Bonaparte did not at once reply.  He attentively read the letter of Junot, senior, then returned it to his friend, and with head sunk down upon his breast he stared gloomily, with contracted eyebrows.

“You answer not, general,” exclaimed Junot, in extreme anguish.  “You do not wish to be my mediator?”

Bonaparte raised his head; his cheeks were paler than before, and a gloomy expression was in his eyes.

“I cannot write to my mother to make her this proposition,” said he, in a rough, severe tone.  “That is impossible, my friend.  You say that one day you will have an income of twelve hundred livres.  That is, indeed, very fair, but you have them not now.  Besides, your father’s health is remarkably good, and he will make you wait a long time.  For the present you have nothing; for your lieutenant’s epaulets can be reckoned as nothing.  As regards Pauline, she has not even that much.  Let us then sum up:  you have nothing; she has nothing!  What is the total amount?  Nothing.  You cannot, therefore, be married now:  let us wait.  We shall, perhaps, friend, outlive these evil days.  Yes, we shall outlive them, even if I have to become an exile, to seek for them in another portion of the world!  Let us, then, wait!” [Footnote:  Bonaparte’s words.—­See Abrantes, “Memoires,” vol. i., p. 284.]

And a wondrous, mysterious brilliancy and flash filled the eyes of General Bonaparte, as with a commanding voice he repeated, “Let us wait!”

Was this one of those few and pregnant moments in which the mind with prophetic power gazes into the future?  Had a corner of the veil which hid the future been lifted up before the glowing eagle-eye of Napoleon, and did he see the splendor and the glory of that future which were to be his?  However great his imagination, however ambitious his dreams, however wide his hopes, yet they all were to be one day surpassed by the reality.  For would he not have considered a madman him, who, at this hour, would have told him:  “Smooth the furrows on your brow, Bonaparte; be not downcast about the present.  You are now in want, you are thrust aside; forgetfulness and obscurity are now your lot; but be of good cheer, you will be emperor, and all Europe will lie trembling at your feet.  You love the young Desiree Clary, and her indifference troubles you; but be of good cheer, you will one day marry the daughter of a Caesar, and the little Desiree, the daughter of a merchant from Marseilles, will one day be Sweden’s queen!  You refuse to Junot, your friend, the gratification of his wishes, because he possesses nothing but his officer’s epaulets:  but be of good cheer, for you will one day convert the little Lieutenant Junot into a duke, and give him a kingdom for a dowry!  You feel downhearted and ashamed, because your sister Pauline is not rich, because she possesses nothing but her beauty and her name:  but be of good cheer, she will one day be the wife of the wealthiest prince of Italy; all the treasures of art will be gathered in her palace, and yet she will be the most precious ornament of that palace!”