Good M. de P——, who had remained in the carriage, still trembled for me. When we had passed the barrier, I laughed and said, "That is the way to smuggle. I could not get out of it as Marshal Saxe did, but you will agree that I managed it pretty well." And thereupon I told him the story of what happened to the conqueror of Fontenoy at the gates of some Flemish town.
Marshal Saxe was returning into France after the campaign of 1745. At the gates of some city on the French frontier, a customs officer presented himself at the door of the carriage, and said, "Have you anything contrary to the orders of the King, Marshal?"
"No, Monsieur."
"But what is that?" asked the officer, pointing to an immense barrel of tobacco on which the marshal's feet were resting, and which took up all the front part of the carriage.
"That, Monsieur," replied the marshal calmly, " is my tobacco box."
"Oh, indeed!" said the official. "Well,
