crowns on his head, and
even had the impudence of dividing my order of the Golden Fleece,
contrary to law, into three classes; he can never become a real emperor;
he must always remain the son of a Corsican lawyer."

"Whom the pope, however, has anointed and crowned emperor," said
Metternich, with a sneer.

"Yes, and, in return, this ungrateful fellow has deprived the holy
father of his throne, and imprisoned him! In short, I detest the
usurper. It always deeply pained me to hear of Bonaparte and his new
victories; and since I saw him on that day after the battle of
Austerlitz, he is more hateful to me than ever. Oh, how superciliously
this fellow then looked at me! He talked to me so haughtily that I felt
quite miserable, and did not know what to say. I shall never forgive M.
Bonaparte, and yet I am to allow him to become my son-in-law! I tell
you, Metternich, it will not do, for the end will be bad."

"But the commencement," said Metternich, smiling, "will be good for
Austria, and that is the chief point. We shall take care that the end
will not be bad for us either, and that Austria will not be the loser by
it."

"It is all right," said Francis, nodding, "but the mischief is, that
when the unhappy time comes, M. Bonaparte will be my son-in-law, and
that it may be necessary for me to support him and his cause."

"Your majesty," said Metternich, in a low voice, and glancing cautiously
over the room, "if you do not now hesitate to sacrifice your own child
for the welfare of your country, at a later time you will not shrink
from sacrificing your son-in-law. There are no relatives in politics;
Austria has no sisters and brothers, no daughters and sons-in-law; that
is what the august uncle of your majesty, the Emperor Joseph, often
said, and he was right."

"Yes, indeed, my great uncle Joseph was right," exclaimed the emperor,
laughing; "there are no sons-in-law in politics! Oh, it would do my
heart good if I could revenge myself one day on M. Bonaparte for all the
humiliations that I have to bear now."

"Your majesty," said Metternich, in a lower voice than before, "there is
an excellent Italian proverb, 'Revenge must be eaten cold.' Your majesty
knows it?"

"Of course I do," whispered the emperor. "I know it, and shall surely
remember it. 'Revenge must be eaten cold;' he who wants to eat it hot,
will burn his tongue. Let us wait, therefore."

"Yes, let us wait," whispered Metternich. He then added in a loud v