ese, a colonel of dragoons, who had served with
Moreau, and whose partialities at least did not lean to the rival hero,
came hurriedly to me at an early hour one morning, to "take his leave."
But why, and where? "He was ordered to join his regiment immediately, and
march for the coast of the Channel." "To invade us?" I asked laughingly.
"Not exactly yet, perhaps; but it may come to that in good time. I grieve
to tell you," added my gallant friend, with more of gravity than I thought
he could possibly have thrown into his good-humoured features, "that we
are to have war. The matter is perfectly determined in the Tuileries; and
at the levee to-day there will probably be a scene. In the mean time, take
my information as certain, and be prepared for your return to England
without twenty-four hours' delay." He took his departure.

I attended the levee on that memorable day, and saw the _scene_. The Place
du Carrousel was unusually crowded with troops, which the First Consul was
passing in review. The whole population seemed to have conjectured the
event of the day; for I had never seen them in such numbers, or with such
an evident look of general anxiety. The Tuileries were filled with
officers of state, with leading military men, and members of the Senate
and Tribunat; the whole body of the foreign ambassadors were present; and
yet the entire assemblage was kept waiting until the First Consul had
inspected even the firelocks of his guard, and the shoes in their
knapsacks. The diplomatists, as they saw from the high casements of the
palace this tardy operation going on, exchanged glaces with each other at
its contemptuous trifling. Some of the _militaires_ exhibited the
impatience of men accustomed to prompt measures; the civilians smiled and
shrugged their shoulders; but all felt that there was a purpose in the
delay.

At length, the drums beat for the close of the review; the First Consul
galloped up to the porch of the palace, flung himself from his charger,
sprang up the staircase, and without stopping for etiquette, rushed into
the _salle_, followed by cloud of aides-de-camp and chamberlains. The
Circle of Presentations was formed, and he walked hastily round it, saying
few rapid words to each. I observed for the first time an aide-de-camp
moving on the outside of the circle, step for step, and with his eye
steadily marking the gesture of each individual to whom the First Consul
spoke in his circuit. This was a new prec