"It is also with regret that I have to tell you," returned the aide,
"that the Royal Guard has gone over to the enemy, having been
promised higher wages."
"We have Cerberus left," cried Apollyon, "let him take this base
intruder and tear him limb from limb."
Napoleon burst out into a laugh. "You will excuse me, Your Majesty,"
he said. "But Cerberus is already fixed. We poisoned two of his
heads, and he is even now whining for his life with the third."
"Then am I undone," moaned Apollyon, covering his face with his
hands.
"You are," said Bonaparte, "but we'll tie you up again in short
order. We'll put you on one of your own gridirons and do you to a
turn."
Of course this was the end.
In three days Napoleon had made himself master of the kingdom, had
proclaimed the Empire with himself at its head. Apollyon was treated
with consideration. His life was spared, but he was shorn of his
power. Bonaparte sent him into exile at Paris, where, according to
report, he still lives.
"Now for a new coronation," said the victor. "Send for the pope."
"Not this tune!" cried Caesar with a laugh. "The popes have always
studiously avoided this place.
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