Napoleon and the Queen of Prussia. L. Muhlbach

expelled princes will sit in some nook of your immense empire," said Duroc, laughing, "and sing to the people the same song of legitimacy; and it will be listened to as one of the fairy stories of childhood, in which they believe no more."

      "But they shall believe in my legitimacy!" exclaimed Napoleon, quickly. "I will be the first of the Napoleonic sovereigns." His brow was clouded again. "But it is true," he murmured, "in order to found a dynasty, I need a son. I must have legitimate children. It will be no fault of mine if circumstances compel me to divorce Josephine; for I will not, like Alexander of Macedon, conquer exclusively for the benefit of my generals. I need an heir to my empire."

      "Sire, you have one in the son of the empress, noble King Eugène."

      "No," exclaimed the emperor, gloomily, "the son of the Viscount de Beauharnais cannot be heir to my throne. My blood does not flow in his veins. Oh, why did the young Napoleon die! I had destined him to succeed me, because he was of my blood, and a scion of my family.[12] Poor Josephine! if her tears and prayers could have saved the child's life, I should never have thought of taking another wife."

      "What!" exclaimed Duroc, in dismay, "your majesty thinks of repudiating the empress!"

      "My heart never will repudiate her," replied Napoleon, drawing a sigh. "I shall always love her, for she deserves it. She is generous and high-minded, good and graceful. I never loved another woman as I love her—and never shall. Judge, therefore, what a cruel blow it will be to my heart, should I be compelled to separate from her."

      "If you should, sire," said Duroc, in a voice quivering with emotion—"if you repudiate the empress, you would thereby sign your own death-warrant, and Josephine would not survive it."

      "She will have to survive it like myself," exclaimed the emperor, impetuously. "I shall suffer no less—nay, I shall suffer more than she, for she never loved me as I love her. Her tears will fall for the lost splendor of the throne—not for her husband. But I shall bewail the beloved wife."

      "No, sire," said Duroc, almost indignantly, "you are unjust. The empress loves you—you alone. She accepted the crown reluctantly and with tearful eyes, and will not weep when she loses it. She will mourn for her husband only, whom she adores, and not for the crown which adorns but also oppresses her brow."

      "Ah, what a warm advocate the empress has!" exclaimed Napoleon, smiling. "Do you really believe that she loves me so disinterestedly?"

      "Sire, I am convinced of it, and so is your majesty. The empress loves in you her dear Bonaparte, and not the emperor. She loves you more ardently than any other woman could do. Sire, permit an old, well-tried friend and servant to warn you. Do not banish Josephine from your heart, for she is your guardian angel."

      Napoleon did not reply immediately, but looked melancholy and abstracted.

      "It is true," he said, after a long pause, "Josephine brought success; until I married her every thing around me was forbidding and dark. She appeared like a sun by my side, and we rose together."

      "Sire, all will darken again, if you suffer your sun to set."

      "Ah, bah! these are nothing but fantastic dreams!" exclaimed Napoleon, after a brief silence. "I am the architect of my fortune—I alone. Josephine did not assist me in erecting my edifice; she only adorned it with her smiling grace. I shall do what fate and my people have a right to expect of me, but I do not say that it must be done immediately. I have time enough to wait; for as yet I do not stand on the pinnacle to which I am aspiring. My plans are not yet accomplished. I hope that I shall not die at so early an age as my father. I need ten years more to carry out my purposes. A sovereign ought not to set too narrow limits to his wishes; but mine—they are boundless. Like the conqueror of Darius, I must rule the world, and I hope that my desire will one day be fulfilled. Nay, I feel convinced that I and my family will occupy all the thrones of Europe. Then it will be time for me to have a wife who will give an heir to my empire, and a son to my heart. Until then, my friend, keep the matter secret; do not mention what I have told you. The portraits of the old kings, with their surly faces, have impressed me very disagreeably, and it is in defiance of them that I say, I will one day have a wife—a daughter of the Cæsars—who will think it an honor to bear a son to the modern Cæsar! When the time comes, however, I shall remind you of this hour, and then request you, in the name of the confidence which I have reposed in you, to prepare my poor, beloved Josephine for the blow that is menacing her and myself, and which I then shall ward off no longer. But a truce to these matters! Let us go to Sans-souci. Come!"

      "Sire, before your majesty has dined?"

      "Ah, you are hungry, then? You would like to dine?"

      "Sire, I believe all the gentlemen entertain the same desire. None of us have tasted food for eight hours."

      "Eight hours, and you are already hungry again? Truly, this German air exerts a bad effect upon my brave marshals. Like the Germans, you want to eat all the time. Well, let it so be; as we are in Germany, I will comply with your wishes. Let us dine, therefore, and afterward go to the country-palace of Frederick II. Be kind enough to issue your orders, grand-marshal. Let the horses be ready; we shall set out as soon as we have dined. Tell Roustan to come to me!"

      Napoleon was now again the sovereign, and it was in this capacity that he dismissed Duroc, who left the room with a respectful bow. Roustan, who had already heard the order in the anteroom, glided past him, to assist Constant in the emperor's toilet.

CHAPTER IX.

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SANS-SOUCI.

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      Duroc hastened once more through the rooms and halls to the corridor, where the palace-steward came to meet him.

      "Dinner is ready, grand marshal," he said.

      "And have you set another table in the adjoining room?"

      "Your orders have been punctually obeyed."

      "Be good enough, then, to conduct me to the large dining-hall."

      The steward bowed in silence, and led the way. All the marshals and generals were already assembled when Duroc entered.

      "Gentlemen," he said, smiling, "his majesty is now occupied with his toilet, and Roustan has assured me that it would last half an hour. We have half an hour, therefore, to take our dinner." Followed by the others, he went into the next room. A table had been set there, and appetizing odors invited them to sit down to it.

      "Now, steward, have every thing served up as quick as possible. We have but twenty minutes left." During that time there reigned profound silence, only now and then interrupted by a word or a brief remark. The marshals contented themselves in making the viands disappear, and emptying the bottles. Duroc, who had frequently cast anxious glances at the large clock, now rose hastily. "Gentlemen," he said, "our time is up, and we must be ready for the emperor's dinner. I will go to his majesty, and conduct him to the dining-hall. I hope all of you have eaten well, so as not to need much of the official repast to which we are going. The emperor has graciously ordered us all to dine with him. Be so kind as to repair to the hall."

      When Napoleon entered, a few minutes later, preceded by Duroc, he found all the marshals assembled. The dinner commenced, and he, it seemed, was no less hungry than his generals, for not only did he eat his soup with the utmost rapidity, but when he saw one of his favorite dishes placed near him, he smiled and nodded kindly to the grand marshal, who was standing at his right, and presented him a glass of wine.

      "See how attentive these dear Germans are!" he said. "If I am not mistaken, this is my favorite dish, fricassée à la Marengo."

      "Yes, sire, I sent the bill of fare hither last night by the