Such a catastrophe would even be in the worldly interests of the throne.
Why did not Paris dare to whisper a word under Buonaparte?
Ask the cannon of Saint-Roch?"
Julien did not leave with M. de la Mole before three o'clock in the morning.
The marquis seemed tired and ashamed.
For the first time in his life in conversation with Julien, his tone was plaintive.
He asked him for his word never to reveal the excesses of zeal, that was his expression, of which chance had just made him a witness.
"Only mention it to our foreign friend, if he seriously insists on knowing what our young madmen are like.
What does it matter to them if a state is overthrown, they will become cardinals and will take refuge in Rome.
As for us, we shall be massacred by the peasants in our chateaus."
The secret note into which the marquis condensed Julien's full report of twenty-six pages was not ready before a quarter to five.
"I am dead tired," said the marquis, "as is quite obvious from the lack of clearness at the end of this note; I am more dissatisfied with it than with anything I ever did in my whole life.
Look here, my friend," he added, "go and rest for some hours, and as I am frightened you might be kidnapped, I shall lock you up in your room."
The marquis took Julien on the following day to a lonely chateau at a good distance from Paris.
There were strange guests there whom Julien thought were priests.
He was given a passport which was made out in a fictitious name, but indicated the real destination of his journey, which he had always pretended not to know.
He got into a carriage alone.
The marquis had no anxiety on the score of his memory. Julien had recited the secret note to him several times but he was very apprehensive of his being intercepted.
"Above all, mind you look like a coxcomb who is simply travelling to kill time," he said affectionately to him when he was leaving the salon.
"Perhaps there was more than one treacherous brother in this evening's meeting."
The journey was quick and very melancholy.
Julien had scarcely got out of the marquis's sight before he forgot his secret note and his mission, and only thought about Mathilde's disdain.
At a village some leagues beyond Metz, the postmaster came and told him that there were no horses.
It was ten o'clock in the evening.
Julien was very annoyed and asked for supper.
He walked in front of the door and gradually without being noticed passed into the stable-yard.
He did not see any horses there.
"That man looked strange though," thought Julien to himself.
"He was scrutinizing me with his brutal eyes."
As one sees he was beginning to be slightly sceptical of all he heard.
He thought of escaping after supper, and in order to learn at any rate something about the surrounding country, he left his room to go and warm himself at the kitchen fire.
He was overjoyed to find there the celebrated singer, signor Geronimo.
The Neopolitan was ensconced in an armchair which he had had brought near the fire. He was groaning aloud, and was speaking more to himself than to the twenty dumbfounded German peasants who surrounded him.
"Those people will be my ruin," he cried to Julien,
"I have promised to sing to-morrow at Mayence.
Seven sovereign princes have gone there to hear me.
Let us go and take the air," he added, meaningly.
When he had gone a hundred yards down the road, and it was impossible to be overheard, he said to Julien: "Do you know the real truth, the postmaster is a scoundrel.
When I went out for a walk I gave twenty sous to a little ragamuffin who told me everything.
There are twelve horses in the stable at the other end of the village.
They want to stop some courier."
"Really," said Julien innocently.
Discovering the fraud was not enough; the thing was to get away, but Geronimo and his friends could not succeed in doing this.
"Let us wait for daybreak," said the singer at last, "they are mistrustful of us.
It is perhaps you or me whom they suspect.
We will order a good breakfast to-morrow morning, we will go for a walk while they are getting it ready, we will then escape, we will hire horses, and gain the next station."
"And how about your luggage?" said Julien, who thought perhaps Geronimo himself might have been sent to intercept him.
They had to have supper and go to bed.
Julien was still in his first sleep when he was woken up with a start by the voices of two persons who were speaking in his room with utmost freedom.
He recognised the postmaster armed with a dark lantern.