hich Vandamme was
defeated, and which rendered the victory of Dresden unavailing. I have
already mentioned that Moreau was killed at Dresden. Bavaria was no
sooner rid of the French troops than she raised the mask and ranged
herself among our enemies.

In October the loss of the battle of Leipsic decided the fate of France.
The Saxon army, which had long remained faithful to us, went over to the
enemy during the battle. Prince Poniatowski perished at the battle of
Leipsic in an attempt to pass the Aster.

I will here mention a fact which occurred before Duroc's departure for
the campaign of 1812. I used often to visit him at the Pavilion Marsan,
in the Tuileries, where he lodged. One forenoon, when I had been waiting
for him a few minutes, he came from the Emperor's apartments, where he
had been engaged in the usual business, He was in his court-dress. As
soon as he entered he pulled off his coat and hat and laid them aside.
"I have just had a conversation with the Emperor about you," said he.
"Say nothing to anybody. Have patience, and you will be--" He had, no
sooner uttered these words than a footman entered to inform him that the
Emperor, wished to see him immediately. "Well," said Duroc, "I must go."
No sooner was the servant gone than Duroc stamped violently on the floor,
and exclaimed, "That ----- ----- never leaves me a moment's rest. If he
finds I have five minutes to myself in the course of the morning he is
sure to send for me." He then put on his coat and returned to the
Emperor, saying, "Another time you shall hear what I have to tell you."

From that time I did not see Duroc until, the month of January 1813.
He was constantly absent from Paris, and did not return until the end of
1812. He was much affected at the, result of the campaign, but his
confidence in Napoleon's genius kept up his spirits. I turned the
conversation from this subject and reminded him of his promise to tell me
what had passed between the Emperor and himself relative tome. "You
shall hear," said he. "The Emperor and I had been playing at billiards,
and, between ourselves, he plays very badly. He is nothing at a game
which depends on skill. While negligently rolling his balls about he
muttered these words: 'Do you ever see Bourrienne now?'--'Yes, Sire, he
sometimes dines with me on diplomatic reception-days, and he looks so
droll in his old-fashioned court-dress, of Lyons manufacture, that you
would laugh if you saw him.'--'What does