“Sire, you are declared a public enemy, and as such you are liable to be judged by court-martial:  that is the law which you instituted yourself for rebels.”

“That law was made for brigands, and not for crowned heads, sir,” said Murat scornfully.  “I am ready; let them butcher me if they like.  I did not think King Ferdinand capable of such an action.”

“Sire, will you not hear the names of your judges?”

“Yes, sir, I will.  It must be a curious list.  Read it:  I am listening.”

Captain Stratti read out the names that we have enumerated.  Murat listened with a disdainful smile.

“Ah,” he said, as the captain finished, “it seems that every precaution has been taken.”

“How, sire?”

“Yes.  Don’t you know that all these men, with the exception of Francesco Froio, the reporter; owe their promotion to me?  They will be afraid of being accused of sparing me out of gratitude, and save one voice, perhaps, the sentence will be unanimous.”

“Sire, suppose you were to appear before the court, to plead your own cause?”

“Silence, sir, silence!” said Murat.  “I could, not officially recognise the judges you have named without tearing too many pages of history.  Such tribunal is quite incompetent; I should be disgraced if I appeared before it.  I know I could not save my life, let me at least preserve my royal dignity.”

At this moment Lieutenant Francesco Froio came in to interrogate the prisoner, asking his name, his age, and his nationality.  Hearing these questions, Murat rose with an expression of sublime dignity.

“I am Joachim Napoleon, King of the Two Sicilies,” he answered, “and I order you to leave me.”

The registrar obeyed.

Then Murat partially dressed himself, and asked Stratti if he could write a farewell to his wife and children.  The Captain no longer able to speak, answered by an affirmative sign; then Joachim sat down to the table and wrote this letter: 

“Dear Caroline of my heart,—­The fatal moment has come:  I am to suffer the death penalty.  In an hour you will be a widow, our children will be fatherless:  remember me; never forget my memory.  I die innocent; my life is taken from me unjustly.

“Good-bye, Achilles good-bye, Laetitia; goodbye, Lucien; good-bye, Louise.

“Show yourselves worthy of me; I leave you in a world and in a kingdom full of my enemies.  Show yourselves superior to adversity, and remember never to think yourselves better than you are, remembering what you have been.

“Farewell.  I bless you all.  Never curse my memory.  Remember that the worst pang of my agony is in dying far from my children, far from my wife, without a friend to close my eyes.  Farewell, my own Caroline.  Farewell, my children.  I send you my blessing, my most tender tears, my last kisses.  Farewell, farewell.  Never forget your unhappy father,