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Our emperor, Napoleon Bonaparte, was born on the fifteenth of August, 1769, and when he was a baby, the cradle not being at hand, he was laid upon a rug in Madame Letitia's room. And on that rug was a fine representation of Mars, the god of war. And because his bed on that rug was on the very spot which represented Mars, that, old Nonesuch, is why our emperor was ever valiant in war.
"Has Miss Emily had a visitor?" he inquired, when the servant admitted him. "The gentleman left a letter for Miss Emily, sir." "Did he ask to see her?" "He asked after Miss Letitia's health. When he heard that she was dead, he seemed to be startled, and went away immediately." "Did he give his name?" "No, sir." The doctor found Emily absorbed over her letter.
This explained the concealment of Miss Letitia's illness from her niece, as well as the reiterated efforts of the old servant to prevent Emily from entering the bedroom. But the event which had just happened that is to say, Mrs. Ellmother's sudden departure from the cottage was not only of serious importance in itself, but pointed to a startling conclusion.
"God help us," she cried, "what's wrong now?" Without a word of reply, Emily led the way into the bedchamber which had been the scene of Miss Letitia's death. Mrs. Ellmother hesitated on the threshold. "Why do you bring me in here?" she asked. "Why did you try to keep me out?" Emily answered. "When did I try to keep you out, miss?" "When I came home from school, to nurse my aunt.
Madame Letitia's face was serious; the emperor had touched a chord unpleasant to her ear. "No," she said, abruptly, "I lay by no riches, for my expenses are heavy." "But your income is larger," exclaimed Napoleon. "I am satisfied that you spend far less than you receive. Whom do you economize for, madame?" "Whom?" asked madame, in an angry voice.
Having adopted this conclusion, she resolved to face the prospect of a night's solitude by the death-bed rather than permit Mrs. Mosey to have a second opportunity of drawing her own inferences from what she might hear in Miss Letitia's room. "Do you mean to keep me waiting much longer, miss?" "Not a moment longer, now you are composed again," Emily answered.
She was dreaming uneasy, horrible dreams, like nightmares; in which from time to time there mingled expressions of doubt and dissatisfaction which fell from Miss Letitia's lips. Then the tutor's face kept appearing and vanishing with horrible grimaces through the mist.
Had she made free with Madame Letitia's plate or wardrobe, there is no doubt but that she had been forgiven; but to presume to share with her those sacred supports on her way to Paradise was a more unpardonable act with a devotee than to steal from a lover the portrait of an adored mistress.
This sum, and one hundred louis d'or besides, was immediately given him; and within three months, for a large sum in addition to those advanced, this precious relic was in Madame Letitia's possession.
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