"Well,"
both of them asked eagerly, "were your representations successful?
Will the emperor, at the eleventh hour, make peace?"
Narbonne shook his head sadly. "It was all in vain," he replied. "He
wishes war, and you do not even dream how far he means to carry it.
When listening to him, one believes him to be either a demigod, to
whom temples should be built, or a lunatic, who should be sent to
Bedlam!" [Footnote: Count Louis de Narbonne's own words.--Vide
"Souvenir," vol. i.]
THE LAST DAYS OF 1812
CHAPTER VII.
THE CONSPIRATORS OF HELGOLAND.
The storm was howling over the ocean, revealing its depths, and
hurling its foaming waves to the sky. They dashed wildly against
yonder lofty rock that calmly overlooked the anger of the tempest.
It was the rock of Helgoland. In times of old, it towered even more
proudly above the unruly element surrounding it. It was then a
terror to seafaring nations, and when the ships of the rich
merchants of Hamburg, Bremen, Holland, and Denmark, passed it at as
great a distance as possible, the masters made the sign of the
cross, and prayed God would deliver them from this imminent danger.
In ancient days Helgoland was ten times larger than it its now, and
on this old rocky island, which had been the last aslyum of the gods
of northern paganism, lived a warlike people, who knew no other laws
than those, of their own will, no other toil than piracy, and who
submitted to no other master than the chieftain chosen from among
their most colossal fellows.
Pages:
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132