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"And what did the emperor reply?" asked Napoleon, quickly.

"Sire, the emperor replied, in his strong Austrian dialect, 'Do not
always talk to me about the child! I have at home many children of
whom I ought to think first.'" [Footnote: The Emperor Francis said:
"Rodt's mier nit alleweil von dem Kind; bei mier z' Haus hab' ich
gar vielle Kinder, an die ich z'erst denken muess."--Hormayr,
"Lebensbllder," vol. i., p. 98.]

"That is not true; he did not say so!" cried Napoleon.

"Sire, he did; Prince Metternich told me so."

Napoleon paused a moment. A low knocking at the door interrupted his
meditation. One of the adjutants entered, and reported that the
emperor's equerry, Count Saint-Aignan, whom the emperor had
intrusted with a mission, had returned, and requested an audience of
his majesty. The emperor himself hastened to the door, and eagerly
motioned to the count to approach. "Well, Saint-Aignan," he asked,
"what did you find? How is the disposition of the people in the
south of France?"

"Sire," said the count, mournfully, "I bring no news that will
gladden your majesty's heart. Southern France is discontented; the
people are complaining of the duration of the war; they desire peace
at any price, and are disposed to resort to extreme measures in
order to reestablish it."

"What does that mean?" asked the emperor. "I do not understand you;
express yourself more distinctly."

"Well, then, sire, the people there have read the proclamation of
the Bourbons, and think of reinstating them, for the purpose of
putting an end to the war."

"They will not dare to do that," cried Napoleon, casting an angry
glance on Saint-Aignan.

"They have already, sire," said the count. "The city of Bordeaux has
declared for the Bourbons, and the Count d'Artois, as well as the
Duke and Duchess d'Angouleme, have made their entrance into the
city, and--"

"And have been received with enthusiasm by the population!" cried
Napoleon. "Pray, finish your sentence, and tell me so. Add that the
inhabitants of Bordeaux have returned to their duty, and that you,
too, have discovered what your duty is, and that you intend to
return to the legitimate rulers of France! Go! I permit you; I
relieve you of the duties of your office! Go to the Bourbons!"

Count Saint-Aignan did not stir; pallor overspread his cheeks; his
eyes, fixed on the emperor with an indescribable expression of
grief, filled with tears, and his quivering lips were unable to
speak.

"Sire," said the Duke de Vicenza, "your majesty does injustice to
the count. You commanded him to give a reliable report of his
mission; he was not at liberty, therefore, to conceal any thing, but
was obliged to tell you the whole truth."

"The truth!" cried Napoleon, violently stamping, "that which you
fear or desire you call the truth! You all see through the colored
spectacles of your anxiety, and would compel me to do so, too; but I
will not; my eyes are open, and see things as they are. Go, Count
Saint-Aignan; your report is finished!" The count, with a sigh,
approached the door, and, slowly walking backward, left the room.
"The Bourbons!" murmured Napoleon to himself; "they shall not dare
to threaten me with this spectre! There are no Bourbons! I am the
Emperor of France, and it is to me alone that the French nation owes
allegiance!" He looked thoughtfully, with a dark and wrinkled
forehead, but, presently lifting his head--"Oh, Caulaincourt," he
exclaimed, "I will personally satisfy myself whether the army of the
allies is really in our rear, or whether your fears are well
grounded. Let us set out for Vitry!"

"Heaven be praised!" replied the Duke de Vicenza, joyfully. "All is
not yet lost; for Vitry is on the road to Paris."

On the following morning the emperor moved with his forces toward
Vitry, and took up his quarters at Marolles, a short distance from
the little fortress. Here at length he was to find out the true
state of affairs. He was met by inhabitants of Fere Champenoise, who
had fled to Marolles, and informed him that Marshals Marmont and
Mortier had suffered decisive defeats at the hands of the allies;
that the divisions of General Pacthod and Aurey had been
annihilated, and that the united armies of Bohemia and Silesia were
in rapid march on Paris.

An expression of terror passed over the face of Napoleon, and his
equanimity seemed to be shaken; but he soon overcame the effect of
this news, calmly remarking, "Well, if the allies are marching on
Paris, we must march too."

"Yes, on to Paris!" cried the marshals. "That is the most important
point in present circumstances, and it can be defended, if the
emperor hasten with his army."

"On to Paris, then!" exclaimed Napoleon. "But we must move with the
speed of the wind!" He appeared to have regained his whole energy;
his eyes beamed again, his face resumed its old determination, and
he issued his orders in a firm and cheerful voice.

It was all-important to defend the emperor's throne at Paris, and to
protect the inheritance of the King of Rome from the allies and the
Bourbons. Forward, then, by forced marches! Napoleon's headquarters
were soon at Montier-en-Der--much nearer the capital. On the 28th of
March he reached Doulerant, when a horseman, covered with dust, pale
and breathless, coming from the direction of the capital, galloped
up to the head of the column. "Where is the emperor?" he cried.
Having been conducted to him, "Sire," he whispered, "I am sent by
the postmaster-general, your faithful Count La Valette, to deliver
this paper."

The emperor unfolded the paper and read. A slight tremor pervaded
his frame, and his eyes grew gloomier. He cast another glance on the
paper, and then, seizing it with his teeth, he tore it to pieces.
None but himself was to learn the contents of that paper, which
read: "The adherents of the invaders, encouraged by the defection of
Bordeaux, are raising their heads; secret intrigues are helping
them. The emperor's presence is necessary, if he wishes to prevent
his capital from being delivered into the hands of the enemy. We
must march immediately. Not a moment is to be lost." [Footnote:
Fain, "Manuscrit de 1814."]

"Forward!" shouted the emperor. "We must hasten to Paris, and be
there to-morrow!" The emperor, with the cavalry of his guard, headed
the column. His countenance was still calm and impenetrable; but at
times a gleam lit up his sombre eyes, as he moved on in a violent
thunderstorm.

Another courier galloped up and asked for the emperor. "Announce me
to him. The lieutenant-general of the empire, King Joseph, the
emperor's brother, sends me."

He was conducted to Napoleon, who received him with the words, "News
from my brother in Paris? Give me your dispatch!"

"Sire, I have no dispatch to deliver; dispatches may be lost, or
revealed if their bearer should be arrested; but memory betrays
nothing. I have ridden from Paris in fourteen hours. Here are my
credentials, King Joseph's signet-ring."

"I recognize it. Speak!" By a wave of his hand Napoleon ordered the
marshals to retire, and, bending his head toward his brother's
messenger, he repeated calmly, "Speak!"

"Sire," whispered the messenger, "the king informs your majesty that
the allies are near Paris; that Marshals Marmont and Mortier, though
determined to defend the capital, have no hope of holding their
positions. The king implores your majesty most urgently to leave
nothing undone to hasten to the assistance of your capital."
[Footnote: Fain, "Manuscrit de 1814."]

Having heard this message, the emperor's face was unveiled; it was
quivering with anguish, and his eyes turned to heaven in despair.
"Oh, if I had wings!" he cried, in an outburst of grief; "if I could
be in Paris at this hour!" Then he became silent, and his head sank
on his breast. His generals surrounded him, when he lifted his head
again with drops of sweat on his forehead, but his face resumed its
wonted calmness. "General Dejean," he cried, in a powerful voice,
"ride to Paris as fast as you can. Inform my brother that I am
making a forced march to the capital. Hasten then to Marmont and
Mortier; tell them to resist to the last, and leave nothing untried
in order to hold out but for two days. In that time I shall be in
front of Paris, and it is safe! Marmont is to dispatch a courier to
Prince Schwartzenberg, and inform him that I have sent an envoy to
the Emperor Francis with propositions leading to peace.
Schwartzenberg will hesitate, and we shall gain time. Haste, Dejean,
and remember that the fate of my capital rests with you!"

When General Dejean rode off, Napoleon sought his faithful friend,
the Duke de Vicenza. He was by his side before the emperor had
uttered his name. "Caulaincourt," he said, in a gentle voice, "you
were right. I have lost two days. I might now be in Paris. Fate is
behind me, intent on crushing me, and death itself refuses to take
me! At the battle of Bar-sur-Aube I did all I could to die while
defending my country. I plunged into the thickest of the fight; the
balls tore my clothes, and yet not one of them injured me. I am a
man doomed to live [Footnote: Napoleon's words.--"Vide Bausset's
Memoires," vol. ii., p. 246.]--a man that, for the welfare of his
people, is to subscribe his own humiliation and disgrace!
Caulaincourt, go to the Emperor Francis of Austria. Tell him I
accept the ultimatum which the allies offered me at Chatillon. I
sign the death-warrant of my glory! Hasten! And now, forward! In two
days we must reach Paris!"

CHAPTER L.

DEPARTURE OF MARIA LOUISA.

On the same day, and nearly at the same hour of the 29th of March,
while the emperor was moving with his troops toward Paris, a scene
of an entirely different description took place at the rooms of the
empress, his consort, in the Tuileries. Napoleon, in his despair,
wished for wings to fly to Paris; Maria Louisa, in her anguish,
wished for wings to fly away from Paris; for the enemy was at its
gates, and it was plain that the city must either capitulate or run
the risk of an assault.

As yet Maria Louisa called the allies threatening the throne of her
husband, and the inheritance of her son, her enemies, although her
own father was among them. She deemed herself in duty bound to stand
by her husband, to brave the vicissitudes of fortune jointly with
him, and obey his will. The emperor desired that his consort and his
son should not remain in the city if any danger should menace them.
When the news reached the Tuileries that the allies had arrived at
the walls of Paris, and it became obvious that the corps of Marmont
and Mortier were not strong enough to withstand the armies of the
enemy, King Joseph, the lieutenant of the emperor, summoned the
regent, Maria Louisa, and the council of state, to deliberate on the
grave question whether or not the empress and the King of Rome
should remain, or be withdrawn to a place of safety beyond the
Loire.

The decision was left with Maria Louisa; but the regent had declared
it was not for her to settle this question; it was for the very
purpose of advising her and guiding her steps that the emperor had
associated the council of state with her. King Joseph produced a
letter from Napoleon of a nature to indicate his wishes. It was
dated Rheims, 15th of March, and read:

"In accordance with the verbal instructions which I have
given, and with the spirit of all my letters, you are in no
event to permit the empress and the King of Rome to fall into
the hands of the enemy. I am about to manoeuvre in such a
manner that you may possibly be several days without hearing
from me. Should the enemy advance upon Paris with such
forces as to render all resistance impossible, send off in the
direction of the Loire the empress, the King of Rome, the
great dignitaries, the ministers, the officers of the senate,
the president of the council of state, the great officers of
the crown, and the treasure. Never quit my son; and keep in
mind that I would rather see him in the Seine than in the
hands of the enemies of France! The fate of Astyanax, a
prisoner in the hands of the Greeks, has always appeared to
me the most deplorable in history."

"Your brother, NAPOLEON."

[Footnote: Baron de Meneval, "Marie Louise et Napoleon," vol. ii.,
p. 230.]

This, of course, put an end to all debate. The emperor's precise and
final order, providing for the very case which had occurred, could
not be disregarded, and Maria Louisa accordingly determined to leave
with her son and her suite for Rambouillet. The morning of the 29th
of March was fixed for the departure. The travelling-carriages,
loaded with baggage, stood in the court-yard of the Tuileries; but
Maria Louisa still hesitated. Her travelling-toilet was completed;
her ladies were with her in the reception-room, filled with persons
forming the cortege of the empress. All entered in mournful silence,
and to their bows the empress responded only with a nod. Her eyes,
red with weeping, were fixed on the door; she awaited in suspense
the return of King Joseph, who had left the Tuileries at daybreak,
and had gone to the gates of Paris to reconnoitre the enemy's
position. At first the departure was to have taken place at eight in
the morning; now it was past nine, and King Joseph had not yet
returned.

This unexpected delay increased the anxiety. None dared interrupt
the breathless silence reigning in the apartment; only here and
there some one whispered, and, whenever a door opened, all started
and turned anxiously toward it, as if expecting a bearer of sad
tidings. The face of the empress was pale and agitated; her form
trembled; at times she turned toward her ladies, who stood behind
her, and addressed to them some almost inaudible question, not
waiting for a reply, but looking again toward the door, or inclining
her head on her bosom.

Suddenly the door was opened, and on the threshold appeared the
little King of Rome, followed by his governess, Madame de
Montesquieu. The boy's face did not exhibit today its air of
childlike mirth, which usually beamed like sunshine from his
beautiful features. No smile was on his fresh lips, and his lustrous
eyes were dimmed. With a sullen face and without looking at any one,
the child, so intelligent for his years, stepped through the room
directly toward his mother. "Mamma empress," he said, in his silvery
voice, "my 'Quiou says that we are about to leave Paris, and shall
no longer live at the Tuileries. Is that true, mamma?"

"Yes, my son, we must leave," said the empress, in a low voice, "but
we shall return."

"We MUST leave?" inquired the little king. "But my papa once said to
me, the word 'must' is not for me, and I do not want it either, and
I pray my dear mamma not to leave Paris with me."

"But the emperor himself wishes us to leave, Napoleon," said the
empress, sighing, and with some displeasure. "Your papa has ordered
us to depart if the enemy should come."

"The enemy!" cried the boy; "I am not afraid of the enemy. If he,
comes, we do as my papa emperor always does--we beat the enemy, and
then he runs away."

But these words of the brave child, which would have delighted his
father's heart, seemed to make a disagreeable impression upon his
mother. She murmured a few inaudible words, and slightly shrugged
her shoulders.

Madame de Montesquiou took the child by the hand, "Come, sire," she
said, in a low voice, "do not disturb her majesty. Come!"

"No, no," cried the boy, violently disengaging himself, "I am sure
you want to carry me down to the carriage, and I tell you I will not
go! Let me stay here with my mother, dear 'Quiou; I do not disturb
her, for you see she is not busy, and she does not want to be alone
either, for there are a great many persons with her. Therefore, I
may stay here, too, may I not, dear mamma empress!"

"Yes, my son, stay here," said the empress, abstractedly, looking
again at the door.

"I am not afraid of the enemy," cried the little king, proudly
throwing back his head. "My papa will soon come and drive him away.
But tell me, mamma, what is the name of the enemy who wants to rob
us of our beautiful palace? What is his name?"

"Hush, Napoleon!" said the empress, almost indignantly; "what good
would it do you to hear what you do not understand?"

"Oh, dear mamma," cried the child, with a triumphant air, "I can
understand very well, for my papa has often played war on the floor
with me, and we have built fortresses. And not long ago, papa
emperor told me, too, that he was going to the army, and he spoke of
his enemies. I remember them very well; they are the Emperor of
Russia--who once kissed my papa's hand, and thanked God that papa
emperor consented to be his friend; the King of Prussia, from whom
my papa could have taken all his states; the crown prince of Sweden,
who learned the art of war from my papa, and is a faithless servant;
and last, the Emperor of Austria. But tell me, mamma, is not he your
father? And did you not tell me that I ought to pray every night for
my grandfather, the Emperor of Austria?"

"I did tell you so, Napoleon," whispered the empress, whose eyes
filled with tears.

The boy looked down for a moment musingly; and then, lifting his
large blue eyes to his mother, "Mamma," he said, "henceforth I shall
never again pray for the Emperor of Austria, for he is now my papa's
enemy, and, therefore, no longer my grandfather. No, no, I shall not
pray for him, but only as my papa likes me to do." And the boy knelt
down, lifting up his hands, and exclaiming in a loud voice, "Good
God, I pray to Thee for France and for my father!"

Expressions of deep emotion were heard in the room. The empress
covered her face with her handkerchief, and wept bitterly. The
little king was still on his knees, with his eyes raised toward
heaven. Suddenly the door at which the empress had looked so long
and anxiously, opened. It was not King Joseph who entered, but the
adjutant of General Clarke, the regent's minister of war.
Approaching the empress, he begged leave to communicate a message
from the minister.

"Speak," said Maria Louisa, hastily, "and loud enough for every one
to hear the news."

"His excellency, the minister of war, has commissioned me to implore
your majesty in his name to leave without a moment's delay. He
believes that every minute increases the danger, and that an hour
hence it might be impossible for you to get away, because your
majesty would then run the risk of falling into the hands of roving
bands of Cossacks. The Russian corps are already near, and we shall
soon hear their cannon thunder at the very gates of Paris."
[Footnote: Meneval, "Marie Louise," vol. II., p. 266.]

"Well, then," said Maria Louisa, with quivering lips, "be it so! Let
us set out."

All felt that the decisive hour was at hand. The empress quickly
advanced a few steps. "Come!" she exclaimed, in feverish agitation.
"Let us set out for Rambouillet!"

Suddenly her son grasped her hand and endeavored to draw her back.
"Dear mamma," he cried, anxiously, "do not go! Rambouillet is an
ugly old castle. Let us not go, but stay here!" [Footnote: The
little king's words. Ibid.]

"It cannot be, my son; we must go!"

But little Napoleon pushed back her hand with a gesture of
indignation. "Well, then, mamma," he said, "go! I will not go. I
will not leave my house! As papa is not here, I am the master! and I
say I WILL not go!" [Footnote: Meneval, "Marie Louise."]

The empress motioned to the equerry on service. "M. de Comisy," she
ordered, "take the prince in your arms and carry him to the
carriage."

"The prince! I am no prince, I am the King of Rome," cried the boy,
in the most violent anger. "I will not go! I will not leave my
house; I do not want you to betray my dear papa!" [Footnote: The
king's words.--Vide "Memoires du Due de Rovigo," vol. vii., p. 5.]
The empress took no longer any notice of him; M. de Comisy lifted
the crying, struggling boy into his arms. "'Quiou, dear 'Quiou!"
cried the child, "oh, come to my assistance! I will not leave my
house!"

"Sire," said Madame de Montesquieu, weeping, "we must leave: the
emperor has ordered us to do so!"

"It is false!" cried the prince, bursting into a flood of tears, and
still trying to disengage himself. "My papa never ordered any such
thing, for he says that one ought never to flee from the enemy. I
will not go, I will not flee!"

"Come, sire; come!" exclaimed M. de Comisy.

"I will not go!" said the boy, and clung to the door. But Madame de
Montesqnion, vainly trying to comfort the prince by gentle words,
disengaged his tiny hands, and M. de Comisy hurried on. The whole
court, the whole travelling cortege thronged, forward, following the
empress and the King of Rome.

Soon the brilliant apartment was empty; but the deserted rooms
echoed the distant cries of the little King of Rome. All his
struggles were in vain. M. de Comisy was not allowed to have pity on
him; the will of the empress had to be fulfilled.

At length the preparations were completed, and all had taken their
seats. The large clock on the tower of the Tuileries struck eleven
as the empress's carriage rolled slowly across the spacious court-
yard. The crying of the little king, who sat by the side of his
mother, was still heard. With them were also the mistress of
ceremonies, the Duchess de Montebello, and the governess. Nine other
carriages followed, decorated with the imperial coat-of-arms, and
numerous baggage-wagons, and the whole train of a brilliant court.
The procession filled the whole length of the court-yard of the
Tuilories.

When the carriage of the empress drove through the large iron
enclosure, a small crowd of spectators stood near, and gazed in
mournful silence. Not a hand was raised to salute the fugitives; not
a voice shouted farewell. The sad train passed along, while the
people looked after it, as if the funeral procession of the empire.
The imperial party disappeared among the trees of the Champs
Elysees, and left Paris by the "Gate of Victory."

CHAPTER LI.

THE CAPITULATION OF PARIS.

The roar of cannon, which continued all the day long of the 30th of
March, began now to cease; but the great battle which the allies
fought under the walls of Paris with the corps of Marmont and
Mortier, was not finished. Before resorting to a bombardment, and an
assault on the city, conciliation was once more to be tried.
Delegates of the monarchs, therefore, repaired to the marshals, and
requested them to consent to an honorable capitulation.

"This is another instance of our foolish generosity!" growled
Blucher, leaning back in his carriage. "The whole rats'-nest ought
to be demolished; Bonaparte and the French would then have to
submit. But I see already how it will be. The peace will be
unsatisfactory, and our demands will be as modest as possible, lest
we incur the displeasure of the dear French.--Pipe-master, hand me a
short pipe! I must smoke, to stifle my anger."

"Your excellency," said Christian, riding up to the carriage, "you
have promised the surgeon general not to smoke much, and least of
all a short pipe, because the hot smoke is injurious to the eyes.
Your excellency has smoked six pipes to-day!"

"And it seems to me that is very little! What are six pipes for a
general-in-chief, who has to reflect so much as I have to-day? Give
me a pipe, Christian; it is bad enough that I have to sit in such a
monkey-box of a carriage, instead of riding on horseback at the head
of my troops."

"Nevertheless, every thing passed off very well," said Christian,
calmly. "You shouted your orders out of the carriage like a madman,
and the generals and adjutants heard and executed all as if you had
been on horseback among them. In fact, it would have been only
necessary for you to order, 'Forward!' It would have been just as
well, for your hussars were intent on nothing else; and, like their
field-marshal, they wished only to reach Paris."

"And now we have to wait here without firing a gun," replied
Blucher. "Moreover, my eyes ache as if they were burning. The sun
has been blazing all day, as though curious to see whether or not we
should take Paris; he has poured his rays on me since daybreak, and
I had no protection for my old eyes. On looking out of the carriage
early this morning I lost my shade; the wind carried it off as
though it were a kite. I have lost it, and, what is worse, I cannot
even enter Paris, for we shall of course sign a capitulation."

"Here is the pipe, your excellency," said Christian, "and now, good-
by, field-marshal; I have to attend to a little private matter."

He galloped off, and Blucher looked after him. "Happy fellow!" he
said, sighing; "he can gallop as light as a bird, while I must sit
here as a poor old prisoner!" At this moment his adjutant, Major von
Nostiz, rode up to the field-marshal's carriage. "Well, Nostiz, tell
me how things look in the outer world. What is the news?"

"Bad and good, your excellency," said Nostiz. "A murderous battle
has taken place to-day, and we have sustained heavy losses. About
eight thousand men were killed on our side, but in return we have
gained a large number of trophies, field-pieces, caissons, and
stands of colors."