ry were in my favour, and that I
had already won a reputation as being one of the best swordsmen in the
army; but amongst the host of brave men who surrounded the Emperor it
needed more than this to insure a rapid career. I was confident,
however, that my chance would come, though I never dreamed that it would
take so remarkable a form.
When the Emperor returned to Paris, after the declaration of peace in
the year 1807, he spent much of his time with the Empress and the Court
at Fontainebleau. It was the time when he was at the pinnacle of his
career. He had in three successive campaigns humbled Austria, crushed
Prussia, and made the Russians very glad to get upon the right side of
the Niemen. The old Bulldog over the Channel was still growling, but he
could not get very far from his kennel. If we could have made a
perpetual peace at that moment, France would have taken a higher place
than any nation since the days of the Romans. So I have heard the wise
folk say, though for my part I had other things to think of. All the
girls were glad to see the army back after its long absence, and you may
be sure that I had my share of any favours that were going. You may
judge how far I was a favourite in those days when I say that even now,
in my sixtieth year--but why should I dwell upon that which is already
sufficiently well known?
Our regiment of hussars was quartered with the horse chasseurs of the
guard at Fontainebleau. It is, as you know, but a little place, buried
in the heart of the forest, and it was wonderful at this time to see it
crowded with Grand Dukes and Electors and Princes, who thronged round
Napoleon like puppies round their master, each hoping that some bone
might be thrown to him. There was more German than French to be heard in
the street, for those who had helped us in the late war had come to beg
for a reward, and those who had opposed us had come to try and escape
their punishment.
And all the time our little man, with his pale face and his cold, grey
eyes, was riding to the hunt every morning, silent and brooding, all of
them following in his train, in the hope that some word would escape
him. And then, when the humour seized him, he would throw a hundred
square miles to that man, or tear as much off the other, round off one
kingdom by a river, or cut off another by a chain of mountains. That was
how he used to do business, this little artilleryman, whom we had raised
so high with our sabres and
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