'I thank you,' he replied gravely. 'I agree that everything possible should be done to preserve the peace. Should I decide to go to Paris, my reception by Napoleon would depend much on the mood in which he happened to be, but were it good I'd not forget the generous interest that you have shown in my affairs. I'll think the matter over and let you know my decision tomorrow morning.'
That night both his sense of duty and his inclination prompted him to take Fouche's advice. However bad the bargain Britain might have made at Amiens, there was no reason whatever to suppose that, should the war be renewed, she would get a better one a year or two hence; in fact, since she had no single ally left on die Continent, it might prove very much worse. Talleyrand, Roger felt sure, would do everything possible to hold Napoleon back, and some occasion might arise in which he could be of help in that. It would mean denying himself the winter sunshine, the azure skies, the mimosa and carnations, the oranges and tangerines of the South of France, that he had been looking forward to in January and February; but little Jeanne Meuralt was no longer there to give him her companionship, along that part of the coast there was no society and the longer he remained outside Napoleon's orbit the less chance he would have of regaining his old position as a confidant of secrets that might change the destinies of nations.
So next day he packed such things as he needed, while Fouché walked down to the village and drove back in the travelling coach that he had had stabled there. Roger left money with the Dufour couple and told them and the other servants that he might not be returning for some months; then, that afternoon, he and Fouché set off in the coach for Paris.
They arrived on December 2nd, and Roger was made as welcome as ever at La Belle Etoile by the Blanchards. They had wonderful things to say about the happenings in Paris since he had last been there. The peace had brought not only scores of English 'milors' to France but also many Russian and German nobles. The Place du Carousel had been a sight to sec on review days when they all went there in their splendid equipages. The parties at the Tuileries were becoming ever more brilliant. Now, like a King and Queen, Napoleon and Josephine received at their Court all the Foreign Ambassadors who presented to them the visiting aristocracy from their countries: Lord Whitworth for England, M. Markoff for Russia and the Marquis dc Lucchesini for Prussia; and the Ambassadors in turn gave magnificent receptions for the First Consul and his wife. Never since the fall of the Bastille, thirteen years ago. had the theatres been so packed or the fetes been attended by so many thousands of well-dressed people.
Business was booming, not only in the capital but throughout the whole country, for the Industrial Revolution had come to France. Napoleon's remaking of the roads and canals and his suppression of brigandage now made commerce between cities swift and profitable. The bad old days of the almost worthless paper assignats were gone and the funds, which at the time of Brumaire had been down to seven francs, now stood at fifty two.
In the autumn Napoleon had organized an Exhibition of Industry in the Louvre and converted many of its splendid apartments into an art gallery, where could be seen the great collection of Old Masters looted out of Italy and such masterpieces as the Venus dc Medici. It had again become fashionable to go to Mass. In return for the Concordat the Vatican had led the way in recognizing the new Kingdom of Etruria and the Helvetii and Batavian Republics as French Protectorates. Food was plentiful and cheap. New buildings were going up everywhere. The projects of Napoleon for the betterment of France seemed endless and he was looked on by the majority of the people as the giver of all good things.
Next day, dressed again as a Colonel and wearing the sash of an A.D.C., Roger was received by the great man. Napoleon stared at him for a moment then snapped, 'How dare you present yourself to me in uniform! You forfeited the right to it months ago. Owing to your weak chest I gave you leave to spend the worst of last winter in the south. Your failure to report to me in the Spring amounts to desertion and I mean to have you court-martialled for it.'
Roger had known this to be a risk that he would have to run, but felt fairly confident that he could surmount it. Making a pretence of beginning to take off his A.D.C.'s sash, he gave a shrug and replied, 'As you will. If my old friend and master has become an unjust tyrant in my absence there is naught that I can do about it. Strip me of my uniform. Have me drummed out, if it pleases you. Order your Court to condemn me; but I'd be unfortunate indeed if I were thrown into a French prison after having spent a good part of the year in an English one.'
'An English prison?'
'Yes. Before reporting to you in the Spring I thought I'd take advantage of the peace and spend a few weeks in England, so as to be able to inform you on my return how things were going there. A duel was forced upon me and for fighting it I was clapped into gaol. As soon as I was free I returned via Bordeaux, then went to St. Maxime for only long enough to see that all was well with my small property there. Then, although it is mid-winter, giving no thought to my chest, I came with all speed to Paris, so that I might with the least possible delay congratulate you on having become First Consul for life.'
Napoleon grunted, 'I see! I sec! That certainly puts a different complexion on matters. But now there is peace I have no use for beaux sabreurs. At least not at present.'
'No; not at present, First Consul,' Roger smiled. 'But I have a feeling that you will before we are much older.'
'What the devil do you mean?'
'I travelled north with Joseph Fouche. He gave me the impression that you are by no means satisfied with the conduct of the English.'
'Fouché, eh! That intriguing Jacobin! He has a finger in every pie and although I got rid of him he still catches news of everything in his spider's web.'
Beginning to pace up and down with his hands clasped behind his back, Napoleon went on. 'But he's right, of course. They are thwarting me in India. They are still sitting at the Cape and refuse to evacuate Malta. Their journals, too! No doubt you saw them. Article after article, maligning me most shamefully. 'Tis disgraceful that they should allow their scribblers to write filth about a friendly Head of State. But I've no wish for war. Under me France has become prosperous as never before. I intend to keep it so. Yet this haggling with them infuriates me. They agreed the peace terms so they should keep them; but I suppose one can expect no better from a nation of shopkeepers.'
'In view of their recent treatment of me I'd like nothing better than to have at them again,' Roger remarked. 'But since you are set on maintaining the peace, why not let me resume my old duties as assistant to Bourrienne?'
'Bourrienne!’ Napoleon stopped pacing and frowned again. 'He is here no longer. I got rid of him last October.'
'Got rid of Bourrienne!' Roger exclaimed. 'Mon General, I can scarce believe it. Why, he was your oldest friend and invaluable to you. What frightful crime did he commit?'
' 'Tis naught to do with you. And no man is indispensable.
Meneval now serves me just as well and has all the help he needs. No, for the moment I have no use for you, so you had best return to the sunshine of the south.'
Although Roger was well aware of Napoleon's duplicity, he had formed the opinion that he really meant what he had said about not wanting a renewal of the war, which was a considerable relief; but he had been so taken aback at the dismissal of Bourrienne that for a moment he was at a loss to think of any other suggestion which might lead to his employment. He had just made up his mind to bow himself out and see Talleyrand, who might find a use for him, when Napoleon suddenly snapped his fingers and cried: