isome enough to
have to live." And the young man enforced his favorite aphorism with a
long yawn; then he added: "Do you think there will be any sword play?"

"Probably."

"Then there will be a chance of getting killed; that's all I want. Where
is the general?"

"With Madame Bonaparte. He went to her about fifteen minutes ago. Have
you let him know you are here?"

"No, I wanted to see you first. But I hear his step now."

Just then the door was opened abruptly, and the same historical
personage whom we saw playing a silent part incognito at Avignon
appeared on the threshold, in the picturesque uniform of the
general-in-chief of the army of Egypt, except that, being in his own
house, he was bare-headed. Roland thought his eyes were more hollow and
his skin more leaden than usual. But the moment he saw the young man,
Bonaparte's gloomy, or rather meditative, eye emitted a flash of joy.

"Ah, here you are, Roland!" he said. "True as steel! Called, you come.
Welcome, my dear fellow." And he offered Roland his hand. Then he asked,
with an imperceptible smile, "What were you doing with Bourrienne?"

"Waiting for you, general."

"And in the meantime gossiping like two old women."

"I admit it, general. I was showing him my order to be here on the 16th
Brumaire."

"Did I write the 16th or the 17th?"

"Oh! the 16th, general. The 17th would have been too late."

"Why too late?"

"Why, hang it, Bourrienne says there are to be great doings here on the
18th."

"Capital," muttered Bourrienne; "the scatter-brain will earn me a
wigging."

"Ah! So he told you I had planned great doings for the 18th?"
Then, approaching Bourrienne, Bonaparte pinched his ear, and said,
"Tell-tale!" Then to Roland he added: "Well, it is so, my dear fellow,
we have made great plans for the 18th. My wife and I dine with President
Gohier; an excellent man, who was very polite to Josephine during my
absence. You are to dine with us, Roland."

Roland looked at Bonaparte. "Was it for that you brought me here,
general?" he asked, laughing.

"For that, and something else, too, perhaps. Bourrienne, write--"

Bourrienne hastily seized his pen.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes, general."

"'My dear President, I write to let you know that my wife and I, with
one of my aides-de-camp, will dine with you the day after to-morrow.
This is merely to say that we shall be quite satisfied with a family
dinner.'"

"What next?"

"How do you mean?"

"Shal