Napoleon And Blucher Part 62

Suddenly the emperor paused, and his face darkened. "Ah," he said, gloomily, putting his hand on the prince's head, "ah, we purpose building you a palace, but if they conquer me you will not even possess a cabin!" [Footnote: Napoleon's words.--Vide "Memoirs of the d.u.c.h.ess d'Abrantes."] The emperor's head dropped on his breast, and a pause ensued, which the child, usually so vivacious, did not venture to interrupt.

At length Napoleon said: "Go, Fontaine, and take your plans along; I will confer further about the matter. And you, ministers, come, we have to settle some questions of importance. But, first, I must take the king back to his governess."

The boy clung with almost anxious tenderness to his father. "Ah, dear, dear papa emperor," he begged, "let me stay here! I will be quiet--oh, so very quiet! I will only sit on your knee, lean my head on your breast, and not disturb you at all."

"Well, you may stay then," said Napoleon. "We shall see whether you really can be quiet and not disturb us."

The little child kept his word. Sitting quietly on the emperor's knee, and leaning his little head on his father's breast, he did not interrupt in the least the important conference of Napoleon and his ministers. An hour afterward the conference was over, and the dukes were dismissed.

"Now, sire," said Napoleon, turning toward the child, now "let us play."

But the little king, who always received these words with exultation, remained silent, and when the emperor bent over him, he saw that he had fallen asleep. "Happy king!" murmured Napoleon, "happy king! who can fall asleep in the midst of state business!"

Softly and cautiously drawing the boy closer to his breast, and taking pains not to disturb his slumber, he sat still and motionless, scarcely breathing, although sad thoughts oppressed his mind. It was an interesting spectacle--this lovely boy leaning his head in smiling dreams on the breast of his father, who was looking down on him with grave and tender eyes.

The emperor sat thus a long time. Strange and wonderful thoughts stole upon him--thoughts of past happiness, of past love. He thought of how long he had yearned to possess a son, and how many tears his first consort shed--how ardently he had been loved by the n.o.ble and beautiful Josephine, whom, in his pride, which demanded an heir- apparent, he had thrust into solitude. Providence had given Bonaparte all that his heart had longed for--a beautiful young wife, who loved him, and who was the daughter of an emperor; and a sweet, lovely child that was to be the heir of his imperial throne. But Providence, by giving him all, had taken all from Josephine--the heart and hand of her husband, her dignity and authority as an empress and sovereign. She was now nothing but a deserted and unhappy lady, who had only tears for her past, no joy in the present, no hopes for the future.

All this was on account of the child adored by his father, and hailed by France; and yet, despite all the mischief this little boy had done her and the fact that he was the child of another woman, Josephine loved him, and often implored the emperor to let her see and embrace the little King of Rome. He had always refused to grant this request, in order not to stir up the jealousy of his young wife, but, at this quiet hour, when he was alone with his sleeping child, Napoleon thought of Josephine with melancholy tenderness.

Amid the profound silence which surrounded him, his recollections spoke to him. They pointed him to Josephine in the imperishable splendor of her love, her grace, and goodness; he thought he saw her sweet lips, which had always a smile for him; her brilliant eyes, which had ever looked tenderly on him, and which had learned to read his most secret thoughts.

"Poor Josephine!" he murmured, "poor Josephine! she loved me ardently, and many things might be different now if she were still by my side. She was my guardian angel, and with her my success has departed. She sacrificed her happiness to me and my ambition; and while formerly all hastened to offer congratulations on this day and pay homage to the empress, she now sits lonely and deserted at Malmaison.--No," he then said aloud, "no, she shall not be lonely and deserted! I surely owe it to her to occasion her a moment of joy. She shall see my son--I myself will take him to her." He cautiously lifted up the boy in his arms and rose. The prince awoke and looked smilingly up to his father, who carried him to the sofa and laid him with tender care on the cushions. But little Napoleon jumped up, and said laughingly. "I am no longer tired. The dukes are gone now, and let us play, papa!"

"No, sire," said the emperor, "not now, I have business to attend to. But listen to me: at noon to-day I will take a ride with yon, all alone--that is to be my New-Year's present."

The boy uttered a cry of joy. "All alone, papa emperor? Oh, that will be splendid!"

"But now go to Madame de Montesquiou, sire," said the emperor.-- "Constant!" When the valet de chambre entered the room, he ordered Constant, "Pray conduct his majesty the King of Rome to Madame de Montesquiou, and tell her I shall call for him in a few hours in order to take a ride with him alone, without any attendants whatever.--Adieu, Sire, in a few hours we shall meet again."

But the boy stood and looked at the emperor with grave and sullen glances. "Sire," he said, "my dear Madame 'Quiou tells me often a king ought to keep his word. Now I ask you must an emperor not keep his word also?"

"Certainly, sire!"

"Well, then, your majesty, take me to Madame 'Quiou," cried the boy, joyously; "you told her you would do so. Come, papa!"

"Ah," exclaimed the emperor, smiling, "you are right--an emperor must fulfil his word, though he has pledged it only to a king. Come, sire, I will conduct you to Madame de Montesquiou. Constant, await me here!"

A few minutes afterward, the emperor returned to his cabinet.

"Constant," he said, in a low voice, "I know you loved the Empress Josephine, and have not forgotten her, I suppose?"

"Sire, the empress was my benefactress; I owe to her all that I am, and she was always kind to me."

"More so than the present empress, you mean to say?" asked the emperor, casting a searching glance on his valet de chambre; and, as Constant was silent, Napoleon added, "It is true, the young empress is less condescending than my first consort. But that is, Constant, because she was brought up as the daughter of an emperor, and her feelings were restrained by the narrow limits of etiquette.

Josephine forgot too much that she was an empress, Maria Louisa forgets it too little; but her heart is good and gentle, and she would never wish to grieve me. So, Constant, you have not yet forgotten the Empress Josephine?"

"Sire, none that ever knew the Empress Josephine could help remembering her. For my own part, I can never forget her."

"Ah, what a fripon you are, to give me such a reply! Well, I will prove to you, M. Fripon, that I have not forgotten Josephine, either. This is New-Year's-day. Would you not like to offer your congratulations to the Empress Josephine at Malmaison?"

"Sire, if so humble and low a servant as I am may dare, I should certainly be very happy to lay my congratulations at her feet."

"Go, I permit you to do so, and the empress will surely receive you very kindly."

"Particularly, sire, if I had a message from his majesty the emperor to deliver."

"Fripon, I believe you take the liberty of guessing my thoughts!

Yes, I will give you a message. Hasten to the Empress Josephine, take her my greetings, but see that the empress receives you without witnesses.--Do you hear, Constant--without witnesses? Then tell her to have her carriage immediately brought to the door, and, on the pretext of being alone with her mournful New-Year's meditations, to take a ride without attendants. But when she is at a considerable distance from Malmaison, she is to order the coachman to drive to the little castle of La Bagatelle. She must be there precisely at four o'clock. I shall be there, and tell her majesty I shall not come alone. Now make haste, Constant! Recommend entire reticence to the empress. As to yourself, pray do not forget that, if any one shall hear of this affair, you must be held responsible. Go!"

CHAPTER XLIV.

JOSEPHINE.

Just as the clock struck four, the carriage of the Empress Josephine wheeled into the courtyard of the little castle of La Bagatelle. She inquired of the castellan, in a tremulous voice, whether any one had arrived there, and she breathed more freely when he replied in the negative. She left the carriage with youthful alacrity and entered the castle, followed by the castellan, who gazed in amazement at this empress without court or suite, who arrived stealthily and tremblingly, like a maiden to meet her lover for the first time. She hurried through the well-known apartments of the castle, and entered the hall in which, during the days of her happiness, she had so often received the foreign princes and amba.s.sadors, or the dignitaries of France. The hall was now empty; no one was there to receive the deserted empress; but bright, merry fires were burning in the fireplaces, and every thing was in readiness for the reception of distinguished guests.

"You knew, then, that I was to come?" inquired the empress of the castellan.

"Your majesty," he replied, in a low and reverential voice, "M.

Constant was here, and gave orders to have the rooms in readiness.

If your majesty wishes refreshments, you will find every thing served up in the dining-room."

"No, no, I thank you," cried the empress, hastily. "But tell me is my dressing-room--my former dressing-room," she corrected herself falteringly--"is that heated, too?"

"Your majesty will find all your rooms comfortable, just as though you still condescended to reside here."

"Well, then, I will go to that room. If any one comes, I shall notice it through the opened doors; it is unnecessary for you to inform me; I will go then at once to the reception-room."

The castellan withdrew, and Josephine hastened through the adjoining apartment into the dressing-room. With a long, painful sigh she glanced around the room which had so often witnessed her happiness and her triumphs. Here, surrounded by her ladies in front of this mirror, she had had her hair dressed, and the emperor had almost always made his appearance at that hour to chat with her, look at her toilet, and delight her heart by a smile, a glance, that was more transporting to her than all the homage and flattery paid her by all her other admirers. Now she was here again, but alone, and with a mournful sigh she stepped to the mirror which had so often reflected her charming portrait, radiant with happiness, and sparkling with diamonds.

And what did she see now in this mirror? A woman with a pale, grief- stricken face, features growing old, and a desponding exhaustion which only a good and pleasant life can disguise when the vigor of youth has faded.

"Oh, I have become old!" sighed Josephine; "the years of tears and solitude count double, for one consumes then in days the strength of many years. I have grown old because I have wept for HIM, and because I have felt his misfortunes. Oh, how will he look? Will his cheeks be even paler and his eyes gloomier than formerly? I have not seen him since his return from his disastrous campaign; if I read the history of his sufferings on his face, my grief will kill me.

But no," she encouraged herself, "I will not weep, nor trouble him with my tears. I will be serene, and suppress my emotions. He will not come alone; but whom will he bring with him? I hope not the woman who is my rival--to whom I had to yield my throne!--No, I know Bonaparte's heart, I know that he would be incapable of such cruelty. She, young, beautiful, the reigning empress--I, old, sorrowful, faded, the deserted empress! I--ah, there is a carriage rolling into the courtyard! He comes!" Her whole form trembled, and, breathless, her face suffused with deep blushes, she sank into an easy-chair. "I love him still," she murmured; "my heart does not forget!" A low knocking at the small side-door leading to the inner corridor, was heard, and Constant entered. Josephine rose hastily, and with quivering lips asked, "Constant, is he there?"

"Yes, your majesty. The emperor requests you to repair to the reception-room. He will be there in a moment."

"And who is accompanying him?"

"His majesty has commissioned me to tell you that it would afford him great satisfaction to prepare a little surprise for your majesty, and that he has, therefore, fulfilled a wish which you have felt for a long time."

"Constant!" exclaimed Josephine, joyfully, "the emperor brings the King of Rome to me?"

"Yes, your majesty."

"Ah, her child!" cried the empress, with an emotion of jealousy, burying her face in her hands.

"The emperor requests your majesty to be so gracious as not to let the little king suspect whom he has the honor to approach,"