The Rose of Old St. Louis Part 27

I have no very distinct recollection of the services; indeed, I hardly paid enough attention to them to follow them decorously, for I was consumed with an eager desire for but one event--the entrance of the First Consul.

A subdued murmur (almost, it seemed to me, like suppressed "Vive le rois") announced to me that he was just entering the door, and as I sat by the aisle down which he was coming, and far to the front, by turning in my seat and stretching my neck shamelessly I had time to see him well.

Could this little fellow, who might easily have stood under my arm stretched level with my shoulder, could he be the hero of Marengo! the Dictator of France who held all Europe trembling in his grasp! I think that I had heretofore had an unconscious feeling that greatness of stature meant greatness of heart and mind and courage, and I had gloried in my inches. Now I was almost ashamed of them, for this little man coming rapidly down the aisle with a firm, quick step seemed to breathe power from the chiseled curve of the nostril, from the haughty curl of the beautiful lips, but most of all from the imperial flash of the dark eyes under level brows. If his face had not been so full of power, yes, and of arrogance, it would have been almost too beautiful for a man's face, framed in silky brown hair thinning at the temples, but curling in one dark lock above the broad white brow.

But if it humbled me to see so much greatness in such small stature, it comforted me not a little to observe that the great man was no despiser of dress. He might have been molded into his small-clothes and waistcoat of white doeskin, so exactly did they fit every line and curve of his perfect figure. His dark-blue military coat of finest cloth was set off by heavy epaulets of gold and by a broad azure ribbon crossing his breast and bearing the jeweled insignia of the Legion of Honor. The crimson sword-sash which bore his sword sheathed in a scabbard of gold flas.h.i.+ng with jewels, completed in his own dress the tricolor of France. He wore high military boots, I think to carry out the military effect of his epaulets and sword, for it was in the character of soldier, the hero of many battles, the winner of glory for France, that the people idolized him.

To the right and the left, his eagle glance took in the whole great congregation, and as he pa.s.sed it fell on me. His glances were never idle ones; I knew he had seen me, and my pulses quivered and fluttered like a young maiden's. From that moment I was as much his slave as any soldier of La Vendee, and had he not himself disillusioned me most bitterly, I should still have been regarding him as the hero of my dreams, _sans peur et sans reproche_, the greatest man and greatest soldier of all time. I still believe the latter t.i.tle belongs to him, but not the first, for a great man must be a good man too, like our Was.h.i.+ngton, and that Bonaparte was not.

It is no wonder, then, that I was quite beside myself with excitement when at dejeuner my uncle said to me:

"Would you like to ride out to St. Cloud with me this afternoon? The First Consul has summoned me to a conference with him, if I mistake not, on the subject you heard discussed yesterday."

"Oh, thank you, sir. And shall I be present at the conference?" I spoke quickly and foolishly, for I was greatly excited.

My uncle laughed.

"Well, hardly, my boy, unless you find a way, as you did yesterday, of compelling the First Consul to invite you to be present."

I liked not to be laughed at, but I knew it was but my uncle's teasing fas.h.i.+on, and all the way out through the beautiful Boulogne woods, the birds singing, the sun s.h.i.+ning, the soft spring airs blowing, the alders and willows pale pink and yellow in the distance, the great buds of the horse-chestnuts just bursting into leaf and everywhere the vivid green of the fresh turf; my heart beating high with happy excitement to be in beautiful Paris and on my way to historic St.

Cloud, where dwelt the most wonderful man of the world; and Fatima prancing and curveting under me, her dainty hoofs scarce touching the earth as she danced along the green allees of St. Cloud's beautiful park, sharing my happy excitement (though only, I suppose, for a horse's natural joy in trees and gra.s.s and suns.h.i.+ne)--all that swift and beautiful ride, galloping beside my uncle's coach, his words rang in my ears, and I longed with all my heart to be present at that conference: not so much to hear what was said as to see the great Bonaparte saying it.

I parted from my uncle at one of the great fountains, he riding up in his coach to the palace doors, and Fatima and I starting off on an exploring tour around the park. He would not hear to my waiting for him, for he said he might be detained for hours, and indeed it was possible the Consul would keep him all night at St. Cloud, as sometimes happened, to call upon at any hour of the night when some new suggestion occurred to him.

Riding fast, as was my custom when alone with Fatima, it did not take us long to exhaust the beauties of the park, and my eyes began to turn longingly toward the palace. Somewhere within its stately walls I supposed the conference was going on. Verily, there were some compensations in diplomacy when it gave a man like my uncle a chance to hold close converse with a man like the First Consul. (And in that I do not intend to speak slightingly of my Uncle Francois, for he was ever in my regard the most admirable of men. Only, it seemed to me then that to be able to talk familiarly with the great Bonaparte was a privilege above the deserts of ordinary mortals.)

I intended to remain at St. Cloud until toward evening, for if the conference should prove short I might still have the pleasure of my uncle's company on the homeward trip. But time began to hang heavily on my hands, and it occurred to me that I would ask the sentry, whom I had seen from a distance walking up and down in front of the main entrance, whether it were possible to gain admission to the palace. I thought it probable that it was not open to visitors, since the First Consul was occupying it, but it would do no harm to find out, and if by chance I should be admitted, I would at least have the pleasure of wandering through the rooms where he dwelt.

It was necessary first to dispose of Fatima, and a thicket of evergreen at one side of the palace caught my eye as affording a grateful shade from the warm afternoon sun (which so early in the season could be found only under evergreens) and a hiding-place from any prowling thief who might want to steal her, or from any troublesome guard who might come upon her and carry her off to the Consul's stables.

So into the thicket I rode, following a winding path that led toward the upper end near the palace, and at the very upper edge I found just what I wanted--a clump of bushes so thick set that they formed an almost impenetrable screen. They were lower than the other evergreens--not much higher than my horse's ears, but that was high enough. Into the midst of this clump I rode Fatima and dismounted.

"Stand here, Sweetheart," I said softly, "and budge not a step for any man but your master."

She rubbed her nose against my shoulder in token that she understood, and I whispered again in her ear:

"Not a whinny, not a sound, my Beauty," and left her, feeling sure no man could steal her and no guard could lead her away by guile or force, nor would she betray her presence there by any noise.

As I left the evergreens, intending to go around to the front of the building and speak to the sentry, I saw, coming down the path toward me, a young and pretty woman, who, I recognized by her dress, must be in service at the palace.

"I will inquire from her," I said to myself promptly, "for she will know as well as the sentry whether there is any admission, and she will no doubt have a much pleasanter way of saying either yes or no."

So, as she was about to pa.s.s me with a little curtsy and a pretty smile, I stopped her.

"Mademoiselle," I said, and doffed my hat, "is it permitted to see the palace to-day?"

"No, Monsieur," she answered, "unless one is invited or has business of importance with the First Consul."

Now I have ever had great faith in woman's wit, and especially a Frenchwoman's, and it suddenly struck me if this one should prove as quick-witted as most of her kind, she would know how to secure my admission into the palace; and if she should prove as kindly disposed as I believed the sight of gold and a pleasant word might make her, then was my success a.s.sured.

"Mademoiselle," I said, and my manner was as deferential as it might have been to her mistress. "I am not invited, and I have no business of importance with the First Consul; but I am from America, and it would please me greatly to see the rooms where the famous general lives. Cannot Mademoiselle think of a way?" and I slipped into her hand a louis d'or.

She curtsied again and smiled again, and then she answered:

"It is difficult, Monsieur, but I have a friend on guard in the upper corridor. If I can arrange with him to let us pa.s.s, I can show Monsieur the grand salon, the little salon, and the state dining-room.

Would that please Monsieur?"

"Vastly," I answered, for though it might not be seeing all I would like to see, it would be doing something to while away the tedium of waiting, and there seemed a little of the spice of adventure about it that pleased my restless spirit.

"I will go and consult Gaston," said Mademoiselle Felice (for that, she told me, was her pretty name, and I took it as a felicitous omen), "and I will return in five minutes. If Monsieur will await me by the pines, he will not have to wait long."

Yet it seemed long. I am sure many five minutes had pa.s.sed, and I had begun to think I would never see again either my gold piece or my pretty Felice, when she came tripping up in an entirely different direction from the one in which she had left me.

She had had trouble. Gaston had scruples. Suppose harm were intended his general? Women were easily deceived. Her "American" might be a British a.s.sa.s.sin in disguise. She had had to make herself responsible--she, Felice!--for my innocence and honor. She had also been obliged to show Gaston the piece of gold I had given her and to a.s.sure him there would be another for him if he were complaisant. I judged, also, that she had found it necessary to offer him a bribe quite as tangible as the gold piece but less mercenary, for her face was rosier and her eyes brighter and her hair a little more disheveled than when I had first seen her.

And now began a real adventure, for Felice a.s.sured me much caution would be necessary. How we both slipped out of the pine thicket, she some distance ahead, I strolling carelessly behind, how by almost insensible little signs she indicated to me when to advance and when to stay my steps; how she finally guided me through a narrow rear entrance and by dark corridors and winding staircases to the very corridor Gaston was guarding; and how I slipped another gold piece into Gaston's hand as we pa.s.sed him, would be too long in the telling.

Gaston was doing sentry duty before two doors some twenty paces apart.

One of them opened into a dark side corridor (where we had pa.s.sed him and I had slipped the gold into his hand), and the other into the head of the main corridor. We had just entered the main corridor, and Felice was leading the way into the grand salon, when she turned quickly:

"Go back, Monsieur," she said in an excited whisper, "here comes an officer!"

I had caught sight of him, too, and I was the more ready to turn back quickly, because in my hasty glimpse the officer had looked to me very much like the Chevalier Le Moyne. I thought it was more than likely I was mistaken, but I did not wish to run any possible risk of being seen by him, and I hoped that in the semi-obscurity of that part of the corridor he had either not seen us at all or at least not recognized us.

We fled precipitately back through the dark side corridor, I with a keen feeling of elation (for a sense of risk or peril of any kind always sends my spirits to the highest point), but Felice, I believe, beginning to repent of her bargain.

"Monsieur," she whispered, "we will go back the way we came--" but what further she was about to say I know not, for at that moment a door opened at the farther end of the side corridor. It was a door we must pa.s.s in finding our way out, and through it now we heard much loud laughing and loud talking of men. Evidently a party at cards was breaking up, and through that open door some of the players were about to pa.s.s. Our retreat was cut off.

Felice clutched her hair in desperation.

"Ah, mon Dieu!" she moaned, "I will lose my place! I will lose my life!"

I had hardly time to think of my own plight, I was so sorry for her distress, and so remorseful to think I had brought her into such straits for the sake of a silly adventure.

But an idea struck Felice. We had come to a stand beside Gaston and the one of the two doors he was guarding which opened into the side corridor. He had himself stopped a moment in his pacing to and fro, perplexed by our dilemma.

"Quick, Gaston," Felice whispered eagerly, "let Monsieur into the dressing-room closet; it is the only place!"

Gaston seemed to demur, but Felice overruled him imperiously.

"You must, Gaston! And be quick! Would you have Monsieur Fouche throw us both into prison? I will be back for him in a few minutes, as soon as all is quiet."

Gaston hesitated no longer. He threw open the door before which we were standing, and together they hurried me into a room which I saw at once was a dressing-room belonging to a gentleman.

"You must be very still, Monsieur," whispered Felice; then she opened a door and thrust me into a dark closet, closing the door noiselessly behind me as she whispered, "I will return in a few minutes."

I was but as wax in her hands, for having led her into such distress and peril, I felt that I must submit to any means that would save her from disastrous results. Yet I liked not being shut up in a dark closet in a gentleman's dressing-room. I began, too, to think of my own peril, and for a full minute after finding myself in my hiding-place my knees did so shake beneath me, and my heart did so pound within me, I was as one deaf and unconscious to all surroundings.