zeal far outran their means, were not
his friends. Nevertheless, he was in supreme command of both regulars
and volunteers, and the government having authorized the expedition,
the necessary orders had to be issued through him as the only channel
of authority. Buonaparte's reappearance among his men had been of
course irregular. Being now a captain of artillery in the Fourth
Regiment, on active service and in the receipt of full pay, he could
no longer legally be a lieutenant-colonel of volunteers, a position
which had also been made one of emolument. But he was not a man to
stand on slight formalities, and had evidently determined to seize
both horns of the dilemma.

Paoli, as a French official, of course could not listen for an instant
to such a preposterous notion. But as a patriot anxious to keep all
the influence he could, and as a family friend of the Buonapartes, he
was unwilling to order the young captain back to his post in France,
as he might well have done. The interview between the two men at Corte
was, therefore, indecisive. The older was benignant but firm in
refusing his formal consent; the younger pretended to be indignant
that he could not secure his rights: it is said that he even
threatened to denounce in Paris the anti-nationalist attitude of his
former hero. So it happened that Buonaparte returned to Ajaccio with a
permissive authorization, and, welcomed by his men, assumed a command
to which he could have no claim, while Paoli shut his eyes to an act
of flagrant insubordination. Paoli saw that Buonaparte was irrevocably
committed to revolutionary France; Buonaparte was convinced, or
pretended to be, that Paoli was again leaning toward an English
protectorate. French imperialist writers hint without the slightest
basis of proof that both Paoli and Pozzo di Borgo were in the pay of
England. Many have believed, in the same gratuitous manner, that there
was a plot among members of the French party to give Buonaparte the
chance, by means of the Sardinian expedition, to seize the chief
command at least of the Corsican troops, and thus eventually to
supplant Paoli. If this conjecture be true, Paoli either knew nothing
of the conspiracy, or behaved as he did because his own plans were not
yet ripe. The drama of his own personal perplexities, cross-purposes,
and ever false positions, was rapidly moving to an end; the logic of
events was too strong for the upright but perplexed old patriot, and a
scene or t