The Twin Lieutenants | Page 9

has
always remained to me some of my youth's impatience, I am a tree
without fruit, ask no flowers of me."
"Monsieur Fouche, your friend" (Napoleon designedly emphasized
these two words), "your friend M. de Talleyrand makes but one
recommendation to his servants; 'Not too much zeal.'"
"I will borrow his axiom to apply it to you; you had too much zeal, that
time; I wish no one to precede me in affairs of state or affairs of
family."
Fouche kept silence.
"And, apropos of M. de Talleyrand," said the Emperor, "how comes it
that, having left you mortal enemies, I find you intimate friends?
During ten years of reciprocal hate and disparagement, I have heard
you treat him as a frivolous diplomatist, and have heard him treat you
as a rude intriguer; you, scorning a diplomacy which goes alone, you
pretend, while aided by victory; he, railing the vain display of a police
which the general submission renders easy and even useless. Is the
situation so serious that, sacrificing yourself to the nation, as you say,
you mutually forget your disagreements? Reproached by officials, you
are publicly reconciled, and publicly visit; you say in a low tone that I
may meet in Spain the knife of a fanatic or in Austria a cannon-ball; is
that what you say?"
"Sire," rejoined Fouche, "Spanish knives have known great kings:
witness Henry IV. Austrian bullets are known to captains: witness
Turenne and Marshal Berwick."
"You reply by a flattery to a fact, sir; I am not dead, and do not wish
my succession to be shared and I living."
"Sire, that idea is far from all my thoughts, and especially from ours."
"So little is it far from your thoughts, on the contrary, my successor is

already chosen, designated by you. Why have they not had him
consecrated in advance? The moment is a good one--the Pope is about
to excommunicate me! Do you believe, sir, that the crown of France
fits all heads? They may make of a grand-duke of Saxe a king of Saxe,
Monsieur; but they do not make of a grand-duke of Berri a king of
France nor an emperor of the French; to be one, he must be of the blood
of Saint Louis; to be the other, he must be of mine. It is true that you
have a means of hastening the moment when I shall be no more."
"Sire," said Fouche, "I wait for your Majesty to indicate that means to
me."
"Eh, morbleau ! it is to leave conspirators unpunished."
"What ! have men conspired against your Majesty and remained
unpunished? Sire, name them."
"Oh, that's nothing difficult, and I will name you three."
"Your Majesty means the pretended conspiracy discovered by your
Prefect of Police, M. Dubois?"
"Yes, my Prefect of Police, M. Dubois, who is not like you, devoted to
the nation, Monsieur Fouche, but who is devoted to me."
Fouche slightly shrugged his shoulders; the movement, imperceptible,
as it was, did not escape the emperor.
"Raise your shoulders, not daring to raise your voice !" said Napoleon,
frowning. "I never like these strong minds; they make plots."
"Does your Majesty know the men he speaks of?"
"I know two of them, sir, I know General Malet, an incorrigible
conspirator."
"Does your Majesty believe that General Malet conspires?"
"I am sure of it,"

"And your Majesty fears a conspiracy headed by a madman?"
"You are doubly wrong; first, I fear nothing; next, General Malet is not
a madman."
"He is at least a monomaniac."
"Yes but one whose monomania is terrible, you will allow; for it
consists in taking advantage, one day or another, of my absence, also in
waiting until I am three hundred, four hundred, six hundred leagues,
perhaps, away, to suddenly spread around the rumor of my death, and
with that tidings, make an uprising."
"Does your Majesty believe the thing possible?"
"While I have no heir, yes."
"That's why I made so bold as to speak of divorce to her Majesty the
Empress."
"Do not let us return to that. You scorn Malet; you have set him at
liberty. Do you know one thing, Monsieur, one thing that my Minister
of Police knows? It is that Malet is but one of the threads of an
invisible conspiracy which even has hold in my army !"
"Ah, yes, the Philadelphians--does your Majesty believe in the magic of
Colonel Oudet?"
"I believe in Arena, Monsieur; I believe in Cadoudal--I believe in
Moreau. General Malet is one of these dreamers, one of these illuminati,
one of these madmen if you will; but one of those dangerous madmen
who must have cells and strait jackets; you have put yours at liberty !
As for the second conspirator, M. Servan, is he a madman?