Then, lowering his tone, he continued:
"You told me just now to take care."

"Yes."

"Well, I say to you, take care."

"Of what?"

"You are going to the Tuileries?"

"Of course."

"The Tuileries are very near the Place de la Revolution."

"Pooh!" retorted Bonaparte, "the guillotine has been moved to the
Barriere du Trone."

"Never mind. The brewer Santerre still controls the Faubourg
Saint-Antoine, and Santerre is Moulins' friend."

"Santerre has been warned that at the first inimical movement he
attempts I will have him shot. Will you come?"

"No."

"As you please. You are separating your fortunes from mine; I do not
separate mine from yours." Then, calling to his orderly, he said: "My
horse!"

They brought his horse. Seeing an artillery private near him, he said:
"What are you doing among the epaulets?"

The artilleryman began to laugh.

"Don't you recognize me, general?" he asked.

"Faith, it's Debel! Where did you get that horse and the uniform?"

"From that artilleryman you see standing there in his shirt. It will
cost you a corporal's commission."

"You are wrong, Debel," said Bonaparte; "it will cost me two
commissions, one for the corporal, and one for the general of division.
Forward, march, gentlemen! We are going to the Tuileries."

And, bending forward on his horse, as he usually did, his left hand
holding a slack rein, his right resting on his hip, with bent head
and dreamy eyes, he made his first steps along that incline, at once
glorious and fatal, which was to lead him to a throne--and to St.
Helena.

CHAPTER XXIV. THE EIGHTEENTH BRUMAIRE

On entering the Rue de la Victoire, Bonaparte found Sebastiani's
dragoons drawn up in line of battle. He wished to address them, but they
interrupted him at the first words, shouting: "We want no explanations.
We know that you seek only the good of the Republic. Vive Bonaparte!"

The cortege followed the streets which led from the Rue de la Victoire
to the Tuileries, amid the cries of "Vive Bonaparte!"

General Lefebvre, according to promise, was waiting at the palace gates.
Bonaparte, on his arrival at the Tuileries, was hailed with the same
cheers that had accompanied him. Once there, he raised his head and
shook it. Perhaps this cry of "Vive Bonaparte!" did not satisfy him. Was
he already dreaming of "Vive Napoleon?"

He advanced in front of the troop, surrounded by his staff, and read
the decree of the Five Hundred, which trans