The romance of the sword

14 June 1800

Battle of Marengo

IK AVHICH LOVE FLUTTERS ITS WIKGS. 331

When the sun sank low in the west, they entered the coach. Another pleasant day was over. The rattling of the windows, jarred by the jolting of the vehicle, prevented them from thinking enough to lapse into mel- ancholy; and also the company, which was composed of happy lovers,, with the single exception of a very digni- fied gentleman who deemed it his duty to ask Robert if the report was true that, during the first few hours of the battle of Marengo, the Austrians had the advantage. Soon the houses of the Parisian suburbs appeared, then the Faubourgs, and finally the Palais-Royal.

BONAPAKTE AITD FOUCHE.

“ Robert ! A brave fellow ! He was recommended to me by a Madame Pichoux, the mistress of the Three Mile-Stones. You don’t understand. Robert! He was in Italy, Egypt, at Marengo! What was the wound?”

THE TALISMAH.

Fouche’s opinion had little weight. He already sus- pected his duplicity, remembering that in 1800 the report was current that he only awaited the loss of the battle of Marengo to offer his services to the legitimate sovereign of the very power which he had never hesi- tated to betray and to persecute. Bonaparte had already

THE EOMAHCE OF THE SWOKD.

Both went out through the low door, the Three Mile- stones being closed until four o’clock. Madame Pi- choux ran like a boarding-school girl on vacation. Pichoux was calmer. In the first place it did not suit his dignity to display exaggerated eagerness con- cerning a man who, though he had gained the battle of Marengo, had nevertheless displayed unpardonable in- gratitude ; lastly because Madame Pichoux’s haste had awakened a suspicion in his mind. Could she be still in love? Occasionally he even feigned indifference, stop- ping and looking at trifles, and answering his wife’s urging with :