"Alas," said Marteau, after a little, "the Emperor is taken, the Empire is lost, my poor France!"
"I will go back with you and we will help to build it up again," said the woman.
That was the best medicine that could be given to the young man. His recovery was slow but it was sure and it was the more rapid because of the gracious care of the woman he loved, who lavished upon him all the pent-up pa.s.sion of her fond adoring heart.
Sir Gervaise Yeovil, whose interest at court was great, exerted himself to secure a reconfirmation of Marteau"s patent of n.o.bility and to see that no difficulties were placed in the way of the young couple in obtaining repossession of their estates. So that once more there should be a d"Aumenier and perhaps a renewal of the ancient house in the old chateau in Champagne. This was easier since Marteau had never taken oath to King Louis and therefore had broken no faith.
At the quiet wedding that took place as soon as Marteau recovered his strength a little, Sir Gervaise continued to act the father"s part to the poor woman. After the ceremony he delighted the heart of the soldier by giving to him what he loved after the woman, the Eagle which had been Frank Yeovil"s prize.
"You will think of the lad, sometimes," said the old Baronet to the girl. "He was not lucky enough to win you, but he loved you and he died with your name on his lips."
"I shall remember him always," said the new-made wife.
"His name shall be held in highest honor in my house as a brave soldier, a true lover and a most gallant gentleman," added the new-made husband.
Marteau would never forget the picture of the Emperor sitting on his horse at La Belle Alliance that June evening, stern, terrific, almost sublime, watching the Guard go by to death. He was glad he had not seen him in the retreat of which he afterward heard from old Bal-Arret.
But that was not the last picture of the Emperor that he had. Although he was scarcely strong enough to be moved, he insisted on being taken to Portsmouth with his young wife. Sir Gervaise went with him. He had no other object in life it seemed but to provide happiness for these young people. He could scarcely bear them out of his sight.
One day, a bright and sunny morning late in July, they put the convalescing soldier into a boat with his wife and the old Baronet and the three were rowed out into the harbor as near as the cordon of guard-boats allowed them to approach to a great English ship-of-the-line, across the stern of which in gold letters they read the name, "_Bellerophon_."
"Bonaparte gener"ly comes out "n the quarter-gal"ry of the ship, "bout this hour in the mornin"," said one of the boatmen. "An" if he does we can see him quite plain from yere."
There were other boats there whose occupants were moved by curiosity and various emotions, but when the figure of the little man with the three-cornered c.o.c.ked hat on his head, still wearing the green uniform of the cha.s.seurs of the Guard stepped out on the quarter-gallery, his eyes, as it were instinctively, sought that particular boat.
"Help me up," said Marteau brokenly.
The boat was a large one and moving carefully they got the young officer to his feet. He was wearing his own battle-stained uniform.
He lifted his trembling hand to his head in salute. The little Emperor bent over the rail and stared hard at the trio. Did he recognize Marteau? Ah, yes! He straightened up presently, his own hand returned the salute and then he took off that same c.o.c.ked hat and bared his brow and bent his head low and, with a gesture of farewell, he turned and reentered his cabin--Prometheus on the way to his chains at St. Helena!
THE END