"Run away? Not I!" came Napoleon's answer in an indignant whisper. "I am
not afraid."

"But I am," said Pauline. "I do not wish them to whip you. I shall cry.
Run, Napoleon! run away!"

The perspiration stood in beads on the boy's sallow forehead; but he
said nothing. "Ask Uncle Lucien's pardon, Napoleon; ask Papa Charles's
pardon, if you will not run away," Pauline next whispered; "or let me.
Come! may I not do it for you?"

Napoleon's hand dropped upon Pauline's shoulder, as if to keep her back
from such an action; but he said nothing.

"Pauline, leave your brother," Charles Bonaparte said. "He is a stubborn
and undutiful boy. I forbid you to speak to him."

Then turning to his son, he said, "Napoleon, we have given you more than
the time offered you for reflection. Now, sir, come and ask pardon for
your misdeed, and all will be over."

"Yes, come," said Uncle Lucien.

Napoleon remained silent.

"Do you not hear me, Napoleon?" his father said.

"Yes, papa," replied the boy.