mercy. "Your Emperor," he said, "has shown himself generous to his fallen enemies."
"Monsieur," replied Ivan, "my Czar has no fallen enemies. With him the unfortunate ceases at once to be the enemy."[1]
"It has been a great disappointment to us," said Madame de Talmont, "that we failed to see him to-day."
Emile had one of his small sharp darts in readiness for his Royalist cousins. "It is not so easy to see the Emperor Alexander since the return of Louis Dix-huit," he said. "It is no secret that the Bourbon is jealous of the Czar. In order not to interfere with his most Christian Majesty's 'divine right' to be the admired of all admirers in his own capital, Alexander appears to efface himself. He even takes his daily walk at four in the morning, before the 'beau monde' is astir and ready to gaze at him."
"Papa," asked Stéphanie, "what is divine right?"
"Inhuman wrong," said Emile under his breath.
"Try this iced pine-apple, mademoiselle," interposed Ivan, afraid of an argument. "It goes very well with these almond biscuits."
"This is the third or fourth time, I believe, that the Emperor has gone to Malmaison," said M. de Sartines a little stiffly. "He is certainly very attentive to the ex-Empress Joséphine."
"Her health is failing," Ivan answered, "and no doubt her heart is broken. In my boyhood I believed, with almost every one about me, that Napoleon owed his successes to her. We thought she possessed magical powers, and used to transform herself into a white dove, that she might hear and impart to him the counsels of his enemies. How amazed I would have been had any one told me that Napoleon would abandon her; and that the Czar, finding her forlorn and sorrowful, would, out of chivalrous pity, plead for and comfort her!"
- ↑ "Ses ennemis cessaient de l'être à ses yeux, dès qu'ils étaient malheureux."—Madame de Choiseul-Gouffier.
