The Man of Destiny

but cowardice; want of character; want of being really, strongly, positively oneself. Napoleon Ha? Turning to her quickly with a flash of strong interest. Lady Earnestly, with rising enthusiasm. What is the secret of your power? Only that you believe in yourself. You can fight and conquer for yourself and for nobody else. You are not afraid of your own destiny. You teach us what we all might be if we had the will and courage; and that suddenly sinking on her knees before him is why we all begin to worship you. She kisses his hands. Napoleon Embarrassed. Tut, tut! Pray rise, madam. Lady Do not refuse my homage: it is your right. You will be emperor of France. Napoleon Hurriedly. Take care. Treason! Lady Insisting. Yes, emperor of France; then of Europe; perhaps of the world. I am only the first subject to swear allegiance. Again kissing his hand. My Emperor! Napoleon Overcome, raising her. Pray, pray. No, no, little one: this is folly. Come: be calm, be calm. Petting her. There, there, my girl. Lady Struggling with happy tears. Yes, I know it is an impertinence in me to tell you what you must know far better than I do. But you are not angry with me, are you? Napoleon Angry! No, no: not a bit, not a bit. Come: you are a very clever and sensible and interesting little woman. He pats her on the cheek. Shall we be friends? Lady Enraptured. Your friend! You will let me be your friend! Oh! She offers him both her hands with a radiant smile. You see: I show my confidence in you. Napoleon With a yell of rage, his eyes flashing. What! Lady What’s the matter? Napoleon Show your confidence in me! So that I may show my confidence in you in return by letting you give me the slip with the despatches, eh? Ah, Dalila, Dalila, you have been trying your tricks on me; and I have been as great a gull as my jackass of a lieutenant. He advances threateningly on her. Come: the despatches. Quick: I am not to be trifled with now. Lady Flying round the couch. General⁠— Napoleon Quick, I tell you. He passes swiftly up the middle of the room and intercepts her as she makes for the vineyard. Lady At bay, confronting him. You dare address me in that tone. Napoleon Dare! Lady Yes, dare. Who are you that you should presume to speak to me in that coarse way? Oh, the vile, vulgar Corsican adventurer comes out in you very easily. Napoleon Beside himself. You she devil! Savagely. Once more, and only once, will you give me those papers or shall I tear them from you⁠—by force? Lady Letting her hands fall. Tear them from me⁠—by force! As he glares at her like a tiger about to spring, she crosses her arms on her breast in the attitude of a martyr. The gesture and pose instantly awaken his theatrical instinct: he forgets his rage in the desire to show her that in acting, too, she has met her match. He keeps her a moment in suspense; then suddenly clears up his countenance; puts his hands behind him with provoking coolness; looks at her up and down a couple of times; takes a pinch of snuff; wipes his fingers carefully and puts up his handkerchief, her heroic pose becoming more and more ridiculous all the time. Napoleon At last. Well? Lady Disconcerted, but with her arms still crossed devotedly. Well: what are you going to do? Napoleon Spoil your attitude. Lady You brute! Abandoning the attitude, she comes to the end of the couch, where she turns with her back to it, leaning against it and facing him with her hands behind her. Napoleon Ah, that’s better. Now listen to me. I like you. What’s more, I value your respect. Lady You value what you have not got, then. Napoleon I shall have it presently. Now attend to me. Suppose I were to allow myself to be abashed by the respect due to your sex, your beauty, your heroism and all the rest of it? Suppose I, with nothing but such sentimental stuff to stand between these muscles of mine and those papers which you have about you, and which I want and mean to have: suppose I, with the prize within my grasp, were to falter and sneak away with my hands empty; or, what would be worse, cover up my weakness by playing the magnanimous hero, and sparing you the violence I dared not use, would you not despise me from the depths of your woman’s soul? Would any woman be such a fool? Well, Bonaparte can rise to the situation and act like a woman when it is necessary. Do you understand? The lady, without speaking, stands upright, and takes a packet of papers from her bosom. For a moment she has an intense impulse to dash them in his face. But her good breeding cuts her off from any vulgar method of relief. She hands them to him politely, only averting her head. The moment he takes them, she hurries across to the other side of the room; covers her face with her hands; and sits down, with her body turned away to the back of the chair. Napoleon Gloating over the papers. Aha! That’s right. That’s right. Before opening them he looks at her and says, Excuse me. He sees that she is hiding her face. Very angry with me, eh? He unties the packet, the seal of which is already broken, and puts it on the table to examine its contents. Lady Quietly, taking down her hands and showing that she is not crying, but only thinking. No. You were right. But I am sorry for you. Napoleon Pausing in the act of taking the uppermost paper from the packet. Sorry for me! Why? Lady I am going to see you lose your