s though half fearing to be overheard.

Through the windows of the villa might be seen servants passing and
repassing in haste, arranging the preparations for a magnificent
_dejeune_--for on that morning the generals of division and the
principal military men in Paris were invited to breakfast with one of
their most distinguished companions--General Buonaparte.

Since his return from Egypt, Buonaparte had been living a life
of apparent privacy and estrangement from all public affairs. The
circumstances under which he had quitted the army under his command--the
unauthorised mode of his entry into France, without recall, without
even permission--had caused his friends considerable uneasiness on
his behalf, and nothing short of the unobtrusive and simple habits he
maintained had probably saved him from being called on to account for
his conduct.

They, however, who themselves were pursuing the career of ambition, were
better satisfied to see him thus, than hazard any thing by so bold
an expedient. They believed that he was only great at the head of his
legions; and they felt a triumphant pleasure at the obscurity into
which the victor of Lodi and the Pyramids had fallen when measured with
themselves. They witnessed, then, with sincere satisfaction, the seeming
indolence of his present life. They watched him in those _soirees_ which
Madame Buonaparte gave, enjoying his repose with such thorough
delight--those delightful evenings, the most brilliant for all that wit,
intellect, and beauty can bestow; which Talleyrand and Sieyes, Fouche,
Carnot, Lemercier, and a host of others frequented; and they dreamed
that his hour of ambition was over, and that he had fallen into the
inglorious indolence of the retired soldier.

While the greater number of the guests strolled listlessly through the
little park, a small group sat in the vestibule of the villa, whose
looks of impatience were ever turned towards the door from which their
host was expected to enter. One of those was a tall, slight man, with
a high but narrow forehead, dark eyes, deeply buried in his head, and
overshadowed by long, heavy lashes; his face was pale, and evinced
evident signs of uneasiness, as he listened, without ever speaking, to
those about him. This was General Moreau. He was dressed in the uniform
of a General of the day: the broad-skirted embroidered coat, the
half-boot, the embroidered tricolour scarf, and a chapeau with a deep
feather trimming--a sim