of your own purpose--that it had ceased to be fear, and had
become strength, penetration, vigilance, iron resolution--how
would you answer then if you were asked whether you were a
coward?

LADY (rising). Ah, you are a hero, a real hero.

NAPOLEON. Pooh! there's no such thing as a real hero. (He strolls
down the room, making light of her enthusiasm, but by no means
displeased with himself for having evoked it.)

LADY. Ah, yes, there is. There is a difference between what you
call my bravery and yours. You wanted to win the battle of Lodi
for yourself and not for anyone else, didn't you?

NAPOLEON. Of course. (Suddenly recollecting himself.) Stop: no.
(He pulls himself piously together, and says, like a man
conducting a religious service) I am only the servant of the
French republic, following humbly in the footsteps of the heroes
of classical antiquity. I win battles for humanity--for my
country, not for myself.

LADY (disappointed). Oh, then you are only a womanish hero, after
all. (She sits down again, all her enthusiasm gone, her elbow on
the end of the couch, and her cheek propped on her hand.)

NAPOLEON (greatly astonished). Womanish!

LADY (listlessly). Yes, like me. (With deep melancholy.) Do you
think that if I only wanted those despatches for myself, I dare