'
'In no matters whatsoever.'
'But the tempest, Sire! Did it not prove me to be in the right?'
'What! You still dare to bandy words with me?'
'When I have justice on my side.'
There was a hush amidst all the great audience; such a heavy silence as
comes only when many are waiting, and all with bated breath.
The Emperor's face was terrible. His cheeks were of a greenish, livid
tint, and there was a singular rotary movement of the muscles of his
forehead. It was the countenance of an epileptic. He raised the whip
to his shoulder, and took a step towards the admiral.
'You insolent rascal!' he hissed. It was the Italian word _coglione_
which he used, and I observed that as his feelings overcame him his
French became more and more that of a foreigner.
For a moment he seemed to be about to slash the sailor across the face
with his whip. The latter took a step back, and clapped his hand to his
sword.
'Have a care, Sire,' said he.
For a few instants the tension was terrible. Then Napoleon brought the
whip down with a sharp crack against his own thigh.
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