I have had it surrounded by agents of the secret
police, with orders to arrest him on his return. He will, of course,
not return, and it will be easier to assume the appearance that he
received an intimation of his peril and escaped in season. But here
we are before my door, and if you will draw the thick veil which
happily you have fastened to your bonnet, carefully before your
face, I hope that no one will see that the most beautiful lady in
Paris honors my house with her distinguished presence."
Josephine made no reply to this flattery, but drew the black lace
veil closely over her face, and hastened to leave the fiacre, and
entered the house.
"Fouche," she whispered, as she ascended the staircase, "my heart
beats as violently as it did when I drove to the Tuileries to be
presented to Marie Antoinette. It was the first time that I spoke
with the Queen of France."
"And now, madame," said Fouche, with a smile, "you will speak with
the last King of France."
"Does he know who I am?"
"No, madame; I have left it to you to inform him. Here we are at the
saloon--he is within!"
"Wait only a moment, Fouche. I must collect myself. My heart beats
dreadfully. Now, now you may open the door!"
They entered the little saloon. Josephine stood still near the door,
and while she hastily removed her bonnet and the thick veil and
handed them to Fouche, her large, brilliant, brown eyes were turned
to the young man who stood in the window-niche, his hands calmly
folded over his breast.
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