"Madam," said Napoleon, "this letter is the only proof that exists of your husband's guilt.

Throw it into the fire." The fatal paper blazed, crisped, passed from blue to yellow, and the treachery of Prince Laatsfeld was reduced to ashes.
Another time, a young man, named Von der Sulhn, journeyed from Dresden to Paris; unless you are told, you could scarcely imagine for what purpose.

There are people who travel for amusement, for business, for a change of air, or merely to be able to say they have been at such and such a place.

Some go abroad for instruction, others, perhaps, with no other object in view than to eat frogs in Paris, bouillabaisse at Marseilles, a polenta at Milan, macaroni at Naples, an olla podrida in Spain, or conscoussou in Africa.

Von der Sulhn travelled to assassinate the Emperor.