The victory of Lutzen cost me
Bessieres; that of Bautzen, Duroc. It was a heavy sacrifice, Maret;
my heart is still bleeding in consequence of it, and this wound will
never heal."
Maret made no reply, but turned his head aside, and his face had a
strange expression of uneasiness and embarrassment.
Napoleon noticed it, and slightly shrugged his shoulders. "You think
that I grow sentimental, duke," he said, rudely, "and you mean that
my long military experience should have rendered me insensible to
such accidents. You are right; let us refer to them no more. Let us
rather read what the courier has brought."
He stretched out his hand for the other letters, and took up the
first one without looking at it. When he saw the superscription, his
face brightened, and, fixing a quick, reproachful glance upon Maret,
he said: "Fate is less rigorous than you are, Maret. It reminds me
that faithful friends still remain, and that all the companions of
my youth are not yet dead. There is a letter from Junot! He is one
of my faithful friends!" Opening it, he read hastily, and his face
darkened. "Maret," he cried, in an angry voice, "read--see what
Junot dares write to me!" He handed the letter to Maret. "Read it
aloud," he cried, "otherwise I shall be afraid lest my eyes deceive
me, and I mistake his words. Not the commencement, but the last page
is what I want to hear.
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