“Well, it was upon the first of October that the treaty was finally to be signed.  In the morning I was congratulating Monsieur Otto upon the happy conclusion of his labours.  He was a little pale shrimp of a man, very quick and nervous, and he was so delighted now at his own success that he could not sit still, but ran about the room chattering and laughing, while I sat on a cushion in the corner, as I had learned to do in the East.  Suddenly, in came a messenger with a letter which had been forwarded from Paris.  Monsieur Otto cast his eye upon it, and then, without a word, his knees gave way, and he fell senseless upon the floor.  I ran to him, as did the courier, and between us we carried him to the sofa.  He might have been dead from his appearance, but I could still feel his heart thrilling beneath my palm.  ‘What is this, then?’ I asked.

“‘I do not know,’ answered the messenger.  ’Monsieur Talleyrand told me to hurry as never man hurried before, and to put this letter into the hands of Monsieur Otto.  I was in Paris at midday yesterday.’

“I know that I am to blame, but I could not help glancing at the letter, picking it out of the senseless hand of Monsieur Otto.  My God! the thunderbolt that it was!  I did not faint, but I sat down beside my chief and I burst into tears.  It was but a few words, but they told us that Egypt had been evacuated by our troops a month before.  All our treaty was undone then, and the one consideration which had induced our enemies to give us good terms had vanished.  In twelve hours it would not have mattered.  But now the treaty was not yet signed.  We should have to give up the Cape.  We should have to let England have Malta.  Now that Egypt was gone we had nothing left to offer in exchange.

“But we are not so easily beaten, we Frenchmen.  You English misjudge us when you think that because we show emotions which you conceal, that we are therefore of a weak and womanly nature.  You cannot read your histories and believe that.  Monsieur Otto recovered his senses presently, and we took counsel what we should do.

“‘It is useless to go on, Alphonse,’ said he.  ’This Englishman will laugh at me when I ask him to sign.’

“‘Courage!’ I cried; and then a sudden thought coming into my head—­’How do we know that the English will have news of this?  Perhaps they may sign the treaty before they know of it.’

“Monsieur Otto sprang from the sofa and flung himself into my arms.

“‘Alphonse,’ he cried, ’you have saved me!  Why should they know about it?  Our news has come from Toulon to Paris, and thence straight to London.  Theirs will come by sea through the Straits of Gibraltar.  At this moment it is unlikely that anyone in Paris knows of it, save only Talleyrand and the First Consul.  If we keep our secret, we may still get our treaty signed.’