‘You remain here,’ said I, to my comrades.  ’If three horsemen pass you, stop them at any hazard.  The lady will describe them to you.  I will be with you presently.’  One shake of the bridle, and I was flying into Fontainebleau as only Violette could have carried me.  At the palace I flung myself off, rushed up the stairs, brushed aside the lackeys who would have stopped me, and pushed my way into the Emperor’s own cabinet.  He and Macdonald were busy with pencil and compasses over a chart.  He looked up with an angry frown at my sudden entry, but his face changed colour when he saw that it was I.

‘You can leave us, Marshal,’ said he, and then, the instant the door was closed:  ‘What news about the papers?’

‘They are gone!’ said I, and in a few curt words I told him what had happened.  His face was calm, but I saw the compasses quiver in his hand.

‘You must recover them, Gerard!’ he cried.  ’The destinies of my dynasty are at stake.  Not a moment is to be lost!  To horse, sir, to horse!’

‘Who are they, sire?’

’I cannot tell.  I am surrounded with treason.  But they will take them to Paris.  To whom should they carry them but to the villain Talleyrand?  Yes, yes, they are on the Paris road, and may yet be overtaken.  With the three best mounts in my stables and——­’

I did not wait to hear the end of the sentence.  I was already clattering down the stairs.  I am sure that five minutes had not passed before I was galloping Violette out of the town with the bridle of one of the Emperor’s own Arab chargers in either hand.  They wished me to take three, but I should have never dared to look my Violette in the face again.  I feel that the spectacle must have been superb when I dashed up to my comrades and pulled the horses on to their haunches in the moonlight.

‘No one has passed?’

‘No one.’

‘Then they are on the Paris road.  Quick!  Up and after them!’

They did not take long, those good soldiers.  In a flash they were upon the Emperor’s horses, and their own left masterless by the roadside.  Then away we went upon our long chase, I in the centre, Despienne upon my right, and Tremeau a little behind, for he was the heavier man.  Heavens, how we galloped!  The twelve flying hoofs roared and roared along the hard, smooth road.  Poplars and moon, black bars and silver streaks, for mile after mile our course lay along the same chequered track, with our shadows in front and our dust behind.  We could hear the rasping of bolts and the creaking of shutters from the cottages as we thundered past them, but we were only three dark blurs upon the road by the time that the folk could look after us.  It was just striking midnight as we raced into Corbail; but an hostler with a bucket in either hand was throwing his black shadow across the golden fan which was cast from the open door of the inn.

‘Three riders!’ I gasped.  ‘Have they passed?’