“Napoleon was walking up and down with folded arms. I could not take my eyes off his face⁠—my heart beat loudly and painfully.

“ ‘I’m off,’ said Davoust. ‘Where to?’ asked Napoleon.

“ ‘To salt horseflesh,’ said Davoust. Napoleon shuddered⁠—his fate was being decided.

“ ‘Child,’ he addressed me suddenly, ‘what do you think of our plan?’ Of course he only applied to me as a sort of toss-up, you know. I turned to Davoust and addressed my reply to him. I said, as though inspired:

“ ‘Escape, general! Go home!⁠—’

“The project was abandoned; Davoust shrugged his shoulders and went out, whispering to himself⁠—‘ Bah, il devient superstitieux! ’ Next morning the order to retreat was given.”

“All this is most interesting,” said the prince, very softly, “if it really was so⁠—that is, I mean⁠—” he hastened to correct himself.