"In this room, then, Madame Lenormand entertained the emperor?" he asked. "In this very room, sire," said Madame Moreau, rising, "only the arrangement of the furniture has been slightly changed." "I thank you, madame," said Napoleon, "follow my horoscope, I shall be glad to hear more from you!" And with a friendly smile, he walked to the door, which Madame Moreau opened for him, the lamp in her hand. On the stairs he took Piétri's arm and said: "Stay, madame, I do not wish to be recognized. I rely on your discretion. Adieu!" The quiet-looking carriage drove quickly back to the Tuileries. When he re-entered his cabinet, the emperor seated himself at his writing-table. Piétri stood beside him: Napoleon wrote: "My dear Monsieur Drouyn de Lhuys,-- "I herewith send you an explanation of the reasons which, according to my unalterable decision, render a moderate policy necessary on the part of France, with regard to recent events in Germany. I do not doubt that you will entirely share my views, and I beg you to believe in my sincere friendship." And he signed it, "Napoleon." He handed the paper silently to Piétri. "Sire," he said, after reading it, "who does your majesty destine to be the successor of Monsieur Drouyn de Lhuys?" "Moustiers knows the state of affairs in Berlin well," said the emperor; "prepare a letter to him beforehand, to inquire if he will undertake the guidance of foreign affairs." Piétri bowed. "One thing more," said Napoleon, "let Hansen come to me early to-morrow morning, we will make _one_ more effort." "At your majesty's command." "What do you think of Madame Moreau?" asked the emperor, who had already turned towards the door leading to his private apartments, as he paused for a moment. "How could she know that episode of my youth?" he whispered in a low voice. "Sire," replied Piétri, "it is difficult to say." "'There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy,'" said Napoleon in perfect English; and with a friendly nod he dismissed his secretary. CHAPTER XXV. THE SICK AND WOUNDED. In a somewhat large salon adjoining the bedroom of his comfortable bachelor apartments, in one of the old-fashioned houses of a quiet part of the town, Lieutenant von Stielow, the morning after his return, lay upon a large sofa covered with dark red silk. Half-closed curtains of the same colour hung before the window, admitting a subdued light into the room, where complete quiet prevailed, only broken from time to time by a carriage belonging to one of the aristocracy rolling swiftly past.