"Oh," murmured the queen when another rattle of musketry rent the
air, "why does not a bullet strike my heart!"
"Father in heaven, and all saints, have mercy on us!" prayed the
princess.
"Grant victory to the great and noble Emperor Napoleon, my God!"
sighed the king. "I love him as a father, and he has always treated
me with the love of a son. I have remained faithful to him when all
the others betrayed him. Punish not my constancy, therefore, my Lord
and God; grant victory to Napoleon, that happiness may be restored
to me!"
A cry burst from the lips of the queen, and she started up from her
seat. "The emperor!" she cried, looking toward the door.
Yes, in the open door that form in the gray, buttoned-up overcoat,
with the small hat, and pale, stony face, was the Emperor
Napoleon's. "I come to bid you farewell," he said, stepping slowly
and calmly to the king.
"Farewell!" groaned Frederick Augustus, sinking back. "All is lost,
then!"
"No, not all, sire," said Napoleon, solemnly. "We have lost a
battle, but not our honor. The fortune of battles is fickle. After
twenty years of victory, it has this time declared against me. But
honor remains to me. I have, for four days, held out against an army
three times as large as mine in troops, as well as in artillery, and
they have not overpowered me. I have voluntarily evacuated the
battle-field, not in a wild flight as did the Prussians at Jena, and
the Austrians at Austerlitz.
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