At last, when he could master his voice, he spoke calmly enough, and his tremendous self-restraint was worthy of the old Murat of Jena and Eylau. “We are betrayed by fortune, my dear,” he said, “and all is lost!” Caroline was even steadier than he, and she smiled into his eyes. “Not all,” she answered quickly, “if we preserve our honour and our constancy!” [Illustration: CAROLINE, QUEEN OF NAPLES. From a photo by Mansell after the picture by Madame Lebrun.] Sitting down together, they dismissed the lady-in-waiting with instructions to gather together the few proved friends who still remained to them, and then set themselves to the preparations for their departure. An hour or more they spent together, and then Murat emerged, his head high, and his face alight from the contact with his splendid wife. His Ministers had assembled, and with them he arranged such of the affairs of the kingdom as admitted of arrangement, and placed them in such a shape that the Bourbon could not help but keep them so, for his own sake, and every last one of his acts and thoughts was directed towards the future welfare of his people. Nothing else appeared to have any place in his mind at all. He was cool, quiet, cheerful, and collected, heartening those around him, and as freehanded to the French who were leaving him, and the servants whom he was leaving, as though he were taking the Crown instead of laying it down. He had regained the priceless possession of hope. Napoleon’s star was still shining. France had taken him to her arms. Without the shedding of a single drop of blood he had regained the throne and, though all the world might be in arms against him, he had faith in himself, the faith that moveth mountains. Murat had resolved to go and join him, and, when the world war was over, and Napoleon’s foot was again upon the neck of his enemies, to return to Naples and drive Ferdinand into the sea and under it. Caroline knew of his intention, for she let him go alone, and his instructions to Carrascosa (before the latter departed to the little house, three miles out of Capua, where Lord Burghersh, Bianchi, and Neipperg waited to arrange the terms of the treaty of Casa Lanza) show her hand plainly, for Carrascosa was told to stipulate that the property sold or given away by Murat must be guaranteed to its possessors, in order, as Joachim said, to leave him the character of a good king and that the Neapolitans might cherish his memory. He knew, and so did Caroline, exactly how long it would take Ferdinand to make himself loathed and abominated by the people whose yoke Joachim had lifted.