deration of your condition, I grant you an interview. Grand
marshal, follow me, with the princess." He quickly ascended the
staircase, and, without looking round, walked across the halls and rooms
to his cabinet. Breathless, scarcely touching the floor with her feet,
and strengthened by her profound emotion, the princess walked behind him
by the side of Duroc.

"The emperor now enters his cabinet," whispered Duroc. "You have reached
your destination."

"My God, have mercy on me!" sighed the princess, and raised her eyes
imploringly to heaven. She was now in the cabinet, and Duroc withdrew to
the door. Napoleon stood in the middle of the room; the brightly-burning
fire shed a light over his whole figure, and rendered prominent his
stern features.

"Sire," exclaimed the princess, falling on her knees, "I beseech you
have mercy on my husband! Mercy, sire, mercy!"

"Mercy!" ejaculated Napoleon, harshly. "Do you know the crime of which
your husband stands accused?"

"Sire, I know only that he worships your majesty; I therefore do not
believe in his guilt," exclaimed the princess.

"He has acted the part of a miserable spy," added Napoleon, raising his
voice. "After he had already sworn to me the oath of obedience and
fealty, he mailed a letter to the King of Prussia, in which he reported
to him the number, the spirit, and movements of the French troops. That
is the act of a traitor and a spy, and as such he will be found guilty
by the court-martial to-morrow."

"Sire, it is impossible! My husband cannot have done any thing
of the kind. Oh, believe me, your majesty, he is innocent! He
has been slandered in order to bring about his ruin; but he is
innocent--assuredly he is innocent! He never wrote such a letter; he
cannot have written it!" The emperor quickly walked to his desk, and
took from it a paper, which he handed to her. "Here is the letter," he
said. "Do you know your husband's handwriting?"

The princess fixed her eyes, dimmed by tears, on the paper she held in
her trembling hands. She then uttered a cry, so piercing and
heart-rending, that Duroc, who was standing at the door, felt the tears
starting into his eyes. Napoleon himself could not help shuddering.

"It is his handwriting!" muttered the princess, dropping the paper upon
the floor. Her quivering lips had now no longer the strength and courage
to repeat her prayer--her head fell on her breast, and she uttered only
low groans and sobbed.

The emper