: A Conspiracy of the Carbonari by M Hlbach L Luise Safford Mary J Translator - Carbonari Fiction

@FreeBooksTue 06 Jun, 2023

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addressed him, that some one whom he must answer had spoken.

No one ventured to answer this exclamation. The emperor did not seem to expect it; perhaps he did not even know that any one had heard what he answered the menacing voice in his own soul.

Now the boat touched the shore, where carriages were ready to convey the emperor and his suite to Ebersdorf.

His whole staff, all his marshals and generals, were waiting for him before the door of the castle. With bared heads, in stiff military attitude, they received their lord and master, the august emperor, expecting a gracious greeting. But he passed on without looking at them, without even saluting them by a wave of his hand. They looked after him with wondering, angry eyes, and, like the glittering tail of a comet, followed him into the castle, up the steps, and into the hall.

But as they entered the reception-room where he usually talked with them, Napoleon had already vanished in his private office, whose door swiftly closed behind him.

The marshals and generals, aids and staff officers, still waited. The emperor would surely return, they thought. He still had to give them his commands for the next day, his orders concerning what was to be done on the island of Lobau, what provision should be made for the care of the wounded, the sustenance of the uninjured, the rescue of the remains of his army.

But they waited in vain; Napoleon did not return to them, gave them no orders. After half an hour's futile expectation, Roustan glided through the little door of the private room into the hall, and, with a very important air, whispered to the listening officers that the emperor had gone to bed immediately, and had scarcely touched the pillows ere he sunk into a deep sleep.

Yes, the Emperor Napoleon was sleeping, and his generals glided on tiptoe out of the hall and discussed outside the measures which they must now adopt on their own account to rescue the luckless fragment of the army from the island of Lobau, and make arrangements for building new bridges.

Yes, the Emperor Napoleon was sleeping! He slept all through the night, through the broad light of the next day--slept when his whole staff had gone to Lobau--slept when bodies of his infuriated guards rushed into the castle and, unheeding the emperor's presence, plundered the cellars and storerooms--slept when, in the afternoon of that day, his marshals and generals returned to Castle Ebersdorf, in order at last to receive the emperor's commands.

They would not, could not believe that the commander-in-chief was still sleeping It seemed perfectly impossible that he, the illustrious strong-brained Caesar, could permit himself to be subjugated by the common petty need of human nature in these hours when every second's delay might decide the destiny of many thousands. This sleep could be no natural one; perhaps the emperor, exhausted by fatigue and mental excitement, had fallen into a stupor; perhaps he was sleeping never to wake again. They must see him, they must convince themselves. They called Roustan and asked him to take them to the emperor's couch.

But he was sleeping! It was not stupor, it was not death, it was only sleep which held him captive. His breath came slowly, regularly; his face was slightly flushed, his eyes were calmly closed. The emperor was sleeping! His generals need feel no anxiety; they might return to the drawing-room with relieved hearts. They did so, stealing noiselessly again through the private office into the hall, whose door had been left ajar that the noise might not rouse the sleeper.

Yet, once within the hall, they looked at each other with wondering eyes, astonished faces.

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