“And he was in Totis,” said Leonore, trembling, under her breath, “and he told me that in a week something decisive would happen.”

“You are silent, Leonore?” asked her father.  “Have you nothing to tell me?”

She started from her sorrowful reverie; a bold, resolute fire again flashed in her eyes.  “I have many things to tell you, many important things,” she replied.  “But I will not utter a single word unless you first take an oath.”

“What oath?”

“The oath that, if it is Kolbielsky who comes to murder Napoleon, you will warn him and let him escape.”

“But how am I to warn him in advance, since the probability is that, if I really catch him, it will be at the moment of the deed.”

“Well, then, you will let him escape at that moment, if it is Kolbielsky.”

“But that is impossible, Leonore!  You will understand yourself that it is impossible.”

“Well, then, do as you choose, but do not ask me to communicate my discoveries.  Good-night, father; I feel tired, I will go to sleep.”

Passing her father, she approached the door.  But just as she was about to open it, he laid his hand on her arm and stopped her.

“Stubborn girl,” he said, smiling, “I see that your will must be obeyed to induce you to speak.  Well, then, I swear that, if the person who comes to murder Napoleon is Baron von Kolbielsky, I will let him escape if he falls into my hands.”

“Swear it by my mother’s spirit and memory.”

“I swear it by your mother’s spirit and memory.  But now, Leonore, speak.  Have you really discovered a conspiracy?”

“Yes, I have discovered a conspiracy, and, thank heaven, I can tell you everything—­the names of all the conspirators; for he is not among them—­he has nothing to do with this crazy, reckless affair.  Father, you can tell Napoleon that a widespread conspiracy exists, and that it even has numerous adherents in his own army.  The most aristocratic members of it were present at my entertainment and held a consultation here.  Colonel Mariage, as you know, had begged me to give him and his friends a room where they could talk undisturbed.”

“And you gave him the little red drawing-room didn’t you?”

“Yes.  I gave them the little red drawing-room, which is reached from this boudoir.  I was in the niche and heard all.”

“So it is really an actual conspiracy?” asked her father, with a happy smile.

“Really an actual conspiracy,” she repeated gravely, “and unless you warn the Emperor Napoleon, unless you save him, he will be a lost man within a week, even if that murderer’s dagger should not strike him.”

“That is splendid, that is marvelous,” cried her father.  “Leonore, this time we shall really attain our goal.  We shall be rich.  The emperor is generous; he loves life.  I will set a high price upon it.  By heaven, the Caesar’s head is well worth four hundred thousand francs!  I will ask them, and I shall receive.  We shall be rich enough to do without and be independent of men.”