesty of Machiavel, 'One ought never to make half an enemy.'"

"It is true," murmured Napoleon to himself, thoughtfully, "nothing is more dangerous than such half enmities. Under the mask of friends.h.i.+p they betray us the more surely."

"Hence, sire, pray tear this mask from Talleyrand's treacherous face. Meet him as an open enemy. Then either his enmity will be destroyed by terror, or he will betray his intentions."

"I lack proof to convict him," said Napoleon, in a hesitating and wavering tone.

"Well, yes," exclaimed Savary, "you have no proof, but there cannot be the least doubt as to the intrigues which he is bold enough to plot. The opportunity is too favorable that he should not endeavor to embrace it. Sire, I should like to urge the example of the great police-minister of Louis XV. Whenever M. de Sartines was on the eve of a festival, or any great public ceremony, he sent for all suspicious persons to whom his attention was particularly directed, and said to them, 'I have no charge against you at present, but to- morrow it may be different. Habit you know has power over you, and you are unlikely to resist temptation. It would be inc.u.mbent upon me to treat you with extreme rigor. For your sake, as well as mine, be kind enough therefore to repair for a few days to a prison, the choice of which I leave to yourselves.' The suspected persons willingly complied with his request, and no arrests were made."

"You may be right; M. de Sartines was undoubtedly a sagacious police-minister," said the emperor, musingly. "His precaution is good for those who are afraid; but I am not! If I conquer my enemies, I thereby trample in the dust this vile serpent, too, that would sting me, and then would crawl as a worm at my feet. If I yield to my enemies, let the structure which I have built fall upon me. It will not matter then whether Talleyrand's hand, too, broke off a piece of the wall or not; it would have fallen without him.

Not another word about it, Savary! My carriage--I will ride to my mother!"

On the evening of the same day, the Prince de Benevento left his palace, entered a hackney-coach, and was driven to one of the remote streets of the Faubourg St. Germain. He stopped in front of a small, mean-looking house; and, when the coach had gone, the prince knocked three times in a peculiar manner at the street door. It opened, and he cautiously entered. No one was to be seen in the lighted hall; but Talleyrand seemed perfectly familiar with the locality; and crossing, without hesitation, a long pa.s.sage, he ascended the thickly-carpeted staircase. Here was another locked door, beside which was a bell, which the prince rang three times. The door was opened, and he walked through a long corridor. The pa.s.sage widened, and the prince was now in a brilliant hall, decorated with paintings and gildings. The entrance through the small house was plainly but a circuitous road to one of the palaces of the Faubourg St. Germain where the royalists were plotting mischief. At the end of this hall was a portiere, in front of which was a richly-liveried footman.

Talleyrand whispered a few words; the servant bowed and opened the door. The prince now entered a saloon, furnished in the most magnificent and tasteful style, where another liveried attendant was waiting. "The Countess du Cayla?" asked the Prince de Benevento.

"She is in her cabinet. Shall I announce your highness?"

"It is unnecessary."

He quickly approached and knocked softly at the door of the cabinet.

A sweet voice bade him come in. Before him stood a young lady who welcomed him with a charming smile, but with an air of ill-concealed amazement. "Oh, the Prince de Benevento!" she exclaimed, merrily.

"You come to me to-day; but yesterday, when I went to you to bring you greetings from our august master, King Louis XVIII., you feigned not to understand whom I wished to speak of, and imposed silence."

"To-day I come to make amends for what I did yesterday, countess,"

said Talleyrand, with his graceful kindness. "Be good enough to inform his majesty King Louis XVIII. that he may henceforth count upon my services and my zealous devotedness. I shall a.s.sist him in opening the road to Paris, and do all I can that his majesty may soon be able to make his entrance into the capital of his kingdom."

"Then you have forsaken Napoleon openly and unreservedly!" exclaimed the Countess du Cayla, the zealous agent of the Count de Lille, whom at that time none but the royalists secretly called King Louis XVIII. "You are, then, one of us, now and forever?"

"Yes, I consider myself a member of your party," said Talleyrand, "and at heart I was always one of the most faithful and zealous servants of the king. I can prove it, for it was I who led Napoleon, step by step, frequently even in spite of his reluctance, to the brink of ruin, on which he is standing now, and I am ready to give him a last thrust to plunge him into the abyss. The emperor has been guilty of great folly to-day. He ought to have had me arrested, but he failed to do so. For this mistake I shall punish him by profiting by my liberty in the service of his majesty the king. Let us consider, therefore, countess, what we ought to do for the speedy return of King Louis XVIII. to Paris."

"Yes, let us consider that," exclaimed the countess; "and if you have no objection, prince, we shall allow the faithful friends of his majesty to partic.i.p.ate in the consultation. Upward of one hundred friends are already a.s.sembled in the large saloon, and they are doubtless astonished at my prolonged absence. Come, prince! You will meet an old friend among your new friends."

"Who is it, countess?"

"The Duke d'Otranto!"

"What? Is he here? Has he dared to return?"

"He has, with the emperor's sister, the Princess Eliza Bacciochi; and he is believed to be with her in the south of France, in order to await the course of events. But he has secretly and in disguise come to Paris, in order, like you, to offer his services to King Louis. Late events seem to have converted him into a very zealous royalist, and he openly admits his conversion. He boasts of having said to the Princess Eliza: 'Madame, there is but one way of salvation: the emperor must be killed on the spot.'" [Footnote: "Memoires du Duo de Rovigo," vol. vi., p. 352.]

"In truth, he is right," said Talleyrand, smiling; "that would speedily put an end to all embarra.s.sments. Well, the emperor intends to join the army; perhaps, a hostile bullet may become our ally, and save us further trouble. If not, we shall speak of the matter hereafter. Permit me, countess, to conduct you to the saloon."

CHAPTER XLVI.

MADAME LEt.i.tIA.

Profound silence reigned in the palace of "Madame Mere." It was noonday, and the male and female servants, as well as the ladies of honor of the emperor's mother, had left the palace to take elsewhere the dinner which Madame Let.i.tia refused to give them, and for which she paid them every month a ridiculously small sum; only the two cooks, whom madame, notwithstanding her objections, had to keep, in compliance with the express orders of the emperor, were in the kitchen, but under the vigilant supervision of old Cordelia, the faithful servant who had accompanied madame from Corsica to France, and who, since then, notwithstanding all vicissitudes, had remained her companion. Cordelia not only watched the cooks and gave them what was needed for preparing the meals, but, as soon as the dishes were handed to the servant who was to carry them to the table, she hastened after him in order to prevent him from putting anything aside. When Cordelia went with the servant, she opened, with an air of self-importance, a cupboard fixed in the wall of the corridor, near the dining-room, of which she alone possessed the key, and, as soon as the servant returned with the fragments of the dinner, she locked them in this cupboard with the wine and bread; only on Sundays did the dinner-table of Madame Mere provide any thing for the servants.

To-day, however, was not Sunday, and hence Madame Cordelia herself had placed a bottle, half filled with wine remaining from yesterday's dinner, on the table, at which no one but Madame Let.i.tia was to seat herself, one of the ladies of honor, who always dined with her, having been excused on account of indisposition. Madame Let.i.tia was therefore alone to-day; it was unnecessary for her to submit to the restraint of etiquette, and she yielded with genuine relief to an unwonted freedom. She was in her sitting-room, busily engaged in taking from a large basket, the plebeian appearance of which contrasted strangely with the magnificent Turkish carpet on which it stood, the folded clothes which the washerwoman had just delivered. The appearance of Madame Mere herself was also in some contrast with the gorgeous surroundings amid which she moved.

The room was furnished with princely magnificence, the walls being hung with heavy satin, and curtains of the same description, adorned with gold embroideries, suspended on both sides of the high windows; the richly-carved chairs and sofas were covered with purple velvet, and the tables had marble slabs of Florentine workmans.h.i.+p. A chandelier of rock-crystal hung in solid gold chains from the ceiling; masterly paintings in broad, rich frames were on the silken walls; j.a.pan vases stood on gilded consoles, and numerous costly ornaments added to the splendor of the aristocratic apartment.

Madame Let.i.tia, standing beside the wash-basket, presented a marked contrast with all this. Her tall figure was wrapped in a light white muslin dress trimmed below with rosettes, and from which protruded a rather large foot, covered with a cotton stocking, and encased in a coa.r.s.e, worn-out shoe. A sash of rose-colored silk, with faded embroidery, encircled her waist; a lace shawl, crossed over her bosom, and tied in a careless knot on her back, enveloped her neck and full shoulders. Her hair, falling down in heavy gray ringlets, was surmounted by a sort of turban, and a large bouquet of artificial roses, fastened above her forehead, was her only ornament.

There was nothing therefore imposing in the appearance of the emperor's mother; but still there was something n.o.ble about her, and that was her face. It was of imperishable beauty; its outlines were cla.s.sic and of great dignity, and her eyes, which were of the deep, incomparable color which she had bequeathed to her son the emperor, possessed still the l.u.s.tre of youth; her lips were fresh, and her teeth faultless; not a single wrinkle furrowed her forehead, and her finely-curved nose added to the imperious expression of her features. The whole bearing of Madame Let.i.tia indicated a lofty and yet a gentle spirit. He who beheld only this form, with its strange dress, could not refrain from smiling; but a glance at the beautiful and dignified face filled the beholder with feelings of reverence and admiration.

Madame Let.i.tia, as we have said, was engaged in unpacking the clothes just returned by the laundress. This was an occupation which she never intrusted to any of her attendants, but in which she could generally engage only secretly and at night, after she had dismissed them; for the emperor made it inc.u.mbent on his mother's ladies of honor to observe the strictest etiquette, and forbade her to occupy herself with affairs improper for the mother of an emperor. Hence, Madame Let.i.tia was obliged, for the most part, to lead the life of an aristocratic lady, embroider a little, ride out, have her companions read to her, receive visitors, and pa.s.s the day in ennui.

Only at night, when the ladies left the palace--when etiquette permitted Madame Let.i.tia to retire with her maid Cordelia into her bedroom--only then commenced her active life. At that time madame conversed with her confidantes about her household affairs; she decided what dishes should be prepared for the following day. and, when all were asleep and she was sure of being watched by no one, she proceeded with her faithful Cordelia to the cupboard of the corridor to examine the remnants saved from dinner, and to decide whether they might not be served up again.

On this day she was free from the restraints of etiquette. The lady on service had been taken ill; and her second lady of honor, not antic.i.p.ating such an event, had obtained leave to take a trip to Versailles. Madame Let.i.tia, therefore, was at liberty to dispose of her time as she pleased; she could fearlessly indulge in occupations entirely contrary to etiquette, and she embraced this rare opportunity in the course of the forenoon of examining the clothes, which otherwise would have had this honor only after nightfall. But the consequence was, that the usually serene forehead of Madame Let.i.tia grew dark, because she was by no means satisfied with the performance of her laundress. Just as her busy hands took up another piece from the basket and unfolded it, the door behind her opened.

She heard it, but did not turn, knowing very well that it was Cordelia who entered her room, for no one else had the right of taking such a liberty without being duly and formally announced.

"Cordelia," she exclaimed, "Cordelia, come and look at these towels of the cook; all of them are already threadbare, and it is but a year since I bought them. You ought to tell the cook very emphatically that she should be more careful and not ruin my towels.

Do you hear, Cordelia?"

"Cordelia is not here," said a grave, angry voice behind her. Madame Let.i.tia started, and a deep blush suffused her cheeks. Close behind her stood the emperor, fixing his stern eyes on his mother.

"The emperor!" she murmured, yielding to the first movement of terror, and sinking back on her chair.

"Yes, the emperor!" said Napoleon, approaching and casting angry glances on the clothes spread out on the table. "The emperor pays a visit to his mother, and finds to his amazement that little respect is felt here for his orders, and that it is deemed unnecessary to comply with his wishes. Ah, madame, how can the emperor expect the people to obey him everywhere and unconditionally, when his own family set an example of disobedience, and openly show that the emperor's orders are indifferent to them?"

"When have I shown indifference to them?" asked Madame Let.i.tia, casting a despairing glance on the basket.

"You show it at this very hour," said the emperor, sternly, "and every thing proves that you are in the habit of disobeying my wishes. I met with no footmen in the outer antechamber; I did not see the chamberlain of your imperial highness in the adjoining room."

"It is noonday, and they have gone to dinner."