It was in the garden of the Tuileries,
and twenty-four battalions of the Old Guard filed past our great chief.
Some fool sent out a gamin dressed in regimentals in front of one of the
bands, and then--"
"Enough, General," said Valmond; "I understand. I will go down into the
village--eh, monsieur?" he added, turning to Parpon with impressive
consideration.
"Sire, there is one behind these mockers," answered the little man in a
low voice.
Valmond turned towards Madame Chalice. "I know my enemy, madame," he
said.
"Your enemy is not here," she rejoined kindly.
He stooped over her hand, and bowed Lagroin and Parpon to the door.
"Madame," he said, "I thank you. Will you accept a souvenir of him whom
we both love, martyr and friend of France?"
He drew from his breast a small painting of Napoleon, on ivory, and
handed it to her.
"It was the work of David," he continued. "You will find it well
authenticated. Look upon the back of it."
She looked, and her heart beat a little faster. "This was done when he
was alive?" she said.
"For the King of Rome," he answered. "Adieu, madame. Again I thank you,
for our cause as for myself."
He turned away. She let him get as far as the door. "Wait, wait!" she
said suddenly, a warm light in her face, for her imagination had been
touched. "Tell me, tell me the truth. Who are you? Are you really a
Napoleon? I can be a constant ally, but, I charge you, speak the truth
to me.
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