from
their homes, of fields ravaged, of women widowed, and children
orphaned. My whole soul yearns for peace. I would build my true
greatness on the promulgation of just laws, the culture of religion
and intellect, the triumphs of agriculture, and the arts of peace. But
I must obey my destiny. Europe must be ploughed by the sword. The
struggle is between civilization and barbarism, freedom and despotism,
the Frank and the Cossack. But I prate too long. Colonel, I sent for
you to pronounce a hard sentence. Your regiment of hussars is already
under arms. You must march to-night--instantly."

"Sire," said Lioncourt, with a sigh. "This news will kill my poor
wife."

"Josephine shall console her," said the emperor. "I would have
informed you earlier, but St. Eustache, your lieutenant colonel, whom
I now see talking with madame, advised me not to do so."

"I thank him," muttered Lioncourt bitterly.

"You have no time to lose. I counsel you to leave the presence
quietly. Let your wife learn that you have marched by a letter. Better
that than the agony of parting. I know something of human, and
particularly feminine, nature. Adieu, colonel. Courage and good
fortune."

And so saying, the emperor glided easily back to the circle he had
left. Lioncourt's brain reeled under the blow he had received. He
gazed upon his wife as she stood radiant, beautiful, and unsuspicious,
under a glittering chandelier, with the same feelings with which a man
takes his last look of the shore as he sinks forever in the
treacherous wave. In another moment he was gone. The sentries
presented arms as he passed out of the palace. His orderly was in the
court yard holding his charger by the bridle. The colonel threw
himself into the saddle, and was soon at the head of the regiment. The
trumpets and kettledrums were mute--for such were the general orders
and the regiment rode out of the city in silence, broken only by the
heavy tramping of the horses' hoofs, and the clanking of scabbards
rebounding from their flanks. As they passed out of one of the gates,
the lieutenant colonel, St. Eustache, joined the column at a gallop,
and reported to his commander.

St. Eustache had been a lover of Leonide Lasalle, had proposed for her
hand, and been rejected. Still, he had not utterly ceased to love her,
but his desire of possession was now mingled with a thirst of
vengeance. He both hated and loved the beautiful Leonide, while he
regarded his fortunate riv