"No. I shall wait for Josephine in her own room. Bourrienne, tell her, as you pass through, to get rid of the people as soon as possible."
Then, saluting Bourrienne and his brother with a wave of the hand, he left his study by a private corridor, and went to Josephine's room.
There, lighted by a single alabaster lamp, which made the conspirator's brow seem paler than ever, Bonaparte listened to the noise of the carriages, as one after the other they rolled away. At last the sounds ceased, and five minutes later the door opened to admit Josephine.
She was alone, and held a double-branched candlestick in her hand. Her face, lighted by the double flame, expressed the keenest anxiety.
"Well," Bonaparte inquired, "what ails you?"
"I am afraid!" said Josephine.
"Of what? Those fools of the Directory, or the lawyers of the two Councils? Come, come! I have Sieyes with me in the Ancients, and Lucien in the Five Hundred."
"Then all goes well?"
"Wonderfully so!"
"You sent me word that you were waiting for me here, and I feared you had some bad news to tell me."
"Pooh! If I had bad news, do you think I would tell you?"
"How reassuring that is!"
"Well, don't be uneasy, for I have nothing but good news. Only, I have given you a part in the conspiracy."
"What is it?"
"Sit down and write to Gohier."
"That we won't dine with him?"
"On the contrary, ask him to come and breakfast with us. Between those who like each other as we do there can't be too much intercourse."
Josephine sat down at a little rosewood writing desk "Dictate," said she; "I will write."
"Goodness! for them to recognize my style! Nonsense; you know better than I how to write one of those charming notes there is no resisting."
Josephine smiled at the compliment, turned her forehead to Bonaparte, who kissed it lovingly, and wrote the following note, which we have copied from the original:
To the Citizen Gohier, President of the Executive Directory of the French Republic--
"Is that right?" she asked.
"Perfectly! As he won't wear this title of President much longer, we won't cavil at it."
"Don't you mean to make him something?"
"I'll make him anything he pleases, if he does exactly what I want. Now go on, my dear."
Josephine picked up her pen again and wrote:
Come, my dear Gohier, with your wife, and breakfast with us to-morrow at eight o'clock. Don't fail, for I have some very interesting things to tell you.
Adieu, my dear Gohier! With the sincerest friendship, Yours, LA PAGERIE-BONAPARTE.
"I wrote to-morrow," exclaimed Josephine. "Shall I date it the 17th Brumaire?"
"You won't be wrong," said Bonaparte; "there's midnight striking."
In fact, another day had fallen into the gulf of time; the clock chimed twelve. Bonaparte listened gravely and dreamily. Twenty-four hours only separated him from the solemn day for which he had been scheming for a month, and of which he had dreamed for years.
Let us do now what he would so gladly have done, and spring over those twenty-four hours intervening to the day which history has not yet judged, and see what happened in various parts of Paris, where the events we are about to relate produced an overwhelming sensation.
CHAPTER XXIII. ALEA JACTA EST
At seven in the morning, Fouche, minister of police, entered the bedroom of Gohier, president of the Directory.
"Oh, ho!" said Gohier, when he saw him. "What has happened now, monsieur le ministre, to give me the pleasure of seeing you so early?"
"Don't you know about the decree?" asked Fouche.
"What decree?" asked honest Gohier.
"The decree of the Council of the Ancients."
"When was it issued?"
"Last night."
"So the Council of the Ancients assembles at night now?"
"When matters are urgent, yes."
"And what does the decree say."
"It transfers the legislative sessions to Saint-Cloud."
Gohier felt the blow. He realized the advantage which Bonaparte's daring genius might obtain by this isolation.
"And since when," he asked Fouche, "is the minister of police transformed into a messenger of the Council of the Ancients?"
"That's where you are mistaken, citizen president," replied the ex-Conventional. "I am more than ever minister of police this morning, for I have come to inform you of an act which may have the most serious consequences."
Not being as yet sure of how the conspiracy of the Rue de la Victoire would turn out, Fouche was not averse to keeping open a door for retreat at the Luxembourg. But Gohier, honest as he was, knew the man too well to be his dupe.
"You should have informed me of this decree yesterday, and not this morning; for in making the communication now you are scarcely in advance of the official communication I shall probably receive in a few moments."