So Caroline, after the invariable accusations of treaty-breaking with which everybody opened verbal fire on an enemy, and the equally invariable appeal to history, stipulated for her own and her family’s safe return to France in an English vessel. Caroline was a Bonaparte, and she could keep her head even in a crisis of this sort. She had ruled wisely and well in her husband’s absence, backing him up, in spite of her opposition to the war, stoutly. Now she proclaimed the terms of accommodation, and, having provided for a temporary peace, she turned to the immediate needs of the situation, and, having heartened the city militia with her own courage, she pacified and quieted the populace. With her in the palace was her sister Pauline and her uncle, Cardinal Fesch, besides her four young children, whom she decided to send to Gaeta. Stout old Macdonald, the Minister for War, of whom Napoleon said during the Peninsular Campaign, “I would not dare to let McDonald within sound of the pipes!” was sent to supersede Manhir, and he did presently succeed in driving the Austrians beyond the Melfa; but no further advantage was gained, because the troops with which Murat was hoping to effect a junction were stampeded at Mignano. Murat’s reign was over. The Bourbons were upon the top of him, and all that he could do, now, was to escape before they closed every road. He believed that the Bourbons wished to capture him and wreak their vengeance upon him for the lean and restricted years. Leaving the wreck of his army to Carrascosa, he made his way into Naples as the sun was dropping over the hills, and hurried by roundabout ways towards the Palace. He was in civilian dress, having discarded his uniform when he left the army, but he was recognized and, to his surprise, treated by those whom he met with all the respect which had been his as a king. In the harbour he could see the British fleet lying at anchor, and perhaps the sight was not altogether an unwelcome one, for he had learned of Caroline’s treaty with Campbell, and, little as the English might be to his taste, at least they had been worthy and steadfast enemies and infinitely better company for him than the Bourbons. A little pleased, even through the fogs of his depression, at the manner in which he had been received by the people, he ran into the palace, seeking for his wife. He found her in her own apartment, in the same room where they had first heard of Napoleon’s departure from Elba, two short months before, and in which he had left her to depart upon this last disastrous campaign. It must have been rather dark in there now that the twilight had come down, and the memories of the past must have crowded thickly about him as he entered. He found Caroline alone, save for a lady-in-waiting, and he went straight to her and caught her in his arms, his voice, at first, too choked for utterance.