“General, I can tell you nothing, except that those who stopped it were on horseback and masked.” “How many were there?” “Four.” “How many men were there in the diligence?” “Four, including the conductor.” “And they didn’t defend themselves?” “No, general.” “The police report says, however, that two shots were fired.” “Yes, general, but those two shots--” “Well?” “Were fired by my son.” “Your son? Why, he is in Vendée!” “Roland, yes; but Edouard was with me.” “Edouard! Who is Edouard?” “Roland’s brother.” “True, he spoke of him; but he is only a child.” “He is not yet twelve, general.” “And it was he who fired the two shots?” “Yes, general.” “Why didn’t you bring him with you?” “I did.” “Where is he?” “I left him with Madame Bonaparte.” Bonaparte rang, and an usher appeared. “Tell Josephine to bring the boy to me.” Then, walking up and down his study, he muttered, “Four men! And a child taught them courage! Were any of the robbers wounded?” “There were no balls in the pistols.” “What! no balls?” “No; they belonged to the conductor, and he had taken the precaution to load them with powder only.” “Very good; his name shall be known.” Just then the door opened, and Madame Bonaparte entered, leading the boy by the hand. “Come here,” Bonaparte said to him. Edouard went up to him without hesitation and made a military salute. “So you fired at the robbers twice, did you?” “There, you see, mamma, they were robbers!” interrupted the child. “Of course they were robbers; I should like to hear any one declare they were not! Was it you who fired at them, when the men were afraid?” “Yes, it was I, general. But unfortunately that coward of a conductor had loaded his pistols only with powder; otherwise I should have killed their leader.” “Then you were not afraid?” “I?” replied the boy. “No, I am never afraid.” “You ought to be named Cornelia, madame,” exclaimed Bonaparte, turning to Madame de Montrevel, who was leaning on Josephine’s arm. Then he said to the child, kissing him: “Very good; we will take care of you. What would you like to be?” “Soldier first.” “What do you mean by first?” “Why, first a soldier, then later a colonel like my brother, and then a general like my father.” “It won’t be my fault if you are not,” answered the First Consul. “Nor mine,” retorted the boy. “Edouard!” exclaimed Madame de Montrevel, timidly. “Now don’t scold him for answering properly;” and Bonaparte, lifting the child to the level of his face, kissed him. “You must dine with us,” said he, “and to-night Bourrienne, who met you at the hotel, will install you in the Rue de la Victoire. You must stay there till Roland gets back; he will then find you suitable lodgings. Edouard shall go to the Prytanée, and I will marry off your daughter.” “General!”