ched prone upon a marble bench, sleeping the sleep of utter
exhaustion, his sword-arm beneath his head, the other trailing relaxed
upon the ground, he was entirely at the mercy of the man who looked down
upon his haggard face.

The Prince studied it for a moment in silence, then, with finger on lip,
drew Celio into the loggia. "Let him rest," he whispered, "time enough
when he awakes."

Ere that happened footsteps were heard and the voice of the Princess
calling, "Joachim, where are you?"

Murat sprang up instantly.

"Paulette, is it you?"

"It is I. O mon Dieu; how you have changed! but we heard you were
killed. Thank God, that is not true."

"I am beaten, which is worse," he said bitterly. "You were right, you
see, quite right, all is lost--why do you not say 'I told you so'?"

"No," she exclaimed, "all is not lost. Go at once to Napoleon, confess
your error, and atone for it."

"He will never forgive me," Murat replied; "and why should he, with his
army of three hundred thousand men and an Imperial Guard of forty
thousand chosen veterans? What have I to offer him? My troops have
deserted me. I have nothing to fight with and nothing for which to
fight."

"My brother needs you," the Princess insisted. "He may have soldiers
enough, but he knows there is no such leader of cavalry in all the world
as you, and he is about to engage in a crucial struggle with Wellington.
You have your marvellous leadership to offer. You say you have nothing
to fight for. Think of your honour, and of Caroline."

"Ah! I had forgotten her, poor child. I will do as you say, Paulette.
You have the brains of your family in your little head. Perhaps that is
the reason the good God made Caroline more attractive. Well, one more
fight for her sake, and she shall thank you for it. I shall get to
Naples in some way, then by sea to Marseilles, and then to Napoleon."

"Good!" cried the Princess. "Did you find your horse in the stables? I
gave orders to have him well cared for until you claimed him. I have
brought a disguise and arms and money. Now, off with you, for I can
waste no more time. Ah! how much we have already wasted, Joachim, in
this mad pursuit of ambition, when only love was worth the while. My
sister will rejoice to retire with you to private life and to know of
my happiness, for Camillo is waiting for me at Rome, and all the cruel
misunderstanding is over!"

Thus ended Celio Benvoglio's dragon-service, for the Prince, forced