His quivering features were
expressive of alarm; ruin sat enthroned on his forehead, covered
with perspiration. By his side sat Caulaincourt; behind him,
Berthier and Flahault. The carriage thundered along at the utmost
speed. "Caulaincourt, I shall arrive at Paris in time," murmured the
emperor; "we are already at Fromenteau; in an hour we shall be
there. The watch-fires of the enemy are seen on the opposite bank of
the Seine. Ah, I shall extinguish them; to-morrow night the enemy
will not be so near.--But what is that? Do you hear nothing? Have
the carriage stopped!"
Berthier shouted to the driver--the carriage stopped. They all heard
a sort of hollow noise.
"It is a squad of cavalry riding along this road," whispered
Caulaincourt.
"It is artillery," murmured Napoleon. "Forward! They can only be our
own men. But why are they retreating from Paris? Forward!"
The carriage rolled on. And from the other side of the road a dark
mass, with a rumbling noise, moved toward them. Napoleon was not
mistaken, nor was Caulaincourt mistaken.
"Who is there?" shouted the emperor to the horsemen at the head of
the column. "Halt!"
"It is the emperor!" cried a voice, in amazement, and a horseman
dismounting in a moment approached the carriage.
"It is General Belliard," exclaimed the emperor, and alighted
hastily from his carriage.
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