in
Paris, as it formerly was in Avignon. I will cede to you the palace of
the Tuilleries: I seldom occupy it. You will find there your apartments
prepared for you, as at Monte Cavallo. Do you not see, padre, that Paris
is the real capital of the world? As for me, I shall do whatever you
desire. You will find in me more docility than people give me credit
for. Provided that war and politics, with their fatigues, be left to me,
you may settle the church as you please: I shall be a soldier at your
orders. Do but consider what effect it would have, and how brilliant it
would be, were we to hold our councils as Constantine and Charlemagne
did in their time! I should merely open and close them, leaving the keys
of the world in your hands. As with the sword I came, the sword I should
retain, and with it the privilege of bringing it back for your
benediction after every victory achieved by our arms." And saying these
words he slightly bowed.

Pius, who up to that moment had remained motionless as a statue, slowly
raised his head, smiled pensively, and drawing a deep sigh, breathed out
one by one the syllables of the word, "_Com-me-di-an-te!_"

The word was scarcely half out, when Bonaparte made a bound on the floor
like a wounded leopard. A towering passion seized him; he became yellow
with ire. He bit his lips almost to bleeding as he strode to the end of
the room. He no longer paced round in circles; he went straight from
end to end without uttering a word, stamping with his feet as he swept
along, and making the room resound as he struck the floor with his
spurred heels. Every thing around him seemed to vibrate; the very
curtains waved like trees in a storm. At length the pent-up rage found
vent, and burst forth like a bombshell which explodes, "Comedian, say
you? Ah, ha! I am he that will play you comedies to make you weep like
women and children. Comedian, indeed! But you are greatly mistaken if
you think you can play off on me, with impunity, your cool-blooded
insolence. Comedian! Where is my theatre, pray, and what? 'Tis the
world, and the part which I play is that of master and author; while for
actors I have the whole of you--popes, kings, and people; and the cord
by which I move you all is--_fear!_ Comedian, say you? But he who would
dare to hiss me or applaud should be made of different stuff from you,
Signor Chiaramonti! Know you not well that you would still be merely a
poor cure but for me, and that if I did not