"I don't want HIS crown.
I want my own. It shall never be said that I robbed a poor fellow
out of work of his hat."
Settled once more upon his imperial throne, the main question which
had previously agitated the Emperor and his advisers, and
particularly his stage-manager, Fouche, whom he now restored to his
old office, came up once more. "What next?" and it was harder to
answer than ever, for Bonaparte's mind was no longer alert. He was
listless and given to delay, and, worst of all, invariably sleepy.
It was evident that Elba had not proved as restful as had been hoped.
"You should not have returned," said Fouche, firmly. "America was
the field for you. That's where all great actors go sooner or later,
and they make fortunes. A season in New York would have made you a
new man. As it is you are an old man. It seems to me that if an
Irishman can leave Queenstown with nothing but his brogue and the
clothes on his back and become an alderman of New York or Chicago
inside of two years, you with all the advertising you've had ought to
be able to get into Congress anyhow--you've got money enough for the
Senate."
"But they are not my children, those Americans," remonstrated
Napoleon, rubbing his eyes sleepily.
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