“See,” he said, turning towards the prisoners, “it shall not be said that you have received a visit from a king, prisoner and crownless as he is, without having received largesse.”

“Long live Joachim!” cried the prisoners.

Murat smiled bitterly.  Those same words repeated by the same number of voices an hour before in the public square, instead of resounding in the prison, would have made him King of Naples.

The most important events proceed sometimes from such mere trifles, that it seems as if God and the devil must throw dice for the life or death of men, for the rise or fall of empires.

Murat followed Commander Mattei:  he led him to a little room which the porter had put at his disposal.  Mattei was going to retire when Murat called him back.

“Commander,” he said, “I want a scented bath.”

“Sire, it will be difficult to obtain.”

“Here are fifty ducats; let someone buy all the eau de Cologne that can be obtained.  Ah—­and let some tailors be sent to me.”

“It will be impossible to find anyone here capable of making anything but a peasant’s clothes.”

“Send someone to Monteleone to fetch them from there.”

The commander bowed and went out.

Murat was in his bath when the Lavaliere Alcala was announced, a General and Governor of the town.  He had sent damask coverlets, curtains, and arm-chairs.  Murat was touched by this attention, and it gave him fresh composure.  At two o’clock the same day General Nunziante arrived from Santa-Tropea with three thousand men.  Murat greeted his old acquaintance with pleasure; but at the first word the king perceived that he was before his judge, and that he had not come for the purpose of making a visit, but to make an official inquiry.

Murat contented himself with stating that he had been on his way from Corsica to Trieste with a passport from the Emperor of Austria when stormy weather and lack of provisions had forced him to put into Pizzo.  All other questions Murat met with a stubborn silence; then at least, wearied by his importunity—­

“General,” he said, “can you lend me some clothes after my bath?”

The general understood that he could expect no more information, and, bowing to the king, he went out.  Ten minutes later, a complete uniform was brought to Murat; he put it on immediately, asked for a pen and ink, wrote to the commander-in-chief of the Austrian troops at Naples, to the English ambassador, and to his wife, to tell them of his detention at Pizzo.  These letters written, he got up and paced his room for some time in evident agitation; at last, needing fresh air, he opened the window.  There was a view of the very beach where he had been captured.

Two men were digging a hole in the sand at the foot of the little redoubt.  Murat watched them mechanically.  When the two men had finished, they went into a neighbouring house and soon came out, bearing a corpse in their arms.