The Companions of Jehu by Alexandre Dumas (red scrolls of magic .txt) 📕

“Roland.”

The young man, who had already started obediently, came back to the general.

“Fetch me that pair of double-barrelled pistols on my mantel-piece at the same time,” said Bonaparte, in a low tone. “One never knows what may happen.”

“Yes, general,” said Roland; “besides, I shan’t leave you.”

“Unless I send you to be killed elsewhere.”

“True,” replied the young man, hastening away to fulfil his double errand.

Bonaparte was continuing on his way when he noticed a shadow in the corridor. He recognized Josephine, and ran to her.

“Good God!” cried she, “is there so much danger?”

“What makes you think that?”

“I overheard the order you gave Roland.”

“Serves you right for listening at doors. How about Gohier?”

“He hasn’t come.”

“Nor his wife?”

“She is here.”

Bonaparte pushed Josephine aside with his hand and entered the salon. He found Madame Gohier alone and very pale.

“What!” said he, without any preamble, “isn’t the President coming?”

“He was unable to do so, general,” replied Madame Gohier.

Bonaparte repressed a movement of impatience. “He absolutely must come,” said he. “Write him that I await him, and I will have the note sent.”

“Thank you, general,” replied Madame Gohier; “my servants are here, and they can attend to that.”

“Write, my dear friend, write,” said Josephine, offering her paper and pen and ink.

Bonaparte stood so that he could see over her shoulder what she wrote. Madame Gohier looked fixedly at him, and he drew back with a bow. She wrote the note, folded it, and looked about her for the sealing-wax; but, whether by accident or intention, there was none. Sealing the note with a wafer, she rang the bell. A servant came.

“Give this note to Comtois,” said Madame Gohier, “and bid him take it to the Luxembourg at once.”

Bonaparte followed the servant, or rather the letter, with his eyes until the door closed. Then, turning to Madame Gohier, he said: “I regret that I am unable to breakfast with you. But if the President has business to attend to, so have I. You must breakfast with my wife. Good appetite to you both.”

And he went out. At the door he met Roland.

“Here is the commission, general,” said the young man, “and a pen.”

Bonaparte took the pen, and using the back of his aide-de-camp’s hat, he signed the commission. Roland gave him the pistols.

“Did you look; to them?” asked Bonaparte.

Roland smiled. “Don’t be uneasy,” said he; “I’ll answer for them.”

Bonaparte slipped the pistols in his belt, murmuring as he did so: “I wish I knew what she wrote her husband.”

“I can tell you, word for word, what she wrote, general,” said a voice close by.

“You, Bourrienne?”

“Yes. She wrote: ‘You did right not to come, my dear; all that is happening here convinces me that the invitation was only a snare. I will rejoin you shortly.’”

“You unsealed the letter?”

“General, Sextus Pompey gave a dinner on his galley to Antony and Lepidus. His freedman said to him: ‘Shall I make you emperor of the world?’ ‘How can you do it?’ ‘Easily. I will cut the cable of your galley, and Antony and Lepidus are prisoners.’ ‘You should have done so without telling me,’ replied Sextus. ‘Now I charge you on your life not to do it.’ I remembered those words, general: ‘You should have done so without telling me.’”

Bonaparte thought an instant; then he said: “You are mistaken; it was Octavius and not Antony who was on Sextus’ galley with Lepidus.” And he went on his way to the courtyard, confining his blame to the historical blunder.

Hardly had the general appeared on the portico than cries of “Vive Bonaparte!” echoed through the courtyard into the street, where they were taken up by the dragoons drawn up in line before the gate.

“That’s a good omen, general,” said Roland.

“Yes. Give Lefebvre his commission at once; and if he has no horse, let him take one of mine. Tell him to meet me in the court of the Tuileries.”

“His division is already there.”

“All the more reason.”

Glancing about him, Bonaparte saw Moreau and Beurnonville, who were waiting for him, their horses held by orderlies. He saluted them with a wave of his hand, already that of a master rather than that of a comrade. Then, perceiving General Debel out of uniform, he went down the steps and approached him.

“Why are you in civilian’s dress?” he asked.

“General, I was not notified. I chanced to be passing along the street, and, seeing the crowd before your house, I came in, fearing you might be in danger.”

“Go and put on your uniform quickly.”

“But I live the other side of Paris; it would take too long.” But, nevertheless, he made as if to retire.

“What are you going to do?”

“Don’t be alarmed, general.”

Debel had noticed an artilleryman on horseback who was about his size.

“Friend,” said he, “I am General Debel. By order of General Bonaparte lend me your uniform and your horse, and I’ll give you furlough for the day. Here’s a louis to drink the health of the commander-in-chief. To-morrow, come to my house for your horse and uniform. I live in the Rue Cherche-Midi, No. 11.”

“Will nothing be done to me?”

“Yes, you shall be made a corporal.”

“Good!” said the artilleryman; and he quickly handed over his uniform and horse to General Debel.

In the meantime, Bonaparte heard talking above him. He raised his head and saw Joseph and Bernadotte at a window.

“Once more, general,” he said to Bernadotte, “will you come with me?”

“No,” said the latter, firmly. Then, lowering his tone, he continued: “You told me just now to take care.”

“Yes.”

“Well, I say to you, take care.”