The young man bowed. "Yes, citizen First Consul."
"It was sealed, however."
"It was sent unsealed under cover to the person who intrusted it to me. And before doing so he made me read it, that I might know its full importance."
"Can I know the name of the person who intrusted it to you?"
"Georges Cadoudal."
Bonaparte started slightly.
"Do you know Georges Cadoudal?" he asked.
"He is my friend."
"Why did he intrust it to you rather than to another?"
"Because he knew that in telling me to deliver the letter to you with my own hand it would be done."
"You have certainly kept your promise, sir."
"Not altogether yet, citizen First Consul."
"How do you mean? Haven't you delivered it to me?"
"Yes, but I promised to bring back an answer."
"But if I tell you I will not give one."
"You will have answered; not precisely as I could have wished, but it will be an answer."
Bonaparte reflected for a few moments. Then shaking his shoulders to rid himself of his thoughts, he said: "They are fools."
"Who, citizen?" asked Morgan.
"Those who write me such letters--fools, arch fools. Do they take me for a man who patterns his conduct by the past? Play Monk! What good would it do? Bring back another Charles II.? No, faith, it is not worth while.
When a man has Toulon, the 13th Vendemiaire, Lodi, Castiglione, Arcola, Rivoli and the Pyramids behind him, he's no Monk. He has the right to aspire to more than a duchy of Albemarle, and the command by land and sea of the forces of his Majesty King Louis XVIII."
"For that reason you are asked to make your own conditions, citizen First Consul."
Bonaparte started at the sound of that voice as if he had forgotten that any one was present.
"Not counting," he went on, "that it is a ruined family, a dead branch of a rotten trunk. The Bourbons have so intermarried with one another that the race is depraved; Louis XIV. exhausted all its sap, all its vigor.--You know history, sir?" asked Bonaparte, turning to the young man.
"Yes, general," he replied; "at least as well as a _ci-devant_ can know it."
"Well, you must have observed in history, especially in that of France, that each race has its point of departure, its culmination, and its decadence. Look at the direct line of the Capets; starting from Hugues Capet, they attained their highest grandeur in Philippe Auguste and Louis XI., and fell with Philippe V. and Charles IV. Take the Valois; starting with Philippe VI., they culminated in Francois I. and fell with Charles IX. and Henry III. See the Bourbons; starting with Henry IV., they have their culminating point in Louis XIV. and fall with Louis XV. and Louis XVI.--only they fall lower than the others; lower in debauchery with Louis XV., lower in misfortune with Louis XVI. You talk to me of the Stuarts, and show me the example of Monk. Will you tell me who succeeded Charles II.? James II. And who to James II.? William of Orange, a usurper. Would it not have been better, I ask you, if Monk had put the crown on his own head? Well, if I was fool enough to restore Louis XVIII. to the throne, like Charles II. he would have no children, and, like James II., his brother Charles X. would succeed him, and like him would be driven out by some William of Orange. No, no! God has not put the destiny of this great and glorious country we call France into my hands that I should cast it back to those who have gambled with it and lost it."
"Permit me, general, to remark that I did not ask you for all this."
"But I, I ask you--"
"I think you are doing me the honor to take me for posterity."
Bonaparte started, turned round, saw to whom he was speaking, and was silent.
"I only want," said Morgan, with a dignity which surprised the man whom he addressed, "a yes or a no."
"And why do you want that?"
"To know whether we must continue to war against you as an enemy, or fall at your feet as a savior."
"War," said Bonaparte, "war! Madmen, they who war with me! Do they not see that I am the elect of God?"
"Attila said the same thing."
"Yes; but he was the elect of destruction; I, of the new era. The grass withered where he stepped; the harvest will ripen where I pass the plow.
War? Tell me what has become of those who have made it against me? They lie upon the plains of Piedmont, of Lombardy and Cairo!"
"You forget the Vendee; the Vendee is still afoot."
"Afoot, yes! but her leaders? Cathelineau, Lescure, La Rochejaquelin, d'Elbee, Bonchamps, Stoffiet, Charette?"
"You are speaking of men only; the men have been mown down, it is true; but the principle is still afoot, and for it are fighting Autichamp, Suzannet, Grignon, Frotte, Chatillon, Cadoudal. The younger may not be worth the elder, but if they die as their elders died, what more can you ask?"
"Let them beware! If I determine upon a campaign against the Vendee I shall send neither Santerre nor Rossignol!"
"The Convention sent Kleber, and the Directory, Hoche!"
"I shall not send; I shall go myself."
"Nothing worse can happen to them than to be killed like Lescure, or shot like Charette."
"It may happen that I pardon them."
"Cato taught us how to escape the pardon of Caesar."
"Take care; you are quoting a Republican!"
"Cato was one of those men whose example can be followed, no matter to what party they belong."
"And suppose I were to tell you that I hold the Vendee in the hollow of my hand?"
"You!"
"And that within three months, she will lay down her arms if I choose?"
The young man shook his head.