a
positive danger for you to appear in France at this time! Napoleon has
proscribed every Bourbon. Any prince caught alive in France will be put
to death. Do you know what he did last year to the Duke d'Enghien? He
sent into Germany for the duke, who had never harmed him, never
conspired against him--had done nothing, in fact, except live an
innocent life away from the seat of Napoleon's power. The duke was
brought to Paris under guard and put in the dungeons of Vincennes. He
demanded to see Bonaparte. Bonaparte would not see him. He was tried by
night, his grave being already dug in the castle ditch. That lovely
young fellow--he was scarcely above thirty--was taken out to the ditch
and shot like a dog!"

I stood up with my hands clenched.

"Sit down," said Louis Philippe. "There is no room in the world at this
time for anybody but that jealous monster."

"He shall not tie me here," I said.

"You intend to go?"

"I intend to go."

"This Bonaparte," said Louis Philippe, "has his troubles. His brother
Jerome has married an American in Baltimore. A fine explosion that will
make when it reaches his ears. Where are you going to land, Lazarre?"

I said that must depend on the ship I took.

"And what are you going to do when you land?"

I said I would think that out later.

Then the spirit being upon me, I burst bounds and told him impetuously
that I was going to learn what the world held for me. Without means,
without friends, or power or prospects, or certainty of any good
results--impudent--reckless--utterly rash--"I am going," I cried,
"because I must go!"

"There is something about you which inspires love, my boy," said Louis
Philippe; and I heard him with astonishment. "Perhaps it comes from the
mother; she was a witcher of all mankind."

"I cannot understand why any one should love so ignorant a creature, but
God grant there be others that love me, too; for I have lived a life
stinted of all affection. And, indeed, I did not know I wanted it until
last year. When we talked late the other night, and you told me the
history of all my family, the cruelest part of my lot seemed the
separation from those that belonged to me. Separation from what is our
own ought not to be imposed upon us even by God Himself!"

"What!" said Louis Philippe, "is he following a woman!"

My face burned, and probably went white, for I felt the blood go back on
my heart. He took my hand and stroked it.

"Don't chain yourself beh