“Those who write me such letters--fools, arch fools. Do they take me for a man who patterns his conduct by the past? Play Monk! What good would it do? Bring back another Charles II.? No, faith, it is not worth while. When a man has Toulon, the 13th Vendemiaire, Lodi, Castiglione, Arcola, Rivoli and the Pyramids behind him, he’s no Monk. He has the right to aspire to more than a duchy of Albemarle, and the command by land and sea of the forces of his Majesty King Louis XVIII.” “For that reason you are asked to make your own conditions, citizen First Consul.” Bonaparte started at the sound of that voice as if he had forgotten that any one was present. “Not counting,” he went on, “that it is a ruined family, a dead branch of a rotten trunk. The Bourbons have so intermarried with one another that the race is depraved; Louis XIV. exhausted all its sap, all its vigor.--You know history, sir?” asked Bonaparte, turning to the young man. “Yes, general,” he replied; “at least as well as a _ci-devant_ can know it.” “Well, you must have observed in history, especially in that of France, that each race has its point of departure, its culmination, and its decadence. Look at the direct line of the Capets; starting from Hugues Capet, they attained their highest grandeur in Philippe Auguste and Louis XI., and fell with Philippe V. and Charles IV. Take the Valois; starting with Philippe VI., they culminated in François I. and fell with Charles IX. and Henry III. See the Bourbons; starting with Henry IV., they have their culminating point in Louis XIV. and fall with Louis XV. and Louis XVI.--only they fall lower than the others; lower in debauchery with Louis XV., lower in misfortune with Louis XVI. You talk to me of the Stuarts, and show me the example of Monk. Will you tell me who succeeded Charles II.? James II. And who to James II.? William of Orange, a usurper. Would it not have been better, I ask you, if Monk had put the crown on his own head? Well, if I was fool enough to restore Louis XVIII. to the throne, like Charles II. he would have no children, and, like James II., his brother Charles X. would succeed him, and like him would be driven out by some William of Orange. No, no! God has not put the destiny of this great and glorious country we call France into my hands that I should cast it back to those who have gambled with it and lost it.” “Permit me, general, to remark that I did not ask you for all this.” “But I, I ask you--” “I think you are doing me the honor to take me for posterity.” Bonaparte started, turned round, saw to whom he was speaking, and was silent. “I only want,” said Morgan, with a dignity which surprised the man whom he addressed, “a yes or a no.” “And why do you want that?” “To know whether we must continue to war against you as an enemy, or fall at your feet as a savior.” “War,” said Bonaparte, “war! Madmen, they who war with me! Do they not see that I am the elect of God?” “Attila said the same thing.”