as in the same romantic strain as the others, she
retained.

On that same evening there was another dinner, given to the emperor by
the nobles, and Marie Walewska attended it, but of course without the
diamonds, which she had returned. Nor did she wear the flowers which
had accompanied the diamonds.

When Napoleon met her he frowned upon her and made her tremble with the
cold glances that shot from his eyes of steel. He scarcely spoke to her
throughout the meal, but those who sat beside her were earnest in their
pleading.

Again she waited until the guests had gone away, and with a lighter
heart, since she felt that she had nothing to fear. But when she met
Napoleon in his private cabinet, alone, his mood was very different
from that which he had shown before. Instead of gentleness and
consideration he was the Napoleon of camps, and not of courts. He
greeted her bruskly.

"I scarcely expected to see you again," said he. "Why did you refuse my
diamonds and my flowers? Why did you avoid my eyes at dinner? Your
coldness is an insult which I shall not brook." Then he raised his
voice to that rasping, almost blood-curdling tone which even his
hardiest soldiers dreaded: "I will have you know that I mean to conquer
you. You SHALL--yes, I repeat it, you SHALL love me! I have restored
the name of your country. It owes its very existence to me."

Then he resorted to a trick which he had played years before in dealing
with the Austrians at Campo Formio.

"See this watch which I am holding in my hand. Just as I dash it to
fragments before you, so will I shatter Poland if you drive me to
desperation by rejecting my heart and refusing me your own."

As he spoke he hurled the watch against the opposite wall with terrific
force, dashing it to pieces. In terror, Mme. Walewska fainted. When she
resumed consciousness there was Napoleon wiping away her tears with the
tenderness of a woman and with words of self-reproach.

The long siege was over. Napoleon had conquered, and this girl of
eighteen gave herself up to his caresses and endearments, thinking
that, after all, her love of country was more than her own honor.

Her husband, as a matter of form, put her away from him, though at
heart he approved what she had done, while the Polish people regarded
her as nothing less than a national heroine. To them she was no
minister to the vices of an emperor, but rather one who would make him
love Poland for her sake and restore its gre