fan. These tactics did not escape the vigilant eye of Napoleon, as he lingered for a few moments to converse with his generals and the foreign envoys.

"Who is that drawing-room monkey?” he asked, drawing Joseph aside.

"One of our new brother-in-law Leclerc's lieutenants," said Joseph, adding grimly, "She flirted with him all the way down."

"Et tu, Brute!" Napoleon replied sadly; then: "But you mean it well; and sometimes it seems to me that you are the only one I can trust. Still, you place a wrong interpretation on innocent actions. You do not understand Josephine. She loves joy, light; but she has the best heart in the world."

Joseph studied him, wondering how far, for his brother's own good, he might go.

"I understand," he answered with tact; "but forgive me, my dear brother, if I suggest that you warn her. Already there is too much talk for one who shares your fame. Your wife should be above suspicion.". . . It was delicate, this use of the pronoun instead of the "Cæsar"; imagination could supply that. But perhaps this is wronging the discreet Joseph, since, though he was wholly for his brother now, his republicanism might not have permitted him so to play the devil.

Meantime he had paused; then, carefully, and not without without conscience, he planted the barb:

"They were saying in Paris that Josephine got your command for you through Barras; even that his livres paid for the house she purchased in the Rue Chantereine."

Napoleon's hand was like a vise upon his brother's arm.

"Are not Toulon, Vendemaire, Italy, answers to the first scandal? The second is too vile to notice, though I could answer it by showing the deed. Josephine paid only sixty-four hundred francs down to Julie Carreau, Talma's mistress, for that house, before our marriage. The balance I took over after our marriage. Surely the princely Barras would have been more liberal! . . But you have looked after my interests, as you saw them, brother. I thank you. Now say no more. Only make my excuses. Tell them I them I am am engaged-anything." Then, to Bourrienne, "Follow me, in ten minutes!"

So, bowing and smiling, he left the hall, hurried up the staircase, and brushed past the sentry who stood on guard before his door.

22

Within, he paced up and down, consumed with wrath. He had given Joseph his answers; but this persistent gossip was maddening; and if so much smoke, why not some fire? That wretched Barras story he would not believe. Still, if there had been anything, what had come before marriage he could forgive, not what came after!

And now to match him against this monkey with his drawing-room tricks, to the monkey's advantage, as Joseph had reported-and he had heard it before! . . . Was there evidence or only gossip? And why, even if there were no grave cause, was she so indiscreet? Why did she show so little consideration for him?

But there was work ahead. So he sat down at his desk in the cabinet.

It was a pretty thing of delicate French marquetry for which he did not particularly care. Still, it never mattered on what he wrote; a rock or a knapsack would do. The desk had been placed there with other furniture of the same period to brighten the grim Lombard setting for Josephine's arrival, though in its fragility it should have groaned under the invisible wires which stretched from it to the armies of Italy, the seacoast, Paris, Belgium, Austria, and the Rhine. At it he was the chessplayer, sitting blindfolded and playing on many boards.

There was Genoa, for instance, out of which and its environs he had just made the Republic of Liguria. There English ships rode in the harbor; English agents were busy with intrigue in the capital. And his own were moving everywhere, offsetting the foe, and meantime leaving a pinch here, a pinch there, of the yeast of republicanism. Faypault was in charge, watching out for him; but at a distance of a hundred leagues he must watch Faypault and also check the moves of each of his assistants. If only he could have multiplied himself a few times!

In Venice there had been more trouble. There, too, his men had circulated, spreading the yeast of republicanism and the fire of rebellion against the doges. This time the yeast had fermented all too well. The reactionaries, who had no taste for the wholesome bread of freedom, had risen in the night, murdered three hundred of his soldiers, as they walked peacefully through the streets, then slaughtered those in the hospitals. He had sown the wind and reaped the whirlwind. But was that

his fault, any more than the Easter riots in Ajaccio, which followed hard on his intrigues-such necessary intrigues, if one were to advance a cause and get anywhere! He himself would not harm a dog, would stop a ship to circle for an hour about a spot to save a drowning man. Still, no use crying over spilled blood. Those massacres must be turned to advantage. So he had written the Directors to keep the rupture open. They had ample cause now for the partition and the tribute.

Then there was Belgium. Austria was defeated but could still carry on the war. She must take loser's terms, yet must have something. He would give up a few of these Venetian cities for the far richer land of Belgium.

And that was not all. The Army of the Rhine; he must keep an eye on that. Desaix, who idolized him, was there, would watch out for his interests. The Directors? Mediocre men whose vanity must be appeased, all at a distance, while he made his treaties over their heads. Fortunately the day and night had twentyfour hours, and besides these duties he had little to attend to, except drafting new constitutions for his republics, building fortresses, deploying troops, investigating army peculations, writing despatches, interviewing spies, attaching to himself new allies, placating disaffected generals-and his turbulent familyand listening for Josephine's footstep on the stairs.

The ten minutes were now past, and Bourrienne, announced by the sentry, entered the chamber, rather diffident for one once so overbearing. He had arrived from Paris that

morning, having been sent for by Marmont to act as secretary to the chief; and though the two friends had not met since the old restaurant days, there had been no conversation between them, beyond the formal greetings in the hall below. It was with something of a shock, therefore, that he received only this command: "Take this, Bourrienne: 'Section I. The Constitution of the Ligurian Republic.""

Nevertheless he wrote down the paragraphs, bits of the French constitution, of old codes, and other articles which Napoleon from study believed would fit Genoese conditions, and which he shot out, not from notes but from memory, as rapidly he paced the room.

"There, that will do." Then he stopped and faced his secretary and a situation pregnant with both drama and embarrassment. Here was the proud Bourrienne who, but four summers ago, had patronized him, escorted him to a brother's warehouse to pawn his watch, invited him to meals, and boasted about ittaking dictation from him! And the once shabby protégé, now the talk of all Europe, held not only his friend's fortunes but those of many others in the hollow of his hand.

But Napoleon had not meant to snub him. He had been quite sensible of that shock; but he had business on hand, and it was better for Bourrienne to accept at once the situation without any sentimental nonsense. The business over, Napoleon was friendly enough.

"I thank you, my old comrade, for being so discreet, and not trespassing on our former friendship. In public there must be some constraint, as you

have the wit to see; underneath we are as of old. If you are faithful, my dear Bourrienne, I shall reward you well."

A moment the deep blue eyes in the thin face studied the others, seeing them a little sulky, perhaps. At least Napoleon did not seem satisfied with what he found.

"The difficulty," he said, after Joseph entered and Bourrienne left, "is to find old friends with capacity for what you can offer. They continually resent the changed conditions, expect still to live on the old basis. And their constant brooding on another's success spoils their work.

"Take Bourrienne now. He is a man of gifts, yet he will always have a grievance. He will never forgive me for those few one-franc dinners he gave me; would wave l'addition before me if he could, instead of earning the rich posts I should be glad to give him. I am afraid the same applies to Lucien."

He sat down, waved Joseph to a chair. Joseph also seemed under some constraint. Perhaps he felt that the little sermon had been intended for him as well as for Bourrienne and Lucien. And it is indeed hard to adjust one's self to sudden glory, particularly when that glory is not due to Providence or one's own merit but to the very vivid personality of a younger brother.

Still, Joseph, who was growing increasingly handsome in a grave way, and would have made the excellent judge that he looked, or the just executor of a large estate, was on the whole a safe man, and his reports were to be relied on. Two of these Napoleon now desired. The first concerned conditions in France.

"It looks more than ever," Joseph began deliberately, "as if another revolution threatened. The royalists are gaining every day; and in the Club Clichy they plot the overthrow of the government. Already they have won many seats in the Legislative Councils, and they control one Director."

In a

"And the rest are asleep," Napoleon broke in. "They have lost all the energy of '89 which won the Revolution, and do not realize that the victor must be ever vigilant to maintain what is already won. false security they dawdle over affairs of state and will come near to bringing the Bourbons back-though not if I can help it. Already the Already the Revolution has done much for the world; and that would be the crime of the ages!"

"Still, you must go warily," returned Joseph. "Directory and Legislature are deadlocked. I would advise espousing neither party too soon."

"And so let the Bourbons back! Never!" returned the younger brother with heat. "But you are right on one point. It is wise not to champion too openly the present Directors, who, with the exception of Carnot, are all muddlers. Meantime we must plan to get our own men in."

"Yourself for one," proposed Joseph-the just judge again playing Apollyon. But Napoleon would have none of it.

"My victories for the present are on the field of battle. First I must consolidate my position there, make secure the glory already won. The The other field I shall not enter until I head the pack. That day will come."

Then he returned to the subject from which Apollyon's temptation had deflected him.

"It may be wise also not to take too open a part in the politics of Paris. Let the people appear to settle things themselves, or they may raise the cry of 'Dictator!' But one thing must not be uncertain, that I and the army are republican to the last man. If they lift one finger to restore the Bourbons, I shall loose my battalions on Paris!"

He thought for a moment about ways and means.

"To-morrow I shall send Lavalette on. He is careful, discreet. With you and others we can trust, he can circulate quietly, circumvent the plots of the Club Clichy, and prevent more of the Councils from going over to the Royalist side."

Here he paused in his pacing, angry. "But you are not listening; your mind wanders!"

And indeed, for an interlude, Joseph had not been listening. He had been saying to himself: "Why so much of that parade-ground peroration? He is ridiculous. Can he not credit me with some sense?"

Now, Napoleon was seldom ridiculous even when hectoring, lecturing, or riding the high horse; and he did not credit his brothers with any too much wisdom. So he went on, after calling Joseph back to that attention which all, sooner or later, gave to this frail but dynamic personality:

"Be wise as the serpent, harmless as the dove. Win to us allies from all classes. From coffee-house and gutter, spread anew the gospel of republicanism. republicanism. Open the minds of all to the dangers of reactionism. Above all, direct the eyes of Paris

to the armies and to Italy! Let them learn to look on us as a woman on her protecting husband, the strong right arm of France!

"Meanwhile I shall aid you with proclamations to the armies, which you shall have printed in the 'Moniteur,' also in circulars for wide distribution. See that these, too, are read in the Councils and before the public on fête-days. The Directors I shall myself stiffen by advantageous treaties with our foes and new possessions. There shall be gestures enough!"

Joseph, not unreasonably, had another word of caution. "Have you counted on Hoche? He has won his victories, on the Rhine; catches the crowd; is handsome, dashing "

"Too dashing," returned Napoleon. "He rides for a fall. . . .

"Now a little later, after you have prepared the ground, I shall send Augereau to Paris, to give them a picture of what the army is like. He looks as if he snorted fire from his nostrils and drank a quart of blood before breakfast. That will be impressive. And he is more than merely reckless; he will act with effect, throw all the troops in the capital around the Tuileries, if they try to overthrow the Directors. And he will do it without any instructions from me. This is not only what I like, but is helpful, since we must not appear to have too many fingers in the pie."

Here he took his brother's hand affectionately.

"Louis le Grand said, 'I am the state!' You, Joseph, must preach, for the present crisis, "The Army is the state' Later we can give them

From below came the sounds of the music, the lilt of women's laughter. For that second report, which concerned not the field of war or politics, but the ball-room, he did not ask.

His mother could have given him this report-and of a conduct of which she did not approve as she sat by the wall in a massive Lombard chair which made still more august her impressive bearing.

"Does not mother look well?" said Paulette in an intermission. "There's not a white thread in her brown hair and not a handsomer pair of eyes in the whole room. And her complexion, without rouge, is better than yours or mine, Eliza.

"I am pretty, but I shall fade quickly," she added with strange foresight for her eighteen years, perhaps a premonition of that dread disease which would destroy her and the brother upstairs as it had their father. "I would give anything to look as she does at forty-seven!"

Letizia had received courteously the celebrities who had presented themselves, answering them usually with short sentences and some re