Part 34

"Sire," replied St. Just, "I need no reminder of the circumstances of our last meeting, and I take this opportunity of expressing my contrition for my conduct on that occasion, and praying your forgiveness. It is in accordance with a promise then given to the Empress that I am here to-night. On the first day of the New Year I received this packet, accompanied by a letter from Her Majesty, charging me to deliver it to you. Coming as it did from a hand then cold in death, I regarded it as a sacred trust, and instantly I started to fulfill it."

He handed the packet to the Emperor, who immediately asked how it had come into his possession.

St. Just told him, and of Tremeau's letter to him and his tragic end. Also of Tremeau's breach of trust in having opened the packet and sent a copy of its contents to the English Government. Then he gave a rapid sketch of the incidents of his start from home, up to the moment of his arrival at Elba, winding up with an account of the conversation he had overheard on landing, and of his encounter with the men who were plotting to assassinate the Emperor.

Napoleon listened to him attentively, without a word. His countenance was absolutely immobile; so far as any one could judge from looking at it, St. Just's narration was no concern of his; but, all the while, he was weighing in his mind whether the speaker was to be believed. More than once he had broken his trust; he might be lying now.

"Have you anything to add?" he asked in a cold, impassive tone, when St. Just had finished speaking.

St. Just was in great pain; his wounded arm was smarting terribly; he had lost a great deal of blood, there was a curious dizziness in his head, and a strange weakness was creeping over him; he felt unequal to further conversation. But, making a strong effort, he replied, "Only this, if Your Majesty will forgive my boldness; but my loyalty to your person gives me courage. Once before, upon the eve of Wagram, I brought you State papers from the Empress, containing grave intelligence. You doubted their trustworthiness and destroyed them. I cannot but think that, had Your Majesty acted on that information, affairs would have shaped themselves for you more fortunately. And now, a second time, I bring you a despatch from her. I have not a suspicion of its contents, but, from the earnest entreaty of her letter that I should convey her packet to you with my own hand and with the utmost speed, I know they must be of the gravest moment to Your Majesty. Oh! Sire," he continued with impassioned earnestness, "if a humble person, such as I am, dare advise, I beseech you, this time to be guided by the Empress. Your interests were ever nearer to her heart than were all others. I--know--I risk--my--"

He tottered, sank into a chair, then rolled on to the floor in a swoon.

When he recovered consciousness, he found himself lying in the anteroom, and Garraud bending over him. He stared vacantly into his friend's face. "What has happened?" he stammered, "where am I?"

"Bravo! my friend," cried Garraud cheerfully, "you're all right now; you fainted, you know; lost a good deal of blood from your wound; over-excitement, and so on. But you must keep quiet. Don't talk, but listen; the Emperor is now closeted with his suite. You may be wanted."

"I recollect now," replied St. Just. "I was with the Emperor, and I swooned; but I am well enough now; only a trifle weak." And, with a little struggle, he raised himself and sat upright.

Soon afterwards, General Bertrand entered with a smiling face.

"If you are well enough, Mons. St. Just," he said, "the Emperor desires to see you at once."

St. Just rose slowly; his arm was in a sling; unknown to him, Napoleon's surgeon had attended to him by express command, and had bound up his wound.

In the adjoining room he found the Emperor, surrounded by his suite. When he entered, the words he heard rejoiced not less than they amazed him.

"Gentlemen," the Emperor was saying, "we leave for Paris the moment it can possibly be arranged. France calls us, and we, her sons, must obey her summons. She needs her Emperor, and she shall not need in vain. Therefore, prepare to start; but not a word of our intentions must be breathed outside these walls. You may now retire; all but Mons. St. Just, with whom I desire a word or two." He bent his head slightly in token of dismissal. All bowed low before him and then filed out; all, except St. Just, who stood awaiting Napoleon's will with inward trepidation.

But he was quickly reassured, for, the moment they were left alone, the Emperor advanced to him with a pleased expression, and held out his hand.

"Mons. St. Just," he said, "I wish to take your hand in token of forgiveness. I believe I wronged you.

"Had I, last April, received the news that you, at the risk of your life, have brought me, I should never have quitted Paris. As you have just heard me say, I am going to return; and, in consequence of the intelligence of which you have been the bearer. In token of my appreciation of your services, I hand you this. I will not say, live up to it, for I know you will."

He detached from his coat the decoration of the Legion of Honor, and handed it to St. Just.

St. Just was overwhelmed at the unexpected honor and, while he took it, was at a loss for words; but his face expressed all that was in his mind.

"But--but, Sire," at last he stammered, "this is the cross of a Commandant!"

"Quite so," replied Napoleon reassuringly; "and, to give you the status to support the dignity, I create you Count of Elba, and will see that you be endowed with a sufficient income. Now, I will not keep you longer, for you require rest. Don't stay to thank me, Count. Bertrand shall make out your patent of nobility to-morrow."

So St. Just, murmuring his thanks and protests of fidelity, but scarce knowing what he was doing, bowed low to the Emperor and withdrew.

Apparently St. Just never received his patent, for the following note forms a portion of his MS.:

"It was never done. Bertrand meant to do it, but it got put off from time to time, owing to his multifarious occupations; and on February 25th we sailed; I have never seen my titular island since, though I still have, at this time of writing, my cross. 4 June 1820."

*CHAPTER IV.*

After Napoleon's landing in France on his escape from Elba, events moved fast. As everyone knows, his progress from the coast to Paris was a triumphal march; the people and the soldiers alike receiving him with effusion. The generals sent to effect his capture became magnetized by his presence and, instead of arresting him as a conspirator, hailed him with acclamation as their leader and enrolled themselves beneath his standard. Their soldiers followed them with the wildest enthusiasm, fresh troops successively sent forward to oppose him, taking the same course; so that, by the time he reached the capital, he was at the head of a powerful army, mostly veterans and commanded by the finest generals in the world. Thus, there was no one left to bar his progress; the opposition had melted away; such leading men as had not cast in their lot with his, had fled the country, and the King with them. The words in which Julius Caesar used to describe his own achievements, altered thus, would even more suitably have applied to Buonaparte:--"Imperator venit, visus est, vicit."

The news of his return fell like a thunderclap on the ears of Europe, and diplomatists and generals became as busy as ants when their home has been disturbed, devising means to crush once and forever the bold usurper. But, if they were active for his downfall, he was untiring in his efforts to strengthen his position and to make preparations for the impending onslaught; for he knew how terrible would be its force, and that nothing but consummate generalship, aided by extraordinary fortune, could avail him; the Allies were resolute and agreed about hurling him from power. So, during those memorable Hundred Days, his energy never flagged, and he performed prodigies of work, inquiring into everything himself--no detail was too small for him.

Fortresses were strengthened, provisioned and armed; thousands upon thousands of France's already depleted population were drafted into the army and drilled incessantly from morn to night; the foundries were kept going night and day, casting artillery; muskets and arms of every sort were poured out by tens of thousands; stores of every description were collected, men and women were hard at work all day in turning out materials for uniforms, and others in making them up as fast as their nimble fingers could ply their needles; never before in so short a period was such a mass of war material got together. And the Emperor saw to everything.

To be sure, he was ably seconded by his generals and ministers, for the enthusiasm was prodigious. Everything was done to excite the passions of the French against the rest of Europe, and to inspire them with confidence in the Emperor's invincibility. But there were some few--the more thoughtful of them--who doubted.

Throughout this period of preparation, St. Just saw a good deal of the Emperor, who had now taken him back into his favor, and seemed to have no doubt of his fidelity. Napoleon's trust was amply justified, for, now that the ci-devant traitor was removed from his wife's influence, his former devotion to his old commander had returned in greater strength than ever, and no persuasion or temptation could have made him swerve from his allegiance. Not even Halima herself could have achieved it.

The Emperor had placed him on his staff, and raised him to the rank of a colonel, and had bestowed other marks of favor on him, pecuniary and otherwise. Also he took him into his confidence on private matters, sometimes discussing with him subjects strictly personal to himself.

The Emperor often employed him on private missions and enquiries that required tact and promptness and fidelity for their performance; and he had never reason to be dissatisfied with the result. All this was very flattering to St. Just, and nourished his devotion.

The wound he had received in Elba had healed by the time he landed in France, and, beyond an occasional twinge, his arm was as sound as ever.

One day, ten days after the return to Paris--that is to say, early in April--St. Just was summoned to a private audience with the Emperor.

"Colonel," began Napoleon, the moment St. Just entered, "I want someone I can trust implicitly to proceed to Vienna upon an errand that will make demands alike on his acuteness and his courage. I have the utmost confidence in you, and should prefer you as my messenger to any one else. I know you have had much experience of continental travel."

He looked at St. Just with a knowing smile that showed he knew a good deal more of his movements at Halima's instance than had been suspected by the other. St. Just reddened slightly, but remained silent, waiting for further information.

"If you agree to go," the Emperor went on--St. Just was about to say impetuously that, of course, he would go, when Napoleon held up his hand to check him. "Stay," he said, "wait till I have finished. The man who undertakes this mission for me will run great risk; if he fail, I may be powerless to assist him. They may shoot him as a spy; or they may imprison him. Now, are you prepared to take the risk? I issue no command, for I might be sending you to your death. It is not the Emperor who orders, but the friend who asks."

Now, in putting the matter in the way he did, the Emperor showed much astuteness. Had he merely issued his order for St. Just to go, the aide-de-camp would, of course, have started without demur; but he would have gone unwillingly, for he liked Paris; the bustle and activity going on, and in which he bore a prominent part, had great attractions for him, and he was anxiously looking forward to the moment when, their preparations completed, the French army should, with Napoleon at its head, meet its enemies face to face. Above all, he was a soldier: the smell of powder was a sweet savor in his nostrils, the boom of cannon and the roll of musketry were as music in his ears. By going to Vienna he might lose the chance of winning distinction on the field. But, beyond all this, he would be separated from the Emperor, his intimate intercourse with whom was now his chief delight and pride.

And Napoleon knew all this; he was a keen observer of those about him, and he had read St. Just aright. So he put his wishes on this occasion by way of favor; thus first anticipating and then smothering St. Just's dissatisfaction, making him swell with pride at the confidence reposed in him, and burn with enthusiasm to execute the Emperor's behests.

Not a moment did he hesitate when Napoleon finished speaking.

"Sire," was his prompt reply, "I deeply feel the honor your choice confers on me. Willingly, gladly I will execute your errand, and will do my utmost to bring it to a successful issue. The Emperor has but to command, and I will cheerfully obey. I trust I shall not fail in accomplishing the end you have in view; but, be assured, Sire, that, if I should, it will not be through lack of zeal. How soon am I to start, Sire, and what are my instructions?"

His face was glowing with enthusiasm, and the Emperor was moved at his devotion, and said a few gracious words by way of thanks; then he proceeded to explain to his staff officer what it was he had to do.

The Empress Marie Louise, with Napoleon's son, the titular King of Rome, was living at Vienna at her father's court; and Napoleon and his ministers thought it would be a good stroke of policy to get her into France. Once there, they hoped she could be influenced to intervene with the Allied Powers on his behalf. If she could gain her father to the Emperor's side, he might prevail on the other Powers not to interfere with the present regime in France, so long as the people themselves were satisfied. The Empress, if she could be got possession of, would be, it was hoped, a sort of hostage for the Powers' non-interference with her husband.

Already there was a plan on foot for the execution of this project, and St. Just had been selected by Napoleon as the agent.

He was to proceed with all speed to the Austrian Capital, and there--in person should it be possible, but, if not, by some trusty messenger--he was to convey to the Empress a letter from the Emperor, urging her to accompany the bearer to France.

It was hoped that, having regard to private communications which had already taken place, the Empress would yield to the Emperor's request and place herself under the protection of St. Just. She really had expressed her willingness to return to France, if it could be managed secretly. According to the plan that had been arranged, she was to leave the palace at night by a side door and join St. Just outside; then they were to make their way as rapidly as possible to Munich, where an escort would receive the Empress and accompany her to Paris. All this was detailed at length by the Emperor to St. Just, with the names of certain persons at Vienna who were in the plot, and could be trusted. His last words were,

"You will find the Empress at Schoenbrunn. Twenty-four hours after meeting her you must be at Munich. Spare no expense. When once you get possession of the Empress, fly. Now go, my friend, and good luck go with you."

St. Just bent before the Emperor and kissed his hand; then he withdrew. An hour afterwards he had quitted Paris.

St. Just's MS. from which this story is compiled gives no details of his journey to Vienna, the reason probably being that, inasmuch as his errand resulted in a fiasco, he did not wish to be reminded of it; but, from hints dropped here and there, it may be gathered that he reached his destination and saw the Empress. It would seem that he was duped, and by Halima once more. Fouche, with whom she had close relations, and who, in his heart, believed that Napoleon's day was over, and was opposed to the project for the furtherance of which St. Just was acting, must have told her. In the result, a lady closely veiled met him at the palace, as arranged, and the programme was duly carried out. But, on their setting foot in France, he found that his companion was not the Empress, but his wife. His chagrin and rage may be imagined; they must have been unbounded, and, probably for the first time in her life, Halima failed to pacify him and mould him to her will. At any rate, he makes no mention of what took place on his return; not even of how the Emperor received him, when he learned how St. Just had been beguiled. Evidently the subject was too sore a one for St. Just to bear to dwell upon. Much of the foregoing statement is based on surmise; but it is pieced together from stray notes in the MS. and is, probably, a fair account of what occurred.

When St. Just returned to Paris, he fell into his old groove; warlike preparations were hurried on; conscripts were drilled more assiduously than ever; arrangements were made for the government of the country in Napoleon's absence; and at last the moment came when the Emperor set out to cast the die that was to make or mar his fortune once for all.

*CHAPTER V.*

The morning of the 16th of June, 1815, was just dawning; for, away in the Northeast, a faint shimmer in the sky, that grew momentarily stronger, was heralding the approach of day.

The French army was once more on foreign soil; it had advanced into that country which, from its having been the scene of so many well-contested fields, so many sanguinary conflicts, had acquired the name of Europe's Cockpit.

That portion of the army, to which St. Just was for the moment joined, was posted on a height hard by some windmills, which, in an emergency, would form a temporary shelter and give time for the troops to rally after a check.

In the distance facing them, was the Prussian contingent of the Allied army, under Blucher, its center holding Ligny, its right and left wings extending respectively towards St. Amand and Sombrey. Between the two armies was a broad ravine.

St. Just, mounted on a handsome chestnut charger, had arrived, not long before, with despatches from Marshal Ney to the Emperor. At the moment, he had dismounted to give his horse a rest, and was standing motionless by the windmills, his arm thrust through the bridle, his eyes and ears alike on the alert. Suddenly the sound of firing, in the distance, broke on his ear, now rapid, now merely dropping shots; occasionally, for a short space, ceasing altogether. He listened attentively, and the sound grew louder. He judged, from the quarter whence it came, that it was the advanced guard driving the Prussians back from the village of Fleurus. If the two were engaged, it must be the Prussians who were retiring; the French guards would never give ground to such a foe--for St. Just, like most of Napoleon's officers, held the Prussians in contempt.

While, he was figuring to himself the changes in the several positions that the engagement then proceeding would bring about, he heard the tramp of horses, and the Emperor, accompanied by his staff, rode up.

"Ah! St. Just," he cried, "what are you doing here?"

"My horse was tired, Sire, and I was giving him a few moments' rest. I was told by the picket officer that you were expected at the windmills almost immediately, and I thought I should find you sooner by waiting here than by seeking you, since I did not know from which direction you would come. Marshal Ney sent me to say that he is hindered in his advance on Quatre Bras, by the enemy, who are in force beyond Frasnes."

The Emperor, who was habited in his well-known gray overcoat, for the morning was chilly, scribbled these words on a piece of paper:--"Advance, at all hazards, on Quatre Bras at once. Send men by the village of Marchais to occupy the heights of Brie. I must have them by two o'clock. At that hour I shall order a charge of the whole front to support you. You ought not to have lost so much time; if you had already advanced, we should have had the Prussians in our grasp." He handed the paper to St. Just. "Take this at once to Marshal Ney, and ride your hardest. Urge on the Marshal the necessity of an immediate advance."

St. Just mounted and rode off at full gallop, for the Emperor's message was imperative. He would get a remount from Marshal Ney, for he knew that, when he reached him, his horse would be exhausted.

On gaining Frasnes, he found that Ney was only then preparing to advance. Ney read the Emperor's message carefully, and deliberated. It was all very well to give the order, but he doubted the strength of his command for the task before him.

While he was still hesitating, a dragoon rode up in haste. "Marshal,"--he saluted and shot out the words--"Colonel ----, commanding the advance guard, bids me say that the Prince of Orange has occupied Quatre Bras."

"Perdition!" shouted Ney, much upset at the intelligence. "At all costs we must drive him out." Then, turning to St. Just; "you see, Colonel, the difficulty I am in. The Emperor does not know of it; it is impossible for me to move the men as he desires; my force is not sufficient in the face of this last news. Here, take those men to the front;" pointing to a squadron of Dragoons. He seemed quite bewildered, and scarce knew what to do, hesitating whether to follow the Emperor's orders or to act on his own knowledge, gained on the spot, of the position.

"But, Sir," St. Just protested, "what about the men for the heights of Brie?"

"I tell you they cannot be spared, Sir," was the Marshal's sharp reply. "Go, Sir; the Emperor has placed me in command here. I must have time."

St. Just was attached to Ney's command, and he durst not disobey; so he made no further protest. He saw that, for some reason, the Marshal was delaying, and it troubled him. He said no word audibly, but he muttered, "It is terrible, but I am helpless. At any rate, I can obey."

He exchanged his wearied horse for a fresher one, then placed himself at the head of the squadron and started for the front. He could hear the sound of firing in the direction of Ligny on the right, and also straight ahead of him. Advancing at a rapid trot, he came up to some battalions of French infantry. They were hotly engaged with the enemy, firing as fast as they could load.

"They run, they run," shouted an officer by his side.

"Who?" asked St. Just sharply.

"The Brunswickers; see!" And he pointed towards the eddying cloud in front.

St. Just looked, but it was impossible to judge in the smoke and the confusion how the fight was going. All he saw was that the French were falling fast; right and left, and all around him they were dropping under the storm of bullets. To remain idly looking on was more than he could stand; the impulse to rush forward at the foe, to ride them down and hack and hew, was tearing him to pieces, and to remain a passive spectator was no longer possible. At last, although he had received no orders to advance, he shouted, "Charge!" and galloped forward to an opening between two squares. With a cheer, his men dashed after him. Straight before them, but concealed by the dense smoke, and formed into a square, were the Forty-second Highlanders, who had been advancing and had missed their position, so that they were unsupported. Into this square plunged St. Just's Dragoons with an impetuosity that could not be withstood. The Highlanders wavered, then broke and, in a moment, the Dragoons were in the midst of them, slashing and thrusting, and hewing like fiends let loose. The English, without knowing it, had approached so near the French lines that the battalions behind St. Just rushed in and attacked the Highlanders with the bayonet.