d to put into
the bow of my saddle a bottle of wine, some bread, and a cold fowl. This
provision sufficed for the wants of the day,--I may even say that I often
shared it with others. I thus gained time. I eat fast, masticate
little, my meals do not consume my hours. This is not what you will
approve the most, but in my present situation what signifies it? I am
attacked with a liver complaint, a malady which is general in this
horrible climate."

Antommarchi, having gained his confidence, now became companion as well
as physician to the Emperor, and sometimes read with him. He eagerly
turned over the newspapers when they arrived, and commented freely on
their contents. "It is amusing," he would say, "to see the sage measures
resorted to by the Allies to make people forget my tyranny!" On one
occasion he felt more languid than ordinary, and lighting on the
'Andromache' of Racine; he took up the book, began to read, but soon let
it drop from his hands. He had come to the famous passage where the
mother describes her being allowed to see her son once a day.

He was moved, covered his face with his hands, and, saying that he was
too much affected, desired to be left alone. He grew calmer, fell
asleep, and when he awoke, desired Antommarchi to be called again. He
was getting ready to shave, and the doctor was curious to witness the
operation. He was in his shirt, his head uncovered, with two valets at
his side, one holding the glass and a towel, the other the rest of the
apparatus. The Emperor spread the soap over one side of his face, put
down the brush, wiped his hands and mouth, took a razor dipped in hot
water and shaved the right side with singular dexterity. "Is it done,
Noverraz?"--"Yes, Sire."--"Well, then, face about. Come, villain, quick,
stand still." The light fell on the left side, which, after applying the
lather, he shaved in the same manner and with the same dexterity. He
drew his hand over his chin. "Raise the glass. Am I quite right?"--
"Quite so."--"Not a hair has escaped me: what say you?"--"No, Sire,"
replied the valet de chambre. "No! I think I perceive one. Lift up the
glass, place it in a better light. How, rascal! Flattery? You deceive
me at St. Helena? On this rock? You, too, are an accomplice." With
this he gave them both a box on the ear, laughed, and joked in the most
pleasant manner possible.

An almost incredible instance of the determination of the exiles to make
as many enemies as they pos