40 6 
THE STRAND MAGAZINE. 
“ Until ? ” wedged in the Emperor. 
“ Until to-day, Sire/ 1 rounded off Marie- 
Claire. 
Napoleon left her abruptly. He looked 
out through the open door. Josephine had 
gone to the Hotel de France, so there were 
fewer women about, but the men still lingered, 
and it was the men who counted in the 
Emperor's eyes. He looked along the line of 
them. They were all capable of bearing 
arms, they all had shouldered a musket, not 
once, but a dozen times. Yet not one of them 
had fought willingly for him (most of them had 
shown an astonishing ingenuity in eluding the 
conscription), much less had one of them left 
sight behind for him, been crippled for him. 
He swung back upon Marie-Claire. 
“ If I tell the Sergeant Vachoux/ 1 he asked, 
and he jerked his thumb towards the helpless 
figure in the chair, “ that you are in a dimity 
gow r n ? 71 
“ Then the Sergeant Vachoux will learn 
that Marie-Claire has deceived him, your 
Majesty. 11 
“ If I tell him that T never heard of his 
petition, much less answered it ? 11 
“ Then the Sergeant Vachoux will know 
again that I have deceived him, your Majesty. 11 
“ If I tell him that he is wearing his old 
uniform, that the gold lace is mohair ? 11 
“ Then, Sire/ 1 returned Marie-Claire, u the 
Sergeant Vachoux will realize that he has 
never been anything but a sergeant, that 
Marie-Claire sewed braid on his old tunic that 
he might be happy, that he might think day by 
day, as he lay helpless and in pain, of himself 
as a lieutenant, and of his Emperor and what 
his Emperor had done for him, that he might 
feel himself compensated even for the loss of 
his eyes and the loss of his leg. 11 
Napoleon heard, grunted. He looked out 
of the door again, saw once again the square 
shoulders that carried no musket for him. 
He bent towards Marie-Claire. 
“ You admit that you lied, mademoiselle ? 11 
he rapped out. 
“ Yes. your Majesty/ 1 affirmed Marie-Claire. 
“ I lied. 11 
The Emperor heard. Suddenly he laughed 
sardonically. 
“ And,” he demanded, “ was that the only 
lie that Marie-Claire, the sergeant; s adopted 
niece, told the old blind cripple whose house 
she shared ? 11 
There followed a moment’s pause. The 
sun was shining down the street ; the shadows 
from the two great plane trees patterned the 
gravel before the Hotel de France, the murmur 
of the swift stream came from the back of 
the hotel, the sign creaked steadily, monoto- 
nously. Above, the sky was blue ; away, 
the mountains showed lines of shadowy, soft 
grey ness. 
“ No/ 5 answered Marie-Claire. “ It was 
not the only lie I told.” 
“ And the other was ? 11 demanded the 
Emperor. 
The woman in the dimity gown waited 
again — seemed to consider. In a moment, 
instead of answering the man before who n 
most men and pretty well every woman held 
their tongues and trembled, this Sergeant 
Vachoux’s adopted niece asked a question in 
her turn. 
“ You will let him know ? 11 she asked, and 
a glance from her great eyes indicated the 
crippled man. 
The Emperor laughed grimly. 
“ Yes, mademoiselle, I will tell the sergeant.” 
“ And quench the light out of the life of a 
blind man, out of the life of a crippled man ? 1 
Marie-Claire went on. 
“ Even so/ 1 answered the master of Europe. 
“ I will do exactly what you describe so 
eloquently, mademoiselle.” 
“ You will do this to a poor old man who 
is loyal to your Majesty ? 51 
“ But who/ 1 thrust in Napoleon, brutally, 
“ being crippled, is of no further use to me.” 
He stepped back, folded his arms. 
Josephine would hardly have known him ; 
her ladies, to whom he permitted himself a 
long list of incivilities, would certainly not 
have known him. The Emperor was rarely 
patient with anyone, least of all with a woman. 
But this Marie-Claire, with her large eyes, 
with her grand air, with her shapely hands 
that no hard work could spoil, interested him. 
He knew what was unusually fine in a man, 
and sometimes he acknowledged it ; he had 
more rarely found the quality i i such women 
as he had been intimate with ; but when he 
saw it — and he saw it now — he was defer- 
ential to it as he was to no one, to nothing 
else. 
“ I say,” he repeated — and yet there was a 
change in his tone — “ that the Sergeant 
Vachoux, being crippled, is of no further use 
to me.” 
Marie-Claire threw back her head. 
“ Then, your Majesty,” she answered, her 
voice ringing clear, “ since you decide that I, a 
poor woman, of no account, will tell you how 
I came to St. Jean 1 ied de Port, will tell you 
who 1 am, perhaps/ 1 with a very fine smile, 
“ it may interest you to hear ; it may even 
be of moment, to you to hear. When I have 
told your Majesty a.l I have to tell, maybe 
