the most unfortunate in our disasters.' To the departments of the Rhone: 'I have been bred amongst you.' To others: 'Your bands were at Rivoli, at Arcola, at Marengo, at Tilsit, at Austerlitz, at the Pyramids.' These magic names filled with deep emotion the hearts of those old warriors, the venerable wrecks of so many victories . . . . A few days afterwards the Emperor set off. I left him at midnight. He suffered a great deal from a pain in his breast. He stepped, however, into his coach with a cheerfulness that seemed to show he was conscious of victory."
And now for the second scene:
"At last I learned the fatal news of the battle of Waterloo, and the next morning the Emperor arrived. I flew to the Elysée to see him; he ordered me to his closet, and as soon as he saw me he came to meet me with a frightful epileptic laugh. 'Oh! my God!' he said, raising his eyes to heaven, and walking two or three times up and down the room. This appearance of despair was, however, very short. He soon recovered his coolness, and asked me what was going forward at the Chamber of Representatives. I could not attempt to hide that exasperation was there carried to a high degree, and that the majority seemed determined to require his abdication or to pronounce it themselves if he did not send it in willingly. 'How is that?' he said. 'If proper measures are not taken, the enemy will be before the gates in
