For Love of a Bedouin Maid. Le Voleur
by four horses. He stood for a moment wondering. Who on earth could have arrived at this unseasonable hour: Carnot, the Director? Augereau, his general?
The next instant he had left the window and passed through the doorway and downstairs. At the foot of the staircase the soldiers in the hall had been drawn up in line. Two or three servants, with torches in their hands, were standing on the steps, while a soldier was opening the carriage door. The postillions were covered with mud, the horses also, and reeking and steaming with sweat; and the whole appearance of the carriage showed it to have traveled far and fast. A slight, short man, with pale face and long, auburn hair, and with eyes, that, without appearing to do so, took in the whole scene at a glance, alighted from the carriage. His dress was plain and simple; white breeches thrust into top boots, and a long, dark blue coat with a high collar. Round his waist was a tricolored sash and, suspended from a belt beneath it, was a sword. He wore a cocked hat which, after he had returned the salute of the soldiers, he removed.
The moment the light from the torches fell upon his features, all was bustle and excitement.
"Vive le General!" was the cry, "Vive le Petit Corporal!"
At these signs of recognition, a smile of pleasure flitted across the usually cold, impassive features; the next moment it died away, and, in a harsh, stern voice, he addressed St. Just who, with the others, had saluted him; "Officer of the Guard, conduct me to the President of the Directors."
At these words everybody present drew himself up into the stiffest of military attitudes; the soldiers presented arms, and, preceded by servants with torches, and escorted by St. Just, the newcomer entered the Palace.
Meanwhile, his arrival had been noted in the room above. Reubel from his seat by the window had, like St. Just, heard the approaching carriage. Nervously he peered from the window, which was sufficiently near the entrance of the palace for him to see the features of the person who had alighted. As one spell-bound, he gazed speechlessly upon the scene below. His companions, wondering at his silence, approached and joined him at the window. Even Sotin, at the sight of the figure, which he recognized at once, seemed perturbed; but only for an instant. Even while Buonaparte, escorted by St. Just, was disappearing through the doorway, he had made up his mind how to act. He turned to the others, and said rapidly:
"Mons. Vipont and myself will hide behind the curtain. Mons. Reubel had better remain seated where he is. When the visitor is preparing to depart, if President Barras will detain him in the hall, Mons. Vipont and I will dismiss the General's carriage, thus obliging him to walk home—which he will never reach. He will die on his way, as surely as if he were outside, instead of inside Paris."
"How?" asked Vipont.
"Cochon!" replied Sotin, "are there not footpads in the streets, and do they not commit murders nightly? Besides, shall we not be two to one? Hush, he is here."
Forthwith the two police agents glided behind the curtain. Hardly had they done so, when the door of the room beyond was opened, and footsteps were heard crossing the antechamber.
Dangerous as the movement was, Sotin's head was thrust out from the curtain long enough for him to whisper, "Messieurs, appear to be supping."
Even while he spoke, the door was opened, and St. Just entered and announced—
"General Buonaparte."
To all appearance, the General had broken in upon a friendly supper party. Barras, at the head of the table, was on his feet, a glass in his hand, as though about to toast the company. Reubel had pushed his chair far back, as if to give his legs more room, for he had crossed one knee over the other; La Reveillère, was peeling an orange and apparently awaiting Barras' toast, for a decanter, from which he had but that instant filled his glass, stood at his right hand.
"Gentlemen," exclaimed Barras, at the moment the General was announced, "I give you the conqueror of Italy!"
Then, when Buonaparte advanced into the room, Barras sprang forward to welcome him, his movement loosening his hold on the glass, which fell from his hand and smashed to pieces on the floor.
Reubel, either accidentally, or, perhaps, purposely, let fall the napkin from across his knees and stooped for it, so that he was prevented from rising simultaneously with his fellow directors to greet the General. As for La Reveillère, for one instant the thought crossed his mind to kill both the General and St. Just then and there—they were five to two—but it was as quickly put away; for, looking up, he encountered St. Just's gaze, sternly fixed upon him. Additionally, without, through the half open door, he saw the gleam of bayonets and instantly surmised the truth. Without his knowing or suspecting it, Buonaparte was guarded by two files of soldiers, who waited without in the antechamber, stern and motionless. Men who had fought under Buonaparte in Italy, and were in consequence devoted to him. They were, in fact, some of those whom Buonaparte had despatched under Augereau to guard the Directors in the recent revolt of the eighteenth Fructidor. Men, therefore (of whom St. Just was one), whom he knew that he could trust.
For his part, Buonaparte advanced not a step, but stood just inside the door of the apartment. Barras, on the contrary, rushed forward and effusively embraced him, shaking him by the hand and saying, "Welcome, General! welcome to France! You bring us glad tidings of glory upon glory!"
At this point St. Just left the room.
Buonaparte replied but coldly to Barras' fulsome greeting; then, merely nodding to the other two directors, he took a chair, seating himself with his back to the door, his face half turned away.
Barras and La Reveillère pressed him to sup. "Eat, General, eat; you must be hungry; you have journeyed far. Eat first, and let us have your news afterwards."
Buonaparte, thus invited, drew the nearest dish to him, and, as was his habit, began to eat rapidly, and, regardless of conventionality, passing from a conserve of prunes to meat, then back to a different kind of sweet, eating much in the aggregate and yet little of each dish, and hardly allowing one mouthful to be swallowed before taking the next. In fact, to put it shortly, he ate like a dog. Then, pouring himself out a tumblerful of wine, he swallowed it at a draught. Finally, he pushed the things from him and began to speak.
"Messieurs, the army has been again successful; the treaty of Campo Formio has been signed; liberty has been given to the people of nineteen different departments; French troops garrison Mentz, and the interests of France are secured by the congress of Rastadt." He paused for a moment; then resumed, in an heroic sort of manner, "Why should I declaim the glories of France? Why tell of the deeds her soldiers have achieved for her? Will they not proclaim themselves? Do not nineteen States speak for them? There," he concluded, throwing down a thick mass of papers roughly tied with scarlet tape, "There are the records."
There was a momentary silence; then the president, Barras, spoke. "I pray you, General, keep these papers in your possession till a few days shall have passed; for it is our intention to give you a fairer welcome than your present one, and to receive in a public and a more befitting manner, the man whom France desires to honor."
This he said for a double reason. Imprimis, should General Buonaparte's body be found in the gray light of the corning dawn, it could easily be arranged that to rifle his pockets should be the supposed object of the murder, and that the directors should in reality possess the papers about which a great outcry for their loss should be made. In the second place, should the plan fail, Buonaparte would be unlikely to suspect the members of the Directory of complicity in the attack on him, when they had but just expressed their satisfaction with him and had proposed to reward him for his services.
Buonaparte's reply to Barras' flattering remarks was merely to bow. Then he proceeded to discuss with them the attitude of England and the projected invasion of that country, and other matters affecting the welfare of France; matters, however, in no way concerning the actors in the present narrative.
Their business concluded, Buonaparte rose to his feet and, bowing coldly to the three directors, made his way towards the door. But, before he had reached it, Barras officiously sprang forward, saying, "Permit me, General, to accompany you to your carriage."
To this Buonaparte replied laconically, and almost rudely, "If you wish," and, opening the door, passed into the antechamber.
Motionless