The Sultan's Daughter

'Exactly, and his chances of doing that are negligible. The Jacobins would oppose it tooth and nail; and so would Gohier and Moulins. They would never agree to have him as one of them.'

^' Then it seems things have come to a stalemate.'

^' Yes. Four precious days have already been lost, and his refusal to meet either Sieyes or Fouche is deplorable. Somehow I must bring him and Sieyes together. In the meantime, I pray you do your utmost to nurse Fouche and prevent him from getting the idea that he has been cold-shouldered.'

'I wrote to him yesterday and took a gamble on saying that " our friend was eager to meet him ", etc., then asked on what days next week he would be free to take breakfast in some place where the meeting was unlikely to be observed and reported.'

^' Good! Good! Somehow we will get Bonaparte there, even if we have to drag him by the coat-tails.'

* Ah, but where? I can think of only one suitable place, if it is available. Have you still your little house out at Passy? '

Talleyrand smiled, ^' Why, yes. The Velots still look after it for me and occasionally I use it as a rendezvous to ascertain the colour of some pretty creature's garters. It is an admirable choice. You have only to let me know the day and I will arrange matters. Within recent months, Fouche and I have become upon quite tolerable terms and he will be more inclined to come in with us when he realizes that I am giving Bonaparte my support. As host, I can serve as the oil between the wheels; but, later, you and I must leave them alone together.'

^' So be it then. I only pray that our little man will not bring about his own ruin by too lengthy a hesitation. Fouche feared that, if he failed to act promptly, he might be denounced in the Assembly as a conspirator, and that would prove the end of him.'

^' That is my own fear, but I have taken a precaution against it. Today, unless matters go very wrong, as an honour to the General his brother Lucien is to be elected President for the month of the Five Hundred. He is a most revolting young firebrand, but he has a good head on his shoulders and is devoted to his brother. For his term as President we can count on him to quash any measure likely to thwart the ambitions of our formidable nursling.'

When they had finished breakfast, Talleyrand gave Roger a lift to his tailor's then drove on to Bonaparte's. After trying on his new uniforms, Roger followed him there. By then Talleyrand had left, but there were half a dozen officers in the drawing room, gathered round the General, among them Admiral Bruix who, since Breuy's death, had been the senior Commander in the French Navy. Having talked for a while with some of those present, Roger slipped away to the little cabinet where, as he expected, he found Bourrienne at work.

He confided to his old friend the situation regarding Fouche and asked his help, but the Chef de Cabinet shook his head. ^'1 do not feel that it is for me to attempt to influence our master in these matters. Talleyrand has been at him this morning urging him to call on Sieyes, and he has made a half-promise to do so; but I doubt if any good will come of it. The temperaments of the two men are so utterly at variance. If he does ally himself with one of the Directors it is much more likely to be his old patron, Barras. Although he despises him they have much more in common.'

^' Including Josephine,' remarked Roger with a smile.

Bourrienne gave him a reproving look. ^'Mon vieux, you should not say such things. What is past is past.'

^' But is it? Rumour says that, before our return, she was from time to time still being kind to him for old acquaintance's sake; although Gohier appears to have been her latest interest.'

^' You would be more correct in saying that Gohier is in love with her and that, by encouraging him without going too far, she is preventing him from joining her husband's enemies.'

^' Bless you, Bourrienne, for a dear, kindly fellow,' Roger laughed. ^' All I pray is that she will be discreet. Our little man is in no mood to stand for further infidelities, and she is so good-hearted a creature it would be a tragedy if some scheming harridan were put in her place.'

The next morning Roger witnessed a fine flare-up in the Bona-partes' drawing room. The General had been prevailed upon by Talleyrand and had sent an aide-de-camp to Sieyes to say that he proposed to call on him the following morning. Evidently the inordinately vain Sieyes considered himself insulted because Bonaparte had already been a week in Paris without troubling to present himself officially to him as one of the heads of the Government; so he had sent back a message saying that the hour proposed would be inconvenient.

Thereupon, Bonaparte flew into one of his passions. He declared that the aide-de-camp had acted without orders and had not been sent by him. Then he raved to those around him that he paid calls on nobody. He was the glory of the nation and if people wished to see him they must call on him.

Much perturbed, Roger slipped away, signalled a coach and drove hell-for-leather to the Rue Taitbout. On hearing Roger's news, Talleyrand was equally furious but controlled his temper better. Roger had retained the coach and they drove back to the Rue de la Victoire together. By then, Bonaparte had calmed down a little and let Talleyrand lead him out into the small garden. They remained there, wrangling heatedly, for half an hour. Later, when Talleyrand left the house, Roger accompanied him. When they were out in the street, the statesman exclaimed:

¹ God preserve me from such conceited fools. The two of them have come within an ace of wrecking all my labours to give France a stable Government and peace. But I stood no nonsense. I told him that he was behaving like a petulant schoolboy and understood no more about politics than a kitchenmaid. Apparently, he has been toying with the idea of allying himself with Barras. To do so would be suicidal. Barras is now a washed-out rag and hated by one and all for his corruption and incompetence; whereas Siey£s is the new broom at the Directory and people expect great things of him. In the end, I got my way. He has given me his firm promise to call on Sieyes tomorrow. At the same time, I took the opportunity to force his hand about Fouche.'

'You did! Thank God for that. I have been on tenterhooks lest he should refuse a meeting.'

' You need worry no more. It was Sieyes who got Fouche made Minister of Police; so I pointed out to our man that the two run in double harness and to become on terms with one but not the other would be invidious. I pray you now, lose no time in fixing a day for them to breakfast with us out at Passy.'

Roger went straight to the Ministry of Police, saw Fouche, told him that Bonaparte was now eager to meet him, and provisionally arranged for the meeting to be on the 25th. That afternoon he again saw Bonaparte who agreed to the date.

Next day, the 23rd, Bonaparte paid his call on Sieyes, but the meeting was far from a success. The ex-Abb^ was frightened by the General's forthright manner and obvious determination, in the event of a successful coup, to have a big say in the Government. The General scarcely veiled his contempt for the ex-Abba's timidity and Utopian ideas. Nevertheless the ice had been broken and, on the 2'th, Sieyes accompanied by Roger Ducos, returned Bonaparte's call.

On the morning of the 25th, Talleyrand and Roger drove out to the former's charming little house in the garden suburb of Passy. Old Antoine Velot and his wife Marie, who for many years had lived there as butler and cook, were overjoyed to see Roger again. He had supported them all through Talleyrand's exile and they had looked after him while he had lived in hiding there during some of the darkest weeks of the Terror. The house brought back to him many memories of those desperate days, but also fond ones of his dead wife, Amanda, who had lived there with him for a while, and of the shock he had received on going out there unexpectedly one night to find his beautiful mistress, Athenai's de Rochambeau, occupying his wife's bed.

Bonaparte and Fouche arrived within a few minutes of one another and, to Talleyrand's great relief, got on well together. In spite of the frank manner of the one and the shiftiness of the other, they were both practical men who knew what they wanted and their ideas of what should be done had much in common. By the time they were halfway through breakfast both had stated their views with a degree of frankness that made it unnecessary for Talleyrand and Roger to leave them alone together afterwards; so Roger heard the whole of their conversation.

Fouch6 agreed with Talleyrand that the revolution must be brought about from within, so with apparent legality. It was, therefore, essential that Sieyes should be entirely won over. Fouche then promised to work on Sieyes with the object of making the latter's relations with Bonaparte more cordial, while Bonaparte agreed at all events to pretend to accept Sieyes's proposals for a new Constitution and to flatter his vanity at their future meetings.

Before they parted, the Minister of Police displayed his usual caution. Snuffling, he said it would be ill-advised for him to give anyone, apart from Sieyes, the impression that he thought highly of Bonaparte in any other way than as a soldier; so it would be wise for them not to meet, except by chance and socially and, since Roger was one of the General's aides-de-camp, it might arouse unwelcome comment if he were to act frequently as a go-between. Therefore for that purpose he proposed to employ, alternately with Roger, Commissioner Real, the Chief-of-Police of the Paris District, for whose trustworthiness he could vouch. He would also give Real a special assignment to have the Jacobin members of the Five Hundred kept under observation, with the object of obtaining advance information of any plot against Bonaparte in which they might engage.

When Bonaparte and Fouche had left in their respective coaches, Talleyrand and Roger settled down to enjoy another glass of Grande Echezaux. The statesman savoured a mouthful of the fine wine, then smiled across the table and said:

* My dear friend, we may congratulate ourselves. At last something definite has been achieved. Bonaparte has promised to butter up that idiotically vain creature, Sieyes. Fouche foresees security for himself in a triumph for Bonaparte so, although unheard and unseen, will prove our most powerful ally. At last these diverse elements are about to coalesce for a single purpose. This morning, the Corsican has committed himself. The Jacobins are powerful and ruthless. They will do their utmost to destroy him and, if the ex-sans-culottes in the garrison of Paris side with them, it may prove the end of people like us. But the battle is now joined. There can be no turning back.'

25

The Fateful Days of Brumaire

During the few days that followed this highly satisfactory meeting there were endless comings and goings. Only a handful of people were let into the secret that Bonaparte was now committed to play the principal role in a coup d'etat, but everyone knew that an upheaval was imminent, and the little house in the Rue de la Victoire was crowded from morning to night with officers who wanted to express their loyalty to him, and others who went there hoping to find out which way the wind was blowing. Those who were in the plot—Berthier, Bruix and Murat among the senior officers then in Paris, and Talleyrand, Roederer and the Minister of Justice Cambaceres among the politicians— worked desperately hard to win him the support, 'should he be called uponof doubtful elements.

In this respect Josephine also performed prodigies. In spite of the fact that, after her release from prison at the ending of the Terror, she had become little better than a highly paid demi-mondaine, she had attained a high place in the new Society. Undoubtedly the fact that she was an aristocrat by birth and the widow of a Vicomte had been part of her attraction for Bonaparte, and he felt that by marrying her he had improved his social status. Since then she had enjoyed the added lustre of his name and, for the past three years, had been hailed everywhere as ^' Our Lady of Victories \ Moreover she was an excellent hostess, possessed great tact and charm and had the ability to make people feel that she wanted to talk only to them. In consequence, her influence over both men and women, although not obvious like that of Madame de StaePs, was considerable, and she proved

'35

invaluable in placating people whom her husband's abrupt manner offended.

In her drawing room and the salons of Madame de Stael and Madame Recamier, which Roger again frequented, the talk was largely of the war and, from various conversations, he learned the reason that lay behind the marked improvement that had taken place in the past six weeks in the situation of the French Armies.

After the Austro-Russian victory at Novi in August the two Emperors had quarrelled. Francis of Austria had maintained that, although Suvoroff commanded a Russian Army, he came under the Austrian High Command. This had given umbrage to Paul of Russia, and fuel had been added to the fire by the Allies' capture of Turin. King Charles Emmanuel, having been driven from his capital in December, '98, had taken refuge in his island of Sardinia. Paul instructed Suvoroff to invite him to return, and Britain fully supported Paul's action, but Francis refused to permit it. He maintained that Charles Emmanuel, who had earlier signed a treaty with the French, had thereby become an enemy; although the fact of the matter was that Francis wanted most of northern Italy for Austria and meant to claim Piedmont as part of his indemnity.

It was this legitimate claim by the House of Savoy to the Piedmontese territories that was later to bedevil the relations of all Europe. The immediate upshot of the quarrel had been the withdrawal of Suvoroff's Army from Austrian control and an order from Paul that it should march through the Alps to Switzerland, there to join that of Korsakoff.

This could have proved an excellent move for the Coalition, because the two Russian Armies, together with that of the Archduke Charles, could, by sheer weight of numbers, have overwhelmed Massena and invaded France. But, with short-sighted selfishness, Francis had withdrawn the Austrian Army from Switzerland and ordered the Archduke to lay siege with it to cities on the Rhine occupied by the French.

His reason for doing so was a jealous fear of Prussia. By sending an Anglo-Russian expeditionary force to Holland, the Allies had hoped to draw Prussia into the Coalition against France, the natural enemy of all Monarchies. But, with cynical disregard for the great stakes at issue, Prussia had held aloof, preferring to keep her forces intact for possible operations on the

Rhine which would attract into her orbit many of the petty German Princes at the expense of Austria, and thus lead to her becoming a Power of the first rank.

The result had been that the withdrawal of the Archduke from Switzerland had cancelled out the arrival of the Russians, Massena, faced with no greater numbers than before, had been able to achieve his great victory over the latter. Meanwhile in Holland, two days, after Bonaparte's arrival in Paris, the Anglo-Russian force, incompetently led by the Duke of York and unsupported by the Prussians, had been compelled to sign a capitulation at Alkmar on terms that compelled its return home with its tail between its legs.

At last, on October 29th, Bonaparte, by unstinted flattery of Sieyes, gained his goodwill and entered into a firm partnership with him. Their plan was that they should get rid of Barras, Gohier and Moulins, launch the ex-Abbe's famous Constitution which, on the Roman model, would have Consuls for its senior officials, and nominate a President.

But, at times of crisis, Barras had so often suddenly re-emerged from his life of debauchery as the strong man that Sieyes was frightened of him; so the wily Talleyrand suggested that Barras be made privy to the plot and led to believe that he would retain his position more or less unchanged. This was agreed and Sieyes succeeded in winning Barras over to their plans.

However, other considerations continued to cause the launching of the coup to hang fire. All the conspirators were aware that any tampering with the principles of the Revolution, as laid down in the existing Constitution, would arouse the fiercest opposition of the Jacobins, and among them were four senior Generals: Lefebvre who commanded the Paris garrison, the veterans Moreau and Jourdan and the fiery Bernadotte. Should any of these call on the troops to defend the 'liberties won in the Revolution', the conspirators might find themselves under arrest before they had time to rally their forces.

It was thought that Lefebvre might be won over at the last minute. Moreau, so brave in battle but so hesitant in politics, was unlikely to take the lead against Bonaparte. But Jourdan well might, and the worst danger of all was Bernadotte. He had been replaced in the previous month as Minister of War by Dubois-Grance, a sound Republican but a Moderate, who had played a leading part in bringing about Robespierre's fall. As he was an anti-Jacobin it was thought that he would at least remain neutral. But Bernadotte was still a danger with whom to be reckoned.

He had a strain of Moorish blood, which accounted for his dark complexion, crop of coal-black curls and hot-blooded temper. He was firmly Republican in principles and he and Bonaparte disliked one another intensely; so there were very good reasons to fear that he might attempt to wreck the coup. Twice, during these anxious days of late October and early November, he put in an appearance at the Rue de la Victoire. Twice he and Bonaparte would probably have come to blows had not Josephine poured oil on the troubled waters; but there seemed little chance of winning him over.

Early in November Talleyrand began to prepare propaganda to be issued to the public once the coup was under way. In this Roederer, one of the elder statesmen of the Revolution, proved invaluable, as he was a most skilful and lucid writer. Together, in the Rue Taitbout, they prepared posters and leaflets which Roederer's son, by joining a firm of printers as an apprentice managed to get printed at night. The banker Collot put up two million francs for expenses and Ouvrard, the richest financier in Paris, promised to buy Barras's resignation, should he refuse it when confronted with the demand that he should go.

Meanwhile, Bonaparte shunned publicity as far as possible. When he did go out he always wore civilian clothes, and pretended that now he no longer had an active Command his only interest was in the scientific debates at the Institute. But by this time so many people were involved that it was impossible to keep secret any longer the fact that a conspiracy was afoot.

Fouche then employed a clever stratagem to quieten the Directors at whom the coup was aimed. He gave a party to which he invited both the leading conspirators and those who were expected to oppose the coup. On entering the room Gohier innocently fell into the trap by asking jovially, ^' Well, my friend, what is the latest news? '

Blinking his fish-like eyes, then looking away, Fouch6 replied, ^' There is none, except about the conspiracy.'

Bonaparte and his friends were electrified, fearing that Fouche had had the house surrounded by his police and was about to betray and arrest them. But Gohier only laughed and said, "Splendid, we Directors may sleep easy in our beds as long as we have you as Minister of Police.'

On November 6th, the two Chambers gave a banquet in honour of Bonaparte and Moreau. It was held in the Church of St Sulpice and a great crowd assembled outside to see the notables arrive. When Bonaparte's coach drew up they shouted 'Peace! Peace! Give us Peace! as the people now always did whenever he appeared. But he was in a surly mood and would not even wave his hand to them.

The banquet was anything but a success. Bonaparte had brought his own food and wine from fear of being poisoned. The Republican Jourdan failed to appear, and throughout the meal there was general constraint and embarrassment. Barras, who was seated next to Bonaparte, said that what France needed was a President and suggested a General Hedouville for the post, no doubt because Hedouville was a nonentity who could have been easily manipulated. Bonaparte replied only with a stony stare and Barras fell into an uneasy silence. When Bonaparte's health was drunk he replied in only a few words and drank to the ' Union of all Frenchmen'. Then, pleading fatigue, he quickly slipped away.

Next morning twenty of the chief conspirators met at the house of Lemercier, the President of the Anciens, and discussed the measures to be taken. It was decided that, in order to prevent either the mob or the Jacobin Generals from interfering with the proceedings, a State of Emergency should be declared, which would enable the place of assembly of both Chambers to be transferred to St. Cloud, and that Bonaparte should be given command of the Paris garrison for their protection.

That evening Fouche sent an urgent message by Real that the coup must be delayed no longer or it would be nipped in the bud.

On the 8th, the final arrangements were made. Roger went to see Talleyrand and found him none too happy about their prospects. That genius, who had brought the affair to its present point with such labour and skill, told him:

' Coups d'etat should be unexpected and swift. This one can be neither. Half Paris now knows what we would be at, and is boiling up to defeat us. If we could be finished by tomorrow night, all might be well; but we cannot. It requires a day to move the Legislature out of Paris, so the blow cannot be struck until the day after tomorrow. In twenty-four hours anything can happen. The delay may prove our ruin. All we can do now is hope for the best.'

The morning of the 9th—18th Brumaire by the Revolutionary Calendar—dawned bright and mild. At 7 a.m., the Anciens met at the Tuileries. Their President announced that the Republic was in danger from a conspiracy hatched by the Jacobins, and proposed that the two Chambers should transfer to St. Cloud to avoid intimidation by the mob. Notice of this early session had been purposely withheld from sixty doubtful members, so it was voted unanimously that the next meetings of the Two Chambers should be held in the Palace of St. Cloud the following day at noon. A decree was then passed that Bonaparte should assume command of ali the troops in the Paris area for the purpose of protecting the Legislature in the continuance of its functions. Bonaparte was then sent for.

At a very early hour that morning, he had summoned all the senior officers in Paris to the Rue de la Victoire. Soon after dawn it was packed with excited warriors. Among the first to arrive was Lefebvre. Shaking the Commander of the garrison by the hand, Bonaparte cried, ^' Here is the sword I carried at the battle of the Pyramids. I give it you as a mark of my esteem and confidence.* By that shrewd gesture, his old comrade-inarms was immediately won over.

Berthier, Lannes, Murat, Macdonald, Bessieres, Marmont and Moreau all came trooping in, to offer their services. Jourdan, almost alone, ignored the summons and Bernadotte appeared but remained recalcitrant. He was brought by Brother Joseph, came in civilian clothes and still stubbornly refused to have any part in the business.

By the time Bonaparte received the summons from the Anciens, he was able to go to them accompanied by scores of the ablest soldiers he had led to victory. In the garden of the Tuileries hundreds of troops were drawn up. Impassively, they watched his arrival. At the bar of the Assembly, he seemed temporarily to have lost his nerve and, on being charged with its protection, made a short, rambling speech about the sacred principles of the Revolution. The Deputy Garat rose to point out that, on his appointment, he had not sworn fidelity to the Constitution; but the President promptly declared all further proceedings out of order.

Once outside the building, the sight of the massed troops seemed to restore Bonaparte's confidence. Addressing them in ringing tones he cried, 'Soldiers! What have you done with the France which I left so brilliant? I left you peace, I find war. I left you victories, I find defeats. I left you the millions of Italy, I find laws of spoliation and misery.' His oration was met with a tremendous burst of cheering.

But the decrees of the Anciens had to be confirmed by at least three out of the five Directors, and notice of them sent to all. Sieyes and Roger Ducos had already agreed to sign and then resign, and Josephine had invited Gohier to breakfast in the hope that she might persuade him also to do so. But Gohier was suspicious and saw no attraction in a rendezvous so early in the morning, so he sent his wife instead. Josephine put the situation to her; but she could not be persuaded to attempt to bring her husband over into the Bonapartist camp, and as soon as Gohier learned what was afoot he declared his intention of continuing as a Director.

Barras was still unaware that the conspirators intended to turn him out, and Gohier and Moulins, believing him to be with them, assumed that, as the three of them constituted the majority, they could not be deposed; so they took no action. But Talleyrand was taking charge of that end of the affair personally.

Roger had been detailed to act as his assistant, so he had that morning gone direct to his house. Soon afterwards, they were joined by Admiral Bruix, Ouvrard and Roederer. Supervised by Talleyrand, Roederer drew up a document of resignation, full of high-sounding phrases, for Barras to sign. Ouvrard then produced a draft on his bank and, handing it to Talleyrand, said, ' Any objections he may have to resigning should be overridden by this.' Roger, who was standing near, did not see the actual sum for which the draft was made out, but he caught sight of the word 'millions'. Then, to fill in time until they learned what had taken place at the Anciens, the five of them went into the dining room and ate a hearty breakfast.

At eleven o'clock a message arrived from Bonaparte that all had gone according to plan, so Talleyrand, Bruix and Roger set off in a coach for the Luxembourg.

There they were faced with a somewhat delicate situation, as all five of the Directors occupied suites of apartments in the Palace and it was important that neither Gohier nor Moulins should see Talleyrand calling on Barras. Otherwise, they might have guessed what was happening, insisted on joining him and stiffened his resistance. It was to guard against this that Talleyrand had asked that Roger should accompany him.

Leaving the other two down in the hall, Roger went up the marble staircase, made a swift reconnaissance, then enquired of the footman on the door of Barras' suite if his master was alone. Learning that he was, Roger ran back and called to Talleyrand and the Admiral to come up. As soon as they had entered Barras's apartment Roger told the footman that, if anyone enquired for his master, he was to say that he could not receive them because he was in his bath.

When Talleyrand, kindly but firmly, told Barras what was required of him, he was surprised and somewhat hurt that, after all he had done for Bonaparte, his protege should have turned against him; but he offered little resistance. For over five years he had enjoyed almost unlimited power and more wine and beautiful women than most men would be granted in twenty lifetimes. He had acquired an enormous fortune and was tired of wrangling with earnest people and windy gasbags like Sieygs. When he had read the declaration and had seen that it announced his honourable retirement after having rendered great services to his country, he signed it without a murmur.

It was not even necessary to offer him the additional fortune that Talleyrand had brought folded up in his waistcoat pocket. What he said to Ouvrard later about the draft no one will ever know; but there is reason to suppose that the banker never got it back. After all, Talleyrand enjoyed collecting money and none of his friends could complain about the way in which he spent it. Escorted by a hundred dragoons, Barras left Paris that afternoon for one of his estates in the country. Untroubled by wars or any responsibility, he continued to enjoy every luxury during his many years of happy retirement.

The three signatures having been obtained to legalize the decrees of the Anciens, the next step was to persuade Gohier and Moulins to resign. But both flatly refused to do so. At the Luxembourg there was a royal rumpus, which ended in Bonaparte's hand being forced. The only certain way of preventing the two diehard revolutionaries from raising the mob against him was to arrest them, but in this Bonaparte showed admirable statecraft. He entrusted Moreau with the task of surrounding the Luxembourg with troops and confining the two Directors to their apartments, thus causing the popular veteran to commit himself fully to the conspiracy.

Meanwhile, at midday, the Five Hundred had assembled for a normal sitting in the Palais Bourbon. Lucien Bonaparte, as President, read out the decrees of the Anciens: that the two Chambers should remove to St. Cloud and General Bonaparte be given command of all troops in the Paris area. The majority of the members were taken completely by surprise but, before they had a chance to question the measures or make any protest, Lucien abruptly adjourned the session.

Now came the time of danger that Talleyrand had foreseen. The cat was out of the bag. No further legislation could be passed until the Chambers met at St. Cloud at midday the following day. That gave Bonaparte's enemies nearly twenty-four hours in which to concert measures against him.

In the evening, Bonaparte, Sieyes, Talleyrand and their principal supporters met to decide on the course of action to be taken next day. Their object was to abolish the Directory and appoint Provisional Consuls who would recast the Constitution. But what if the Five Hundred refused to pass such a decree? Lucien vouched for his ability to get the measure through, but Talleyrand said he felt certain that a majority would oppose it. He insisted that the only way to make sure of success was to send Real to ask Fouche to have the forty most violent Jacobin members arrested in the course of the night. But Bonaparte would not hear of it. He declared that such methods were those of the tyranny that had brought France to ruin, that he would lead a Government only if given a mandate to do so by the elected representatives of the People, and that such an act would be in flagrant contradiction to his principles—to restore true liberty and toleration. In consequence, the meeting broke up with nothing settled and the morrow left precariously on the knees of the gods.

At the same hour, in another part of Paris, Bernadotte had assembled the leading Jacobins and they were feverishly debating measures to wreck the coup d'etat. As a first step, it was agreed that the Five Hundred should pass a decree making Bernadotte joint Commander with Bonaparte of the Paris garrison. He would then be able to veto any move by Bonaparte to use troops, while the Deputies of the Left concerted plans to bring about his ruin.

Next morning there was a very clear indication that the responsible elements of the population favoured and hoped for the overthrow of the Directory, for the Three Per Cents went up several points. But that gave no practical support to the conspirators, as for the past eight years the moneyed classes had been at the mercy of the demagogues. It was, too, more than offset by the news that Santerre, the veteran leader of the sansculottes, was stirring up the mob in the Faubourg St. Antoine.

As the Palace of St. Cloud was not equipped for a meeting of the Legislature, time had had to be allowed for an army of carpenters to fit up benches in its two largest apartments. It was for this reason that the time for opening the proceedings could not be earlier than noon. But many of the Deputies, anxious to learn the latest rumours, arrived at eight o'clock. By midday, the Chambers were still not ready, so the opening had to be postponed until one o'clock.

That gave five hours for the Deputies to form groups outside and discuss the situation. Excitedly they said to one another, 'What is this plot that has been used as a pretext to get us out of Paris? ' ' Why were the " patriot" members of the Anciens not summoned to its meeting yesterday?' 'What are all these hundreds of troops doing bivouacked in the park? It can only be to coerce us. Bonaparte is a traitor. He intends to betray the Revolution and make himself Dictator.'

As time went on tempers rose, indignation increased and many of even the Moderate Deputies declared their determination to resist any attempt to alter the Constitution. At last, at one o'clock, when the Orangerie was ready to receive the Five Hundred, the Deputies streamed into it, angry, intense and, almost to a man, hostile to Bonaparte.

The clamour was such that Lucien had difficulty in getting a hearing. He called on Gaudin, one of the conspirators, who proposed that a Committee be formed to report on the state of the Republic and that the assembly should adjourn until the report was presented. The proposal was aimed at getting rid of the Five Hundred while giving the Anciens time to retrieve the situation. But it did not work. The Deputies saw through it and shouted it down with cries of execration. 'The Constitution or death! ' they yelled. 'No Dictatorship! Bayonets do not frighten us! We are free men! Down with the Dictators! '

When the pandemonium had died down, Grandmaison proposed that the members should individually renew their oath to the Constitution. The whole Assembly rose to its feet, shouting ^' Vive la Republic!' The motion was carried by acclamation and the next two and a half hours were passed going through this, in the circumstances, futile ceremony.

The Anciens had met in the Gallery of Apollo and things were not going well there either. The Deputies who had deliberately been kept away from the previous day's sitting were indignantly demanding an explanation and, when they asked for particulars of the Jacobin plot, no one could give them any. The five Directors had been sent a formal notification of the session. At half past three the news was received that three of them had resigned and the other two were under arrest. The Deputies who were not in the plot then took alarm, and it looked as though the Anciens, too, would turn against Bonaparte.

With Sieyes, Ducos and others of his co-conspirators, Bonaparte was in a room on the first floor of the Palace. Every few minutes news was brought to them of what was going on in the two Chambers. Roger was not among the aides-de-camp who kept them informed. He had been allotted the task of acting as liaison with Talleyrand, and neither Talleyrand nor Fouche was in the Palace.

The wily Minister of Police had preferred to remain in Paris so that, if things went wrong, he could disclaim any connection with the conspirators; but, even so, he rendered them a valuable service. At midday he ordered the gates of Paris to be closed, thus preventing any mobs marching out of the city to support the Jacobin Deputies at St. Cloud.

Talleyrand, the arch-conspirator, was also much averse to taking an active part in coups d'etat. He preferred on such days to stay at home; but the preceding day he had felt that unless he used his persuasive powers personally Barras might have refused to resign and, as the conference that night had left matters in such an uncertain state, he had decided that he dare not remain more than a few minutes' distance from Bonaparte during the all-important sessions at St. Cloud in case the General made a mess of things. He had, therefore, hired a small house near the Palace and had driven out to it that morning accompanied by Roederer, de Montrond and Roger. As the hours passed they became more and more anxious.

So, too, did Bonaparte. Soon after three o'clock Jourdan arrived on the scene and, far worse, he brought with him that terrible, swashbuckling revolutionary, General Augereau. Rumours then came in that the Five Hundred had sent representatives back to Paris to raise the mobs and sieze the city. On hearing this Bonaparte decided to make a personal bid for the support of the Anciens.

Accompanied by Berthier and Bourrienne he entered the Chamber of Apollo and asked permission to address the Assembly. It was granted but, when he started to speak, it was obvious to everyone that he had lost his nerve.

This was the second important occasion in his career when he had done so. The first had been in Italy, before the battle of Castiglione. On the previous day the castle and village had been in the hands of the French. After only a weak defence, General Valette had allowed the Austrians to push him out of them. As the castle dominated the situation and Bonaparte's Army was already partially surrounded he had been absolutely furious and, on the spot, reduced Valette to the ranks. But that did not improve the situation.

At a morning Council of War Augereau and the other Generals urged that the only possible course was to retake the castle by assault and cut their way out. Bonaparte, faced with this unexpected hitch in his carefully laid plans, temporarily lost his resolution. Fearful of having his unbroken chain of victories brought to an end by a shattering defeat, he refused to give any orders at all. Exclaiming 'I wash my hands of it! I am going away! ', to the utter amazement of the others he walked out of the tent. Augereau had shouted after him, 'Who, then, is to take command? ' ^' You,' Bonaparte shouted back. Augereau had then led his Division in a furious charge up the hill and driven the Austrians out of the castle. Only after it had been taken did Bonaparte actively resume his Command. It was on account of this that, later in his career, whenever anyone complained to him of Augereau's outrageous behaviour, he always excused him by saying, 'Ah, but remember what he did for us at Castiglione.'

Now, again, Bonaparte went all to pieces. He spoke hesitantly, in confused, broken sentences, muttering vaguely that he did not intend to play the part of a Cromwell; that the Jacobins had made a plot; that the Constitution had often been violated before. Horrified at the lack of firmness he was suddenly displaying, when he stammered to a stop not knowing what to say next, Berthier and Bourrienne took him by the arms and hurried him out of the Chamber.

Whitefaced, de Montrond came hurrying over to Talleyrand to tell him what had happened. Clearly disaster was imminent. Talleyrand turned to Roger.

'Go to him, Breuc. He has faith in you. Tell him from me that he must now throw aside all legal scruples. He must use his troops or he is lost.'

Roger set off at a run across the park. By the time he reached the Palace, Bonaparte, his mind still hopelessly confused, had apparently had the idea that he might be better received by the Five Hundred. With four Grenadiers as an escort, he entered the Orangerie. His appearance was met with howls of rage. The Deputies began to fight among themselves, while the greater part of them yelled, ' Down with the Dictator! Down with Cromwell! ' A huge Deputy, named Destrem, hurled himself on Bonaparte and struck him several times. His Grenadiers dragged him, bruised and bleeding, from the Chamber. As they did so the terrible cry went up, 'Hors la toil Outlaw him! Outlaw him! Death to the traitor! '

As Roger entered the hall he heard those cries which threatened an end not only to the attempt to give France a new Government, but to Bonaparte's life. At the top of the long staircase he saw the General stumbling along between the Grenadiers as they helped him back to the room in which Sieyes and the others waited.

At the foot of the stairs Roger halted. Never in his life had he been faced with alternatives which could have such momentous results as at that moment. By prompt action, the situation might still be saved. But if he refrained from delivering Talleyrand's message Bonaparte was finished. Mr. Pitt believed Bonaparte to be the most dangerous potential leader of Britain's enemies, and close on two years before he had sent Roger to France with definite instructions to do everything he could to wreck the career of the young General. Those were Roger's orders. Chance had put it into his power to carry them out, finally and completely. Dare he ignore them?

Now was the vital moment of decision.

The Revolution is Over

As Roger stood there at the foot of the stairs he could feel the pulse throbbing in his temple. There was no time to lose; not a moment. Shouts and screams were still coming from the Orangerie. In there the gangling-limbed Lucien, short-sighted, bespectacled, thin-voiced, was displaying magnificent calmness and courage. A motion was brought that his brother should be outlawed, but he refused to put it to the Assembly. Then, seeing that his hand was about to be forced, he gained some minutes by resigning the Presidency to Chazel. Pandemonium again broke out. Fifty members all wanted to put motions and they fought like tigers to get up on the rostrum, each one who succeeded being dragged off again before he could make himself heard.

Roger's brain was whirling madly. Few men now knew Bonaparte better than he did. The Corsican was by nature a brigand, a thief on the grand scale, an athiest, a born liar, unscrupulous, ruthless and boundlessly ambitious. He was the absolute antithesis of the honour, integrity and high moral standards for which Britain's Prime Minister stood. It could not be wondered at that Mr. Pitt feared to see such a man given power, and had ordered Roger to do all he could to check his advancement.

Instead Roger had performed many useful services for Bonaparte and, for the past month, had done his utmost to aid him in a conspiracy which might, sooner or later, lead to his wielding supreme power. Chance had given Roger the opportunity to bring in Fouche, but that was incidental. Fouche took his own decisions and, his views being as they were, Talleyrand would later have been certain to secure his co-operation. In any case, Roger had been only swimming with the tide. Had he endeavoured to thwart the conspiracy, Fouche would soon have learned of his activities through one of Rial's thousand spies and would have pounced. So Roger would have found himself in prison or, worse, been in his grave. But now, simply by refraining from going upstairs, he could undo all that Talleyrand had striven for with such ardour, patience and skill.

There lay the rub. If he betrayed Bonaparte he would also be betraying Talleyrand, and he had unshakable faith in Talleyrand. He knew that Mr. Pitt disliked and despised Talleyrand even more than he did Bonaparte. But in that Roger had always felt that the shy, cold, passionless Prime Minister erred greatly in confusing morals with interests. Both Bonaparte and Talleyrand stood condemned on their personal records: the one for trickery and theft, the other for corruption and licentiousness. But Bonaparte had a genius for bringing order out of disorder; he had started as a revolutionary, but he had matured into a man of sound Liberal views who at least showed respect for religion and wished to see real liberty and justice restored to his countrymen; while Talleyrand was the man of great vision. All his life he had maintained that only when Britain and France reached an understanding could permanent peace and prosperjty come to Europe. He was the man of Peace. With Bonaparte in power, his influence would be enormous. And everywhere that Bonaparte now went, the people in the streets called to him, 'Peace! Give us Peace.' If he won this desperate gamble, how could he ignore both Talleyrand and the Will of the People?

Sweat had broken out on Roger's forehead. He was now facing ' The Great Risk' that he had always dreaded might some day be forced upon him. If he once again went against Mr. Pitt's judgment, Bonaparte, as Commander of all France's Armies, might decide to carve out for himself in Europe the Empire that he had failed to carve out in the East. If that happened, it would mean the shedding of tears by a million women and the shedding of blood by a million men. The burden of such a decision was almost too great for any one man's shoulders. But Roger took it. He put one foot on the lowest stair. Then he began to run.

As he burst into the room where Bonaparte had spent most of the day he saw that he was slumped in a chair, his features haggard, his hair in disorder, mopping the blood from a cut on his face. Next moment Roger had seized him by the arm, pulled him to his feet and was shouting:

' Quick! You have not a moment to lose! In the Five Hundred they are murdering your brother and are about to outlaw you! Do you understand? To outlaw you! Order the troops to clear the Orangerie. Talleyrand sent me. It is your only chance. It is now their lives or yours. Fail to act and tomorrow they will send you in an iron cage to Cayenne.'

Bonaparte shook Roger off. But, as though he had received an electric shock, his old vitality returned to him. His dark eyes flashed, he strode to the window and out on to the balcony. Drawing his sword he cried in his harsh Italian accent to the troops lined up below:

'Soldiers I will stand for no more. I have observed the laws, but the Five Hundred is filled with traitors. I went among them to plead for an end to the measures that have brought France to ruin. They insulted and reviled me. They attacked me with daggers. They are about to murder my brother. The peace must be kept. I order you to go in and rescue him.'

His mind had cleared and had seized upon a feature in the situation by which he might later whitewash himself. He had not ordered the troops to put an end arbitrarily to the session, but simply to rescue his brother.

Murat took off his feathered hat, waved it and ordered the troops to fix bayonets. A great cheer went up. With Murat at their head, holding high his sabre, they charged into the Orangerie.

Roger, utterly spent by the mental ordeal he had been through, sank down in the chair from which he had pulled Bonaparte. Later he heard about the final scene in the drama. When Murat burst into the Orangerie, Lucien had again got possession of the rostrum but was spreadeagled and clinging to it. At the sight of the bayonets and busbies the Deputies had scattered. In terror of their lives, most of them jumped out of the windows. Some made their way back to Paris; others, fearing arrest and execution, spent the night wandering miserably about the park and forest.

In spite of the rough handling he had received Lucien, when escorted outside, mounted a horse, grabbed a sword and, pointing it at the General, who had come down to meet him, cried, * Should my brother ever attempt anything against our liberties, I will plunge this into his heart.' This theatrical gesture brought cheers from even the soldiers of the Legislative Guard, who had

previously shown some doubt about where their duty lay.

Proceeding to the Anciens Lucien reported to them, with tears streaming down his cheeks, how Deputies of the Five Hundred had drawn their daggers on his brother, how, mercifully, he had been spared, and then how, fearful of being called to account for their act, the Deputies had disappeared of their own accord.

Having expressed their horror at the attack, the Anciens passed a decree appointing Bonaparte, Sieyes and Ducos Provisional Consuls, formed an interim Legislative Committee from among themselves and adjourned the Councils until February 20th.

But the decrees of the Anciens still required ratification by the Five Hundred to make them fully legal. By then the majority of its members were lost in the damp mists of the November night: hungry, scared out of their wits and tearing their red robes as they hunted for hiding places among thickets of thorn bushes. But a handful of Bonaparte's supporters had known flight to be unnecessary, so were still hanging about. The indefatigable Lucien gathered together some twenty-five of them. Then, by the dim light of three candles, they ratified the decrees and also decreed the expulsion of the sixty Jacobin members. At one o'clock in the morning the three Provisional Consuls took the oath before both Chambers and formally assumed office.

The day was Bonaparte's, but only owing to the courage and tenacity displayed by his brother Lucien.

Meanwhile Talleyrand, accompanied by Roederer, de Mon-trond and Roger, had driven the few miles to Melun. He had had the foresight to arrange with a Madame Simons, a charming ex-actress who had married well and was an ex-mistress of his, to provide them with dinner at her pretty little house there. It had been a long and trying day. While others still argued about formalities in the chilly corridors at St. Cloud or wandered disconsolate in the woods, the arch-conspirators warm and cosy in the soft candlelight, with fine wine, well-chosen dishes and a pretty woman for hostess, proceeded to enjoy themselves.

The coup of the 18th Brumaire had infinitely more far-reaching results than any of the conspirators intended. Their aim had been to overthrow the Directory and make certain adjustments to the existing Legislature. Not only did it result in the abolition of the Directory but of the two Chambers as well. That fact was not immediately understood but, even had it been, all the best elements of the French nation would have approved. They were utterly weary of being ruled by Assemblies composed mainly of soapbox orators and cunning lawyers, with temperaments that ranged from those of incompetent idealists to tyrannical murderers. They wanted a strong and stable Government, led by a practical man; and now they had it. Even had they known that for the next fifteen years the ^' Will of the People', to establish which the Revolution had been brought about, was to be ignored by a dictator, it is probable that the bulk of the nation would still have been prepared to accept that as the price for the restoration of a reasonable degree of freedom and religious toleration, the protection of private property, justice in the Courts and a stable financial situation.

Owing to the coup having been spaced over forty-eight hours it had been within an ace of failure, but once accomplished it was accounted a triumph. No blood had been spilt and all the actions taken had at least a semblance of legality. By the adjourne-ment of the Chambers until February 20th, which was followed by the arrest of fifty-seven prominent Jacobin Deputies, all opposition had been crushed and the rejoicing throughout Paris was almost universal.

On the day following the coup the three Provisional Consuls occupied the apartments at the Luxembourg vacated by the Directors. For the time being they enjoyed equal powers: but it was soon agreed that Bonaparte should handle all administrative matters, with the assistance of two Committees each of twenty-five members elected from the two Chambers, while Sieyes drafted the new Constitution. Fouche was, of course, retained as Minister of Police. Berthier took over the War Office and Gaudin, a Deputy who had spent most of his life in the Treasury and was a highly competent man, was made Minister of Finance. For the time being, Talleyrand remained in the background but was in constant touch with Bonaparte.

During the remainder of November and the first three weeks of December, Bonaparte and Sieyes met daily to discuss the many articles in the proposed Constitution. Fundamentally their ideas on the subject had little in common; but the General was clever enough to continue to flatter the ex-Abbe, and so succeeded in getting included the clauses he considered essential. The most important of these was that, instead of appointing a Grand Elector as the Head of State, as Sieyes's wished, one of the three Consuls should act in that capacity with very extensive powers, while the other two would be little more than his advisers.

Meanwhile, they added considerably to their popularity by annulling the terrible Law of Hostages; sending General Hedou-ville, who had assisted Hoche to pacify the Vendee, back there to pacify it again; authorizing the return to France of every proscribed person who had been condemned to transportation without trial, and repealing laws which imposed crippling burdens of taxation.

Throughout these weeks Roger continued his duties as one of Bonaparte's aides-de-camp with as much patience as he could muster. For better or for worse, he had made his contribution to the present state of things; but as yet there was no point in his slipping off to London and confessing to Mr. Pitt that he had flagrantly disobeyed his orders. The fact that the Directory had been overthrown would have reached the Prime Minister within a few day of its happening. What he would want to know was what changes in French foreign policy, if any, were likely to result from it, and whether the new Constitution was likely to restore France to stability. Roger could make no assessment of that until it was known who was to wield almost dictorial powers by being appointed First Consul, and that still hung in the balance.

It was not until December 22nd that the notables assembled in the Luxembourg to vote on this momentous issue. Puffed up with vanity, Sieyes had all along visualized himself in the role of First Consul, and it was that which had caused him to agree that the other two should have no power of veto and be virtual nonentities.

Feeling quite sure of himself Sieyes opened the meeting with an address in which he dwelt on the evils of military Dictatorships and how dangerous it would be to appoint a soldier as First Consul. But Bonaparte had devised a clever trick to outwit him. Before the meeting the wily Corsican had told his supporters not to form a group, but to scatter themselves about the hall. Then, when he took Siey&s's hand, they were to give a loud cry of ^' Bonaparte! '

As Sieyes brought his address to an end, Bonaparte stepped up to him with a smile and said, 'Let us have no difference of opinion, my friend. I vote for you. For whom do you vote? '

Sieyes, thinking that Bonaparte's vote put his own election beyond all question, replied, out of politeness, 'I vote for you.'

Bonaparte put out his hand, Sieyes took it. Instantly, from all parts of the hall, there were loud cries of 'Bonaparte! Bonaparte! ' The General's scattered supporters infected their neighbours and in another minute everyone was crying ' Vive Bonaparte!' Thus the wretched Seiyes was discomfited and the Corsican elected First Consul by acclamation.

Sieyes, almost speechless and half out of his mind with rage, refused the honourable post of Second Consul: so the Committees elected Cambaceres in this capacity and Lebrun as Third Consul. On the following day Bonaparte, whose word had now become, for all practical purposes, law, sent Reinhard as Ambassador to the Helvetic Republic and handed the portfolio of Foreign Minister back to Talleyrand.

Had Seiyes become First Consul, Bonaparte might well have decided, rather than remain as little more than a cipher in Paris, to take supreme command in the war against Austria. Sieyes would gladly have got rid of him at that price. Then the Jacobins would have striven again to impose their rule of Terror and the Royalists plotted again to bring about a Restoration. Once more the future would have been in the melting pot; but with Bonaparte as Head of State, firmly supported by Talleyrand and Fouchk, Roger could go back to England and report that the Revolution was over.

Now that the situation had clarified, his longing to get home became almost unbearable, and he saw no reason why he should not set out almost immediately. He had only to tell Bonaparte that the winter weather was again affecting his, mythically, weak chest to be given leave to go to his little chateau in the south of France. He could then set out in that direction, make a detour that would bring him to one of the Normandy ports and pay a smuggler well to run him across the Channel. As it was already the 23rd he could not get home for Christmas, but he should be able to do so well before the New Year.

That night he went to the Luxembourg, intending to ask his master for leave. There was a crowd of people there, but Bonaparte was busy in his cabinet with Bourrienne. After a while Josephine caught sight of Roger and beckoned him over. As he made a smiling bow to her, she said:

'Cher ami. Have you heard the wonderful news? The General and I are to move to the Tuileries. After living in our little house for so long, I'll feel like a pea in a box. But just think of the splendour of it, and the parties I'll be able to give there.'

Roger bowed again. '.Our Lady of Victories will shine there more brightly than ever did any Queen of France.'

Her big eyes sparkled and she tapped him with her fan. ' Cher, cher Colonel. You have always stood out among our soldiers as a courtier, and there will be the warmest welcome for you always, at any time, at the Palace. Our first great reception is to be on Christmas Day and, of course, we shall count on you.'

Christmas had long since been abolished by the revolutionaries. Not only did it hold no place in the calendar as a Revolutionary Festival, but for years past no one had dared to treat it as other than an ordinary working day. Much surprised, Roger raised an eyebrow a fraction.

Josephine laughed, flicked open her fan and behind it whispered to him, 'The choice is deliberate. The preparations for us to occupy the Palace are being hurried forward on that account. The General wishes to show the people that he is without prejudices and will permit religious persecution no longer.'

'Madame, that is excellent news,' Roger said quickly, 'and a truly wise measure. No ruler, however strong, can have too much support and, by granting religious toleration, our General will win the love of countless thousands of, yes . . . why should we not say it . . . his subjects—and yours.'

'No, no,' she chided him. 'You must not say such things. He insists that he is no more than an ordinary citizen charged with the duty of giving expression to the wishes of his fellows. But I had almost forgotten. There is special reason why you must not fail to be in attendance at the Tuileries on Christmas night. There is someone who by then will be in Paris and whom I shall invite: someone who is eagerly seeking news of you. I received the letter only yesterday from M. Ouvrard, who corresponds with a Greek banker named Sarodopulous. This lady is the daughter of one of my girlhood friends, who in the most romantic way has become the favourite wife of the Great Turk.'

For a moment, Roger was struck dumb. It could not possibly be anyone other than Zanthe to whom Josephine referred. Clearly Sarodopulous had made arrangements for her to travel to France, and she had arrived safely. Her only possible reason for undertaking the hazardous journey must be to rejoin and marry him. At the thought Roger felt panic rising in him. Only long practice at concealing his emotions enabled him to prevent Josephine from realizing the shock he had received.

She was going gaily on with an account of Aim£e Dubucq de Rivery's capture by Corsairs and how, by her entrancing beauty, she had captivated the Sultan. Roger listened with a fixed grin, hardly taking in a word she said. As soon as he decently could he turned the conversation, drew two other visitors into it, then bowed himself away and left the apartment.

Back at La Belle £toi!e he went up to his room, flung himself into an elbow chair and gave himself furiously to think. He could still return to the Luxembourg in the morning and ask Bonaparte for leave; but now it was most unlikely that the General would grant it until after Christmas Day. At his first reception as First Consul he would naturally wish to have all his paladins around him, ¹ le brave Breuc' among them.

It occurred to Roger that he could cut loose. If he did not put in an appearance next day no one would start a hue-an-cry after him. By taking horse that night he could reach the coast before anyone even started enquiring about him. But he was very loath to do that.

While in Egypt he would have given anything to free himself from the double life he was leading, but since his return to Paris the excitement of being in the vortex of the political cyclone had again got hold of him. He had with pain and grief overcome the two great threats to his career as a secret agent. Talleyrand was now convinced of his loyalty and Fouche had forgone the chance to question his past, in return for a collaboration which would now make it impossible for him to do so and be believed. Added to which Roger enjoyed the friendship and confidence of the new master of France.

If Georgina were still free and willing to become his wife, he would have been happy to leave Mr. Pitt's service and settle down with her. But it was close on two years since he had seen her and, even if she were still free, he doubted if he could persuade her to marry him. Failing that, what did the future hold? A few happy, carefree months in England then, as he so well knew, the itch to be at the centre of great events would get him again. To set. off without explanation would be to become a deserter, and to throw away the extraordinary position he had achieved might later cause him the most bitter regrets.

There was then the personal problem. As Zanthe had risked shipwreck and capture to follow him to France, how could he possibly requite such love and courage by ignoring his obligation to her; still worse, leave her stranded in Paris? As he thought of her, his heart began to glow again with memories of her beauty, the intensity of her passion and the wonderful nights they had spent together.

It was still his inescapable duty to return to England and report to Mr. Pitt as soon as possible. That he must do. But at least he must remain in Paris over Christmas to welcome Zanth£. Then, on some pretext of duty, he would slip away and secretly cross the Channel. Yet not for the long, carefree months to which he had so greatly looked forward. Every decent instinct he had cried aloud that he must get back to France as soon as he could and take Zanthe for his wife.

In this frame of mind, wearing a new and brilliant uniform, he went to the Tuileries on the evening of Christmas Day. It was the first of scores of receptions that Bonaparte and Josephine were to hold there. In due course Kings, Princes, Grand Dukes and Eastern Potentates would be ceremoniously announced and bow before them, but this was just a large, jolly party drawn from every strata of society.

There were a handful of aristocrats who, like Talleyrand, had survived the Revolution and a number of the Members of the Institute who came from well-to-do families; but the majority of the guests had once been poor and were still ill-educated. There were the soldiers, clinking about in their spurred top-boots, as yet innocent of sonorous titles and glittering Orders. They used the language of the camp. Lannes and Augereau were incapable of opening their mouths without using some obscene expression and most of the others were little better. With them they brought their wives, nearly all looking awkward in their hastily assembled finery. They had no idea how to adjust feathers in their hair or make a curtsey in response to the bow of a gentleman. Many of them were ex-prostitutes who talked the argot of the gutter and Lefebvre's wife had, when Bonaparte was a seedy young Lieutenant, been his washerwoman. The remainder of the guests were mostly sharp-featured or florid-faced politicians in ill-fitting cloth suits and their women were no worse, but no better, than those of the soldiers.

Among this motley throng Roger took his place in a queue that was moving slowly up the grand staircase. At the top Josephine and Bonaparte were receiving. Grouped on either side of them were already a score of attendant men and women. Having made his bow Roger, as an aide-de-camp, was about to take his place among them; but Josephine turned her head and signed to one of the women near her to come forward. She was Zanthe, but dressed in European clothes, which accounted for Roger's not at once catching sight of her.

His heart throbbing, he smiled a greeting. To their right, in the great salon, the band had just struck up for the first dance. To cover his confusion Roger bowed to Josephine again, then gave Zanthe his arm and led her into the ballroom. For a few moments they were both tongue-tied, then he said:

^' How wonderful it is to see you again.'

'I am glad you feel that,' she murmured. ^'1 was somewhat doubtful if you would be.'

^' That is not surprising, seeing the way I left you.'

^'1 learned that you had sailed with General Bonaparte, but I took it hard that you lacked the courage to say goodbye to me or even leave a message.'

^' When I rode away that night I had no knowledge of the General's intentions, and it had occurred to him to take me with him only at the last moment. When I got aboard the anchor was already weighed.'

At that moment, Murat called to Roger, ^'Come, Breuc! You and the lovely lady you have with you are just what we need to make up a set.'

Roger could hardly refuse, so he led Zanthe out and they took their corner for a minuet. The dance that ensued had little resemblance to those trodden by Marie Antoinette, her ladies and their gallants in the royal palaces of France. Zanthe was not alone in never having before danced such a measure. Fewer than half the dancers knew the figures, but they gaily clumped round, twirled the women about and—shades of Versailles—two of the men committed the impropriety of embracing and kissing their partners when they met at corners.

Almost unconscious of the barn-dance behaviour that was going on round him, Roger bowed and twirled with the others. At the first sight of Zanthe he had been chilled by the realization that the European clohes she was wearing robbed her of much of her glamour; but her face and figure were as lovely as he remembered them and within a few minutes he was again under her spell.

When the dance was over he led her into one of the long, broad corridors that were furnished with settees for sitting out. As soon as they had settled themselves he decided that this was no case for half-measures. Since he was to marry her, she must not be allowed even to suspect that he had ever had second thoughts about doing so. Taking her hand, he said:

^' As I was telling you, Bonaparte gave me no chance to decline to go with him. Otherwise I would have done so and returned to you so that we could be married.'

Her big eyes opened wide in surprise and she stammered, 'But . . . but you said yourself that if you ever got another chance to leave Egypt you would take it, and that nothing would ever induce you to come back.'

^' No, surely! ' he protested. ^'1 have no memory of ever having said anything like that.'

^' You did. It was on the occasion when you were nearly stung by a scorpion.'

^' Why, yes. I do remember now. But when I spoke of a chance to leave Egypt, I meant one that would have enabled me to take you with me. As things were, my voyage back occupied near two months, and for the past six weeks everything here has been in a state of great uncertainty. Now that Paris has settled down I intended to write to M. Sarodopulous and ask him to arrange for you to travel, with as much safety as he could devise, to France.'

^' What! ' she exclaimed, her lip trembling. ^' You meant to send for me? '

^' Of course. But, brave girl that you are, you took it on yourself to make the voyage. So you have rejoined me three months or more before I could have hoped you would. All we have to do

now is find a priest of the Orthodox Church to marry us.'

Zanthe swayed towards him. For a moment he thought that she was about to faint, but she recovered herself and gasped, ^' Marry! But I am already married.'

^' What say you! ' Roger exclaimed. ^'To ... to whom? '

^' Achilles . . . Achilles Sarodopulous,' she stammered. ^' Did not Madame Bonaparte tell you? *

He shook his head. Still too astonished to be certain if he was pleased or sorry, he muttered, ^' Then you did not come to Paris on my account? '

^' No. The relations which were opened by you between M. Sarodopulous and the French Army have proved so profitable that Achilles has been sent here to open a branch of the Sarodopulous bank.'

Roger's work often made it necessary for him to lie, but he was no hypocrite. Realizing now how much having regained his freedom meant to him, he could not bring himself to reproach her; but it would have been unkind to her not to appear distressed, so he asked in a low voice, ^' How did this come about? '

For a moment she was silent, then she said, ^' From the way in which Achilles was always so eager to please me you surely must have realized that he had fallen in love with me. But he attempted nothing dishonourable against you. When . . . when you had gone, neither of us thought you would ever come back and he did his best to console me. He is a fine man, kind, generous and of the East—so in some ways better suited as a husband for me than you would have been.'

^'1 understand,' said Roger gently, ^' and, if the fault for our separation lies with anyone, it is with me rather than with you.'

^' It was the Will of Allah—blessed be the name of His Prophet. But . . . but there was another reason. I mean why I decided to accept Achilles soon after you had gone, instead of waiting in case some message came from you.'

Roger gave her a quick look of enquiry.

She nodded. ^' Yes, I am enceinte. While we were in Acre old Gezubb, who was wise in such things, looked after me. But during that last fortnight at the Sarodopulouses' ... it was then. Your son ... I know it will be a son . . . will be born in May.'

^' Does Achilles . . .? ' Roger hesitated.

^' No. I hate deceit, but he adores me and has made me truly fond of him. It is much kinder to him that he should believe himself the father and that it is a seven-month child.'

All that had to be said between them had been said. Roger was quick to realize that for them to prolong their talk now must lead to embarrassment for both of them. If they remained there discussing the affair further he could not, in decency, do less than pretend acute distress at having lost her. Then if she loved him still, as he believed she did, she might break down and avow it. Inwardly wincing at his own words, he said:

^'1 must try to accept my misfortune with courage. Let us find Achilles, so that I can congratulate him.'

Ten minutes later they came upon the handsome young Greek in the card-room. The game he was about to join had not yet started. On seeing Roger approach he gave him an uneasy smile; but Roger, lightly touching Zanthe's hand, which rested on his left arm, said:

^' Since it was fated that this pearl among women was not to become my wife, I could wish for her no better husband than yourself.' They then cordially shook hands and talked for a few minutes about the future. The Sarodopulouses were to take a house in Paris and live there permanently. Roger said that he would shortly be leaving for the south of France, but on his return in the spring would look forward to calling on them. As the game was by then about to start Roger asked Zanthe if she would like to dance again, but she tactfully replied:

^' No, I thank you. Achilles says that I always bring him luck, so I will remain here and watch him play.'

Roger took a last look into the magnificent tawny eyes of the woman who had twice saved his life and said she was going to bear him a son. Tears sprang involuntarily to his own. He made her a deep bow, then quickly turned away.

Half an hour later he came upon Talleyrand. Limping gracefully along on his malacca cane, the statesman looked like a peacock that had by mistake got into a hen-yard. From his powdered hair to the diamond buckles on his shoes, not an item of his apparel would have been different had time moved back ten years and this been a gala night at the Court of Queen Marie Antoinette.

Roger had not seen him since, two days before, Bonaparte had reappointed him Foreign Minister. As they bowed to one another Roger congratulated him with the greatest heartiness.

Talleyrand took snuff, smiled and said, 'Thank you, dear friend. But with the good Reinhard sitting in the chair, I have never really ceased to be Foreign Minister. Unfortunately, those miserable little people at the Luxembourg were too stupid to take the advice I sent them through him; but now things will be better.'

Pausing, he surveyed the crowd through his quizzing-glass, sniffed at his perfumed lace handkerchief and went on, ' Are they not terrible? Many of them smell! What sacrifices people like you and me make for France by hob-nobbing with them. Take me away from them, Breuc. Take me away.'

Roger laughed. 'But where? We are expected to remain here for at least another three hours.'

' Yes, yes. We will not leave the building, but will go to the west wing. Our little man has provided a room for me there. The idea is that I should occupy it at especially busy times, and thus produce my rabbits for him more swiftly than if I had to go back and forth to my Ministry.'

As they strolled slowly down one of the long corridors, he continued, ' No doubt he thinks that I shall labour there day and night. In that he is much mistaken. I am no Bourrienne. How I pity that good fellow. He cannot have had time for a decent meal or a pretty woman in months. I have never liked work; and to do too much of it is folly, because it exhausts one. Do you know, I never draft despatches myself. I tell others what I want said and, at most, scribble a few notes for them. The most important maxim to observe, if one wishes for a happy life, is " Never do anything yourself that you can get someone else to do for you."'

By this time they had reached the end of the corridor. There, they entered a lofty room that looked out on the Tuileries garden. Taking a key from the fob pocket of his satin breeches Talleyrand unlocked a cabinet, took a paper from one of the pigeonholes and handing it to Roger, said:

'The first fruits of my new Ministry, dear friend. I should be glad to have your opinion upon it.'

Roger spread out the paper; translated, it read:

Paris, le 5 Nivose, an VIII

FRENCH REPUBLIC

sovereignty of the people-liberty—equality

Bonaparte, First Consul of the Republic, to His Majesty the King of Great Britain and Ireland

Called by the wishes of the French nation to occupy the First Magistracy of the Republic, I have thought proper, in commencing the discharge of the duties of this office, to communicate the event directly to Your Majesty.

Must the war which for eight years has ravaged the four quarters of the world be eternal? Is there no room for accommodation? How can the two most enlightened nations in Europe, stronger and more powerful than is necessary for their safety and independence, sacrifice commercial advantages, internal prosperity and domestic happiness to vain ideas of grandeur? Whence is it that they do not feel peace to be the first of wants as well as the first of glories?

These sentiments cannot be new to the heart of Your Majesty, who rules over a free nation with no other view than to render it happy.

Your Majesty will see in this overture only my sincere desire to contribute effectually, for the second time, to a general pacification by a prompt step taken in confidence and free from those forms which, however necessary to disguise the apprehensions of feeble States, only discover in those that are powerful a mutual wish to deceive.

France and England may, by the abuse of their strength, long defer the period of its utter exhaustion, unhappily for all nations. But I will venture to say that the fate of all the civilized nations is concerned in the termination of a war the flames of which are raging throughout the whole world.

I have the honour to be, etc.,

(Signed) Bonaparte.

Tears had sprung to Roger's eyes three-quarters of an hour earlier when he had left Zanthe in the card-room. As he finished

reading the document they again welled up, then flowed over.

^' But this is Peace! ' he cried. ^' Peace! Blessed Peace! '

Talleyrand for once betrayed emotion. He put both arms about Roger's shoulders and embraced him as he said, with a catch in his deep voice, ^' Yes; the Peace for which we have striven for so long. At last we triumph.'

^'1 . . . I have done nothing,' Roger murmured.

^' Nay, you have done much. I know you for an Englishman by birth, but you have ever put your trust in me and aided me whenever possible. Besides, was it not you who pushed Bonaparte out on to the balcony at St. Cloud? But for that neither he nor we would be here tonight. Tomorrow morning come to my Ministry. I will then give you this, and all the papers necessary for your journey to London.'

^' To London! ' Roger exclaimed.

^' Why, yes,' Talleyrand smiled. ^' Who could be more suitable than yourself to carry this message of goodwill to England? When I suggested it to our little man, he at once agreed. You will travel in a frigate flying a flag of truce, as our Envoy Extraordinary to the Court of St. James.'

Roger could hardly believe that he was not dreaming. He had taken the Great Risk and had again proved right in doing so. But that he was to be the bearer of this wonderful news was a triumph beyond anything for which he had ever hoped.

He stammered his thanks and they continued talking for a further ten minutes, then Talleyrand said he thought the time had come when they ought to show themselves again.

As they were about to re-enter the ballroom they approached a tall, handsome, fair-haired man, standing alone near the wall. In a low voice Talleyrand said to Roger, ^' That is the Baron von Haugwitz, the new Prussian Ambassador. He has just been transferred from London and presented his credentials only this morning. From a talk with him you might gather useful information of recent developments in the English capital.'

Talleyrand made the introduction, bowed and moved away. Roger opened the conversation by saying that he knew London well and hoped that while His Excellency had been en poste there he had found life pleasant.

The Baron, who found himself very much a fish out of water in this strange new French society, was delighted to talk about the three years he had spent in England. For a while they talked of the Government and British foreign policy, then of Vauxhall Gardens, Cremorne and the social whirl of London. Roger then asked a question that he had had in mind for several minutes.

^' Did Your Excellency perchance make the acquaintance of the Countess of St. Ermins? '

^' Why, yes,' replied the Baron. ^' A most lovely lady and one with an enchanting wit. She moves much in political and diplomatic circles, and at her house in Berkeley Square I met many interesting people.'

Roger gave an inaudible sigh of relief. Georgina had not then remarried, otherwise the Baron either would not have known her by her old title, or would have told him of her marriage.

But the Prussian's face became grave as he went on, ^' Alas, when I left London, all Lady St. Ermins's friends were greatly concerned for her. She has two children. They caught scarlet fever and she contracted it from them. In children, the disease is not as a rule dangerous. But in an adult it can be fatal. It was feared that Her Ladyship might die of it.'

The following afternoon Roger was driving towards Calais with all the speed that six good horses could give a well-sprung coach. With him were a middle-aged Foreign Office official named Broussalt, whom Talleyrand had nominated to advise Roger on protocol, a secretary and a valet, also provided by Talleyrand.

As the coach bounded along the rutty roads, Roger could think of only one thing. Beautiful Zanthe had gone from his mind like yesterday's ten thousand years. Even the fact that he carried Peace in his pocket and had achieved the greatest triumph of his career meant nothing to him now. His beloved Georgina, the one woman in the world who really mattered to him, had been stricken by a fell disease and lay in danger of her life. She might even by now be dead.

At that terrible thought he groaned aloud. Broussalt anxiously enquired what ailed him. He brusquely replied that it was the bumping of the coach but, when the others pleaded with him to order the postilion to reduce the pace, he would not hear of it.

By using his powers unscrupulously to deprive other travellers of their relays, by threatening laggard Postmasters with the loss of their positions, by bribes, curses and twice using across men's shoulders the riding switch he carried, he kept the coach hurtling through the night, so that his companions, now hungry because he refused to stop for meals, thought that they had been saddled with a madman.

He performed the seemingly impossible at that time, and reached Calais in twenty hours. Driving straight to the Port Authority, he presented his credentials and demanded the immediate use of the fastest vessel in the harbour. In vain Broussalt remonstrated with him that it was beneath the dignity of an Envoy Extraordinary to sail in anything less han a twenty-gun frigate. Neither of the frigates in Calais Roads could be made ready to sail before night; but a Revenue cutter was about to drop down to Boulogne, so he commandeered it and went aboard.

Since Britain and France were at war, the French Embassy in London was closed and empty. Therefore, the proper procedure would have been for the vessel carrying him to sail up the Thames and anchor in the Pool below the Tower, so that she could be used as a temporary Embassy. But Roger knew well that, if the wind were unfavourable, a day or more could be lost while tacking up the twisting bends of the river; so he ordered the Captain of the cutter to land him at Dover.

Fortunately the weather was mild, so the crossing was smooth and took less than three hours. Five miles out from the English coast they were challenged by a frigate; but they ran up the white flag with the Tricolour, and the frigate escorted them into Dover harbour.

There, Roger told Broussalt that it was his intention to go to London by road. He then ordered him to remain in the cutter and arrange for it to be escorted round to the Pool, where it was to await his pleasure.

The unhappy official threw his hands in the air and turned up his eyes to heaven. It was, he declared, unheard of for an Envoy Extraordinary to arrive unaccompanied at a foreign capital. The loss of prestige! What would the English think of them? He might have argued with a stone statue for all the satisfaction he got. Roger told him that the the First Consul did not have a red carpet put down before giving battle and that he, Roger, needed no frills to aid him in conducting the mission upon which he had been sent.

By the time he landed it was five o'clock and already dark. He was received by a group of officers, all extremely curious to know his business. Now he had to be careful and remember that he was supposed to be a Frenchman; so he told them in broken English that he carried letters for the Foreign Secretary and wished to be conveyed to London with all possible speed.

But at Dover he was subjected to infuriating delays. First he had to explain his business to an Admiral, then he was taken up to the castle and kept waiting there for over an hour before being interviewed by an elderly. General. After asking a score of questions, the majority of which were quite irrelevant, the General said he thought it would be best if Roger remained at Dover until London had been notified of his arrival and instructions received about him.'

At that Roger had great difficulty in keeping his temper. But, with a heavy accent, he said icily, 'You appear to mistake me, Monsieur le General, for a prisoner-of-war. I am nothing of the kind. I am a diplomatic representative and, unless you treat me as such, I shall make complaint of you to your Duke of York.'

Having no desire to risk the displeasure of his Commander-in-Chief, the General grumpily agreed to send Roger to London that night. He was given a good meal, then set off in a coach. A Captain Denistoun rode with him and he was accompanied by a mounted escort.

The roads in England were infinitely better than those in France so, although they travelled fairly fast, the going was not too rough to prevent Roger from dozing for a good part of the way. They reached London very early in the morning. Rousing as the coach rumbled along the Old Kent Road, Roger asked Denistoun whether he was taking him direct to the Foreign Office.

' No,' replied he Captain. ' As yet nobody there will have risen. My orders are to leave you in charge of the Officer of the Guard at the Horse Guards, then report your arrival to Lord Grenville as soon as he is available.'

That was more or less what Roger had expected. He then told Denistoun that before the war he had lived for some time in London and that he had heard just before leaving Paris that a great friend of his, the Countess of St. Ermins, was dangerously ill; so he was anxious to enquire about her.

The Captain agreed that they should call at the St. Ermins mansion in Berkeley Square. When they reached it the blinds were down. Roger, dreading the worst, was almost incoherent with distress; but Denistoun, fearing some trick by this 'frog-eater ' of whom he had been given charge, would not let him leave the coach. Instead he got out, knocked up the house and himself made enquiries from a sleepy footman.

He returned to say that Lady St. Ermins was at Stillwaters, her country home in Surrey. The servants in Berkeley Square had had no news of her for the past two days; but they were greatly worried, as it was feared that she would not recover from her illness.

Roger breathed again. At least she had still been alive the previous day, or they would have been sent news of her death. Now he must get to Stillwaters at the earliest possible moment. After some argument, on the plea that his business was of the utmost urgency, he persuaded Denistoun to take him straight to the Foreign Office.

By then it was seven o'clock. The Groom of the Chambers, who happened to be in the hall on their arrival, told them that His Lordship was not yet up, but was taking his morning chocolate in bed. Roger asked for pen, ink, paper and sealing wax, then wrote a brief note, which ran:

My Lord,

I pray you, show no recognition on receiving me. I am come to London under escort as Envoy Extraordinary from General Bonaparte. My business is most urgent, so I beg you to receive me without delay.

Having signed the note with his own name he sealed it, slipped a gold louis into the palm of the Groom of the Chambers and asked him to take it up. Five minutes later he was taken upstairs and shown into the Foreign Secretary's bedroom.

Lord Grenville was by nature a cold man and as little given to showing emotion as his cousin the Prime Minister. But on this occasion he did express surprise and his greeting was warm. Without a moment's delay Roger plunged into his business. Producing two letters, he said:

^' My Lord, I bring great news. General Bonaparte has now been elected First Consul of the French Republic, with virtually dictatorial powers, and he desires Peace. This letter gives expression to his sentiments. The other is from M. de Talleyrand, who is again Foreign Minister, and it sets out the basic terms upon which the French are prepared to negotiate.'

¹ Overtures for Peace! ' Grenville exclaimed, taking the first letter. ^' And from the Corsican, of all people! I can scarce believe it.' Breaking the seals of Bonaparte's letter, he opened it and quickly read it through. As he laid it down on the counterpane, he said:

^' It has the air of honesty and must receive our most earnest consideration. As soon as I have risen I will take it to the Prime Minister.'

^' How soon can Your Lordship expect to hand me a reply? * Roger asked.

Grenville considered for a moment. ^' It must be laid before His Majesty, and my colleagues in the Cabinet must be given time to consider the terms that are proposed. Three days should suffice. Today is the 28th, a meeting of the Cabinet could be called for the morning of the 31st, I could let you know the result that afternoon.'

^' Until then, my Lord, I pray you to excuse me. Most urgent private affairs claim my attention. I pray you, too, to relieve me of my watchdog, a Captain Denistoun, who waits below, and also to lend me a horse. I must at once ride down into Surrey.'

The Foreign Secretary made a mild protest, as he would have liked Roger to remain with him for some time and give him the latest news from France; but, seeing Roger's extreme agitation, he rang his bell and gave the orders that had been requested of him. A quarter of an hour later Roger was on his way out of London.

The village of Ripley, near which Stillwaters lay, was no more than twenty-five miles distant. Roger was now very tired. It was over forty-eight hours since he had had a chance to do more than doze, and for more than half that time he had been swaying from side to side in fast-driven coaches. Yet his desperate anxiety gave him the energy to fight down fatigue, and he reached Stillwaters soon after ten o'clock.

Throwing the reins of his horse over a stone vase, he ran up the steps and into the hall. A footman, carrying a tray, was crossing it. White-faced, Roger shouted at him:

^'Her Ladyship! Is she alive? Is she alive? '

The man nodded. ^' Yes, sir; but, alas, very low.'

^' Is Colonel Thursby here? '

^' Yes, sir. He is up in Her Ladyship's boudoir.*

Roger mounted the stairs three at a time and burst into the room. Georgina's father looked up with a start. He had been another father to Roger and Georgina was the greatest treasure in the world to both of them. Coming to his feet, the Colonel exclaimed:

^' Roger! Dear boy, how glad I am to see you. But you find us in dire distress.'

^' How is she? ' Roger gasped.

The Colonel shook his head. ^' Alas, we now have little hope for her. It was scarlet fever. But you must have heard. She caught it from the children. They, thank God, are-now fully recovered. But for an adult the disease is serious; or rather, its after-effects.'

^' May I see her? '

^' Yes. But she will not recognize you. She is in a coma.'

They went next door, into the big bedroom. Georgina was lying in her great canopied bed, pale as a corpse. Jenny, her faithful maid, her eyes red with weeping, was sitting beside her. Turning down the sheet, Roger took Georgina's wrist and felt her pulse. Looking across at the Colonel, he groaned, ^' It hardly beats.'

Tears welled up into the Colonel's tired eyes. ^'1 know it. I fear she is sinking fast.'

^' She is so deathly pale,' Roger murmured. ^' Did they purge and bleed her? They must have, for her vitality to be so low.'

^' Yes. They did it to reduce the fever. It is the usual practice, as you must know.'

^' Then the fools bled her too much,' cried Roger furiously. ^' It is lack of blood from which she is dying. Upon what are you feeding her? '

^' A little milk is all that she can take.'

With an impatient shake of his head, Roger cried, ^' Tis not milk she needs but iron.'

^' Iron? ' repeated the Colonel, with a puzzled look.'

^' Yes. While on my travels I learned that iron is the sovereign remedy for loss of blood. In many aspects of medicine, the peoples of the East are more knowledgeable than ourselves; for among them the learning of the ancient Greeks has not been smothered by Christian taboos and monkish superstition. When I was residing in Alexandria with the Greek banker Sarodopulous, one of his servants attempted to commit suicide by cutting her wrists with a knife. Before she was found and her wounds bound up, she had lost so much blood that she certainly would have died had they not promptly forced her to swallow all the iron she could stomach.'

^' But, my dear boy, one can neither eat nor drink iron. How is it possible to administer it to a patient? '

^' I'll show you. But let's not waste a moment.' Roger turned to Jenny. ^' Quick. Run downstairs. Get me a bottle of Claret and a large pewter mug.'

As Jenny ran from Jhe room, Roger said to the Colonel, ^' The Greeks heat an old sword or dagger in the fire until it is red hot, then plunge it into the wine. Among the ignorant, this practice has come to be regarded as magic, owing to the symbolical union of virtue and strength giving the potion life-saving properties; but in fact it is the essence of the iron entering the wine that fortifies the body and makes new blood. To use a weapon is unnecessary. Any piece of iron that has a roughened surface will serve our purpose.'

Crossing the room, Roger seized the poker and thrust it into the heart of the glowing log fire.

A few minutes later Jenny came bustling in with a pint tankard already filled with Claret. Impatiently they waited until the end of the poker was red hot, then Roger took it from the fire and plunged it into the wine. The liquid hissed and bubbled fiercely. When it had settled down, he withdrew the poker and put it back into the fire until it was again red hot. Three times he repeated the process, then with a spoon tasted the mulled wine to test its heat. Satisfied that if each spoonful was first blown upon it would not burn Georgina's mouth, he carried the tankard over to her bedside and, while Jenny held her mistress's head, he carefully fed a dozen spoonsful between her pale lips.

When they had done, Roger said to the Colonel, ^'1 have come at all speed from Paris and am near the end of my tether. If I do not get to bed soon I'll drop; so I pray you to excuse me. As you have seen, the preparation of the potion presents no difficulty. I'll leave you to give Georgina a further dozen spoonsful of a new brew every hour, then, when I am restored by a few hours' sleep, I will rejoin you.'

Jenny gave him a pale smile. ^' Seeing how fatigued you looked on your arrival, sir, when I went downstairs for the wine I told them to get your usual room ready at once. By now there should be a fire lit there and a warming pan in the bed.'

⁶ Bless you for a good, thoughtful girl, Jenny,' Roger smiled back. Then he left them, crossed Georgina's boudoir to the bedroom beyond it, struggled out of his clothes and at last relaxed between the warm sheets.

For the next five hours he lay as though dead himself, then he was roused by Colonel Thursby, who said, ^' The doctor is here, Roger, and I have told him about the method by which we are endeavouring to save our dear Georgina. I woke you only because I felt you might wish to discuss her condition with him.'

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Roger murmured, ^'1 see nothing to discuss; but I welcome the opportunity to tell him that if she dies it will be through his excessive application of leeches, and for that I'll kill him.'

^' Nay,' the Colonel shook his head. ^' Be not too hard upon him, Roger. He is a very decent man and has done only what any other practitioner would have done in a case where it was necessary to bring down a high fever. Moreover, he takes no umbrage, as many others would have done, at you, a layman, having arbitrarily decreed a treatment of your own for his patient. Indeed, he expressed interest in your belief in the efficacy of iron to make blood.'

Slipping on a chamber robe that had been brought to him, Roger accompanied the Colonel into Georgina's bedroom and greeted the doctor with restrained civility. Together they looked down on the still figure in the great bed. Georgina showed no sign of life and no stranger, seeing her now, would have believed that only a few weeks ago her face had been richly coloured and radiant with beauty. There were deep shadows under her closed eyes, her once-pink cheeks had fallen in and their flesh had taken on a transparent hue, her lips had a bluish tinge and, already, she had the appearance of one dead.

In vain Roger searched her features for some slight indication that his remedy had bettered her condition, but, if anything, they seemed more drawn and lifeless than when he had arrived at her bedside that morning. The doctor said in a low voice:

^' Mr. Brook, as I have already told Colonel Thursby, I can give you little hope; and there is nothing more that I can do for Her Ladyship. Were she in a better state I would take exception to your most unorthodox conduct in treating her without consulting me. As things are, I can only regret that she shows no signs of responding to your remedy. I fear you must now prepare for the worst; for I doubt her living out the night.'

* I'll not yet despair,' declared Roger hoarsely. ^' It may be that the iron needs longer to be absorbed into her system. She is as healthy a woman as any I have ever known. She has sustained no injury and is sound in every other part. 'Tis only blood she needs and iron can give it her. Of that I am convinced.'

The doctor nodded. ^' You may be right, sir. I recall a patient of mine who had travelled in the distant East once telling me that the Japanese use iron filings to cure serious cases of anaemia. At the time I doubted such a thing being possible, but . . .'

Roger swung round upon him. ^'Iron filings! How did they enable the patient to swallow them? '

^' The iron was ground very fine, almost to a powder, then dissolved by stewing with acid fruit and administered to the patient in the form of a puree.'

^' We'll give her that too, then. The acid, of course, would act upon the iron. Apple should serve for that.'

Colonel Thursby took Jenny by the arm. ^' Off with you, Jenny, to the apple store. Pick out some sound cookers and take them to the kitchen. I'll go to the stables and have our farrier grind down one end of a new horse-shoe.'

It was then decided that every hour Georgina should be given a few spoonsful of the ironized wine and the ironized apple purde alternately and, should it appear that her heart was giving out, a few sips of champagne to reanimate it. The doctor administered to her the first spoonful of the apple puree and swallowing it had the effect of temporarily bringing her out of her coma. For a moment they feared that she was going to sick it up but she kept it down, then relapsed into her previous inertia, except for a low, hesitant breathing.

The two days that followed were filled with hopes and fears. During the first night Roger remained beside Georgina. He did not close his eyes but sat watching the firelight flickering on the ceiling as he listened in the heavy silence to the faint whispering of her breath. It was so light that on three occasions he thought it had stopped and, in a panic, hurriedly forced a few swallows of champagne between her pale lips. But when morning came, they were granted a ray of hope, for they all agreed that there was a very slight colour in her sunken cheeks.

Jenny had also been up for a good part of the night, while Colonel Thursby dozed next door in the boudoir; but in the morning he took over while Roger slept. That evening all three of them were sitting near Georgina's bed when, to their joy, she opened her eyes.

When Roger bent over her, she recognized him, but was not fully conscious. From her whispered words, they gathered that she believed herself to be dead, that Roger had died somewhere abroad before her and, as they had always promised, the first to go should be there to welcome the other.

During the second night, her breathing was easier and she was able to swallow larger doses of the mulled wine and apple puree. On the second day she was obviously stronger and, when awake, hovered in a land halfway between reality and dreams, often murmuring endearments to Roger. But when evening came her temperature rose and she became delirious. Throughout that night, while Georgina tossed and turned and raved, they spent some terribly anxious hours, but at about four o'clock in the morning she again appeared to fall into a coma and, as Roger had to leave that morning, the 31st, for London, Colonel Thursby persuaded him to go to bed.

As soon as he woke, he went in to her again, to find her sleeping; but the doctor, who had arrived on his morning visit, said that all hopes for her recovery now depended entirely on her not having another relapse, for her powers of resistance were still so low that she would die of it from sheer exhaustion.

At ten o'clock she was still asleep and Roger had to tear himself away from her bedside to set out for London. His sleep and a good breakfast had restored his strength to some extent, but the events of the past week had put so great a strain upon him that he was far from being himself; so, still a prey to acute anxiety, he decided that, instead of riding, he would drive up in Colonel Thursby's coach.

When he arrived at the Foreign Office, there was a message for him that he was to go to No. 10 Downing Street at four o'clock. It was cold and miserable and he had two hours to kill. First he went to Amesbury House in Arlington Street, but his old friend ' Droopy Ned' was not at home. Feeling that he could not face talking to people at his club, instead of going to White's he had a meal in a chop-house. He then spent three-quarters of an hour in Westminster Abbey, praying that Georgina might live.

At four o'clock he was shown up to the Prime Minister's room on the first floor of No. 10. Tall, lean, grey, his face more lined than ever with care, Mr. Pitt was sitting at his desk. Lord Grenville was with him. As Roger entered they both rose and shook him warmly by the hand then, waving him to a chair, the Prime Minister said:

'You have been long away, Mr. Brook, but far from idle as we know. Admiral Nelson wrote twice, commending you most highly for having obtained two of General Bonaparte's despatches for him, and the detailed report of the situation in Egypt that you sent back to me has proved most valuable. But clearly you have been anything but successful in carrying out my wish with regard to Bonaparte. It seems that the cards were stacked against you, and that you might bring about his ruin was too much to expect. At all events he is now firmly in the saddle.'

Roger frowned. ^' You surprise me, sir, in harking back to that.' ^' Why should I not, seeing that the man has just achieved a position in which he has the power to do this country far greater damage than before? '

'The power, yes; but . . . sir, I do not understand. Your instructions were given to me near two years ago. Since then there have been new developments. The situation has become entirely different. I have never yet deceived you about anything, and I will now admit that I aided General Bonaparte to become First Consul.'

'You . . . you mean to tell me that you deliberately acted contrary to my orders? '

'I did,' replied Roger firmly. 'As an Englishman, watching Britain's interests in a foreign land, I have, in the past, more than once used my own judgement. In this case I did so again. In other matters I have been proved wrong. This time what possible grounds can you advance for bringing my judgment into question? But for General Bonaparte's having become First Consul, with M. de Talleyrand as his Foreign Minister, the letters I delivered to my Lord Grenville three days ago would never have been penned. They offer Peace, sir. Peace after eight years of war! And no other Government in France would ever have made this blessed overture to us.'

Mr. Pitt tapped a paper lying in front of him, then put his fingertips together. 'You refer, Mr. Brook, to this letter. That you should have succeeded in having yourself appointed Envoye Extraordinaire to bring it to London fills me with amazement and admiration. But we have had to bear in mind the man by whom it was written. It is clear to me that you have fallen under his spell. Therefore I attach no blame to you for having become one of his partisans. But we, here in London, judge him by his deeds. He is a proved liar, an atheist, a thief, a blackguard of the meanest order. What faith could His Majesty's Government put in protestations of such a man? I am convinced he has sent this letter only to trick us.'

'Then you are wrong! Wrong, utterly wrong! ' Roger burst out. ^'1 know that he started life as a revolutionary. He may be all you say. But he has other qualities. He is above politics and has only the welfare of France at heart. Apart from a handful of Jacobins, everyone in France longs for peace. General Bonaparte knows that and his most earnest wish is to give it to them. M. de Talleyrand, whom I know well, has ever maintained that no lasting prosperity can come to Britain and France unless they make an accommodation over their differences.'

^' Talleyrand,' Grenville cut in. ^' That revolting ex-priest, who would sell his own mother for a guinea! His corruption and immortality stink in the nostrils of the whole world.'

^' By God, m'Lord, I resent your assessment of him,' Roger cried angrily. ^' His morals I'll not seek to defend, but I'd shed my own blood in defence of my opinion that he is the friend of England.'

'Enough, Mr. Brook! ' the Prime Minister broke in. ^'It is understandable that you should have conceived a personal attachment to these people while so long resident in France. The standards there are very different from our own. But we must view this matter objectively and, sorry as I am to disappoint you, I fear that the answer you must carry back to France will not please the friends that you have made there.'

'What!' Roger exclaimed, aghast. 'Can you possibly mean that you are unwilling to enter into negotiations? '

Grenville had taken a paper from his pocket and he said, 'Here is the answer to Bonaparte's letter which we wish you to carry back.' Then he read:

Lord Grenville in reply to the Minister of Foreign Relations in

Paris.

Sir,

/ have read and laid before the King the two letters you have transmitted to me; and His Majesty, seeing no reason to depart from those forms which have long been established in Europe for transacting business with foreign States, has commanded me to return, in his name, the official answer which I send you herewith enclosed.

Then he added, 'The answer is, of course, that Talleyrand's memorandum of basic requirements is not one upon which we should be prepared to treat.'

^' Depart from forms long established! ' Roger quoted angrily. ^'Sir! My Lord! Can you not realize that we have entered a new age. What matter forms if only we can prevent the war going on and save the lives of a million men? I beg you! I beg you on my knees to reconsider this.'

Mr. Pitt shook his head. ^' Nay, Mr. Brook. I realize that your intentions are of the best; but reconsideration is out of the question. His Majesty and the Cabinet are agreed that we might have given the Corsican upstart a chance to prove his sincerity, but for one stipulation. In Talleyrand's memorandum it is stated clearly that France could not agree to King Charles Emmanuel's receiving back his Piedmontese dominions, whereas we have promised to restore him to his throne in Turin.'

^' What! ' Roger exclaimed, ^' and he not even Britain's ally in an effective sense! Can you possibly mean that to restore this petty Italian Prince you would deny Peace to the whole of Europe? '

The Prime Minister drew himself up and said haughtily, ^' Mr. Brook, you know well that I have ever desired Peace with my whole heart. But the honour of our country must come before all other consideration, and it is pledged to King Charles Emmanuel.'

^' Just as it was pledged to Austria about the restoration of her Belgian lands,' Roger said with an angry sneer. ^' Had you been willing three years ago to let the French continue in occupation of them, we could have had Peace then. But, no! And with what result A year later, the Austrians went behind your back and gave them up in exchange for the territories of Venice.'

^' Mr. Brook, you forget yourself. . .

^'1 forget nothing,' stormed Roger, getting to his feet. ^' As a free Englishman, I'll say my mind to you. Charles Emmanuel still has his island of Sardinia. Let him be content with that rather than that another ocean of British blood should flow to get him back his city of Turin. In your blindness to all that really matters you are rejecting an honest offer. Whatever Bonaparte's past misdeeds, by his sincerity in this he puts you to shame.'

The two statesmen stared at him in awed silence for a moment, then the Prime Minister said, ^' Mr. Brook, you look far from well and I judge you to be overwrought. The decision of His Majesty's Government is unalterable and, when you have had a few days in which to recover, in duty bound, as Envoye Extraordinaire of the First Consul, you must carry our answer back to him. In the meantime, we are not unappre-ciative of the great services you rendered Admiral Nelson, so my Lord Grenville will send to your bank an order for three thousand pounds on the secret funds.'

^'1 thank you, sir,' retorted Roger sharply, ^' but I am not in need of money. Let His Lordship send that sum to Greenwich that it may be used for the relief of our seamen wounded in this war which you have decreed must continue.' Then, white-faced and shaking, he strode from the room.

Outside it had commenced to snow. From the Bait and Livery Stable, where he had left Colonel Thursby's coach, Roger picked it up and set out on the drive back to Stillwaters. It was bitterly cold, pitch dark and the horses had already done twenty-five miles; so the pace was slow. He did not arrive until a little before ten o'clock, but when he hurried in good news awaited him.

After her sleep that morning, Georgina had shown a marked improvement. She had become fully conscious and had talked with her father that afternoon, although in the evening she had become fretful and every few moments asked for Roger.

Still shivering, he changed out of his clothes then drank a hot posset that was brought to him. When he went into Georgina he saw that her eyes were open and she smiled at him. Taking her hand he sat down beside her, rejoicing at the much stronger colour now in her cheeks, but he would not let her talk.

After they had sat like that for a long while, he said, ^' You must have your mulled wine now. It is already past the time when you should have gone to sleep.'

^' My wine,' she whispered. ^' Yes. . . . But don't leave me, Roger. Don't leave me. I'd not be alive were it not for you. Lie down here beside me.'

^' Oh, my beloved beyond all beloveds,' he whispered back and kissed her gently on the brow.

The old century was ending. From the nearby village the church bells, ushering in the year 1800, came clearly on the winter air. Through the bitter prejudice of British statesmen the terrible war, bringing death and misery to every part of Europe, was destined to continue for another fifteen years. But the French Revolution had ended, so better things might be hoped for France and, perhaps, in time, for Britain too. As the New Year came in, Georgina slept peacefully with her head on Roger's shoulder.

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