4o8 
THE STRAND MAGAZINE. 
A hard word hissed between Napoleon's 
lips. He was indeed being told what neither 
he nor his much- vaunted secret police had 
been able to find out. The proclamation had 
such an effect that the Imperial throne had 
seemed to rock under the storm it produced. 
Napoleon had felt the oscillation. Though 
it was some years ago, he could still remember 
the shock, 
and a woman, 
a young 
woman . had 
done this. 
N a p ole on 
gazed at 
Marie - Claire 
stupefied. He 
g I a n c e d 
round the 
cottage as 
though he 
expected con- 
spirators to 
spring out of 
every corner, 
as if he ex- 
pected the 
white walls 
suddenly to 
be cov er ed 
with the writ- 
ing of accu- 
sation. He 
looked at the 
deal table, he 
looked at the 
poor orna- 
ments on the 
mantel - shelf 
as if they 
also m i g h t 
have some 
thing to say 
to him and to 
h i s continu- 
ance on the 
throne. A 
moment later 
lie recovered 
himself. “ Colonel/ 5 he cried to the man who 
commanded the troops in St. Jean Pied de 
Port, “ place a guard about this woman. 5 ’ 
And the* Sergeant Vachoux, your 
Majesty ? ” demanded Maxi e-Claire, even at 
this critical juncture. 
Napoleon kept his eyes fixed on her. He 
watched a soldier step to either side of her. 
He saw her look straight back into his face, 
lie knew' that though she realized she was 
in his power, that though she was well aware 
that if she were put on trial it would be 
before a tribunal who knew exactly when 
they were to acquit and when they were to 
condemn, that Marie- Claire was appealing 
to him not for herself, but far a blind, crippled 
old soldier. 
The Emperor thrust his hands behind his 
back. He 
turned about. 
Perhaps he 
knew all along 
what he meant 
to do; perhaps 
it was just a 
chance, one of 
those chances 
which change 
the whole 
course of life. 
J osephine, 
who rarely 
went on foot 
farther t h a n 
her conserva- 
tories and the 
shade of a 
favourite tree, 
had been taken 
with the whim 
to walk up the 
street of St. 
Jean Pied de 
Port. She 
was at the 
door of the 
H 6 t e 1 de 
France, her 
ladies were 
behind her. 
Madame the 
wife of the 
Prefet w a s 
prepared to 
point out the 
features of 
the town ; 
Madame the 
wife of the 
Colonel was sure that the direction of the 
Imperial footsteps was her due. 
The women, the children, crowded about 
the tall, graceful woman. With a gesture 
which told its tale of heartache, of longing, 
the Empress took a chubby baby into her 
arms, and kissed it. u Ah ! le brave petit 
homme ! ” she murmured. 
Then the cheering broke out in St. Jean 
Pied de Port. The spontaneous, joyful 
