"Of all the bad actions of Napoleon's bad life," said M. de Sartines with emphasis, "I believe his treatment of that woman is the worst."
"Perhaps so, monsieur," said Ivan. "Still I can scarcely think it, because I have never seen the ex-Empress, while I have seen the miserable remains of the gallant army which he abandoned so cruelly in the frozen plains of Lithuania."
The next moment he was sorry for his words, for he caught the angry glare in the eyes of Emile. Either he had not heard or he had forgotten that the lad was an ardent admirer of Buonaparte.
"The Emperor is fallen," said Emile, "therefore, of course, every one finds a stone to fling at him. He was not faultless,—I grant it. You cannot expect real greatness to bind itself down to the rules of a timid conventional morality. But at least he was entirely free from petty vanities and small affectations. You would never find him laying himself out to gain the cheap praise of a magnanimous conqueror from the lips of the vulgar."
"Never, indeed," assented Madame de Talmont.
"True, undoubtedly," said M. de Sartines.
No one noticed Stéphanie's aside: "I see; very clever people need not care about being good. I shall tell my governess that."
But every one looked at Ivan. For a moment he grew perfectly white with anger; then his face resumed its natural colour, and a smile played about his lips. He said nothing, however, and Emile went on: "Consequently he never overshot the mark and made himself ridiculous, as I must say the Emperor Alexander did the other day, when he actually admitted to his own table, and spent hours in conversation with—whom do you think, ladies?"
As neither Madame de Talmont nor Clémence replied, Stéphanie felt herself called upon. "Perhaps the Director of the
