PARIS. THE TUILERIES [It is Sunday just after mass, and the principal officers of the National Guard are assembled in the Salle des Marechaux. They stand in an attitude of suspense, some with the print of sadness on their faces, some with that of perplexity. The door leading from the Hall to the adjoining chapel is thrown open. There enter from the chapel with the last notes of the service the EMPEROR NAPOLÉON and the EMPRESS; and simultaneously from a door opposite MADAME DE MONTESQUIOU, the governess, who carries in her arms the KING OF ROME, now a fair child between two and three. He is clothed in a miniature uniform of the Guards themselves. MADAM DE MONTESQUIOU brings forward the child and sets him on his feet near his mother. NAPOLÉON, with a mournful smile, giving one hand to the boy and the other to MARIE LOUISE, en famille, leads them forward. The Guard bursts into cheers.]

NAPOLÉON Gentlemen of the National Guard and friends, I have to leave you; and before I fare To Heaven know what of personal destiny, I give into your loyal guardianship Those dearest in the world to me; my wife, The Empress, and my son the King of Rome.— I go to shield your roofs and kin from foes Who have dared to pierce the fences of our land; And knowing that you house those dears of mine, I start afar in all tranquillity, Stayed by my trust in your proved faithfulness. [Enthusiastic cheers for the Guard.]

OFFICERS [with emotion] We proudly swear to justify the trust! And never will we see another sit Than you, or yours, on the great throne of France.

NAPOLÉON I ratify the Empress’ regency, And re-confirm it on last year’s lines, My bother Joseph stoutening her rule As the Lieutenant-General of the State.— Vex her with no divisions; let regard For property, for order, and for France Be chief with all. Know, gentlemen, the Allies Are drunken with success. Their late advantage They have handled wholly for their own gross gain, And made a pastime of my agony. That I go clogged with cares I sadly own; Yet I go primed with hope; ay, in despite Of a last sorrow that has sunk upon me,— The grief of hearing, good and constant friends, That my own sister’s consort, Naples’ king, Blazons himself a backer of the Allies, And marches with a Neapolitan force Against our puissance under Prince Eugène. The varied operations to ensue May bring the enemy largely Paris-wards; But suffer no alarm; before long days I will annihilate by flank and rear Those who have risen to trample on our soil; And as I have done so many and proud a time, Come back to you with ringing victory!— Now, see: I personally present to you My son and my successor ere I go. [He takes the child in his arms and carries him round to the officers severally. They are much affected and raise loud cheers.] You stand by him and her? You swear as much?

OFFICERS We do!

NAPOLÉON This you repeat—you promise it?

OFFICERS We promise. May the dynasty live for ever! [Their shouts, which spread to the Carrousel without, are echoed by the soldiers of the Guard assembled there. The EMPRESS is now in tears, and the EMPEROR supports her.]

MARIE LOUISE Such whole enthusiasm I have never known!— Not even from the Landwehr of Vienna. [Amid repeated protestations and farewells NAPOLÉON, the EMPRESS, the KING OF ROME, MADAME DE MONTESQUIOU, etc. go out in one direction, and the officers of the National Guard in another. The curtain falls for an interval. When it rises again the apartment is in darkness, and its atmosphere chilly. The January night-wind howls without. Two servants enter hastily, and light candles and a fire. The hands of the clock are pointing to three. The room is hardly in order when the EMPEROR enters, equipped for the intended journey; and with him, his left arm being round her waist, walks MARIE LOUISE in a dressing-gown. On his right arm he carries the KING OF ROME, and in his hand a bundle of papers. COUNT BERTRAND and a few members of the household follow. Reaching the middle of the room, he kisses the child and embraces the EMPRESS, who is tearful, the child weeping likewise. NAPOLÉON takes the papers to the fire, thrusts them in, and watches them consume; then burns other bundles brought by his attendants.]

NAPOLÉON [gloomily] Better to treat them thus; since no one knows What comes, or into whose hands he may fall!

MARIE LOUISE I have an apprehension-unexplained— That I shall never see you any more!

NAPOLÉON Dismiss such fears. You may as well as not. As things are doomed to be they will be, dear. If shadows must come, let them come as though The sun were due and you were trusting to it: ’Twill teach the world it wrongs in bringing them. [They embrace finally. Exeunt NAPOLÉON, etc. Afterwards MARIE LOUISE and the child.]

SPIRIT OF THE YEARS Her instinct forwardly is keen in cast, And yet how limited. True it may be They never more will meet; although—to use The bounded prophecy I am dowered with— The screen that will maintain their severance Would pass her own believing; proving it No gaol-grille, no scath of scorching war, But this persuasion, pressing on her pulse To breed aloofness and a mind averse; Until his image in her soul will shape Dwarfed as a far Colossus on a plain, Or figure-head that smalls upon the main. [The lights are extinguished and the hall is left in darkness.]