he failure of all
conspiracies attempted within the borders of France, was now arming
all Europe against their common enemy. The disaster at Trafalgar
had overthrown one of the most amazing plans which human genius ever
conceived; by which, if it had succeeded, the Emperor would have paid
the nation for his election by the ruin of the British power. The camp
at Boulogne had just been raised. Napoleon, whose solders were, as
always, inferior in numbers to the enemy, was about to carry the war
into parts of Europe where he had not before waged it. The whole world
was breathless, awaiting the results of the campaign.

"He'll surely be defeated this time," said Robert, laying down the
paper.

"The armies of Austria and of Russia are before him," said Marie-Paul.

"He has never fought in Germany," added Paul-Marie.

"Of whom are you speaking?" asked Laurence.

"The Emperor," answered the three gentlemen.

The jealous girl threw a disdainful look at her twin lovers, which
humiliated them while it rejoiced the heart of Adrien, who made a
gesture of admiration and gave her one proud look, which said plainly
that _he_ thought only of her,--of Laurence.

"I told you," said the abbe in a low voice, "that love would some day
cause her to forget her animosity."

It was the first, last, and only reproach the brothers ever received
from her; but certainly at that moment their love, which could still be
distracted by national events, was inferior to that of Laurence, which,
absorbed her mind so completely that she only knew of the amazing
triumph at Austerlitz by overhearing a discussion between Monsieur
d'Hauteserre and his sons.

Faithful to his ideas of submission, the old man wished both Robert and
Adrien to re-enter the French army and apply for service; they could,
he thought, be reinstated in their rank and soon find an opening
to military honors. But royalist opinions were now all-powerful at
Cinq-Cygne. The four young men and Laurence laughed at their prudent
elder, who seemed to foresee a coming evil. Possibly, prudence is less
virtue than the exercise of some instinct, or _sense_ of the mind (if it
is allowable to couple those two words). A day will come, no doubt, when
physiologists and philosophers will both admit that the senses are, in
some way, the sheath or vehicle of a keen and penetrative active power
which issues from the mind.

CHAPTER XI. WISE COUNSEL

After peace was concluded between France a