Lorraine, A Romance

The Emperor's slow eyes rested a moment on the man before him. But the man, trembling, pallid with passion, clenched his hands and hurled an insult at the Emperor through his set teeth: "Napoleon the Little! Listen! When you have gone down in the crash of a rotten throne and a blood-bought palace, then, when the country has shaken this--this thing--from her bent back, then I will give to my country all I have! But never to you, to save your name and your race and your throne--never!"

He fairly frothed at the lips as he spoke; his eyes blazed.

"Your coup-d'état made me childless! I had a son, fairer than yours, who lies asleep in there--brave, gentle, loving--a son of mine, a De Nesville! Your bribed troops killed him--shot him to death on the boulevards--him among the others--so that you could sit safely in the Tuileries! I saw them--those piled corpses! I saw little children stabbed to death with bayonets, I saw the heaped slain lying before Tortoni's, where the whole street was flooded crimson and the gutters rippled blood! And you? I saw you ride with your lancers into the Rue Saint-Honoré, and when you met the barricade you turned pale and rode back again! I saw you; I was sitting with my dead boy on my knees--I saw you--"

With a furious cry the marquis tore a revolver from his pocket and sprang on the Emperor, and at the same instant Jack seized the crazy man by the shoulders and hurled him violently to the floor.

Stunned, limp as a rag, the marquis lay at the Emperor's feet, his clenched hands slowly relaxing.

The Emperor had not moved.

Scarcely knowing what he did, Jack stooped, drew the revolver from the extended fingers, and laid it on the table. Then, with a fearful glance at the Emperor, he dragged the marquis to the door, opened it with a shove of his foot, and half closed it again.

The aide-de-camp stood there, staring at the prostrate man.

"Here, help me with him to his carriage; he is ill," panted Jack--"lift him!"

Together they carried him out to the terrace, and down the steps to a coupé that stood waiting.

"The marquis is ill," said Jack again; "put him to bed at once. Drive fast."

Before the sound of the wheels died away Jack hastened back to the dining-room. Through the half-opened door he peered, hesitated, turned away, and mounted the stairs slowly to his own chamber.

In the dining-room the lamp still burned dimly. Beside it sat the Emperor, head bent, picking absently at the table-cloth with short, shrunken thumbs.