Turn back, Bonaparte, if you
intend to be saved, for ruin awaits you on the battle-fields of
Russia! Turn back, for the souls of your victims cry to God for
vengeance, and demand your blood for theirs--your punishment for the
ruthlessly destroyed happiness of whole nations! Bonaparte, escape
from the soil of Germany, and dare no longer to set foot upon it,
for disgraceful defeats are in store for you! Return to France, and
endeavor to conciliate those who are cursing you as a perjurer and
renegade!"
"Who are they who dare call me a perjurer and renegade?" asked
Napoleon, hastily.
"Who are they?" repeated the spectre, advancing a step toward the
emperor and fixing her menacing eyes upon him. "The men to whom you
once vowed eternal fidelity, and whom you called your brethren--
Philadelphians!"
The emperor started in terror, and his cheeks turned livid. His
features, which had hitherto had a sneering, scornful air, were now
gloomy, and he stared with an expression of undisguised fear at the
lady who stood before him in an imposing attitude, with her arm
lifted in a menacing manner.
"The Philadelphians?" asked Napoleon, timidly. "I do not know them."
"You do!" said the spectre, solemnly. "You do know that the
invisible ones are watching you, and will punish you because you
have broken your oath!"
"I know of no oath!"
"Woe to you if you have forgotten it.
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