e Republic, and placed himself
at my disposal, to do what I wished, assume any role I might assign him,
begging me to promise that if I had any plan in my head I would count on
him--yes, on him; and he would be true to the crack of doom."

"And yet," said Talleyrand, unable to resist a play upon words, "doom is
not a word with which to conjure liberty."

Bonaparte glanced at the ex-bishop.

"Yes, I know that Barras is your friend, the friend of Fouche and Real;
but he is not mine, and I shall prove it to him. Go back to Lebrun and
Cambaceres, Bruix, and let them make their own bargain." Then, looking
at his watch and frowning, he added: "It seems to me that Moreau keeps
us waiting."

So saying, he turned to the group which surrounded Talma. The two
diplomatists watched him. Then Admiral Bruix asked in a low voice:
"What do you say, my dear Maurice, to such sentiments toward the man who
picked him out, a mere lieutenant, at the siege of Toulon, who trusted
him to defend the Convention on the 13th Vendemiaire, and who named him,
when only twenty-six, General-in-Chief of the Army in Italy?"

"I say, my dear admiral," replied M. de Talleyrand, with his pallid
mocking smile, "that some services are so great that ingratitude alone
can repay them."

At that moment the door opened and General Moreau was announced. At this
announcement, which was more than a piece of news--it was a surprise
to most of those present--every eye was turned toward the door. Moreau
appeared.

At this period three men were in the eyes of France. Moreau was one of
these three men. The two others were Bonaparte and Pichegru. Each had
become a sort of symbol. Since the 18th Fructidor, Pichegru had become
the symbol of monarchy; Moreau, since he had been christened Fabius,
was the symbol of the Republic; Bonaparte, symbol of war, dominated them
both by the adventurous aspect of his genius.

Moreau was at that time in the full strength of his age; we would
say the full strength of his genius, if decision were not one of the
characteristics of genius. But no one was ever more undecided than the
famous cunctator. He was thirty-six years old, tall, with a sweet, calm,
firm countenance, and must have resembled Xenophon.

Bonaparte had never seen him, nor had he, on his side, ever seen
Bonaparte. While the one was battling on the Adige and the Mincio, the
other fought beside the Danube and the Rhine. Bonaparte came forward to
greet him, saying: "You