Then her courage failed this noble creature, the daughter of a king, the wife of a king, the cousin of an emperor. Tears came into her eyes: she asked to be allowed to speak to Maubreuil. Maubreuil came to her. "What is to become of me, monsieur?" she said. "At least give me back this money: I need it to continue my journey." "Madame," replied Maubreuil, "I do but carry out the orders of the Government: I must give up your luggage in Paris intact. I can only give you the hundred napoleons in my own purse." Acting upon the Count de Furstenstein's advice, the princess accepted this offer, thinking it a last token of devotion from a man who had been in her service. Besides, she thought he would give her leave to return to Paris, where she would regain possession of her money. But this was not to be: they made her re-enter her carriage, and the princess continued her journey to Villeneuve-la-Guyare, under the escort of two soldiers, while her boxes, her gold, her jewels, piled on the post-waggon, were sent back to Paris. Had the princess resisted, the two infantry men were ordered to use violence in compelling her to continue her journey. She then asked at least to be allowed to send one of her own servants along with her boxes, as escort. But as the demand was considered outrageous, it was refused. So the princess's carriage went forward to Villeneuve-la-Guyare. Maubreuil's and d'Asies' consciences were quite easy:--had not the princess a hundred napoleons wherewith to provide her needs? At the next post-house Maubreuil's purse was opened to pay. They found it contained only forty-four napoleons. They left the purse and the forty-four napoleons there and then in the hands of the justice of the peace at Pont-sur-Yonne. When Maubreuil left Fossard, he forbade the post-master to supply horses to anyone before three o'clock. So far so good. Now they could give their attention to the second part of their mission--the least important to Maubreuil--that of killing the emperor. It was the 21st of April. On the 19th, the emperor, deserted by everyone, was alone save for a single valet. It was an opportune moment: unluckily, they let it slip. They were lying in wait for the princess in the rue Saint-Lazare; they could not be everywhere at the same time. On the 20th, the day after, the emperor bade farewell to his Guards. It was not in the midst of that pack of brigands that he could be attacked. On the 21 st, as we have seen, they were busily engaged. And it was just at that moment that the emperor left for Fontainebleau, with the commissioners of the four Powers. Bah! even if they had not killed the emperor, what mattered it? Since they had robbed the Queen of Westphalia, and taken her gold and her jewels, it was just as good. The emperor was not killed.