At the further door was Roustem the
Mameluke, and beside him, with arms folded and his face sunk downwards
in an attitude of shame and contrition, there was standing the very man
of whom we had been talking. He looked up with scared eyes, and started
with fear when he saw the Emperor approaching him. Napoleon stood with
legs apart and his hands behind his back, and looked at him long and
searchingly.

'Well, my fine fellow,' said he at last, 'you have burned your fingers,
and I do not fancy that you will come near the fire again. Or do you
perhaps think of continuing with politics as a profession?'

'If your Majesty will overlook what I have done,' Lesage stammered, 'I
shall faithfully promise you that I will be your most loyal servant
until the day of my death.'

'Hum!' said the Emperor, spilling a pinch of snuff over the front of his
white jacket. 'There is some sense in what you say, for no one makes so
good a servant as the man who has had a thorough fright. But I am a
very exacting master.'

'I do not care what you require of me. Everything will be welcome, if
you will only give me your forgiveness.'

'For example,' said the Emperor. 'It is one of my whims that when a man
enters my service I shall marry him to whom I like. Do you agree to
that?'

There was a struggle upon the poet's face, and he clasped and unclasped
his hands.

'May I ask, sire--?'

'You may ask nothing.'

'But there are circumstances, sire--'

'There, there, that is enough!' cried the Emperor harshly, turning upon
his heel. 'I do not argue, I order. There is a young lady, Mademoiselle
de Bergerot, for whom I desire a husband. Will you marry her, or will you
return to prison?'

Again there was the struggle in the man's face, and he was silent,
twitching and writhing in his indecision.'

'It is enough!' cried the Emperor. 'Roustem, call the guard!'

'No, no, sire, do not send me back to prison.'

'The guard, Roustem!'

'I will do it, sire! I will do it! I will marry whomever you please!'

'You villain!' cried a voice, and there was Sibylle standing in the
opening of the curtains at one of the windows. Her face was pale with
anger and her eyes shining with scorn; the parting curtains framed her
tall, slim figure, which leaned forwards in her fury of passion.
She had forgotten the Emperor, the Empress, everything, in her revulsion
of feeling against this craven whom she had loved.

'They told me what you were,' s