ord of honor, stabbed him."

"Didn't he defend himself?"

"Like a lion. He killed two."

"Is he dead?"

"Almost, but I hope he will recover. Just imagine, general; he was found
by the road, and brought home with a dagger in his breast, like a prop
in a vineyard."

"Why, it's like a scene of the Sainte-Vehme, neither more nor less."

"And on the blade of the dagger, that there might be no doubt as to who
did the deed, were graven the words: 'Companions of Jehu.'"

"Why, it isn't possible that such things can happen in France, in the
last year of the eighteenth century. It might do for Germany in the
Middle Ages, in the days of the Henrys and the Ottos."

"Not possible, general? But here is the dagger. What do you say to that?
Attractive, isn't it?"

And the young man drew from under his coat a dagger made entirely of
steel, blade and handle. The handle was shaped like a cross, and on the
blade, sure enough, were engraved the words, "Companions of Jehu."

Bonaparte examined the weapon carefully.

"And you say they planted that plaything in your Englishman's breast?"

"Up to the hilt."

"And he's not dead?"

"Not yet, at any rate."

"Have you been listening, Bourrienne?"

"With the greatest interest."

"You must remind me of this, Roland."

"When, general?"

"When?--when I am master. Come and say good-day to Josephine. Come,
Bourrienne, you will dine with us, and be careful what you say, you
two, for Moreau is coming to dinner. Ah! I will keep the dagger as a
curiosity."

He went out first, followed by Roland, who was, soon after, followed by
Bourrienne. On the stairs they met the orderly who had taken the note to
Gohier.

"Well?" asked the general.

"Here is the President's answer."

"Give it to me."

Bonaparte broke the seal, and read:

The President Gohier is enchanted the good fortune promised him
by General Bonaparte. He will expect him to dinner the day after
to-morrow, the 18th Brumaire, with his charming wife, and the
aide-de-camp, whoever he may be. Dinner will be served at five
o'clock.

If the hour does not suit General Bonaparte, will he kindly make
known the one he would prefer.

The President, GOHIER.
16th Brumaire, year VII.

With an indescribable smile, Bonaparte put the letter in his pocket.
Then turning to Roland, he asked: "Do you know President Gohier?"

"No, general."

"Ah! you'll see; he's an excellent man."

These words were pronounced in