y recognised by the multitude. His mode of life was necessarily
somewhat different from what it had been when he was both poor and
obscure; his society was courted in the highest circles, and he from
time to time appeared in them, and received company at home with the
elegance of hospitality over which Josephine was so well qualified to
preside. But policy as well as pride moved him to shun notoriety. Before
he could act again, he had much to observe; and he knew himself too well
to be flattered by the stare either of mobs or of saloons. "They have
memories for nothing here"--he said at this time to his secretary--"if I
remain long without doing anything, I am done. Fame chases fame in this
great Babylon. If they had seen me three times at the spectacle, they
would no longer look at me." Another day Bourienne could not help
congratulating him on some noisy demonstration of popular favour. "Bah!"
he answered, "they would rush as eagerly about me if I were on my way to
the scaffold."

In his intercourse with society at this period, he was, for the most
part, remarkable for the cold reserve of his manners. He had the
appearance of one too much occupied with serious designs, to be able to
relax at will into the easy play of ordinary conversation. If his eye
was on every man, he well knew that every man's eye was upon him; nor,
perhaps, could he have chosen a better method (had that been his sole
object) for prolonging and strengthening the impression his greatness
was calculated to create, than this very exhibition of indifference. He
did not suffer his person to be familiarised out of reverence. When he
did appear, it was not the ball or _bon mot_ of the evening before, that
he recalled:--he was still, wherever he went, the Buonaparte of Lodi,
and Arcola, and Rivoli. His military bluntness disdained to disguise
itself amidst those circles where a meaner _parvenu_ would have been
most ambitious to shine. The celebrated daughter of Necker made many
efforts to catch his fancy and enlist him among the votaries of her wit,
which then gave law in Paris. "Whom," said she, half wearied with his
chillness, "do you consider as the greatest of women?" "Her, madam," he
answered, "who has borne the greatest number of children." From this
hour he had Madame de Stael for his enemy; and yet, such are the
inconsistencies of human nature, no man was more sensitive than he to
the assaults of a species of enemy whom he thus scorned to concilia