revolted at the internecine strife
which drained the life-blood of the nation and rent its bowels. It was
a case in which, to his thinking, negotiation should be substituted for
war. But how negotiate with a man like Cadoudal?

Bonaparte was not unaware of his own personal seductions when he chose
to exercise them. He resolved to see Cadoudal, and without saying
anything on the subject to Roland, he intended to make use of him for
the interview when the time came. In the meantime he wanted to see if
Brune, in whose talent he had great confidence, would be more successful
than his predecessors.

He dismissed Roland, after telling him of his mother's arrival and her
installation in the little house in the Rue de la Victoire.

Roland sprang into a coach and was driven there at once. He found Madame
de Montrevel as happy and as proud as a woman and a mother could be.
Edouard had gone, the day before, to the Prytanee Francais, and she
herself was preparing to return to Amelie, whose health continued to
give her much anxiety.

As for Sir John, he was not only out of danger, but almost well again.
He was in Paris, had called upon Madame de Montrevel, and, finding that
she had gone with Edouard to the Prytanee, he had left his card. It bore
his address, Hotel Mirabeau, Rue de Richelieu.

It was eleven o'clock, Sir John's breakfast hour, and Roland had every
chance of finding him at that hour. He got back into his carriage, and
ordered the coachman to stop at the Hotel Mirabeau.

He found Sir John sitting before an English breakfast, a thing rarely
seen in those days, drinking large cups of tea and eating bloody chops.

As soon as the Englishman saw Roland he gave a cry of joy and ran
to meet him. Roland himself had acquired a deep affection for that
exceptional nature, where the noblest qualities of the heart seemed
striving to hide themselves beneath national eccentricities.

Sir John was pale and thin, but in other respects he was well. His wound
had completely healed, and except for a slight oppression, which was
diminishing daily and would soon disappear altogether, he had almost
recovered his former health. He now welcomed Roland with a tenderness
scarcely to be expected from that reserved nature, declaring that the
joy he felt in seeing him again was all he wanted for his complete
recovery.

He begged Roland to share the meal, telling him to order his own
breakfast, a la Francaise. Roland accepted. Like all sol