to the Emperor, saying that he had been asked
to supper. When Napoleon was informed, he had the veteran shown in and,
recognising his comrade of the baked potatoes, said at once that the
sergeant should sup with him. The sergeant's reply was: "Sire, how can
a non-commissioned officer dine with a general?" It was then, Napoleon,
delighted with the humour and the boldness of his grenadier, summoned
the Old Guard, and had the sergeant promoted to the rank of captain on
the spot.

It was these apparently incongruous things, together with legends that
I had heard and read of Napoleon, which gave me the idea of Valmond.
First, a sketch of about five thousand words was written, and it looked
as though I were going to publish it as a short story; but one day,
sitting in a drawing-room in front of a grand piano, on the back of
which were a series of miniatures of the noted women who had played
their part in Napoleon's life, the incident of the Countess of Carnstadt
(I do not use the real name) at St. Helena associated itself with
the picture in my memory of the philanthropist of the street corner.
Thereupon the whole story of a son of Napoleon, ignorant of his own
birth, but knowing that a son had been born to Napoleon at St. Helena,
flitted through my imagination; and the story spread out before me all
in an hour, like an army with banners.

The next night--for this happened in New York--I went down to Hot
Springs, Virginia, and began a piece of work which enthralled me as I
had never before been enthralled, and as I have never been enthralled in
the same way since; for it was perilous to health and mental peace.

Fantasy as it is, the book has pictures of French-Canadian life which
are as true as though the story itself was all true. Characters are
in it like Medallion, the little chemist, the avocat, Lajeunesse the
blacksmith, and Madeleinette, his daughter, which were in some of the
first sketches I ever wrote of French Canada, and subsequently appearing
in the novelette entitled The Lane That Had No Turning. Indeed, 'When
Valmond Came to Pontiac', historical fantasy as it is, has elements both
of romance and realism.

Of all the books which I have written, perhaps because it cost me so
much, because it demanded so much of me at the time of its writing, I
care for it the most. It was as good work as I could do. This much may
at least be said: that no one has done anything quite in the same way
or used the same subject,