nd St. Genis
would have been at one another's throat before now. But his gestures as
he struggled to free himself, the imprecations which he uttered were
those of a man who was baffled and found out--not of one who is
innocent.

But as St. Genis continued to speak and worked himself up every moment
into a still greater state of excitement, de Marmont gradually seemed to
calm down. He ceased to curse: he ceased to struggle, and on his
face--which still was livid--there gradually crept a look of
determination and of defiance. He dug his teeth into his under lip until
tiny drops of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth and trickled
slowly down his chin.

Marchand and Genevois relaxed the grip upon his arms, since he no longer
fought, and thus released he contrived to pull himself together. He
tossed back his head and looked his infuriated accuser boldly in the
face.

By the time St. Genis paused in his impassioned denunciation, he had
himself completely under control: only his eyes appeared to glow with an
unnatural fire, and little beads of moisture appeared upon his brow and
matted the dark hair against his forehead. The Comte de Cambray at this
juncture would certainly have interposed with one of those temperate
speeches, full of dignity and brimming over with lofty sentiments, which
he knew so well how to deliver, but de Marmont gave him no time to
begin. When St. Genis paused for breath, he suddenly freed himself
completely with a quick movement, from Marchand's and Genevois' hold;
and then he turned to the Comte and to the rest of the company:

"And what if I did pin the Emperor's proclamation on the walls of
Grenoble," he said proudly and with a tremor of enthusiasm in his voice,
"the Emperor, whom treachery more vile than any since the days of the
Iscariot sent into humiliation and exile! The Emperor has come back!"
cried the young devotee with that extraordinary fervour which Napoleon
alone--of all men that have ever walked upon this earth--was able to
suscitate: "his Imperial eagles once more soar over France carrying on
their wings her honour and glory to the outermost corners of Europe. His
proclamation is to his people who have always loved him, to his
soldiers who in their hearts have always been true to him. His
proclamation?" he added as with a kind of exultant war-cry he drew a
roll of paper from his pocket and held it out at arm's length above his
head, "his proclamation? Here it is! Vive l'Emper