were the father of a real Emperor's grandson, you had a valid claim
to respectability, and he'd bite the head off the first person who
said you hadn't," said Fouche.

"Well--that certainly was standing up for his daddy," said the
Emperor, fondly.

"Ye-e-es," said Fouche, "but it's one of those double back-action
remarks that do more harm than good."

"Well," said Bonaparte, desperately, "let the boy say what he
pleases; he's my son, and he has that right. The thing for us to
decide is, what shall we do now?"

"There are three things left," said Fouche.

"And they?" asked the Emperor.

"Write Trilby, abdicate, or commit suicide. The first is beyond you.
You know enough about Paris, but your style is against you. As for
the second, abdication--if you abdicate you may come back, and the
trouble will begin all over again. If you commit suicide, you won't
have any more rows. The French will be startled, and say that it's a
splendid climax, and you will have the satisfaction of knowing that
some other man will try to please them with the same result."

"It shall be abdication," said the Emperor, with a sigh. "I don't
mind suicide, but, hang it, Fouche, if I killed myself I could not
read what the papers said about it. As for writing Trilby, it would
do more for royalty than for me. Therefore I will go to