“See,” he continued, with that eloquence of his which changed even cowards to brave men, “see those three hundred thousand men--all innocent. And yet to-morrow thirty thousand of them will be lying dead, dead for their country! Among those Prussians there is, perhaps, some great mathematician, a man of genius, an idealist, who will be mown down. On our side we shall assuredly lose many a great man never known to fame. Perhaps even I shall see my best friend die. Shall I blame God? No. I shall bear it silently. Learn from this, mademoiselle, that a man must die for the laws of his country just as men die here for her glory.” So saying, he led her back into the hut. “Return to France,” he said, looking at the marquis; “my orders shall follow you.” Laurence believed in a commutation of Michu’s punishment, and in her gratitude she knelt again before the Emperor and kissed his hand. “You are the Marquis de Chargeboeuf?” said Napoleon, addressing the marquis. “Yes, Sire.” “You have children?” “Many children.” “Why not give me one of your grandsons? he shall be my page.” “Ah!” thought Laurence, “there’s the sub-lieutenant after all; he wants to be paid for his mercy.” The marquis bowed without replying. Happily at this moment General Rapp rushed into the hut. “Sire, the cavalry of the Guard, and that of the Grand-duc de Berg cannot be set up before midday to-morrow.” “Never mind,” said Napoleon, turning to Berthier, “we, too, get our reprieves; let us profit by them.” At a sign of his hand the marquis and Laurence retired and again entered their carriage; the corporal showed them their road and accompanied them to a village where they passed the night. The next day they left the field of battle behind them, followed by the thunder of the cannon,--eight hundred pieces,--which pursued them for ten hours. While still on their way they learned of the amazing victory of Jena. Eight days later, they were driving through the faubourg of Troyes, where they learned that an order of the chief justice, transmitted through the _procureur imperial_ of Troyes, commanded the release of the four gentlemen on bail during the Emperor’s pleasure. But Michu’s sentence was confirmed, and the warrant for his execution had been forwarded from the ministry of police. These orders had reached Troyes that very morning. Laurence went at once to the prison, though it was two in the morning, and obtained permission to stay with Michu, who was about to undergo the melancholy ceremony called “the toilet.” The good abbe, who had asked permission to accompany him to the scaffold, had just given absolution to the man, whose only distress in dying was his uncertainty as to the fate of his young masters. When Laurence entered his cell he uttered a cry of joy. “I can die now,” he said.