Rochas nodded, as much as to say that he would be punctual, and Jean, instead of immediately retiring, turned to smile at Maurice, who was lighting a cigarette. Since the scene in the train, there was a tacit truce between the two men, as though they were studying one another in a more and more kindly way.
Prosper, who had just returned, now exclaimed impatiently: 'I shall have something to eat if my officer doesn't come out of that shanty. It's disgusting; the Emperor may not be back before to-night.'
'I say,' exclaimed Maurice, whose curiosity was again aroused, 'it's perhaps some news of Bazaine that you've brought?'
'Perhaps so. They were talking about him at Monthois.'
Just then there was a sudden stir, and Jean, who had been standing at one of the entrances of the arbour, turned round and said: 'The Emperor!'
They all sprang to their feet. Between the poplars lining the white high road there appeared a platoon of Cent-Gardes still correctly dressed in their luxurious, resplendent uniforms, with large golden suns glittering upon their breastplates. In the open space behind them came the Emperor on horseback, escorted by his staff, which was followed by a second detachment of Cent-Gardes. Everyone uncovered, and a few acclamations were heard; and the Emperor raised his head as he passed by, so that one could clearly see his face, drawn and very pale, with dim wavering eyes which appeared full of water. He seemed as if he were waking out of a doze, smiled faintly at sight of the sunlit tavern, and then saluted.
Meantime, Bouroche had darted at Napoleon the quick glance of an experienced practitioner, and Jean and Maurice, who were standing in front of the surgeon, distinctly heard him growl: 'There's a nasty stone there, and no mistake.' And then he completed his diagnosis in two words, '_Done for_!'
Jean, with his narrow-minded common-sense, had shaken his head sorrowfully; what fearful bad luck for an army to have such a chief as that! Ten minutes later, when Maurice, after shaking hands with Prosper, went off delighted with his nicely served breakfast, to stroll about and smoke some more cigarettes, he carried away with him the recollection of that pale, dim-eyed Emperor, passing by on horseback at a jog-trot. So that was the conspirator, the dreamer deficient in energy at the decisive moment. He was said to be kind-hearted, to be quite capable of great and generous ideas, and, silent man that he was, to have a very tenacious will; and he was also undoubtedly very brave, disdainful of danger, like a fatalist always ready to accept his destiny. But in great crises he seemed struck with stupor, paralysed as it were in presence of accomplished facts; and thenceforward he was unable to contend against evil fortune. Maurice wondered if this were not some special physiological condition which agony had aggravated; if the disease from which the Emperor was evidently suffering were not the cause of the growing indecision and incapacity that he had displayed since the outset of the campaign. In that way, everything would have been explained. A grain of sand in a man's flesh, and empires totter and fall!