Part 22 (1/2)

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 G.o.d, 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 leaders.h.i.+p 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 G.o.d 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 Ma.r.s.eilles, 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 either to overhear or interrupt the foregoing conversation, had fortunately chosen the former alternative. And here, perchance, should the story end, for the after-history of Joachim Murat is a tragical addendum to that happy denouement.

Pauline overestimated her brother's magnanimity, Napoleon coldly refused the profferred services of his brother-in-law, confessing afterwards that this implacability lost him the battle of Waterloo, for Ney could not equal Murat in his skilful manoeuvring of horse.

Murat, desperate, took refuge in Corsica, where he raised a little band of two hundred and fifty men, and landed near Naples, believing that his old troops would rally to his standard. Indifferent, or perhaps unable to help him, they abandoned him to his fate.

He faced his executioners with unbandaged eyes and himself gave the order to fire.

According to the account of an eye-witness, he first kissed the miniature of his wife, which he carried within the case of his watch, and with the request, ”Spare my face,” directed the aim of the soldiers to his breast.

Their firmness did not equal his own, and he was obliged to twice give the command before it was obeyed.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER VII

THE ADVENTURE OF THE KNIGHT OF THE BRANDISHED LANCE

I

THE QUEST

Robert Devreux, Earl of Ess.e.x, was in one of his worst moods as he strode the deck of his flag-s.h.i.+p in Cadiz Bay on a certain June morning in 1596.

And yet this favourite of Fortune stood then at the summit of his career, having by a brilliant a.s.sault taken the city for England, while a letter whose seal he had just broken a.s.sured him of the doting infatuation of England's Queen.

It was precisely this letter, as he now explained to his friend, which occasioned his dissatisfaction.