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<h2> CHAPTER XIII — THE MAN OF DREAMS </h2>
<p>When I had escorted my cousin Sibylle from the presence of the Emperor, I
was surprised to find the same young hussar officer waiting outside who
had commanded the guard which had brought me to the camp.</p>
<p>'Well, mademoiselle, what luck?' he asked excitedly, clanking towards us.</p>
<p>For answer Sibylle shook her head.</p>
<p>'Ah, I feared as much, for the Emperor is a terrible man. It was brave,
indeed, of you to attempt it. I had rather charge an unshaken square upon
a spent horse than ask him for anything. But my heart is heavy,
mademoiselle, that you should have been unsuccessful.' His boyish blue
eyes filled with tears and his fair moustache drooped in such a deplorable
fashion, that I could have laughed had the matter been less serious.</p>
<p>'Lieutenant Gerard chanced to meet me, and escorted me through the camp,'
said my cousin. 'He has been kind enough to give me sympathy in my
trouble.'</p>
<p>'And so do I, Sibylle,' I cried; 'you carried yourself like an angel, and
it is a lucky man who is blessed with your love. I trust that he may be
worthy of it.'</p>
<p>She turned cold and proud in an instant when anyone threw a doubt upon
this wretched lover of hers.</p>
<p>'I know him as neither the Emperor nor you can do,' said she. 'He has the
heart and soul of a poet, and he is too high-minded to suspect the
intrigues to which he has fallen a victim. But as to Toussac, I should
have no pity upon him, for I know him to be a murderer five times over,
and I know also that there will be no peace in France until he has been
taken. Cousin Louis, will you help me to do it?'</p>
<p>The lieutenant had been tugging at his moustache and looking me up and
down with a jealous eye.</p>
<p>'Surely, mademoiselle, you will permit me to help you?' he cried in a
piteous voice.</p>
<p>'I may need you both,' said she. 'I will come to you if I do. Now I will
ask you to ride with me to the edge of the camp and there to leave me.'</p>
<p>She had a quick imperative way which came charmingly from those sweet
womanly lips. The grey horse upon which I had come to the camp was waiting
beside that of the hussar, so we were soon in the saddle. When we were
clear of the huts my cousin turned to us.</p>
<p>'I had rather go alone now,' said she. 'It is understood, then, that I can
rely upon you.'</p>
<p>'Entirely,' said I.</p>
<p>'To the death,' cried Gerard.</p>
<p>'It is everything to me to have two brave men at my back,' said she, and
so, with a smile, gave her horse its head and cantered off over the
downland in the direction of Grosbois.</p>
<p>For my part I remained in thought for some time, wondering what plan she
could have in her head by which she hoped to get upon the track of
Toussac. A woman's wit, spurred by the danger of her lover, might perhaps
succeed where Fouche and Savary had failed. When at last I turned my horse
I found my young hussar still staring after the distant rider.</p>
<p>'My faith! There is the woman for you, Etienne!' he kept repeating. 'What
an eye! What a smile! What a rider! And she is not afraid of the Emperor.
Oh, Etienne, here is the woman who is worthy of you!'</p>
<p>These were the little sentences which he kept muttering to himself until
she vanished over the hill, when he became conscious at last of my
presence.</p>
<p>'You are mademoiselle's cousin?' he asked. 'You are joined with me in
doing something for her. I do not yet know what it is, but I am perfectly
ready to do it.'</p>
<p>'It is to capture Toussac.'</p>
<p>'Excellent!'</p>
<p>'In order to save the life of her lover.'</p>
<p>There was a struggle in the face of the young hussar, but his more
generous nature won.</p>
<p>'Sapristi! I will do even that if it will make her the happier!' he cried,
and he shook the hand which I extended towards him. 'The Hussars of
Bercheny are quartered over yonder, where you see the lines of picketed
horses. If you will send for Lieutenant Etienne Gerard you will find a
sure blade always at your disposal. Let me hear from you then, and the
sooner the better!' He shook his bridle and was off, with youth and
gallantry in every line of him, from his red toupet and flowing dolman to
the spur which twinkled on his heel.</p>
<p>But for four long days no word came from my cousin as to her quest, nor
did I hear from this grim uncle of mine at the Castle of Grosbois. For
myself I had gone into the town of Boulogne and had hired such a room as
my thin purse could afford over the shop of a baker named Vidal, next to
the Church of St. Augustin, in the Rue des Vents. Only last year I went
back there under that strange impulse which leads the old to tread once
more with dragging feet the same spots which have sounded to the crisp
tread of their youth. The room is still there, the very pictures and the
plaster head of Jean Bart which used to stand upon the side table. As I
stood with my back to the narrow window, I had around me every smallest
detail upon which my young eyes had looked; nor was I conscious that my
own heart and feelings had undergone much change. And yet there, in the
little round glass which faced me, was the long drawn, weary face of an
aged man, and out of the window, when I turned, were the bare and lonely
downs which had been peopled by that mighty host of a hundred and fifty
thousand men. To think that the Grand Army should have vanished away like
a shredding cloud upon a windy day, and yet that every sordid detail of a
bourgeois lodging should remain unchanged! Truly, if man is not humble it
is not for want of having his lesson taught to him by Nature.</p>
<p>My first care after I had chosen my room was to send to Grosbois for that
poor little bundle which I had carried ashore with me that squally night
from the English lugger. My next was to use the credit which my favourable
reception by the Emperor and his assurance of employment had given me in
order to obtain such a wardrobe as would enable me to appear without
discredit among the richly dressed courtiers and soldiers who surrounded
him. It was well known that it was his whim that he should himself be the
only plainly-dressed man in the company, and that in the most luxurious
times of the Bourbons there was never a period when fine linen and a brave
coat were more necessary for a man who would keep in favour. A new court
and a young empire cannot afford to take anything for granted.</p>
<p>It was upon the morning of the fifth day that I received a message from
Duroc, who was the head of the household, that I was to attend the Emperor
at the headquarters in the camp, and that a seat in one of the Imperial
carriages would be at my disposal that I might proceed with the Court to
Pont de Briques, there to be present at the reception of the Empress. When
I arrived I was shown at once through the large entrance tent, and
admitted by Constant into the room beyond, where the Emperor stood with
his back to the fire, kicking his heels against the grate. Talleyrand and
Berthier were in attendance, and de Meneval, the secretary, sat at the
writing-table.</p>
<p>'Ah, Monsieur de Laval,' said the Emperor with a friendly nod. 'Have you
heard anything yet of your charming cousin?'</p>
<p>'Nothing, Sire,' I answered.</p>
<p>'I fear that her efforts will be in vain. I wish her every success, for we
have no reason at all to fear this miserable poet, while the other is
formidable. All the same, an example of some sort must be made.'</p>
<p>The darkness was drawing in, and Constant had appeared with a taper to
light the candles, but the Emperor ordered him out.</p>
<p>'I like the twilight,' said he. 'No doubt, Monsieur de Laval, after your
long residence in England you find yourself also most at home in a dim
light. I think that the brains of these people must be as dense as their
fogs, to judge by the nonsense which they write in their accursed papers.'
With one of those convulsive gestures which accompanied his sudden
outbursts of passion he seized a sheaf of late London papers from the
table, and ground them into the fire with his heel. 'An editor!' he cried
in the guttural rasping voice which I had heard when I first met him.
'What is he? A dirty man with a pen in a back office. And he will talk
like one of the great Powers of Europe. I have had enough of this freedom
of the Press. There are some who would like to see it established in
Paris. You are among them, Talleyrand. For my part I see no need for any
paper at all except the <i>Moniteur</i> by which the Government may make
known its decisions to the people.'</p>
<p>'I am of opinion, Sire,' said the minister, 'that it is better to have
open foes than secret ones, and that it is less dangerous to shed ink than
blood. What matter if your enemies have leave to rave in a few Paris
papers, as long as you are at the head of five hundred thousand armed
men?'</p>
<p>'Ta, ta, ta!' cried the Emperor impatiently. 'You speak as if I had
received my crown from my father the late king. But even if I had, it
would be intolerable, this government by newspaper. The Bourbons allowed
themselves to be criticised, and where are they now? Had they used their
Swiss Guards as I did the Grenadiers upon the eighteenth Brumaire what
would have become of their precious National Assembly? There was a time
when a bayonet in the stomach of Mirabeau might have settled the whole
matter. Later it took the heads of a king and queen and the blood of a
hundred thousand people.'</p>
<p>He sat down, and stretched his plump, white-clad legs towards the fire.
Through the blackened shreds of the English papers the red glow beat
upwards upon the beautiful, pallid, sphinx-like face—the face of a
poet, of a philosopher—of anything rather than of a ruthless and
ambitious soldier. I have heard folk remark that no two portraits of the
Emperor are alike, and the fault does not lie with the artists but with
the fact that every varying mood made him a different man. But in his
prime, before his features became heavy, I, who have seen sixty years of
mankind, can say that in repose I have never looked upon a more beautiful
face.</p>
<p>'You have no dreams and no illusions, Talleyrand,' said he. 'You are
always practical, cold, and cynical. But with me, when I am in the
twilight, as now, or when I hear the sound of the sea, my imagination
begins to work. It is the same when I hear some music—especially
music which repeats itself again and again like some pieces of
Passaniello. They have a strange effect upon me, and I begin to Ossianise.
I get large ideas and great aspirations. It is at such times that my mind
always turns to the East, that swarming ant-heap of the human race, where
alone it is possible to be very great. I renew my dreams of '98. I think
of the possibility of drilling and arming these vast masses of men, and of
precipitating them upon Europe. Had I conquered Syria I should have done
this, and the fate of the world was really decided at the siege of Acre.
With Egypt at my feet I already pictured myself approaching India, mounted
upon an elephant, and holding in my hand a new version of the Koran which
I had myself composed. I have been born too late. To be accepted as a
world's conqueror one must claim to be divine. Alexander declared himself
to be the son of Jupiter, and no one questioned it. But the world has
grown old, and has lost its enthusiasms. What would happen if I were to
make the same claim? Monsieur de Talleyrand would smile behind his hand,
and the Parisians would write little lampoons upon the walls.'</p>
<p>He did not appear to be addressing us, but rather to be expressing his
thoughts aloud, while allowing them to run to the most fantastic and
extravagant lengths. This it was which he called Ossianising, because it
recalled to him the wild vague dreams of the Gaelic Ossian, whose poems
had always had a fascination for him. De Meneval has told me that for an
hour at a time he has sometimes talked in this strain of the most intimate
thoughts and aspirations of his heart, while his courtiers have stood
round in silence waiting for the instant when he would return once more to
his practical and incisive self.</p>
<p>'The great ruler,' said he, 'must have the power of religion behind him as
well as the power of the sword. It is more important to command the souls
than the bodies of men. The Sultan, for example, is the head of the faith
as well as of the army. So were some of the Roman Emperors. My position
must be incomplete until this is accomplished. At the present instant
there are thirty departments in France where the Pope is more powerful
than I am. It is only by universal dominion that peace can be assured in
the world. When there is only one authority in Europe, seated at Paris,
and when all the kings are so many lieutenants who hold their crowns from
the central power of France, it is then that the reign of peace will be
established. Many powers of equal strength must always lead to struggles
until one becomes predominant. Her central position, her wealth and her
history, all mark France out as being the power which will control and
regulate the others. Germany is divided. Russia is barbarous. England is
insular. France only remains.'</p>
<p>I began to understand as I listened to him that my friends in England had
not been so far wrong when they had declared that as long as he lived—this
little thirty-six year old artilleryman—there could not possibly be
any peace in the world. He drank some coffee which Constant had placed
upon the small round table at his elbow. Then he leaned back in his chair
once more, still staring moodily at the red glow of the fire, with his
chin sunk upon his chest.</p>
<p>'In those days,' said he, 'the kings of Europe will walk behind the
Emperor of France in order to hold up his train at his coronation. Each of
them will have to maintain a palace in Paris, and the city will stretch as
far as Versailles. These are the plans which I have made for Paris if she
will show herself to be worthy of them. But I have no love for them, these
Parisians, and they have none for me, for they cannot forget that I turned
my guns upon them once before, and they know that I am ready to do so
again. I have made them admire me and fear me, but I have never made them
like me. Look what I have done for them. Where are the treasures of Genoa,
the pictures and statues of Venice and of the Vatican? They are in the
Louvre. The spoils of my victories have gone to decorate her. But they
must always be changing, always chattering. They wave their hats at me
now, but they would soon be waving their fists if I did not give them
something to talk over and to wonder at. When other things are quiet, I
have the dome of the Invalides regilded to keep their thoughts from
mischief. Louis XIV. gave them wars. Louis XV. gave them the gallantries
and scandals of his Court. Louis XVI. gave them nothing, so they cut off
his head. It was you who helped to bring him to the scaffold, Talleyrand.'</p>
<p>'No, Sire, I was always a moderate.'</p>
<p>'At least, you did not regret his death.'</p>
<p>'The less so, since it has made room for you, Sire.'</p>
<p>'Nothing could have held me down, Talleyrand. I was born to reach the
highest. It has always been the same with me. I remember when we were
arranging the Treaty of Campo Formio—I a young general under thirty—there
was a high vacant throne with the Imperial arms in the Commissioner's
tent. I instantly sprang up the steps, and threw myself down upon it. I
could not endure to think that there was anything above myself. And all
the time I knew in my heart all that was going to happen to me. Even in
the days when my brother Lucien and I lived in a little room upon a few
francs a week, I knew perfectly well that the day would come when I should
stand where I am now. And yet I had no prospects and no reason for any
great hopes. I was not clever at school. I was only the forty-second out
of fifty-eight. At mathematics I had perhaps some ability, but at nothing
else. The truth is that I was always dreaming when the others were
working. There was nothing to encourage my ambition, for the only thing
which I inherited from my father was a weak stomach. Once, when I was very
young, I went up to Paris with my father and my sister Caroline. We were
in the Rue Richelieu, and we saw the king pass in his carriage. Who would
have thought that the little boy from Corsica, who took his hat off and
stared, was destined to be the next monarch of France? And yet even then I
felt as if that carriage ought to belong to me. What is it, Constant?'</p>
<p>The discreet valet bent down and whispered something to the Emperor.</p>
<p>'Ah, of course,' said he. 'It was an appointment. I had forgotten it. Is
she there?'</p>
<p>'Yes, Sire.'</p>
<p>'In the side room?'</p>
<p>'Yes, Sire.'</p>
<p>Talleyrand and Berthier exchanged glances, and the minister began to move
towards the door.</p>
<p>'No, no, you can remain here,' said the Emperor. 'Light the lamps,
Constant, and have the carriages ready in half-an-hour. Look over this
draft of a letter to the Emperor of Austria, and let me have your
observations upon it, Talleyrand. De Meneval, there is a lengthy report
here as to the new dockyard at Brest. Extract what is essential from it,
and leave it upon my desk at five o'clock to-morrow morning. Berthier, I
will have the whole army into the boats at seven. We will see if they can
embark within three hours. Monsieur de Laval, you will wait here until we
start for Pont de Briques.' So with a crisp order to each of us, he walked
with little swift steps across the room, and I saw his square green back
and white legs framed for an instant in the doorway. There was the flutter
of a pink skirt beyond, and then the curtains closed behind him.</p>
<p>Berthier stood biting his nails, while Talleyrand looked at him with a
slight raising of his bushy eyebrows. De Meneval with a rueful face was
turning over the great bundle of papers which had to be copied by morning.
Constant, with a noiseless tread, was lighting the candles upon the
sconces round the room.</p>
<p>'Which is it?' I heard the minister whisper.</p>
<p>'The girl from the Imperial Opera,' said Berthier.</p>
<p>'Is the little Spanish lady out of favour then?'</p>
<p>'No, I think not. She was here yesterday.'</p>
<p>'And the other, the Countess?'</p>
<p>'She has a cottage at Ambleteuse.'</p>
<p>'But we must have no scandal about the Court,' said Talleyrand, with a
sour smile, recalling the moral sentiments with which the Emperor had
reproved him. 'And now, Monsieur de Laval,' he added, drawing me aside, 'I
very much wish to hear from you about the Bourbon party in England. You
must have heard their views. Do they imagine that they have any chance of
success?'</p>
<p>And so for ten minutes he plied me with questions, which showed me clearly
that the Emperor had read him aright, and that he was determined, come
what might, to be upon the side which won. We were still talking when
Constant entered hurriedly, with a look of anxiety and perplexity which I
could not have imagined upon so smooth and imperturbable a face.</p>
<p>'Good Heavens, Monsieur Talleyrand,' he cried, clasping and unclasping his
hands. 'Such a misfortune! Who could have expected it?'</p>
<p>'What is it, then, Constant?'</p>
<p>'Oh, Monsieur, I dare not intrude upon the Emperor. And yet—And yet—The
Empress is outside, and she is coming in.'</p>
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