Grand marshal? Who is this lady?"
"Sire, it is the Princess von Hatzfeld," replied Duroc, in a low voice.
"She implored me to procure her an interview with your majesty. Sire,
pardon me for having conducted her hither, that she herself might beg
your majesty for this audience. I counted on your generous heart, which
will forgive the wife who conies to implore your mercy for her husband."
"Have you not been told that I have expressly forbidden this affair to
be mentioned to me?" exclaimed the emperor, in a threatening voice. "The
court-martial alone has to judge the prince and I will and must not
influence its verdict."
"Oh, sire," exclaimed the princess who was still on her knees, "have
mercy on me!--have mercy on my unhappy husband!" Tears choked her voice,
and ran in torrents over her pale face.
Napoleon seemed to be moved by this piteous spectacle; his eye became
milder, and his frown disappeared. "Madame," he said, bending over her,
"rise. A lady in your circumstances ought to kneel before God only. In
consideration of your condition, I grant you an interview. Grand
marshal, follow me, with the princess." He quickly ascended the
staircase, and, without looking round, walked across the halls and rooms
to his cabinet. Breathless, scarcely touching the floor with her feet,
and strengthened by her profound emotion, the princess walked behind him
by the side of Duroc.
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