ency.

In their interview, late at night on the 4th, they seemed to make a
great impression, especially when they reminded him of his promise not
to force any government on France. Next, the Czar called in the
members of the Provisional Government, and heard their arguments that
a Regency must speedily give way before the impact of the one
masterful will. Yet again Alexander listened to the eloquence of
Caulaincourt, and finally to the pleadings of the now anxious
provisionals. So the night wore on at Talleyrand's mansion, the Czar
finally stating that, after hearing the Prussian monarch's advice, he
would give his decision. And shortly before dawn came the news that
Marmont's corps had marched over to the enemy. "You see," said
Alexander to Pozzo di Borgo, "it is Providence that wills it: no more
doubt or hesitation now."[450]

On that same night, in fact, Marmont's corps of 12,000 men was brought
from Essonne within the lines of the allies, by the Marshal's
generals. Marmont himself was then in Paris, having been induced by
Ney and Macdonald to come with them, so as to hinder the carrying out
of his treasonable design; but his generals, who were in the secret,
were alarmed by the frequency of Napoleon's couriers, and carried out
the original plan. Thus, at dawn of the 5th, the rank and file found
themselves amidst the columns and squadrons of the allies. It was now
too late to escape; the men swore at their leaders with helpless fury;
and 12,000 men were thus filched from Napoleon's array.[451]

If this conduct be viewed from the personal standpoint, it must be
judged a base betrayal of an old friend and benefactor; and it is
usually regarded in that light alone. And yet Marmont might plead that
his action was necessary to prevent Napoleon sacrificing his troops,
and perhaps also his capital, to a morbid pride and desire for
revenge. The Marshal owed something to France. The Chambers had
pronounced his master's abdication, and Paris seemed to acquiesce in
their decision: Bordeaux and Lyons had now definitely hoisted the
white flag: Wellington had triumphed in the south; Schwarzenberg
marshalled 140,000 men around the capital; and Marmont knew, perhaps,
better than any of the Marshals, the obstinacy of that terrible will
which had strewn the roads between Moscow, Paris, and Lisbon with a
million of corpses. Was it not time that this should end? And would it
end as long as Napoleon saw any chance of snatching a tempo