ty's melancholy."

"Well, and what did you guess? and what Lannes?"

"He believed your majesty was striving to crown the battle of Eylau with
a brilliant victory, and that you were planning a new battle."

"He is right," exclaimed Napoleon, energetically. "We are not yet at the
end of our struggle, and the brave men who were buried under the snow of
Eylau must be avenged. I shall soon bid the sun of Austerlitz and Jena
shine on the plains of Prussia, and dazzle the eyes of the Emperor of
Russia. I will bring him to his knees and make him cry '_Pater
peccavi_!' I will show him what it is to menace me; and when I unfurl my
banner on the Kremlin of Moscow, Alexander shall bear the train of my
purple cloak. The world belongs to me! Woe unto him who stands in my
way--I will crush him as the elephant crushes the worm! Lannes is right;
I am planning a new battle. But it is not this that makes me sad. What
did Talleyrand say--Talleyrand, Prince de Benevento, with the keen nose
and the impenetrable smile?"

"Talleyrand said it was not the planning of future battles, but that you
were mourning for the little son of the King of Holland."

"Ah, indeed, Talleyrand is not altogether mistaken," exclaimed Napoleon,
heaving a sigh; "my heart is mourning for young Napoleon. He was my
darling, and I had accustomed myself to regard him as my heir. He was
blood of my blood, and there was something shining in his eyes that
seemed to me to be a beam of my own mind. I loved the boy. And now--what
did Talleyrand say besides, Duroc?" asked Napoleon, interrupting
himself. "You are silent. Be frank; I want to know it all!"

"Sire," said Duroc, timidly, "the Prince de Benevento lamented the fate
of the empress, for he believes the death of little Prince Napoleon
Louis to be a mournful--nay, a fatal event for her, inasmuch as your
majesty would now be under the necessity of having a successor to the
noble and adored Empress Josephine, and an heir-apparent to your
empire."

"And he was impudent enough to lament her fate!" exclaimed Napoleon, "he
who has striven for years to overthrow her--he who always united with my
family to prove to me the right of disowning her. Ah, poor dear
Josephine! I ought never to have thought of listening to their
insinuations; I was hitherto her most faithful defender, for I love her,
and know that she is a sincere friend."

"An empress, sire," said Duroc, "who would be an ornament to any throne,
and whose grace,