manned, the cannon were loaded, torches were blazing on the walls,
and the town was awake and seething with excitement. He had declared
for the Emperor, and after a sharp little conflict had disarmed the
royalist cavalry and himself held the gates. Every regiment that had
come in had cast its lot in with Napoleon. As the soldiers in the town
heard, in the twilight, the beating of the drums--"_La Grenadiere_" the
old march again!--the Colonel of the Seventh, having seized the few
royalists, opened the gates, marched out at the head of the troops to
receive the Emperor with arms, yes, but with open arms. Amid the
shouts of the citizens and the delirious joy of the soldiery, the
Emperor entered the city; in his train, first fruits of the war, was
the body of the old servant of the unfortunate King.

It was Pierre who burst into the apartment of the little Countess with
the news.

"The Emperor is here, mademoiselle," he cried enthusiastically. "The
soldiers are bringing him to the palace."

"And Marteau?"

"He will be free."

"Thank God!" cried the girl, and then she remembered her uncle. "And
the Marquis?" she asked.

"My dearest Laure," said the kindly, sympathetic voice of Captain Frank
Yeovil, stepping out of the twilight of the hall into the bright light
of the little drawing-room where last night she had bade farewell to
Marteau, "prepare yourself for some dreadful----"

"Yes, yes, I know," she interrupted. "The Emperor is here."

"The troops went over to him."

"And my uncle?"

"He----"

"Speak, monsieur. What has happened? Did the Emperor----"

"No one harmed him. He could not survive the disgrace, mademoiselle.
Prepare yourself."

"Oh, for God's sake, delay not your tidings."

"He died like a soldier of France on the field, by his own hand rather
than survive what he wrongfully thought his shame."

It was the policy of the Emperor to be merciful; it was his wish to be
clement. If possible, he wanted peace. If mercy and gentleness could
get it he could have it. He gave free permission to Sir Gervaise
Yeovil and his son to return to England. He made no objection to their
taking with them the Countess Laure, now the last of the line. He,
himself, was present at the funeral of the Marquis, who was buried with
all the military honors of his rank and station. There were generous
hearts among those Frenchmen. As the representative of the King they
had hated him, but when he had died so