close to the wall of the cabinet.

"Do you choose not to understand me?" said the First Consul. "I wish
to be alone with my compatriot."

"A Corsican!" replied the aide-de-camp. "I distrust those fellows too
much to--"

The First Consul could not restrain a smile as he pushed his faithful
officer by the shoulders.

"Well, what has brought you here, my poor Bartolomeo?" said Napoleon.

"To ask asylum and protection from you, if you are a true Corsican,"
replied Bartolomeo, roughly.

"What ill fortune drove you from the island? You were the richest, the
most--"

"I have killed all the Portas," replied the Corsican, in a deep voice,
frowning heavily.

The First Consul took two steps backward in surprise.

"Do you mean to betray me?" cried Bartolomeo, with a darkling look at
Bonaparte. "Do you know that there are still four Piombos in Corsica?"

Lucien took an arm of his compatriot and shook it.

"Did you come here to threaten the savior of France?" he said.