At these heroic words the light flashed once more across the clouded face of Alexander. “You reassure me, colonel,” he said. “Well then, return to the army. Say to our brave men, say to all my subjects wherever you meet them, that if I had not a soldier left, I should put myself at the head of my dear nobles, of my faithful peasants, and expend to the uttermost the resources of my empire. They are greater than my enemies think. But if it be the will of God that my dynasty shall cease to reign upon the throne of my ancestors, then--after having done all else that man can do--I will let my beard grow to this,” said Alexander, placing his hand upon his breast, “and I will eat potatoes like the lowest of my mujiks, rather than sign the humiliation of my country and of my dear people, whose sacrifices for my sake I appreciate.” Here his voice failed: it was easier to speak of his own ruin than of the love of his subjects. Greatly moved, he turned away from Michaud, and walked to the other end of the cabinet. But he came back almost immediately with long and rapid strides, and a face that had quickly changed from a deadly pallor to a fiery flush. Pressing his hand on the arm of the officer, he said, “Colonel Michaud, do not forget my words; perhaps one day we shall remember them with pleasure. Napoleon or I--I or Napoleon--we can no longer reign together. I know him now; he shall never deceive me again.” “Sire,” cried the colonel joyfully, “your Majesty signs in this moment the glory of the nation and the deliverance of Europe.” His words were true--with this qualification, that the glory of Russia and the deliverance of Europe were not the work of a moment, but of long months of patient, heroic resolution. Alexander had not wished for war--perhaps, indeed, he had striven too long to avert it. Personally, in his earlier years, he admired Napoleon: the fact is undeniable, though it has been the subject of much exaggeration. From the dawn of manhood his favourite dream had been of a universal and durable peace, and he imagined he saw in the victories of Napoleon so many steps to its attainment. What are now called “Les idées Napoléoniques,” seem to have captivated for a season this young, ardent, somewhat visionary mind. But the veil once torn from his eyes by the insatiable ambition and the repeated perfidies of the French usurper, thenceforward it was between them war to the death. When Napoleon suddenly poured his enormous hosts across the Niemen, Alexander at once and emphatically announced his resolution, “I will not sheathe the sword while a single foreigner remains in arms upon the soil of Russia.” At that moment the eyes of all Europe were upon him, and neither friend nor foe believed it possible that he could make good his word.