To the Citizen Gohier, President of the Executive Directory of the French Republic-- “Is that right?” she asked. “Perfectly! As he won’t wear this title of President much longer, we won’t cavil at it.” “Don’t you mean to make him something?” “I’ll make him anything he pleases, if he does exactly what I want. Now go on, my dear.” Josephine picked up her pen again and wrote: Come, my dear Gohier, with your wife, and breakfast with us to-morrow at eight o’clock. Don’t fail, for I have some very interesting things to tell you. Adieu, my dear Gohier! With the sincerest friendship, Yours, LA PAGERIE-BONAPARTE. “I wrote to-morrow,” exclaimed Josephine. “Shall I date it the 17th Brumaire?” “You won’t be wrong,” said Bonaparte; “there’s midnight striking.” In fact, another day had fallen into the gulf of time; the clock chimed twelve. Bonaparte listened gravely and dreamily. Twenty-four hours only separated him from the solemn day for which he had been scheming for a month, and of which he had dreamed for years. Let us do now what he would so gladly have done, and spring over those twenty-four hours intervening to the day which history has not yet judged, and see what happened in various parts of Paris, where the events we are about to relate produced an overwhelming sensation. CHAPTER XXIII. ALEA JACTA EST At seven in the morning, Fouché, minister of police, entered the bedroom of Gohier, president of the Directory. “Oh, ho!” said Gohier, when he saw him. “What has happened now, monsieur le ministre, to give me the pleasure of seeing you so early?” “Don’t you know about the decree?” asked Fouché. “What decree?” asked honest Gohier. “The decree of the Council of the Ancients.” “When was it issued?” “Last night.” “So the Council of the Ancients assembles at night now?” “When matters are urgent, yes.” “And what does the decree say.” “It transfers the legislative sessions to Saint-Cloud.” Gohier felt the blow. He realized the advantage which Bonaparte’s daring genius might obtain by this isolation. “And since when,” he asked Fouché, “is the minister of police transformed into a messenger of the Council of the Ancients?” “That’s where you are mistaken, citizen president,” replied the ex-Conventional. “I am more than ever minister of police this morning, for I have come to inform you of an act which may have the most serious consequences.” Not being as yet sure of how the conspiracy of the Rue de la Victoire would turn out, Fouché was not averse to keeping open a door for retreat at the Luxembourg. But Gohier, honest as he was, knew the man too well to be his dupe. “You should have informed me of this decree yesterday, and not this morning; for in making the communication now you are scarcely in advance of the official communication I shall probably receive in a few moments.”