richard little. "what do you make of it, jeeves?" i said. "i confess i am a little doubtful, sir. i think mr. little would have done better to follow my advice and confine himself to good works about the village." "you think the things will be a frost?" "i could not hazard a conjecture, sir. but my experience has been that what pleases the london public is not always so acceptable to the rural mind. the metropolitan touch sometimes proves a trifle too exotic for the provinces." "i suppose i ought to go down and see the dashed thing?" "i think mr. little would be wounded were you not present, sir." * * * * * the village hall at twing is a smallish building, smelling of apples. it was full when i turned up on the evening of the twenty-third, for i had purposely timed myself to arrive not long before the kick-off. i had had experience of one or two of these binges, and didn't want to run any risk of coming early and finding myself shoved into a seat in one of the front rows where i wouldn't be able to execute a quiet sneak into the open air half-way through the proceedings, if the occasion seemed to demand it. i secured a nice strategic position near the door at the back of the hall. from where i stood i had a good view of the audience. as always on these occasions, the first few rows were occupied by the nibs--consisting of the squire, a fairly mauve old sportsman with white whiskers, his family, a platoon of local parsons and perhaps a couple of dozen of prominent pew-holders. then came a dense squash of what you might call the lower middle classes. and at the back, where i was, we came down with a jerk in the social scale, this end of the hall being given up almost entirely to a collection of frankly tough eggs, who had rolled up not so much for any love of the drama as because there was a free tea after the show. take it for all in all, a representative gathering of twing life and thought. the nibs were whispering in a pleased manner to each other, the lower middles were sitting up very straight, as if they'd been bleached, and the tough eggs whiled away the time by cracking nuts and exchanging low rustic wheezes. the girl, mary burgess, was at the piano playing a waltz. beside her stood the curate, wingham, apparently recovered. the temperature, i should think, was about a hundred and twenty-seven. somebody jabbed me heartily in the lower ribs, and i perceived the man steggles. "hallo!" he said. "i didn't know you were coming down." i didn't like the chap, but we woosters can wear the mask. i beamed a bit. "oh, yes," i said. "bingo wanted me to roll up and see his show." "i hear he's giving us something pretty ambitious," said the man steggles. "big effects and all that sort of thing." "i believe so." "of course, it means a lot to him, doesn't it? he's told you about the girl, of course?" "yes. and i hear you're laying seven to one against him," i said, eyeing the blighter a trifle austerely. he didn't even quiver. "just a little flutter to relieve the monotony of country life," he said. "but you've got the facts a bit wrong. it's down in the village that they're laying seven to one. i can do you better than that, if you feel in a speculative mood. how about a tenner at a hundred to eight?" "good lord! are you giving that?" "yes. somehow," said steggles meditatively, "i have a sort of feeling, a kind of premonition that something's going to go wrong to-night. you know what little is. a bungler, if ever there was one. something tells me that this show of his is going to be a frost. and if it is, of course, i should think it would prejudice the girl against him pretty badly. his standing always was rather shaky." "are you going to try and smash up the show?" i said sternly. "me!" said steggles. "why, what could i do? half a minute, i want to go and speak to a man." he buzzed off, leaving me distinctly disturbed. i could see from the fellow's eye that he was meditating some of his customary rough stuff, and i thought bingo ought to be warned. but there wasn't time and i couldn't get at him. almost immediately after steggles had left me the curtain went up. except as a prompter, bingo wasn't much in evidence in the early part of the performance. the thing at the outset was merely one of those weird dramas which you dig out of books published around christmas time and entitled "twelve little plays for the tots," or something like that. the kids drooled on in the usual manner, the booming voice of bingo ringing out from time to time behind the scenes when the fatheads forgot their lines; and the audience was settling down into the sort of torpor usual on these occasions, when the first of bingo's interpolated bits occurred. it was that number which what's-her-name sings in that revue at the palace--you would recognise the tune if i hummed it, but i can never get hold of the dashed thing. it always got three encores at the palace, and it went well now, even with a squeaky-voiced child jumping on and off the key like a chamois of the alps leaping from crag to crag. even the tough eggs liked it. at the end of the second refrain the entire house was shouting for an encore, and the kid with the voice like a slate-pencil took a deep breath and started to let it go once more. at this point all the lights went out. * * * * * i don't know when i've had anything so sudden and devastating happen to me before. they didn't flicker. they just went out. the hall was in complete darkness. well, of course, that sort of broke the spell, as you might put it. people started to shout directions, and the tough eggs stamped their feet and settled down for a pleasant time. and, of course, young bingo had to make an ass of himself. his voice suddenly shot at us out of the darkness. "ladies and gentlemen, something has gone wrong with the lights----" the tough eggs were tickled by this bit of information straight from the stable. they took it up as a sort of battle-cry. then, after about five minutes, the lights went up again, and the show was resumed. it took ten minutes after that to get the audience back into its state of coma, but eventually they began to settle down, and everything was going nicely when a small boy with a face like a turbot edged out in front of the curtain, which had been lowered after a pretty painful scene about a wishing-ring or a fairy's curse or something of that sort, and started to sing that song of george thingummy's out of "cuddle up." you know the one i mean. "always listen to mother, girls!" it's called, and he gets the audience to join in and sing the refrain. quite a ripeish ballad, and one which i myself have frequently sung in my bath with not a little vim; but by no means--as anyone but a perfect sapheaded prune like young bingo would have known--by no means the sort of thing for a children's christmas entertainment in the old village hall. right from the start of the first refrain the bulk of the audience had begun to stiffen in their seats and fan themselves, and the burgess girl at the piano was accompanying in a stunned, mechanical sort of way, while the curate at her side averted his gaze in a pained manner. the tough eggs, however, were all for it. at the end of the second refrain the kid stopped and began to sidle towards the wings. upon which the following brief duologue took place: young bingo (_voice heard off, ringing against the rafters_): "go on!" the kid (_coyly_): "i don't like to." young bingo (_still louder_): "go on, you little blighter, or i'll slay you!" i suppose the kid thought it over swiftly and realised that bingo, being in a position to get at him, had better be conciliated, whatever the harvest might be; for he shuffled down to the front and, having shut his eyes and giggled hysterically, said: "ladies and gentlemen, i will now call upon squire tressidder to oblige by singing the refrain!" you know, with the most charitable feelings towards him, there are moments when you can't help thinking that young bingo ought to be in some sort of a home. i suppose, poor fish, he had pictured this as the big punch of the evening. he had imagined, i take it, that the squire would spring jovially to his feet, rip the song off his chest, and all would be gaiety and mirth. well, what happened was simply that old tressidder--and, mark you, i'm not blaming him--just sat where he was, swelling and turning a brighter purple every second. the lower middle classes remained in frozen silence, waiting for the roof to fall. the only section of the audience that really seemed to enjoy the idea was the tough eggs, who yelled with enthusiasm. it was jam for the tough eggs. and then the lights went out again. * * * * * when they went up, some minutes later, they disclosed the squire marching stiffly out at the head of his family, fed up to the eyebrows; the burgess girl at the piano with a pale, set look; and the curate gazing at her with something in his expression that seemed to suggest that, although all this was no doubt deplorable, he had spotted the silver fining. the show went on once more. there were great chunks of plays-for-the-tots dialogue, and then the girl at the piano struck up the prelude to that orange-girl number that's the big hit of the palace revue. i took it that this was to be bingo's smashing act one finale. the entire company was on the stage, and a clutching hand had appeared round the edge of the curtain, ready to pull at the right moment. it looked like the finale all right. it wasn't long before i realised that it was something more. it was the finish. i take it you know that orange number at the palace? it goes: oh, won't you something something oranges, my something oranges, my something oranges; oh, won't you something something something i forget, something something something tumty tumty yet: oh---or words to that effect. it's a dashed clever lyric, and the tune's good, too; but the thing that made the number was the business where the girls take oranges out of their baskets, you know, and toss them lightly to the audience. i don't know if you've ever noticed it, but it always seems to tickle an audience to bits when they get things thrown at them from the stage. every time i've been to the palace the customers have simply gone wild over this number. but at the palace, of course, the oranges are made of yellow wool, and the girls don't so much chuck them as drop them limply into the first and second rows. i began to gather that the business was going to be treated rather differently to-night when a dashed great chunk of pips and mildew sailed past my ear and burst on the wall behind me. another landed with a squelch on the neck of one of the nibs in the third row. and then a third took me right on the tip of the nose, and i kind of lost interest in the proceedings for awhile. when i had scrubbed my face and got my eye to stop watering for a moment, i saw that the evening's entertainment had begun to resemble one of belfast's livelier nights. the air was thick with shrieks and fruit. the kids on the stage, with bingo buzzing distractedly to and fro in their midst, were having the time of their lives. i suppose they realised that this couldn't go on for ever, and were making the most of their chances. the tough eggs had begun to pick up all the oranges that hadn't burst and were shooting them back, so that the audience got it both coming and going. in fact, take it all round, there was a certain amount of confusion; and, just as things had begun really to hot up, out went the lights again. it seemed to me about my time for leaving, so i slid for the door. i was hardly outside when the audience began to stream out. they surged about me in twos and threes, and i've never seen a public body so dashed unanimous on any point. to a man--and to a woman--they were cursing poor old bingo; and there was a large and rapidly growing school of thought which held that the best thing to do would be to waylay him as he emerged and splash him about in the village pond a bit. there were such a dickens of a lot of these enthusiasts and they looked so jolly determined that it seemed to me that the only matey thing to do was to go behind and warn young bingo to turn his coat-collar up and breeze off snakily by some side exit. i went behind, and found him sitting on a box in the wings, perspiring pretty freely and looking more or less like the spot marked with a cross where the accident happened. his hair was standing up and his ears were hanging down, and one harsh word would undoubtedly have made him burst into tears. "bertie," he said hollowly, as he saw me, "it was that blighter steggles! i caught one of the kids before he could get away and got it all out of him. steggles substituted real oranges for the balls of wool which with infinite sweat and at a cost of nearly a quid i had specially prepared. well, i will now proceed to tear him limb from limb. it'll be something to do." i hated to spoil his day-dreams, but it had to be. "good heavens, man," i said, "you haven't time for frivolous amusements now. you've got to get out. and quick!" "bertie," said bingo in a dull voice, "she was here just now. she said it was all my fault and that she would never speak to me again. she said she had always suspected me of being a heartless practical joker, and now she knew. she said---oh, well, she ticked me off properly." "that's the least of your troubles," i said. it seemed impossible to rouse the poor zib to a sense of his position. "do you realise that about two hundred of twing's heftiest are waiting for you outside to chuck you into the pond?" "no!" "absolutely!" for a moment the poor chap seemed crushed. but only for a moment. there has always been something of the good old english bulldog breed about bingo. a strange, sweet smile flickered for an instant over his face. "it's all right," he said. "i can sneak out through the cellar and climb over the wall at the back. they can't intimidate _me_!" * * * * * it couldn't have been more than a week later when jeeves, after he had brought me my tea, gently steered me away from the sporting page of the _morning post_ and directed my attention to an announcement in the engagements and marriages column. it was a brief statement that a marriage had been arranged and would shortly take place between the hon. and rev. hubert wingham, third son of the right hon. the earl of sturridge, and mary, only daughter of the late matthew burgess, of weatherly court, hants. "of course," i said, after i had given it the east-to-west, "i expected this, jeeves." "yes, sir." "she would never forgive him what happened that night." "no, sir." "well," i said, as i took a sip of the fragrant and steaming, "i don't suppose it will take old bingo long to get over it. it's about the hundred and eleventh time this sort of thing has happened to him. you're the man i'm sorry for." "me, sir?" "well, dash it all, you can't have forgotten what a deuce of a lot of trouble you took to bring the thing off for bingo. it's too bad that all your work should have been wasted." "not entirely wasted, sir." "eh?" "it is true that my efforts to bring about the match between mr. little and the young lady were not successful, but still i look back upon the matter with a certain satisfaction." "because you did your best, you mean?" "not entirely, sir, though of course that thought also gives me pleasure. i was alluding more particularly to the fact that i found the affair financially remunerative." "financially remunerative? what do you mean?" "when i learned that mr. steggles had interested himself in the contest, sir, i went shares with my friend brookfield and bought the book which had been made on the issue by the 'cow and horses.' it has proved a highly profitable investment. your breakfast will be ready almost immediately, sir. kidneys on toast and mushrooms. i will bring it when you ring." chapter xvi the delayed exit of claude and eustace the feeling i had when aunt agatha trapped me in my lair that morning and spilled the bad news was that my luck had broken at last. as a rule, you see, i'm not lugged into family rows. on the occasions when aunt is calling to aunt like mastodons bellowing across primeval swamps and uncle james's letter about cousin mabel's peculiar behaviour is being shot round the family circle ("please read this carefully and send it on to jane"), the clan has a tendency to ignore me. it's one of the advantages i get from being a bachelor--and, according to my nearest and dearest, practically a half-witted bachelor at that. "it's no good trying to get bertie to take the slightest interest" is more or less the slogan, and i'm bound to say i'm all for it. a quiet life is what i like. and that's why i felt that the curse had come upon me, so to speak, when aunt agatha sailed into my sitting-room while i was having a placid cigarette and started to tell me about claude and eustace. "thank goodness," said aunt agatha, "arrangements have at last been made about eustace and claude." "arrangements?" i said, not having the foggiest. "they sail on friday for south africa. mr. van alstyne, a friend of poor emily's, has given them berths in his firm at johannesburg, and we are hoping that they will settle down there and do well." i didn't get the thing at all. "friday? the day after to-morrow, do you mean?" "yes." "for south africa?" "yes. they leave on the _edinburgh castle_." "but what's the idea? i mean, aren't they in the middle of their term at oxford?" aunt agatha looked at me coldly. "do you positively mean to tell me, bertie, that you take so little interest in the affairs of your nearest relatives that you are not aware that claude and eustace were expelled from oxford over a fortnight ago?" "no, really?" "you are hopeless, bertie. i should have thought that even you----" "why were they sent down?" "they poured lemonade on the junior dean of their college.... i see nothing amusing in the outrage, bertie." "no, no, rather not," i said hurriedly. "i wasn't laughing. choking. got something stuck in my throat, you know." "poor emily," went on aunt agatha, "being one of those doting mothers who are the ruin of their children, wished to keep the boys in london. she suggested that they might cram for the army. but i was firm. the colonies are the only place for wild youths like eustace and claude. so they sail on friday. they have been staying for the last two weeks with your uncle clive in worcestershire. they will spend to-morrow night in london and catch the boat-train on friday morning." "bit risky, isn't it? i mean, aren't they apt to cut loose a bit to-morrow night if they're left all alone in london?" "they will not be alone. they will be in your charge." "mine!" "yes. i wish you to put them up in your flat for the night, and see that they do not miss the train in the morning." "oh, i say, no!" "bertie!" "well, i mean, quite jolly coves both of them, but i don't know. they're rather nuts, you know---always glad to see them, of course, but when it comes to putting them up for the night----" "bertie, if you are so sunk in callous self-indulgence that you cannot even put yourself to this trifling inconvenience for the sake of----" "oh, all right," i said. "all right." it was no good arguing, of course. aunt agatha always makes me feel as if i had gelatine where my spine ought to be. she's one of those forceful females. i should think queen elizabeth must have been something like her. when she holds me with her glittering eye and says, "jump to it, my lad," or words to that effect, i make it so without further discussion. when she had gone, i rang for jeeves to break the news to him. "oh, jeeves," i said, "mr. claude and mr. eustace will be staying here to-morrow night." "very good, sir." "i'm glad you think so. to me the outlook seems black and scaly. you know what those two lads are!" "very high-spirited young gentlemen, sir." "blisters, jeeves. undeniable blisters. it's a bit thick!" "would there be anything further, sir?" at that, i'm bound to say, i drew myself up a trifle haughtily. we woosters freeze like the dickens when we seek sympathy and meet with cold reserve. i knew what was up, of course. for the last day or so there had been a certain amount of coolness in the home over a pair of jazz spats which i had dug up while exploring in the burlington arcade. some dashed brainy cove, probably the chap who invented those coloured cigarette-cases, had recently had the rather topping idea of putting out a line of spats on the same system. i mean to say, instead of the ordinary grey and white, you can now get them in your regimental or school colours. and, believe me, it would have taken a chappie of stronger fibre than i am to resist the pair of old etonian spats which had smiled up at me from inside the window. i was inside the shop, opening negotiations, before it had even occurred to me that jeeves might not approve. and i must say he had taken the thing a bit hardly. the fact of the matter is, jeeves, though in many ways the best valet in london, is too conservative. hide-bound, if you know what i mean, and an enemy to progress. "nothing further, jeeves," i said, with quiet dignity. "very good, sir." he gave one frosty look at the spats and biffed off. dash him! * * * * * anything merrier and brighter than the twins, when they curveted into the old flat while i was dressing for dinner the next night, i have never struck in my whole puff. i'm only about half a dozen years older than claude and eustace, but in some rummy manner they always make me feel as if i were well on in the grandfather class and just waiting for the end. almost before i realised they were in the place, they had collared the best chairs, pinched a couple of my special cigarettes, poured themselves out a whisky-and-soda apiece, and started to prattle with the gaiety and abandon of two birds who had achieved their life's ambition instead of having come a most frightful purler and being under sentence of exile. "hallo, bertie, old thing," said claude. "jolly decent of you to put us up." "oh, no," i said. "only wish you were staying a good long time." "hear that, eustace? he wishes we were staying a good long time." "i expect it will seem a good long time," said eustace, philosophically. "you heard about the binge, bertie? our little bit of trouble, i mean?" "oh, yes. aunt agatha was telling me." "we leave our country for our country's good," said eustace. "and let there be no moaning at the bar," said claude, "when i put out to sea. what did aunt agatha tell you?" "she said you poured lemonade on the junior dean." "i wish the deuce," said claude, annoyed, "that people would get these things right. it wasn't the junior dean. it was the senior tutor." "and it wasn't lemonade," said eustace. "it was soda-water. the dear old thing happened to be standing just under our window while i was leaning out with a siphon in my hand. he looked up, and--well, it would have been chucking away the opportunity of a lifetime if i hadn't let him have it in the eyeball." "simply chucking it away," agreed claude. "might never have occurred again," said eustace. "hundred to one against it," said claude. "now what," said eustace, "do you propose to do, bertie, in the way of entertaining the handsome guests to-night?" "my idea was to have a bite of dinner in the flat," i said. "jeeves is getting it ready now." "and afterwards?" "well, i thought we might chat of this and that, and then it struck me that you would probably like to turn in early, as your train goes about ten or something, doesn't it?" the twins looked at each other in a pitying sort of way. "bertie," said eustace, "you've got the programme nearly right, but not quite. i envisage the evening's events thus: we will toddle along to ciro's after dinner. it's an extension night, isn't it? well, that will see us through till about two-thirty or three." "after which, no doubt," said claude, "the lord will provide." "but i thought you would want to get a good night's rest." "good night's rest!" said eustace. "my dear old chap, you don't for a moment imagine that we are dreaming of going to _bed_ to-night, do you?" i suppose the fact of the matter is, i'm not the man i was. i mean, these all-night vigils don't seem to fascinate me as they used to a few years ago. i can remember the time, when i was up at oxford, when a covent garden ball till six in the morning, with breakfast at the hammams and probably a free fight with a few selected costermongers to follow, seemed to me what the doctor ordered. but nowadays two o'clock is about my limit; and by two o'clock the twins were just settling down and beginning to go nicely. as far as i can remember, we went on from ciro's to play chemmy with some fellows i don't recall having met before, and it must have been about nine in the morning when we fetched up again at the flat. by which time, i'm bound to admit, as far as i was concerned the first careless freshness was beginning to wear off a bit. in fact, i'd got just enough strength to say good-bye to the twins, wish them a pleasant voyage and a happy and successful career in south africa, and stagger into bed. the last i remember was hearing the blighters chanting like larks under the cold shower, breaking off from time to time to shout to jeeves to rush along the eggs and bacon. it must have been about one in the afternoon when i woke. i was feeling more or less like something the pure food committee had rejected, but there was one bright thought which cheered me up, and that was that about now the twins would be leaning on the rail of the liner, taking their last glimpse of the dear old homeland. which made it all the more of a shock when the door opened and claude walked in. "hallo, bertie!" said claude. "had a nice refreshing sleep? now, what about a good old bite of lunch?" i'd been having so many distorted nightmares since i had dropped off to sleep that for half a minute i thought this was simply one more of them, and the worst of the lot. it was only when claude sat down on my feet that i got on to the fact that this was stern reality. "great scott! what on earth are you doing here?" i gurgled. claude looked at me reproachfully. "hardly the tone i like to hear in a host, bertie," he said reprovingly. "why, it was only last night that you were saying you wished i was stopping a good long time. your dream has come true. i am!" "but why aren't you on your way to south africa?" "now that," said claude, "is a point i rather thought you would want to have explained. it's like this, old man. you remember that girl you introduced me to at ciro's last night?" "which girl?" "there was only one," said claude coldly. "only one that counted, that is to say. her name was marion wardour. i danced with her a good deal, if you remember." i began to recollect in a hazy sort of way. marion wardour has been a pal of mine for some time. a very good sort. she's playing in that show at the apollo at the moment. i remembered now that she had been at ciro's with a party the night before, and the twins had insisted on being introduced. "we are soul-mates, bertie," said claude. "i found it out quite early in the p.m., and the more thought i've given to the matter the more convinced i've become. it happens like that now and then, you know. two hearts that beat as one, i mean, and all that sort of thing. so the long and the short of it is that i gave old eustace the slip at waterloo and slid back here. the idea of going to south africa and leaving a girl like that in england doesn't appeal to me a bit. i'm all for thinking imperially and giving the colonies a leg-up and all that sort of thing; but it can't be done. after all," said claude reasonably, "south africa has got along all right without me up till now, so why shouldn't it stick it?" "but what about van alstyne, or whatever his name is? he'll be expecting you to turn up." "oh, he'll have eustace. that'll satisfy him. very sound fellow, eustace. probably end up by being a magnate of some kind. i shall watch his future progress with considerable interest. and now you must excuse me for a moment, bertie. i want to go and hunt up jeeves and get him to mix me one of those pick-me-ups of his. for some reason which i can't explain, i've got a slight headache this morning." and, believe me or believe me not, the door had hardly closed behind him when in blew eustace with a shining morning face that made me ill to look at. "oh, my aunt!" i said. eustace started to giggle pretty freely. "smooth work, bertie, smooth work!" he said. "i'm sorry for poor old claude, but there was no alternative. i eluded his vigilance at waterloo and snaked off in a taxi. i suppose the poor old ass is wondering where the deuce i've got to. but it couldn't be helped. if you really seriously expected me to go slogging off to south africa, you shouldn't have introduced me to miss wardour last night. i want to tell you all about that, bertie. i'm not a man," said eustace, sitting down on the bed, "who falls in love with every girl he sees. i suppose 'strong, silent,' would be the best description you could find for me. but when i do meet my affinity i don't waste time. i----" "oh, heaven! are you in love with marion wardour, too?" "too? what do you mean, 'too'?" i was going to tell him about claude, when the blighter came in in person, looking like a giant refreshed. there's no doubt that jeeves's pick-me-ups will produce immediate results in anything short of an egyptian mummy. it's something he puts in them--the worcester sauce or something. claude had revived like a watered flower, but he nearly had a relapse when he saw his bally brother goggling at him over the bed-rail. "what on earth are you doing here?" he said. "what on earth are _you_ doing here?" said eustace. "have you come back to inflict your beastly society upon miss wardour?" "is that why you've come back?" they thrashed the subject out a bit further. "well," said claude at last. "i suppose it can't be helped. if you're here, you're here. may the best man win!" "yes, but dash it all!" i managed to put in at this point. "what's the idea? where do you think you're going to stay if you stick on in london?" "why, here," said eustace, surprised. "where else?" said claude, raising his eyebrows. "you won't object to putting us up, bertie?" said eustace. "not a sportsman like you," said claude. "but, you silly asses, suppose aunt agatha finds out that i'm hiding you when you ought to be in south africa? where do i get off?" "where _does_ he get off?" claude asked eustace. "oh, i expect he'll manage somehow," said eustace to claude. "of course," said claude, quite cheered up. "_he_'ll manage." "rather!" said eustace. "a resourceful chap like bertie! of course he will." "and now," said claude, shelving the subject, "what about that bite of lunch we were discussing a moment ago, bertie? that stuff good old jeeves slipped into me just now has given me what you might call an appetite. something in the nature of six chops and a batter pudding would about meet the case, i think." i suppose every chappie in the world has black periods in his life to which he can't look back without the smouldering eye and the silent shudder. some coves, if you can judge by the novels you read nowadays, have them practically all the time; but, what with enjoying a sizable private income and a topping digestion, i'm bound to say it isn't very often i find my own existence getting a flat tyre. that's why this particular epoch is one that i don't think about more often than i can help. for the days that followed the unexpected resurrection of the blighted twins were so absolutely foul that the old nerves began to stick out of my body a foot long and curling at the ends. all of a twitter, believe me. i imagine the fact of the matter is that we woosters are so frightfully honest and open and all that, that it gives us the pip to have to deceive. all was quiet along the potomac for about twenty-four hours, and then aunt agatha trickled in to have a chat. twenty minutes earlier and she would have found the twins gaily shoving themselves outside a couple of rashers and an egg. she sank into a chair, and i could see that she was not in her usual sunny spirits. "bertie," she said, "i am uneasy." so was i. i didn't know how long she intended to stop, or when the twins were coming back. "i wonder," she said, "if i took too harsh a view towards claude and eustace." "you couldn't." "what do you mean?" "i--er--mean it would be so unlike you to be harsh to anybody, aunt agatha." and not bad, either. i mean, quick--like that--without thinking. it pleased the old relative, and she looked at me with slightly less loathing than she usually does. "it is nice of you to say that, bertie, but what i was thinking was, are they _safe_?" "are they _what_?" it seemed such a rummy adjective to apply to the twins, they being about as innocuous as a couple of sprightly young tarantulas. "do you think all is well with them?" "how do you mean?" aunt agatha eyed me almost wistfully. "has it ever occurred to you, bertie," she said, "that your uncle george may be psychic?" she seemed to me to be changing the subject. "psychic?" "do you think it is possible that he could _see_ things not visible to the normal eye?" i thought it dashed possible, if not probable. i don't know if you've ever met my uncle george. he's a festive old egg who wanders from club to club continually having a couple with other festive old eggs. when he heaves in sight, waiters brace themselves up and the wine-steward toys with his corkscrew. it was my uncle george who discovered that alcohol was a food well in advance of modern medical thought. "your uncle george was dining with me last night, and he was quite shaken. he declares that, while on his way from the devonshire club to boodle's he suddenly saw the phantasm of eustace." "the what of eustace?" "the phantasm. the wraith. it was so clear that he thought for an instant that it was eustace himself. the figure vanished round a corner, and when uncle george got there nothing was to be seen. it is all very queer and disturbing. it had a marked effect on poor george. all through dinner he touched nothing but barley-water, and his manner was quite disturbed. you do think those poor, dear boys are safe, bertie? they have not met with some horrible accident?" it made my mouth water to think of it, but i said no, i didn't think they had met with any horrible accident. i thought eustace _was_ a horrible accident, and claude about the same, but i didn't say so. and presently she biffed off, still worried. when the twins came in, i put it squarely to the blighters. jolly as it was to give uncle george shocks, they must not wander at large about the metrop. "but, my dear old soul," said claude. "be reasonable. we can't have our movements hampered." "out of the question," said eustace. "the whole essence of the thing, if you understand me," said claude, "is that we should be at liberty to flit hither and thither." "exactly," said eustace. "now hither, now thither." "but, damn it----" "bertie!" said eustace reprovingly. "not before the boy!" "of course, in a way i see his point," said claude. "i suppose the solution of the problem would be to buy a couple of disguises." "my dear old chap!" said eustace, looking at him with admiration. "the brightest idea on record. not your own, surely?" "well, as a matter of fact, it was bertie who put it into my head." "me!" "you were telling me the other day about old bingo little and the beard he bought when he didn't want his uncle to recognise him." "if you think i'm going to have you two excrescences popping in and out of my flat in beards----" "something in that," agreed eustace. "we'll make it whiskers, then." "and false noses," said claude. "and, as you say, false noses. right-o, then, bertie, old chap, that's a load off your mind. we don't want to be any trouble to you while we're paying you this little visit." and, when i went buzzing round to jeeves for consolation, all he would say was something about young blood. no sympathy. "very good, jeeves," i said. "i shall go for a walk in the park. kindly put me out the old etonian spats." "very good, sir." * * * * * it must have been a couple of days after that that marion wardour rolled in at about the hour of tea. she looked warily round the room before sitting down. "your cousins not at home, bertie?" she said. "no, thank goodness!" "then i'll tell you where they are. they're in my sitting-room, glaring at each other from opposite corners, waiting for me to come in. bertie, this has got to stop." "you're seeing a good deal of them, are you?" jeeves came in with the tea, but the poor girl was so worked up that she didn't wait for him to pop off before going on with her complaint. she had an absolutely hunted air, poor thing. "i can't move a step without tripping over one or both of them," she said. "generally both. they've taken to calling together, and they just settle down grimly and try to sit each other out. it's wearing me to a shadow." "i know," i said sympathetically. "i know." "well, what's to be done?" "it beats me. couldn't you tell your maid to say you are not at home?" she shuddered slightly. "i tried that once. they camped on the stairs, and i couldn't get out all the afternoon. and i had a lot of particularly important engagements. i wish you would persuade them to go to south africa, where they seem to be wanted." "you must have made the dickens of an impression on them." "i should say i have. they've started giving me presents now. at least, claude has. he insisted on my accepting this cigarette-case last night. came round to the theatre and wouldn't go away till i took it. it's not a bad one, i must say." it wasn't. it was a distinctly fruity concern in gold with a diamond stuck in the middle. and the rummy thing was that i had a notion i'd seen something very like it before somewhere. how the deuce claude had been able to dig up the cash to buy a thing like that was more than i could imagine. next day was a wednesday, and as the object of their devotion had a _matinã©e_, the twins were, so to speak, off duty. claude had gone with his whiskers on to hurst park, and eustace and i were in the flat, talking. at least, he was talking and i was wishing he would go. "the love of a good woman, bertie," he was saying, "must be a wonderful thing. sometimes---good lord! what's that?" the front door had opened, and from out in the hall there came the sound of aunt agatha's voice asking if i was in. aunt agatha has one of those high, penetrating voices, but this was the first time i'd ever been thankful for it. there was just about two seconds to clear the way for her, but it was long enough for eustace to dive under the sofa. his last shoe had just disappeared when she came in. she had a worried look. it seemed to me about this time that everybody had. "bertie," she said, "what are your immediate plans?" "how do you mean? i'm dining to-night with----" "no, no, i don't mean to-night. are you busy for the next few days? but, of course you are not," she went on, not waiting for me to answer. "you never have anything to do. your whole life is spent in idle--but we can go into that later. what i came for this afternoon was to tell you that i wish you to go with your poor uncle george to harrogate for a few weeks. the sooner you can start, the better." this appeared to me to approximate so closely to the frozen limit that i uttered a yelp of protest. uncle george is all right, but he won't do. i was trying to say as much when she waved me down. "if you are not entirely heartless, bertie, you will do as i ask you. your poor uncle george has had a severe shock." "what, another!" "he feels that only complete rest and careful medical attendance can restore his nervous system to its normal poise. it seems that in the past he has derived benefit from taking the waters at harrogate, and he wishes to go there now. we do not think he ought to be alone, so i wish you to accompany him." "but, i say!" "bertie!" there was a lull in the conversation. "what shock has he had?" i asked. "between ourselves," said aunt agatha, lowering her voice in an impressive manner, "i incline to think that the whole affair was the outcome of an over-excited imagination. you are one of the family, bertie, and i can speak freely to you. you know as well as i do that your poor uncle george has for many years _not_ been a--he has--er--developed a habit of--how shall i put it?" "shifting it a bit?" "i beg your pardon?" "mopping up the stuff to some extent?" "i dislike your way of putting it exceedingly, but i must confess that he has not been, perhaps, as temperate as he should. he is highly-strung, and---well, the fact is, that he has had a shock." "yes, but what?" "that is what it is so hard to induce him to explain with any precision. with all his good points, your poor uncle george is apt to become incoherent when strongly moved. as far as i could gather, he appears to have been the victim of a burglary." "burglary!" "he says that a strange man with whiskers and a peculiar nose entered his rooms in jermyn street during his absence and stole some of his property. he says that he came back and found the man in his sitting-room. he immediately rushed out of the room and disappeared." "uncle george?" "no, the man. and, according to your uncle george, he had stolen a valuable cigarette-case. but, as i say, i am inclined to think that the whole thing was imagination. he has not been himself since the day when he fancied that he saw eustace in the street. so i should like you, bertie, to be prepared to start for harrogate with him not later than saturday." she popped off, and eustace crawled out from under the sofa. the blighter was strongly moved. so was i, for the matter of that. the idea of several weeks with uncle george at harrogate seemed to make everything go black. "so that's where he got that cigarette-case, dash him!" said eustace bitterly. "of all the dirty tricks! robbing his own flesh and blood! the fellow ought to be in chokey." "he ought to be in south africa," i said. "and so ought you." and with an eloquence which rather surprised me, i hauled up my slacks for perhaps ten minutes on the subject of his duty to his family and what not. i appealed to his sense of decency. i boosted south africa with vim. i said everything i could think of, much of it twice over. but all the blighter did was to babble about his dashed brother's baseness in putting one over on him in the matter of the cigarette-case. he seemed to think that claude, by slinging in the handsome gift, had got right ahead of him; and there was a painful scene when the latter came back from hurst park. i could hear them talking half the night, long after i had tottered off to bed. i don't know when i've met fellows who could do with less sleep than those two. * * * * * after this, things became a bit strained at the flat owing to claude and eustace not being on speaking terms. i'm all for a certain chumminess in the home, and it was wearing to have to live with two fellows who wouldn't admit that the other one was on the map at all. one felt the thing couldn't go on like that for long, and, by jove, it didn't. but, if anyone had come to me the day before and told me what was going to happen, i should simply have smiled wanly. i mean, i'd got so accustomed to thinking that nothing short of a dynamite explosion could ever dislodge those two nestlers from my midst that, when claude sidled up to me on the friday morning and told me his bit of news, i could hardly believe i was hearing right. "bertie," he said, "i've been thinking it over." "what over?" i said. "the whole thing. this business of staying in london when i ought to be in south africa. it isn't fair," said claude warmly. "it isn't right. and the long and the short of it is, bertie, old man, i'm leaving to-morrow." i reeled in my tracks. "you are?" i gasped. "yes. if," said claude, "you won't mind sending old jeeves out to buy a ticket for me. i'm afraid i'll have to stick you for the passage money, old man. you don't mind?" "mind!" i said, clutching his hand fervently. "that's all right, then. oh, i say, you won't say a word to eustace about this, will you?" "but isn't he going, too?" claude shuddered. "no, thank heaven! the idea of being cooped up on board a ship with that blighter gives me the pip just to think of it. no, not a word to eustace. i say, i suppose you can get me a berth all right at such short notice?" "rather!" i said. sooner than let this opportunity slip, i would have bought the bally boat. "jeeves," i said, breezing into the kitchen. "go out on first speed to the union-castle offices and book a berth on to-morrow's boat for mr. claude. he is leaving us, jeeves." "yes, sir." "mr. claude does not wish any mention of this to be made to mr. eustace." "no, sir. mr. eustace made the same proviso when he desired me to obtain a berth on to-morrow's boat for himself." i gaped at the man. "is he going, too?" "yes, sir." "this is rummy." "yes, sir." had circumstances been other than they were, i would at this juncture have unbent considerably towards jeeves. frisked round him a bit and whooped to a certain extent, and what not. but those spats still formed a barrier, and i regret to say that i took the opportunity of rather rubbing it in a bit on the man. i mean, he'd been so dashed aloof and unsympathetic, though perfectly aware that the young master was in the soup and that it was up to him to rally round, that i couldn't help pointing out how the happy ending had been snaffled without any help from him. "so that's that, jeeves," i said. "the episode is concluded. i knew things would sort themselves out if one gave them time and didn't get rattled. many chaps in my place would have got rattled, jeeves." "yes, sir." "gone rushing about, i mean, asking people for help and advice and so forth." "very possibly, sir." "but not me, jeeves." "no, sir." i left him to brood on it. * * * * * even the thought that i'd got to go to harrogate with uncle george couldn't depress me that saturday when i gazed about the old flat and realised that claude and eustace weren't in it. they had slunk off stealthily and separately immediately after breakfast, eustace to catch the boat-train at waterloo, claude to go round to the garage where i kept my car. i didn't want any chance of the two meeting at waterloo and changing their minds, so i had suggested to claude that he might find it pleasanter to drive down to southampton. i was lying back on the old settee, gazing peacefully up at the flies on the ceiling and feeling what a wonderful world this was, when jeeves came in with a letter. "a messenger-boy has brought this, sir." i opened the envelope, and the first thing that fell out was a five-pound note. "great scott!" i said. "what's all this?" the letter was scribbled in pencil, and was quite brief: _dear bertie,--will you give enclosed to your man, and tell him i wish i could make it more. he has saved my life. this is the first happy day i've had for a week._ _yours_, m. w. jeeves was standing holding out the fiver, which had fluttered to the floor. "you'd better stick to it," i said. "it seems to be for you." "sir?" "i say that fiver is for you, apparently. miss wardour sent it." "that was extremely kind of her, sir." "what the dickens is she sending you fivers for? she says you saved her life." jeeves smiled gently. "she over-estimates my services, sir." "but what _were_ your services, dash it?" "it was in the matter of mr. claude and mr. eustace, sir. i was hoping that she would not refer to the matter, as i did not wish you to think that i had been taking a liberty." "what do you mean?" "i chanced to be in the room while miss wardour was complaining with some warmth of the manner in which mr. claude and mr. eustace were thrusting their society upon her. i felt that in the circumstances it might be excusable if i suggested a slight ruse to enable her to dispense with their attentions." "good lord! you don't mean to say you were at the bottom of their popping off, after all!" silly ass it made me feel. i mean, after rubbing it in to him like that about having clicked without his assistance. "it occurred to me that, were miss wardour to inform mr. claude and mr. eustace independently that she proposed sailing for south africa to take up a theatrical engagement, the desired effect might be produced. it appears that my anticipations were correct, sir. the young gentlemen ate it, if i may use the expression." "jeeves," i said--we woosters may make bloomers, but we are never too proud to admit it--"you stand alone!" "thank you very much, sir." "oh, but i say!" a ghastly thought had struck me. "when they get on the boat and find she isn't there, won't they come buzzing back?" "i anticipated that possibility, sir. at my suggestion, miss wardour informed the young gentlemen that she proposed to travel overland to madeira and join the vessel there." "and where do they touch after madeira?" "nowhere, sir." for a moment i just lay back, letting the idea of the thing soak in. there seemed to me to be only one flaw. "the only pity is," i said, "that on a large boat like that they will be able to avoid each other. i mean, i should have liked to feel that claude was having a good deal of eustace's society and _vice versa_." "i fancy that that will be so, sir. i secured a two-berth stateroom. mr. claude will occupy one berth, mr. eustace the other." i sighed with pure ecstasy. it seemed a dashed shame that on this joyful occasion i should have to go off to harrogate with my uncle george. "have you started packing yet, jeeves?" i asked. "packing, sir?" "for harrogate. i've got to go there to-day with sir george." "of course, yes, sir. i forgot to mention it. sir george rang up on the telephone this morning while you were still asleep, and said that he had changed his plans. he does not intend to go to harrogate." "oh, i say, how absolutely topping!" "i thought you might be pleased, sir." "what made him change his plans? did he say?" "no, sir. but i gather from his man, stevens, that he is feeling much better and does not now require a rest-cure. i took the liberty of giving stevens the recipe for that pick-me-up of mine, of which you have always approved so much. stevens tells me that sir george informed him this morning that he is feeling a new man." well, there was only one thing to do, and i did it. i'm not saying it didn't hurt, but there was no alternative. "jeeves," i said, "those spats." "yes, sir?" "you really dislike them?" "intensely, sir." "you don't think time might induce you to change your views?" "no, sir." "all right, then. very well. say no more. you may burn them." "thank you very much, sir. i have already done so. before breakfast this morning. a quiet grey is far more suitable, sir. thank you, sir." chapter xvii bingo and the little woman it must have been a week or so after the departure of claude and eustace that i ran into young bingo little in the smoking-room of the senior liberal club. he was lying back in an arm-chair with his mouth open and a sort of goofy expression in his eyes, while a grey-bearded cove in the middle distance watched him with so much dislike that i concluded that bingo had pinched his favourite seat. that's the worst of being in a strange club--absolutely without intending it, you find yourself constantly trampling upon the vested interests of the oldest inhabitants. "hallo, face," i said. "cheerio, ugly," said young bingo, and we settled down to have a small one before lunch. once a year the committee of the drones decides that the old club could do with a wash and brush-up, so they shoo us out and dump us down for a few weeks at some other institution. this time we were roosting at the senior liberal, and personally i had found the strain pretty fearful. i mean, when you've got used to a club where everything's nice and cheery, and where, if you want to attract a chappie's attention, you heave a bit of bread at him, it kind of damps you to come to a place where the youngest member is about eighty-seven and it isn't considered good form to talk to anyone unless you and he were through the peninsular war together. it was a relief to come across bingo. we started to talk in hushed voices. "this club," i said, "is the limit." "it is the eel's eyebrows," agreed young bingo. "i believe that old boy over by the window has been dead three days, but i don't like to mention it to anyone." "have you lunched here yet?" "no. why?" "they have waitresses instead of waiters." "good lord! i thought that went out with the armistice." bingo mused a moment, straightening his tie absently. "er--pretty girls?" he said. "no." he seemed disappointed, but pulled round. "well, i've heard that the cooking's the best in london." "so they say. shall we be going in?" "all right. i expect," said young bingo, "that at the end of the meal--or possibly at the beginning--the waitress will say, 'both together, sir?' reply in the affirmative. i haven't a bean." "hasn't your uncle forgiven you yet?" "not yet, confound him!" i was sorry to hear the row was still on. i resolved to do the poor old thing well at the festive board, and i scanned the menu with some intentness when the girl rolled up with it. "how would this do you, bingo?" i said at length. "a few plovers' eggs to weigh in with, a cup of soup, a touch of cold salmon, some cold curry, and a splash of gooseberry tart and cream with a bite of cheese to finish?" i don't know that i had expected the man actually to scream with delight, though i had picked the items from my knowledge of his pet dishes, but i had expected him to say something. i looked up, and found that his attention was elsewhere. he was gazing at the waitress with the look of a dog that's just remembered where its bone was buried. she was a tallish girl with sort of soft, soulful brown eyes. nice figure and all that. rather decent hands, too. i didn't remember having seen her about before, and i must say she raised the standard of the place quite a bit. "how about it, laddie?" i said, being all for getting the order booked and going on to the serious knife-and-fork work. "eh?" said young bingo absently. i recited the programme once more. "oh, yes, fine!" said bingo. "anything, anything." the girl pushed off, and he turned to me with protruding eyes. "i thought you said they weren't pretty, bertie!" he said reproachfully. "oh, my heavens!" i said. "you surely haven't fallen in love again--and with a girl you've only just seen?" "there are times, bertie," said young bingo, "when a look is enough--when, passing through a crowd, we meet somebody's eye and something seems to whisper...." at this point the plovers' eggs arrived, and he suspended his remarks in order to swoop on them with some vigour. "jeeves," i said that night when i got home, "stand by." "sir?" "burnish the old brain and be alert and vigilant. i suspect that mr. little will be calling round shortly for sympathy and assistance." "is mr. little in trouble, sir?" "well, you might call it that. he's in love. for about the fifty-third time. i ask you, jeeves, as man to man, did you ever see such a chap?" "mr. little is certainly warm-hearted, sir." "warm-hearted! i should think he has to wear asbestos vests. well, stand by, jeeves." "very good, sir." and sure enough, it wasn't ten days before in rolled the old ass, bleating for volunteers to step one pace forward and come to the aid of the party. "bertie," he said, "if you are a pal of mine, now is the time to show it." "proceed, old gargoyle," i replied. "you have our ear." "you remember giving me lunch at the senior liberal some days ago. we were waited on by a----" "i remember. tall, lissom female." he shuddered somewhat. "i wish you wouldn't talk of her like that, dash it all. she's an angel." "all right. carry on." "i love her." "right-o! push along." "for goodness sake don't bustle me. let me tell the story in my own way. i love her, as i was saying, and i want you, bertie, old boy, to pop round to my uncle and do a bit of diplomatic work. that allowance of mine must be restored, and dashed quick, too. what's more, it must be increased." "but look here," i said, being far from keen on the bally business, "why not wait awhile?" "wait? what's the good of waiting?" "well, you know what generally happens when you fall in love. something goes wrong with the works and you get left. much better tackle your uncle after the whole thing's fixed and settled." "it _is_ fixed and settled. she accepted me this morning." "good lord! that's quick work. you haven't known her two weeks." "not in this life, no," said young bingo. "but she has a sort of idea that we must have met in some previous existence. she thinks i must have been a king in babylon when she was a christian slave. i can't say i remember it myself, but there may be something in it." "great scott!" i said. "do waitresses really talk like that?" "how should _i_ know how waitresses talk?" "well, you ought to by now. the first time i ever met your uncle was when you hounded me on to ask him if he would rally round to help you marry that girl mabel in the piccadilly bun-shop." bingo started violently. a wild gleam came into his eyes. and before i knew what he was up to he had brought down his hand with a most frightful whack on my summer trousering, causing me to leap like a young ram. "here!" i said. "sorry," said bingo. "excited. carried away. you've given me an idea, bertie." he waited till i had finished massaging the limb, and resumed his remarks. "can you throw your mind back to that occasion, bertie? do you remember the frightfully subtle scheme i worked? telling him you were what's-her-name, the woman who wrote those books, i mean?" it wasn't likely i'd forget. the ghastly thing was absolutely seared into my memory. "that is the line of attack," said bingo. "that is the scheme. rosie m. banks forward once more." "it can't be done, old thing. sorry, but it's out of the question. i couldn't go through all that again." "not for me?" "not for a dozen more like you." "i never thought," said bingo sorrowfully, "to hear those words from bertie wooster!" "well, you've heard them now," i said. "paste them in your hat." "bertie, we were at school together." "it wasn't my fault." "we've been pals for fifteen years." "i know. it's going to take me the rest of my life to live it down." "bertie, old man," said bingo, drawing up his chair closer and starting to knead my shoulder-blade, "listen! be reasonable!" and of course, dash it, at the end of ten minutes i'd allowed the blighter to talk me round. it's always the way. anyone can talk me round. if i were in a trappist monastery, the first thing that would happen would be that some smooth performer would lure me into some frightful idiocy against my better judgment by means of the deaf-and-dumb language. "well, what do you want me to do?" i said, realising that it was hopeless to struggle. "start off by sending the old boy an autographed copy of your latest effort with a flattering inscription. that will tickle him to death. then you pop round and put it across." "what _is_ my latest?" "'the woman who braved all,'" said young bingo. "i've seen it all over the place. the shop windows and bookstalls are full of nothing but it. it looks to me from the picture on the jacket the sort of book any chappie would be proud to have written. of course, he will want to discuss it with you." "ah!" i said, cheering up. "that dishes the scheme, doesn't it? i don't know what the bally thing is about." "you will have to read it, naturally." "read it! no, i say...." "bertie, we were at school together." "oh, right-o! right-o!" i said. "i knew i could rely on you. you have a heart of gold. jeeves," said young bingo, as the faithful servitor rolled in, "mr. wooster has a heart of gold." "very good, sir," said jeeves. bar a weekly wrestle with the pink 'un and an occasional dip into the form book i'm not much of a lad for reading, and my sufferings as i tackled "the woman" (curse her!) "who braved all" were pretty fearful. but i managed to get through it, and only just in time, as it happened, for i'd hardly reached the bit where their lips met in one long, slow kiss and everything was still but for the gentle sighing of the breeze in the laburnum, when a messenger boy brought a note from old bittlesham asking me to trickle round to lunch. i found the old boy in a mood you could only describe as melting. he had a copy of the book on the table beside him and kept turning the pages in the intervals of dealing with things in aspic and what not. "mr. wooster," he said, swallowing a chunk of trout, "i wish to congratulate you. i wish to thank you. you go from strength to strength. i have read 'all for love'; i have read 'only a factory girl'; i know 'madcap myrtle' by heart. but this--this is your bravest and best. it tears the heartstrings." "yes?" "indeed yes! i have read it three times since you most kindly sent me the volume--i wish to thank you once more for the charming inscription--and i think i may say that i am a better, sweeter, deeper man. i am full of human charity and kindliness toward my species." "no, really?" "indeed, indeed i am." "towards the whole species?" "towards the whole species." "even young bingo?" i said, trying him pretty high. "my nephew? richard?" he looked a bit thoughtful, but stuck it like a man and refused to hedge. "yes, even towards richard. well ... that is to say ... perhaps ... yes, even towards richard." "that's good, because i wanted to talk about him. he's pretty hard up, you know." "in straitened circumstances?" "stoney. and he could use a bit of the right stuff paid every quarter, if you felt like unbelting." he mused awhile and got through a slab of cold guinea hen before replying. he toyed with the book, and it fell open at page two hundred and fifteen. i couldn't remember what was on page two hundred and fifteen, but it must have been something tolerably zippy, for his expression changed and he gazed up at me with misty eyes, as if he'd taken a shade too much mustard with his last bite of ham. "very well, mr. wooster," he said. "fresh from a perusal of this noble work of yours, i cannot harden my heart. richard shall have his allowance." "stout fellow!" i said. then it occurred to me that the expression might strike a chappie who weighed seventeen stone as a bit personal. "good egg, i mean. that'll take a weight off his mind. he wants to get married, you know." "i did not know. and i am not sure that i altogether approve. who is the lady?" "well, as a matter of fact, she's a waitress." he leaped in his seat. "you don't say so, mr. wooster! this is remarkable. this is most cheering. i had not given the boy credit for such tenacity of purpose. an excellent trait in him which i had not hitherto suspected. i recollect clearly that, on the occasion when i first had the pleasure of making your acquaintance, nearly eighteen months ago, richard was desirous of marrying this same waitress." i had to break it to him. "well, not absolutely this same waitress. in fact, quite a different waitress. still, a waitress, you know." the light of avuncular affection died out of the old boy's eyes. "h'm!" he said a bit dubiously. "i had supposed that richard was displaying the quality of constancy which is so rare in the modern young man. i--i must think it over." so we left it at that, and i came away and told bingo the position of affairs. "allowance o.k.," i said. "uncle blessing a trifle wobbly." "doesn't he seem to want the wedding bells to ring out?" "i left him thinking it over. if i were a bookie, i should feel justified in offering a hundred to eight against." "you can't have approached him properly. i might have known you would muck it up," said young bingo. which, considering what i had been through for his sake, struck me as a good bit sharper than a serpent's tooth. "it's awkward," said young bingo. "it's infernally awkward. i can't tell you all the details at the moment, but ... yes, it's awkward." he helped himself absently to a handful of my cigars and pushed off. i didn't see him again for three days. early in the afternoon of the third day he blew in with a flower in his buttonhole and a look on his face as if someone had hit him behind the ear with a stuffed eel skin. "hallo, bertie." "hallo, old turnip. where have you been all this while?" "oh, here and there! ripping weather we're having, bertie." "not bad." "i see the bank rate is down again." "no, really?" "disturbing news from lower silesia, what?" "oh, dashed!" he pottered about the room for a bit, babbling at intervals. the boy seemed cuckoo. "oh, i say, bertie!" he said suddenly, dropping a vase which he had picked off the mantelpiece and was fiddling with. "i know what it was i wanted to tell you. i'm married." chapter xviii all's well i stared at him. that flower in his buttonhole.... that dazed look.... yes, he had all the symptoms; and yet the thing seemed incredible. the fact is, i suppose, i'd seen so many of young bingo's love affairs start off with a whoop and a rattle and poof themselves out half-way down the straight that i couldn't believe he had actually brought it off at last. "married!" "yes. this morning at a registrar's in holburn. i've just come from the wedding breakfast." i sat up in my chair. alert. the man of affairs. it seemed to me that this thing wanted threshing out in all its aspects. "let's get this straight," i said. "you're really married?" "yes." "the same girl you were in love with the day before yesterday?" "what do you mean?" "well, you know what you're like. tell me, what made you commit this rash act?" "i wish the deuce you wouldn't talk like that. i married her because i love her, dash it. the best little woman," said young bingo, "in the world." "that's all right, and deuced creditable, i'm sure. but have you reflected what your uncle's going to say? the last i saw of him, he was by no means in a confetti-scattering mood." "bertie," said bingo, "i'll be frank with you. the little woman rather put it up to me, if you know what i mean. i told her how my uncle felt about it, and she said that we must part unless i loved her enough to brave the old boy's wrath and marry her right away. so i had no alternative. i bought a buttonhole and went to it." "and what do you propose to do now?" "oh, i've got it all planned out! after you've seen my uncle and broken the news...." "what!" "after you've...." "you don't mean to say you think you're going to lug _me_ into it?" he looked at me like lilian gish coming out of a swoon. "is this bertie wooster talking?" he said, pained. "yes, it jolly well is." "bertie, old man," said bingo, patting me gently here and there, "reflect! we were at school----" "oh, all right!" "good man! i knew i could rely on you. she's waiting down below in the hall. we'll pick her up and dash round to pounceby gardens right away." i had only seen the bride before in her waitress kit, and i was rather expecting that on her wedding day she would have launched out into something fairly zippy in the way of upholstery. the first gleam of hope i had felt since the start of this black business came to me when i saw that, instead of being all velvet and scent and flowery hat, she was dressed in dashed good taste. quiet. nothing loud. so far as looks went, she might have stepped straight out of berkeley square. "this is my old pal, bertie wooster, darling," said bingo. "we were at school together, weren't we, bertie?" "we were!" i said. "how do you do? i think we--er--met at lunch the other day, didn't we?" "oh, yes! how do you do?" "my uncle eats out of bertie's hand," explained bingo. "so he's coming round with us to start things off and kind of pave the way. hi, taxi!" we didn't talk much on the journey. kind of tense feeling. i was glad when the cab stopped at old bittlesham's wigwam and we all hopped out. i left bingo and wife in the hall while i went upstairs to the drawing-room, and the butler toddled off to dig out the big chief. while i was prowling about the room waiting for him to show up, i suddenly caught sight of that bally "woman who braved all" lying on one of the tables. it was open at page two hundred and fifteen, and a passage heavily marked in pencil caught my eye. and directly i read it i saw that it was all to the mustard and was going to help me in my business. this was the passage: _"what can prevail"--millicent's eyes flashed as she faced the stern old man--"what can prevail against a pure and all-consuming love? neither principalities nor powers, my lord, nor all the puny prohibitions of guardians and parents. i love your son, lord mindermere, and nothing can keep us apart. since time first began this love of ours was fated, and who are you to pit yourself against the decrees of fate?"_ _the earl looked at her keenly from beneath his bushy eyebrows._ _"humph!" he said._ before i had time to refresh my memory as to what millicent's come-back had been to that remark, the door opened and old bittlesham rolled in. all over me, as usual. "my dear mr. wooster, this is an unexpected pleasure. pray take a seat. what can i do for you?" "well, the fact is, i'm more or less in the capacity of a jolly old ambassador at the moment. representing young bingo, you know." his geniality sagged a trifle, i thought, but he didn't heave me out, so i pushed on. "the way i always look at it," i said, "is that it's dashed difficult for anything to prevail against what you might call a pure and all-consuming love. i mean, can it be done? i doubt it." my eyes didn't exactly flash as i faced the stern old man, but i sort of waggled my eyebrows. he puffed a bit and looked doubtful. "we discussed this matter at our last meeting, mr. wooster. and on that occasion...." "yes. but there have been developments, as it were, since then. the fact of the matter is," i said, coming to the point, "this morning young bingo went and jumped off the dock." "good heavens!" he jerked himself to his feet with his mouth open. "why? where? which dock?" i saw that he wasn't quite on. "i was speaking metaphorically," i explained, "if that's the word i want. i mean he got married." "married!" "absolutely hitched up. i hope you aren't ratty about it, what? young blood, you know. two loving hearts, and all that." he panted in a rather overwrought way. "i am greatly disturbed by your news. i--i consider that i have been--er--defied. yes, defied." "but who are you to pit yourself against the decrees of fate?" i said, taking a look at the prompt book out of the corner of my eye. "eh?" "you see, this love of theirs was fated. since time began, you know." i'm bound to admit that if he'd said "humph!" at this juncture, he would have had me stymied. luckily it didn't occur to him. there was a silence, during which he appeared to brood a bit. then his eye fell on the book and he gave a sort of start. "why, bless my soul, mr. wooster, you have been quoting!" "more or less." "i thought your words sounded familiar." his whole appearance changed and he gave a sort of gurgling chuckle. "dear me, dear me, you know my weak spot!" he picked up the book and buried himself in it for quite a while. i began to think he had forgotten i was there. after a bit, however, he put it down again, and wiped his eyes. "ah, well!" he said. i shuffled my feet and hoped for the best. "ah, well," he said again. "i must not be like lord windermere, must i, mr. wooster? tell me, did you draw that haughty old man from a living model?" "oh, no! just thought of him and bunged him down, you know." "genius!" murmured old bittlesham. "genius! well, mr. wooster, you have won me over. who, as you say, am i to pit myself against the decrees of fate? i will write to richard to-night and inform him of my consent to his marriage." "you can slip him the glad news in person," i said. "he's waiting downstairs, with wife complete. i'll pop down and send them up. cheerio, and thanks very much. bingo will be most awfully bucked." i shot out and went downstairs. bingo and mrs. were sitting on a couple of chairs like patients in a dentist's waiting-room. "well?" said bingo eagerly. "all over except the hand-clasping," i replied, slapping the old crumpet on the back. "charge up and get matey. toodle-oo, old things. you know where to find me, if wanted. a thousand congratulations, and all that sort of rot." and i pipped, not wishing to be fawned upon. * * * * * you never can tell in this world. if ever i felt that something attempted, something done had earned a night's repose, it was when i got back to the flat and shoved my feet up on the mantelpiece and started to absorb the cup of tea which jeeves had brought in. used as i am to seeing life's sitters blow up in the home stretch and finish nowhere, i couldn't see any cause for alarm in this affair of young bingo's. all he had to do when i left him in pounceby gardens was to walk upstairs with the little missus and collect the blessing. i was so convinced of this that when, about half an hour later, he came galloping into my sitting-room, all i thought was that he wanted to thank me in broken accents and tell me what a good chap i had been. i merely beamed benevolently on the old creature as he entered, and was just going to offer him a cigarette when i observed that he seemed to have something on his mind. in fact, he looked as if something solid had hit him in the solar plexus. "my dear old soul," i said, "what's up?" bingo plunged about the room. "i _will_ be calm!" he said, knocking over an occasional table. "calm, dammit!" he upset a chair. "surely nothing has gone wrong?" bingo uttered one of those hollow, mirthless yelps. "only every bally thing that could go wrong. what do you think happened after you left us? you know that beastly book you insisted on sending my uncle?" it wasn't the way i should have put it myself, but i saw the poor old bean was upset for some reason or other, so i didn't correct him. "'the woman who braved all'?" i said. "it came in dashed useful. it was by quoting bits out of it that i managed to talk him round." "well, it didn't come in useful when we got into the room. it was lying on the table, and after we had started to chat a bit and everything was going along nicely the little woman spotted it. 'oh, have you read this, lord bittlesham?' she said. 'three times already,' said my uncle. 'i'm so glad,' said the little woman. 'why, are you also an admirer of rosie m. banks?' asked the old boy, beaming. 'i _am_ rosie m. banks!' said the little woman." "oh, my aunt! not really?" "yes." "but how could she be? i mean, dash it, she was slinging the foodstuffs at the senior liberal club." bingo gave the settee a moody kick. "she took the job to collect material for a book she's writing called 'mervyn keene, clubman.'" "she might have told you." "it made such a hit with her when she found that i loved her for herself alone, despite her humble station, that she kept it under her hat. she meant to spring it on me later on, she said." "well, what happened then?" "there was the dickens of a painful scene. the old boy nearly got apoplexy. called her an impostor. they both started talking at once at the top of their voices, and the thing ended with the little woman buzzing off to her publishers to collect proofs as a preliminary to getting a written apology from the old boy. what's going to happen now, i don't know. apart from the fact that my uncle will be as mad as a wet hen when he finds out that he has been fooled, there's going to be a lot of trouble when the little woman discovers that we worked the rosie m. banks wheeze with a view to trying to get me married to somebody else. you see, one of the things that first attracted her to me was the fact that i had never been in love before." "did you tell her that?" "yes." "great scott!" "well, i hadn't been ... not really in love. there's all the difference in the world between.... well, never mind that. what am i going to do? that's the point." "i don't know." "thanks," said young bingo. "that's a lot of help." * * * * * next morning he rang me up on the phone just after i'd got the bacon and eggs into my system--the one moment of the day, in short, when a chappie wishes to muse on life absolutely undisturbed. "bertie!" "hallo?" "things are hotting up." "what's happened now?" "my uncle has given the little woman's proofs the once-over and admits her claim. i've just been having five snappy minutes with him on the telephone. he says that you and i made a fool of him, and he could hardly speak, he was so shirty. still, he made it clear all right that my allowance has gone phut again." "i'm sorry." "don't waste time being sorry for me," said young bingo grimly. "he's coming to call on you to-day to demand a personal explanation." "great scott!" "and the little woman is coming to call on you to demand a personal explanation." "good lord!" "i shall watch your future career with some considerable interest," said young bingo. i bellowed for jeeves. "jeeves!" "sir?" "i'm in the soup." "indeed, sir?" i sketched out the scenario for him. "what would you advise?" "i think if i were you, sir, i would accept mr. pitt-waley's invitation immediately. if you remember, sir, he invited you to shoot with him in norfolk this week." "so he did! by jove, jeeves, you're always right. meet me at the station with my things the first train after lunch. i'll go and lie low at the club for the rest of the morning." "would you require my company on this visit, sir?" "do you want to come?" "if i might suggest it, sir, i think it would be better if i remained here and kept in touch with mr. little. i might possibly hit upon some method of pacifying the various parties, sir." "right-o! but, if you do, you're a marvel." * * * * * i didn't enjoy myself much in norfolk. it rained most of the time, and when it wasn't raining i was so dashed jumpy i couldn't hit a thing. by the end of the week i couldn't stand it any longer. too bally absurd, i mean, being marooned miles away in the country just because young bingo's uncle and wife wanted to have a few words with me. i made up my mind that i would pop back and do the strong, manly thing by lying low in my flat and telling jeeves to inform everybody who called that i wasn't at home. i sent jeeves a telegram saying i was coming, and drove straight to bingo's place when i reached town. i wanted to find out the general posish of affairs. but apparently the man was out. i rang a couple of times but nothing happened, and i was just going to leg it when i heard the sound of footsteps inside and the door opened. it wasn't one of the cheeriest moments of my career when i found myself peering into the globular face of lord bittlesham. "oh, er, hallo!" i said. and there was a bit of a pause. i don't quite know what i had been expecting the old boy to do if, by bad luck, we should ever meet again, but i had a sort of general idea that he would turn fairly purple and start almost immediately to let me have it in the gizzard. it struck me as somewhat rummy, therefore, when he simply smiled weakly. a sort of frozen smile it was. his eyes kind of bulged and he swallowed once or twice. "er...." he said. i waited for him to continue, but apparently that was all there was. "bingo in?" i said, after a rather embarrassing pause. he shook his head and smiled again. and then, suddenly, just as the flow of conversation had begun to slacken once more, i'm dashed if he didn't make a sort of lumbering leap back into the flat and bang the door. i couldn't understand it. but, as it seemed that the interview, such as it was, was over, i thought i might as well be shifting. i had just started down the stairs when i met young bingo, charging up three steps at a time. "hallo, bertie!" he said. "where did you spring from? i thought you were out of town." "i've just got back. i looked in on you to see how the land lay." "how do you mean?" "why, all that business, you know." "oh, that!" said young bingo airily. "that was all settled days ago. the dove of peace is flapping its wings all over the place. everything's as right as it can be. jeeves fixed it all up. he's a marvel, that man, bertie, i've always said so. put the whole thing straight in half a minute with one of those brilliant ideas of his." "this is topping!" "i knew you'd be pleased." "congratulate you." "thanks." "what did jeeves do? i couldn't think of any solution of the bally thing myself." "oh, he took the matter in hand and smoothed it all out in a second! my uncle and the little woman are tremendous pals now. they gas away by the hour together about literature and all that. he's always dropping in for a chat." this reminded me. "he's in there now," i said. "i say, bingo, how _is_ your uncle these days?" "much as usual. how do you mean?" "i mean he hasn't been feeling the strain of things a bit, has he? he seemed rather strange in his manner just now." "why, have you met him?" "he opened the door when i rang. and then, after he had stood goggling at me for a bit, he suddenly banged the door in my face. puzzled me, you know. i mean, i could have understood it if he'd ticked me off and all that, but dash it, the man seemed absolutely scared." young bingo laughed a care-free laugh. "oh, that's all right!" he said. "i forgot to tell you about that. meant to write, but kept putting it off. he thinks you're a looney." "he--what!" "yes. that was jeeves's idea, you know. it's solved the whole problem splendidly. he suggested that i should tell my uncle that i had acted in perfectly good faith in introducing you to him as rosie m. banks; that i had repeatedly had it from your own lips that you were, and that i didn't see any reason why you shouldn't be. the idea being that you were subject to hallucinations and generally potty. and then we got hold of sir roderick glossop--you remember, the old boy whose kid you pushed into the lake that day down at ditteredge hall--and he rallied round with his story of how he had come to lunch with you and found your bedroom full up with cats and fish, and how you had pinched his hat while you were driving past his car in a taxi, and all that, you know. it just rounded the whole thing off nicely. i always say, and i always shall say, that you've only got to stand on jeeves, and fate can't touch you." i can stand a good deal, but there are limits. "well, of all the dashed bits of nerve i ever...." bingo looked at me astonished. "you aren't _annoyed_?" he said. "annoyed! at having half london going about under the impression that i'm off my chump? dash it all...." "bertie," said bingo, "you amaze and wound me. if i had dreamed that you would object to doing a trifling good turn to a fellow who's been a pal of yours for fifteen years...." "yes, but, look here...." "have you forgotten," said young bingo, "that we were at school together?" * * * * * i pushed on to the old flat, seething like the dickens. one thing i was jolly certain of, and that was that this was where jeeves and i parted company. a topping valet, of course, none better in london, but i wasn't going to allow that to weaken me. i buzzed into the flat like an east wind ... and there was the box of cigarettes on the small table and the illustrated weekly papers on the big table and my slippers on the floor, and every dashed thing so bally _right_, if you know what i mean, that i started to calm down in the first two seconds. it was like one of those moments in a play where the chappie, about to steep himself in crime, suddenly hears the soft, appealing strains of the old melody he learned at his mother's knee. softened, i mean to say. that's the word i want. i was softened. and then through the doorway there shimmered good old jeeves in the wake of a tray full of the necessary ingredients, and there was something about the mere look of the man.... however, i steeled the old heart and had a stab at it. "i have just met mr. little, jeeves," i said. "indeed, sir?" "he--er--he told me you had been helping him." "i did my best, sir. and i am happy to say that matters now appear to be proceeding smoothly. whisky, sir?" "thanks. er--jeeves." "sir?" "another time...." "sir?" "oh, nothing.... not all the soda, jeeves." "very good, sir." he started to drift out. "oh, jeeves!" "sir?" "i wish ... that is ... i think ... i mean.... oh, nothing!" "very good, sir. the cigarettes are at your elbow, sir. dinner will be ready at a quarter to eight precisely, unless you desire to dine out?" "no. i'll dine in." "yes, sir." "jeeves!" "sir?" "oh, nothing!" i said. "very good, sir," said jeeves. +-------------------------------------------------+ |transcriber's note: | | | |obvious typographic errors have been corrected. | | | +-------------------------------------------------+ a wodehouse miscellany articles & stories by p. g. wodehouse [transcriber's note: this collection of early wodehouse writings was assembled for project gutenberg. original publication dates for the stories are shown in square brackets in the table of contents.] contents articles some aspects of game-captaincy an unfinished collection the new advertising the secret pleasures of reginald my battle with drink in defense of astigmatism photographers and me a plea for indoor golf the alarming spread of poetry my life as a dramatic critic the agonies of writing a musical comedy on the writing of lyrics the past theatrical season poems damon and pythias: a romance the haunted tram stories when papa swore in hindustani [1901] tom, dick, and harry [1905] jeeves takes charge [1916] disentangling old duggie [1912] articles some aspects of game-captaincy to the game-captain (of the football variety) the world is peopled by three classes, firstly the keen and regular player, next the partial slacker, thirdly, and lastly, the entire, abject and absolute slacker. of the first class, the keen and regular player, little need be said. a keen player is a gem of purest rays serene, and when to his keenness he adds regularity and punctuality, life ceases to become the mere hollow blank that it would otherwise become, and joy reigns supreme. the absolute slacker (to take the worst at once, and have done with it) needs the pen of a swift before adequate justice can be done to his enormities. he is a blot, an excrescence. all those moments which are not spent in avoiding games (by means of that leave which is unanimously considered the peculiar property of the french nation) he uses in concocting ingenious excuses. armed with these, he faces with calmness the disgusting curiosity of the game-captain, who officiously desires to know the reason of his non-appearance on the preceding day. these excuses are of the "had-to-go-and-see-a-man-about-a-dog" type, and rarely meet with that success for which their author hopes. in the end he discovers that his chest is weak, or his heart is subject to palpitations, and he forthwith produces a document to this effect, signed by a doctor. this has the desirable result of muzzling the tyrannical game-captain, whose sole solace is a look of intense and withering scorn. but this is seldom fatal, and generally, we rejoice to say, ineffectual. the next type is the partial slacker. he differs from the absolute slacker in that at rare intervals he actually turns up, changed withal into the garb of the game, and thirsting for the fray. at this point begins the time of trouble for the game-captain. to begin with, he is forced by stress of ignorance to ask the newcomer his name. this is, of course, an insult of the worst kind. "a being who does not know my name," argues the partial slacker, "must be something not far from a criminal lunatic." the name is, however, extracted, and the partial slacker strides to the arena. now arises insult no. 2. he is wearing his cap. a hint as to the advisability of removing this pièce de résistance not being taken, he is ordered to assume a capless state, and by these means a coolness springs up between him and the g. c. of this the game-captain is made aware when the game commences. the partial slacker, scorning to insert his head in the scrum, assumes a commanding position outside and from this point criticises the game-captain's decisions with severity and pith. the last end of the partial slacker is generally a sad one. stung by some pungent home-thrust, the game-captain is fain to try chastisement, and by these means silences the enemy's battery. sometimes the classes overlap. as for instance, a keen and regular player may, by some more than usually gross bit of bungling on the part of the g.-c., be moved to a fervour and eloquence worthy of juvenal. or, again, even the absolute slacker may for a time emulate the keen player, provided an opponent plant a shrewd kick on a tender spot. but, broadly speaking, there are only three classes. an unfinished collection a silence had fallen upon the smoking room. the warrior just back from the front had enquired after george vanderpoop, and we, who knew that george's gentle spirit had, to use a metaphor after his own heart, long since been withdrawn from circulation, were feeling uncomfortable and wondering how to break the news. smithson is our specialist in tact, and we looked to him to be spokesman. "george," said smithson at last, "the late george vanderpoop----" "late!" exclaimed the warrior; "is he dead?" "as a doornail," replied smithson sadly. "perhaps you would care to hear the story. it is sad, but interesting. you may recollect that, when you sailed, he was starting his journalistic career. for a young writer he had done remarkably well. the _daily telephone_ had printed two of his contributions to their correspondence column, and a bright pen picture of his, describing how lee's lozenges for the liver had snatched him from almost certain death, had quite a vogue. lee, i believe, actually commissioned him to do a series on the subject." "well?" said the warrior. "well, he was, as i say, prospering very fairly, when in an unlucky moment he began to make a collection of editorial rejection forms. he had always been a somewhat easy prey to scourges of that description. but when he had passed safely through a sharp attack of philatelism and a rather nasty bout of autographomania, everyone hoped and believed that he had turned the corner. the progress of his last illness was very rapid. within a year he wanted but one specimen to make the complete set. this was the one published from the offices of the _scrutinizer_. all the rest he had obtained with the greatest ease. i remember his telling me that a single short story of his, called 'the vengeance of vera dalrymple,' had been instrumental in securing no less than thirty perfect specimens. poor george! i was with him when he made his first attempt on the _scrutinizer_. he had baited his hook with an essay on evolution. he read me one or two passages from it. i stopped him at the third paragraph, and congratulated him in advance, little thinking that it was sympathy rather than congratulations that he needed. when i saw him a week afterwards he was looking haggard. i questioned him, and by slow degrees drew out the story. the article on evolution had been printed. "'never say die, george,' i said. 'send them "vera dalrymple." no paper can take that.' "he sent it. the _scrutinizer_, which had been running for nearly a century without publishing a line of fiction, took it and asked for more. it was as if there were an editorial conspiracy against him." "well?" said the man of war. "then," said smithson, "george pulled himself together. he wrote a parody of 'the minstrel boy.' i have seen a good many parodies, but never such a parody as that. by return of post came a long envelope bearing the crest of the _scrutinizer_. 'at last,' he said, as he tore it open. "'george, old man,' i said, 'your hand.' "he looked at me a full minute. then with a horrible, mirthless laugh he fell to the ground, and expired almost instantly. you will readily guess what killed him. the poem had been returned, _but without a rejection form!_" the new advertising "in denmark," said the man of ideas, coming into the smoking room, "i see that they have original ideas on the subject of advertising. according to the usually well-informed daily lyre, all 'bombastic' advertising is punished with a fine. the advertiser is expected to describe his wares in restrained, modest language. in case this idea should be introduced into england, i have drawn up a few specimen advertisements which, in my opinion, combine attractiveness with a shrinking modesty at which no censor could cavil." and in spite of our protests, he began to read us his first effort, descriptive of a patent medicine. "it runs like this," he said: timson's tonic for distracted deadbeats has been known to cure we hate to seem to boast, but many who have tried it are still alive * * * * * take a dose or two in your spare time it's not bad stuff * * * * * read what an outside stockbroker says: "sir--after three months' steady absorption of your tonic i was no worse." * * * * * we do not wish to thrust ourselves forward in any way. if you prefer other medicines, by all means take them. only we just thought we'd mention it--casually, as it were--that timson's is pretty good. "how's that?" inquired the man of ideas. "attractive, i fancy, without being bombastic. now, one about a new novel. ready?" mr. lucien logroller's latest the dyspepsia of the soul the dyspepsia of the soul the dyspepsia of the soul don't buy it if you don't want to, but just listen to a few of the criticisms. the dyspepsia of the soul "rather ... rubbish."--_spectator_ "we advise all insomniacs to read mr. logroller's soporific pages."--_outlook_ "rot."--_pelican_ the dyspepsia of the soul already in its first edition. "what do you think of that?" asked the man of ideas. we told him. the secret pleasures of reginald i found reggie in the club one saturday afternoon. he was reclining in a long chair, motionless, his eyes fixed glassily on the ceiling. he frowned a little when i spoke. "you don't seem to be doing anything," i said. "it's not what i'm doing, it's what i am _not_ doing that matters." it sounded like an epigram, but epigrams are so little associated with reggie that i ventured to ask what he meant. he sighed. "ah well," he said. "i suppose the sooner i tell you, the sooner you'll go. do you know bodfish?" i shuddered. "wilkinson bodfish? i do." "have you ever spent a weekend at bodfish's place in the country?" i shuddered again. "i have." "well, i'm _not_ spending the weekend at bodfish's place in the country." "i see you're not. but----" "you don't understand. i do not mean that i am simply absent from bodfish's place in the country. i mean that i am _deliberately_ not spending the weekend there. when you interrupted me just now, i was not strolling down to bodfish's garage, listening to his prattle about his new car." i glanced around uneasily. "reggie, old man, you're--you're not--this hot weather----" "i am perfectly well, and in possession of all my faculties. now tell me. can you imagine anything more awful than to spend a weekend with bodfish?" on the spur of the moment i could not. "can you imagine anything more delightful, then, than _not_ spending a weekend with bodfish? well, that's what i'm doing now. soon, when you have gone--if you have any other engagements, please don't let me keep you--i shall not go into the house and not listen to mrs. bodfish on the subject of young willie bodfish's premature intelligence." i got his true meaning. "i see. you mean that you will be thanking your stars that you aren't with bodfish." "that is it, put crudely. but i go further. i don't indulge in a mere momentary self-congratulation, i do the thing thoroughly. if i were weekending at bodfish's, i should have arrived there just half an hour ago. i therefore selected that moment for beginning not to weekend with bodfish. i settled myself in this chair and i did not have my back slapped at the station. a few minutes later i was not whirling along the country roads, trying to balance the car with my legs and an elbow. time passed, and i was not shaking hands with mrs. bodfish. i have just had the most corking half-hour, and shortly--when you have remembered an appointment--i shall go on having it. what i am really looking forward to is the happy time after dinner. i shall pass it in not playing bridge with bodfish, mrs. bodfish, and a neighbor. sunday morning is the best part of the whole weekend, though. that is when i shall most enjoy myself. do you know a man named pringle? next saturday i am not going to stay with pringle. i forget who is not to be my host the saturday after that. i have so many engagements of this kind that i lose track of them." "but, reggie, this is genius. you have hit on the greatest idea of the age. you might extend this system of yours." "i do. some of the jolliest evenings i have spent have been not at the theatre." "i have often wondered what it was that made you look so fit and happy." "yes. these little non-visits of mine pick me up and put life into me for the coming week. i get up on monday morning feeling like a lion. the reason i selected bodfish this week, though i was practically engaged to a man named stevenson who lives out in connecticut, was that i felt rundown and needed a real rest. i shall be all right on monday." "and so shall i," i said, sinking into the chair beside him. "you're not going to the country?" he asked regretfully. "i am not. i, too, need a tonic. i shall join you at bodfish's. i really feel a lot better already." i closed my eyes, and relaxed, and a great peace settled upon me. my battle with drink i could tell my story in two words--the two words "i drank." but i was not always a drinker. this is the story of my downfall--and of my rise--for through the influence of a good woman, i have, thank heaven, risen from the depths. the thing stole upon me gradually, as it does upon so many young men. as a boy, i remember taking a glass of root beer, but it did not grip me then. i can recall that i even disliked the taste. i was a young man before temptation really came upon me. my downfall began when i joined the yonkers shorthand and typewriting college. it was then that i first made acquaintance with the awful power of ridicule. they were a hard-living set at college--reckless youths. they frequented movie palaces. they thought nothing of winding up an evening with a couple of egg-phosphates and a chocolate fudge. they laughed at me when i refused to join them. i was only twenty. my character was undeveloped. i could not endure their scorn. the next time i was offered a drink i accepted. they were pleased, i remember. they called me "good old plum!" and a good sport and other complimentary names. i was intoxicated with sudden popularity. how vividly i can recall that day! the shining counter, the placards advertising strange mixtures with ice cream as their basis, the busy men behind the counter, the half-cynical, half-pitying eyes of the girl in the cage where you bought the soda checks. she had seen so many happy, healthy boys through that little hole in the wire netting, so many thoughtless boys all eager for their first soda, clamoring to set their foot on the primrose path that leads to destruction. it was an apple marshmallow sundae, i recollect. i dug my spoon into it with an assumption of gaiety which i was far from feeling. the first mouthful almost nauseated me. it was like cold hair-oil. but i stuck to it. i could not break down now. i could not bear to forfeit the newly-won esteem of my comrades. they were gulping their sundaes down with the speed and enjoyment of old hands. i set my teeth, and persevered, and by degrees a strange exhilaration began to steal over me. i felt that i had burnt my boats and bridges; that i had crossed the rubicon. i was reckless. i ordered another round. i was the life and soul of that party. the next morning brought remorse. i did not feel well. i had pains, physical and mental. but i could not go back now. i was too weak to dispense with my popularity. i was only a boy, and on the previous evening the captain of the checkers club, to whom i looked up with an almost worshipping reverence, had slapped me on the back and told me that i was a corker. i felt that nothing could be excessive payment for such an honor. that night i gave a party at which orange phosphate flowed like water. it was the turning point. i had got the habit! i will pass briefly over the next few years. i continued to sink deeper and deeper into the slough. i knew all the drugstore clerks in new york by their first names, and they called me by mine. i no longer even had to specify the abomination i desired. i simply handed the man my ten cent check and said: "the usual, jimmy," and he understood. at first, considerations of health did not trouble me. i was young and strong, and my constitution quickly threw off the effects of my dissipation. then, gradually, i began to feel worse. i was losing my grip. i found a difficulty in concentrating my attention on my work. i had dizzy spells. i became nervous and distrait. eventually i went to a doctor. he examined me thoroughly, and shook his head. "if i am to do you any good," he said, "you must tell me all. you must hold no secrets from me." "doctor," i said, covering my face with my hands, "i am a confirmed soda-fiend." he gave me a long lecture and a longer list of instructions. i must take air and exercise and i must become a total abstainer from sundaes of all descriptions. i must avoid limeade like the plague, and if anybody offered me a bulgarzoon i was to knock him down and shout for the nearest policeman. i learned then for the first time what a bitterly hard thing it is for a man in a large and wicked city to keep from soda when once he has got the habit. everything was against me. the old convivial circle began to shun me. i could not join in their revels and they began to look on me as a grouch. in the end, i fell, and in one wild orgy undid all the good of a month's abstinence. i was desperate then. i felt that nothing could save me, and i might as well give up the struggle. i drank two pin-ap-o-lades, three grapefruit-olas and an egg-zoolak, before pausing to take breath. and then, the next day, i met may, the girl who effected my reformation. she was a clergyman's daughter who, to support her widowed mother, had accepted a non-speaking part in a musical comedy production entitled "oh joy! oh pep!" our acquaintance ripened, and one night i asked her out to supper. i look on that moment as the happiest of my life. i met her at the stage door, and conducted her to the nearest soda-fountain. we were inside and i was buying the checks before she realized where she was, and i shall never forget her look of mingled pain and horror. "and i thought you were a live one!" she murmured. it seemed that she had been looking forward to a little lobster and champagne. the idea was absolutely new to me. she quickly convinced me, however, that such was the only refreshment which she would consider, and she recoiled with unconcealed aversion from my suggestion of a mocha malted and an eva tanguay. that night i tasted wine for the first time, and my reformation began. it was hard at first, desperately hard. something inside me was trying to pull me back to the sundaes for which i craved, but i resisted the impulse. always with her divinely sympathetic encouragement, i gradually acquired a taste for alcohol. and suddenly, one evening, like a flash it came upon me that i had shaken off the cursed yoke that held me down: that i never wanted to see the inside of a drugstore again. cocktails, at first repellent, have at last become palatable to me. i drink highballs for breakfast. i am saved. in defense of astigmatism this is peculiarly an age where novelists pride themselves on the breadth of their outlook and the courage with which they refuse to ignore the realities of life; and never before have authors had such scope in the matter of the selection of heroes. in the days of the old-fashioned novel, when the hero was automatically lord blank or sir ralph asterisk, there were, of course, certain rules that had to be observed, but today--why, you can hardly hear yourself think for the uproar of earnest young novelists proclaiming how free and unfettered they are. and yet, no writer has had the pluck to make his hero wear glasses. in the old days, as i say, this was all very well. the hero was a young lordling, sprung from a line of ancestors who had never done anything with their eyes except wear a piercing glance before which lesser men quailed. but now novelists go into every class of society for their heroes, and surely, at least an occasional one of them must have been astigmatic. kipps undoubtedly wore glasses; so did bunker bean; so did mr. polly, clayhanger, bibbs, sheridan, and a score of others. then why not say so? novelists are moving with the times in every other direction. why not in this? it is futile to advance the argument that glasses are unromantic. they are not. i know, because i wear them myself, and i am a singularly romantic figure, whether in my rimless, my oxford gold-bordered, or the plain gent's spectacles which i wear in the privacy of my study. besides, everybody wears glasses nowadays. that is the point i wish to make. for commercial reasons, if for no others, authors ought to think seriously of this matter of goggling their heroes. it is an admitted fact that the reader of a novel likes to put himself in the hero's place--to imagine, while reading, that he is the hero. what an audience the writer of the first romance to star a spectacled hero will have. all over the country thousands of short-sighted men will polish their glasses and plunge into his pages. it is absurd to go on writing in these days for a normal-sighted public. the growing tenseness of life, with its small print, its newspapers read by artificial light, and its flickering motion pictures, is whittling down the section of the populace which has perfect sight to a mere handful. i seem to see that romance. in fact, i think i shall write it myself. "'evadne,' murmured clarence, removing his pince-nez and polishing them tenderly....'" "'see,' cried clarence, 'how clearly every leaf of yonder tree is mirrored in the still water of the lake. i can't see myself, unfortunately, for i have left my glasses on the parlor piano, but don't worry about me: go ahead and see!" ... "clarence adjusted his tortoiseshell-rimmed spectacles with a careless gesture, and faced the assassins without a tremor." hot stuff? got the punch? i should say so. do you imagine that there will be a single man in this country with the price of the book in his pocket and a pair of pince-nez on his face who will not scream and kick like an angry child if you withhold my novel from him? and just pause for a moment to think of the serial and dramatic rights of the story. all editors wear glasses, so do all theatrical managers. my appeal will be irresistible. all i shall have to do will be to see that the check is for the right figure and to supervise the placing of the electric sign spectacles of fate by p. g. wodehouse over the doors of whichever theatre i happen to select for the production of the play. have you ever considered the latent possibilities for dramatic situations in short sight? you know how your glasses cloud over when you come into a warm room out of the cold? well, imagine your hero in such a position. he has been waiting outside the murderer's den preparatory to dashing in and saving the heroine. he dashes in. "hands up, you scoundrels," he cries. and then his glasses get all misty, and there he is, temporarily blind, with a full-size desperado backing away and measuring the distance in order to hand him one with a pickaxe. or would you prefer something less sensational, something more in the romantic line? very well. hero, on his way to the dowager duchess's ball, slips on a banana-peel and smashes his only pair of spectacles. he dare not fail to attend the ball, for the dear duchess would never forgive him; so he goes in and proposes to a girl he particularly dislikes because she is dressed in pink, and the heroine told him that she was going to wear pink. but the heroine's pink dress was late in coming home from the modiste's and she had to turn up in blue. the heroine comes in just as the other girl is accepting him, and there you have a nice, live, peppy, kick-off for your tale of passion and human interest. but i have said enough to show that the time has come when novelists, if they do not wish to be left behind in the race, must adapt themselves to modern conditions. one does not wish to threaten, but, as i say, we astigmatics are in a large minority and can, if we get together, make our presence felt. roused by this article to a sense of the injustice of their treatment, the great army of glass-wearing citizens could very easily make novelists see reason. a boycott of non-spectacled heroes would soon achieve the necessary reform. perhaps there will be no need to let matters go as far as that. i hope not. but, if this warning should be neglected, if we have any more of these novels about men with keen gray eyes or snapping black eyes or cheerful blue eyes--any sort of eyes, in fact, lacking some muscular affliction, we shall know what to do. photographers and me i look in my glass, dear reader, and what do i see? nothing so frightfully hot, believe me. the face is slablike, the ears are large and fastened on at right-angles. above the eyebrows comes a stagnant sea of bald forehead, stretching away into the distance with nothing to relieve it but a few wisps of lonely hair. the nose is blobby, the eyes dull, like those of a fish not in the best of health. a face, in short, taking it for all in all, which should be reserved for the gaze of my nearest and dearest who, through long habit, have got used to it and can see through to the pure white soul beneath. at any rate, a face not to be scattered about at random and come upon suddenly by nervous people and invalids. and yet, just because i am an author, i have to keep on being photographed. it is the fault of publishers and editors, of course, really, but it is the photographer who comes in for the author's hate. something has got to be done about this practice of publishing authors' photographs. we have to submit to it, because editors and publishers insist. they have an extraordinary superstition that it helps an author's sales. the idea is that the public sees the photograph, pauses spell-bound for an instant, and then with a cry of ecstasy rushes off to the book-shop and buys copy after copy of the gargoyle's latest novel. of course, in practice, it works out just the other way. people read a review of an author's book and are told that it throbs with a passion so intense as almost to be painful, and are on the point of digging seven-and-sixpence out of their child's money-box to secure a copy, when their eyes fall on the man's photograph at the side of the review, and they find that he has a face like a rabbit and wears spectacles and a low collar. and this man is the man who is said to have laid bare the soul of a woman as with a scalpel. naturally their faith is shaken. they feel that a man like that cannot possibly know anything about woman or any other subject except where to go for a vegetarian lunch, and the next moment they have put down the hair-pin and the child is seven-and-six in hand and the author his ten per cent., or whatever it is, to the bad. and all because of a photograph. for the ordinary man, the recent introduction of high-art methods into photography has done much to diminish the unpleasantness of the operation. in the old days of crude and direct posing, there was no escape for the sitter. he had to stand up, backed by a rustic stile and a flabby canvas sheet covered with exotic trees, glaring straight into the camera. to prevent any eleventh-hour retreat, a sort of spiky thing was shoved firmly into the back of his head leaving him with the choice of being taken as he stood or having an inch of steel jabbed into his skull. modern methods have changed all that. there are no photographs nowadays. only "camera portraits" and "lens impressions." the full face has been abolished. the ideal of the present-day photographer is to eliminate the sitter as far as possible and concentrate on a general cloudy effect. i have in my possession two studies of my uncle theodore--one taken in the early 'nineties, the other in the present year. the first shows him, evidently in pain, staring before him with a fixed expression. in his right hand he grasps a scroll. his left rests on a moss-covered wall. two sea-gulls are flying against a stormy sky. as a likeness, it is almost brutally exact. my uncle stands forever condemned as the wearer of a made-up tie. the second is different in every respect. not only has the sitter been taken in the popular modern "one-twentieth face," showing only the back of the head, the left ear and what is either a pimple or a flaw in the print, but the whole thing is plunged in the deepest shadow. it is as if my uncle had been surprised by the camera while chasing a black cat in his coal-cellar on a moonlight night. there is no question as to which of the two makes the more attractive picture. my family resemble me in that respect. the less you see of us, the better we look. a plea for indoor golf indoor golf is that which is played in the home. whether you live in a palace or a hovel, an indoor golf-course, be it only of nine holes, is well within your reach. a house offers greater facilities than an apartment, and i have found my game greatly improved since i went to live in the country. i can, perhaps, scarcely do better than give a brief description of the sporting nine-hole course which i have recently laid out in my present residence. all authorities agree that the first hole on every links should be moderately easy, in order to give the nervous player a temporary and fictitious confidence. at wodehouse manor, therefore, we drive off from the front door--in order to get the benefit of the door-mat--down an entry fairway, carpeted with rugs and without traps. the hole--a loving-cup--is just under the stairs; and a good player ought to have no difficulty in doing it in two. the second hole, a short and simple one, takes you into the telephone booth. trouble begins with the third, a long dog-leg hole through the kitchen into the dining-room. this hole is well trapped with table-legs, kitchen utensils, and a moving hazard in the person of clarence the cat, who is generally wandering about the fairway. the hole is under the glass-and-china cupboard, where you are liable to be bunkered if you loft your approach-shot excessively. the fourth and fifth holes call for no comment. they are without traps, the only danger being that you may lose a stroke through hitting the maid if she happens to be coming down the back stairs while you are taking a mashie-shot. this is a penalty under the local rule. the sixth is the indispensable water-hole. it is short, but tricky. teeing off from just outside the bathroom door, you have to loft the ball over the side of the bath, holing out in the little vent pipe, at the end where the water runs out. the seventh is the longest hole on the course. starting at the entrance of the best bedroom, a full drive takes you to the head of the stairs, whence you will need at least two more strokes to put you dead on the pin in the drawing-room. in the drawing-room the fairway is trapped with photograph frames--with glass, complete--these serving as casual water: and anyone who can hole out on the piano in five or under is a player of class. bogey is six, and i have known even such a capable exponent of the game as my uncle reginald, who is plus two on his home links on park avenue, to take twenty-seven at the hole. but on that occasion he had the misfortune to be bunkered in a photograph of my aunt clara and took no fewer than eleven strokes with his niblick to extricate himself from it. the eighth and ninth holes are straightforward, and can be done in two and three respectively, provided you swing easily and avoid the canary's cage. once trapped there, it is better to give up the hole without further effort. it is almost impossible to get out in less than fifty-six, and after you have taken about thirty the bird gets visibly annoyed. the alarming spread of poetry to the thinking man there are few things more disturbing than the realization that we are becoming a nation of minor poets. in the good old days poets were for the most part confined to garrets, which they left only for the purpose of being ejected from the offices of magazines and papers to which they attempted to sell their wares. nobody ever thought of reading a book of poems unless accompanied by a guarantee from the publisher that the author had been dead at least a hundred years. poetry, like wine, certain brands of cheese, and public buildings, was rightly considered to improve with age; and no connoisseur could have dreamed of filling himself with raw, indigestible verse, warm from the maker. today, however, editors are paying real money for poetry; publishers are making a profit on books of verse; and many a young man who, had he been born earlier, would have sustained life on a crust of bread, is now sending for the manager to find out how the restaurant dares try to sell a fellow champagne like this as genuine pommery brut. naturally this is having a marked effect on the life of the community. our children grow to adolescence with the feeling that they can become poets instead of working. many an embryo bill clerk has been ruined by the heady knowledge that poems are paid for at the rate of a dollar a line. all over the country promising young plasterers and rising young motormen are throwing up steady jobs in order to devote themselves to the new profession. on a sunny afternoon down in washington square one's progress is positively impeded by the swarms of young poets brought out by the warm weather. it is a horrible sight to see those unfortunate youths, who ought to be sitting happily at desks writing "dear sir, your favor of the tenth inst. duly received and contents noted. in reply we beg to state...." wandering about with their fingers in their hair and their features distorted with the agony of composition, as they try to find rhymes to "cosmic" and "symbolism." and, as if matters were not bad enough already, along comes mr. edgar lee masters and invents _vers libre_. it is too early yet to judge the full effects of this man's horrid discovery, but there is no doubt that he has taken the lid off and unleashed forces over which none can have any control. all those decent restrictions which used to check poets have vanished, and who shall say what will be the outcome? until mr. masters came on the scene there was just one thing which, like a salient fortress in the midst of an enemy's advancing army, acted as a barrier to the youth of the country. when one's son came to one and said, "father, i shall not be able to fulfill your dearest wish and start work in the fertilizer department. i have decided to become a poet," although one could no longer frighten him from his purpose by talking of garrets and starvation, there was still one weapon left. "what about the rhymes, willie?" you replied, and the eager light died out of the boy's face, as he perceived the catch in what he had taken for a good thing. you pressed your advantage. "think of having to spend your life making one line rhyme with another! think of the bleak future, when you have used up 'moon' and 'june,' 'love' and 'dove,' 'may' and 'gay'! think of the moment when you have ended the last line but one of your poem with 'windows' or 'warmth' and have to buckle to, trying to make the thing couple up in accordance with the rules! what then, willie?" next day a new hand had signed on in the fertilizer department. but now all that has changed. not only are rhymes no longer necessary, but editors positively prefer them left out. if longfellow had been writing today he would have had to revise "the village blacksmith" if he wanted to pull in that dollar a line. no editor would print stuff like: under the spreading chestnut tree the village smithy stands. the smith a brawny man is he with large and sinewy hands. if longfellow were living in these hyphenated, free and versy days, he would find himself compelled to take his pen in hand and dictate as follows: in life i was the village smith, i worked all day but i retained the delicacy of my complexion because i worked in the shade of the chestnut tree instead of in the sun like nicholas blodgett, the expressman. i was large and strong because i went in for physical culture and deep breathing and all those stunts. i had the biggest biceps in spoon river. who can say where this thing will end? _vers libre_ is within the reach of all. a sleeping nation has wakened to the realization that there is money to be made out of chopping its prose into bits. something must be done shortly if the nation is to be saved from this menace. but what? it is no good shooting edgar lee masters, for the mischief has been done, and even making an example of him could not undo it. probably the only hope lies in the fact that poets never buy other poets' stuff. when once we have all become poets, the sale of verse will cease or be limited to the few copies which individual poets will buy to give to their friends. my life as a dramatic critic i had always wanted to be a dramatic critic. a taste for sitting back and watching other people work, so essential to the make-up of this sub-species of humanity, has always been one of the leading traits in my character. i have seldom missed a first night. no sooner has one periodical got rid of me than another has had the misfortune to engage me, with the result that i am now the foremost critic of the day, read assiduously by millions, fawned upon by managers, courted by stagehands. my lightest word can make or mar a new production. if i say a piece is bad, it dies. it may not die instantly. generally it takes forty weeks in new york and a couple of seasons on the road to do it, but it cannot escape its fate. sooner or later it perishes. that is the sort of man i am. whatever else may be charged against me, i have never deviated from the standard which i set myself at the beginning of my career. if i am called upon to review a play produced by a manager who is considering one of my own works, i do not hesitate. i praise that play. if an actor has given me a lunch, i refuse to bite the hand that has fed me. i praise that actor's performance. i can only recall one instance of my departing from my principles. that was when the champagne was corked, and the man refused to buy me another bottle. as is only natural, i have met many interesting people since i embarked on my career. i remember once lunching with rare ben jonson at the mermaid tavern--this would be back in queen elizabeth's time, when i was beginning to be known in the theatrical world--and seeing a young man with a nobby forehead and about three inches of beard doing himself well at a neighboring table at the expense of burbage the manager. "ben," i asked my companion, "who is that youth?" he told me that the fellow was one bacon, a new dramatist who had learned his technique by holding horses' heads in the strand, and who, for some reason or other, wrote under the name of shakespeare. "you must see his _hamlet_," said ben enthusiastically. "he read me the script last night. they start rehearsals at the globe next week. it's a pippin. in the last act every blamed character in the cast who isn't already dead jumps on everyone else's neck and slays him. it's a skit, you know, on these foolish tragedies which every manager is putting on just now. personally, i think it's the best thing since _the prune-hater's daughter_." i was skeptical at the moment, but time proved the correctness of my old friend's judgment; and, having been present after the opening performance at a little supper given by burbage at which sack ran like water, and anybody who wanted another malvoisie and seltzer simply had to beckon to the waiter, i was able to conscientiously praise it in the highest terms. i still treasure the faded newspaper clipping which contains the advertisement of the play, with the legend, "shakespeare has put one over. a scream from start to finish."--wodehouse, in _the weekly bear-baiter_ (with which is incorporated _the scurvy knaves' gazette_). the lot of a dramatic critic is, in many respects, an enviable one. lately, there has been the growing practice among critics of roasting a play on the morning after production, and then having another go at it in the sunday edition under the title of "second swats" or "the past week in the theatre," which has made it pretty rocky going for dramatists who thus get it twice in the same place, and experience the complex emotions of the commuter who, coming home in the dark, trips over the baby's cart and bumps his head against the hat stand. there is also no purer pleasure than that of getting into a theatre on what the poet milton used to call "the nod." i remember brigham young saying to me once with not unnatural chagrin, "you're a lucky man, wodehouse. it doesn't cost you a nickel to go to a theatre. when i want to take in a show with the wife, i have to buy up the whole of the orchestra floor. and even then it's a tight fit." my fellow critics and i escape this financial trouble, and it gives us a good deal of pleasure, when the male star is counting the house over the heroine's head (during their big love scene) to see him frown as he catches sight of us and hastily revise his original estimate. the agonies of writing a musical comedy which shows why librettists pick at the coverlet the trouble about musical comedy, and the reason why a great many otherwise kindly and broadminded persons lie in wait round the corner with sudden scowls, their whole being intent on beating it with a brick the moment it shows its head, is that, from outside, it looks too easy. you come into the crowded theatre and consider that each occupant of an orchestra chair is contributing three or four cents to the upkeep of a fellow who did nothing but dash off the stuff that keeps the numbers apart, and your blood boils. a glow of honest resentment fills you at the thought of anyone having such an absolute snap. you little know what the poor bird has suffered, and how inadequate a reward are his few yens per week for what he has been through. musical comedy is not dashed off. it grows--slowly and painfully, and each step in its growth either bleaches another tuft of the author's hair or removes it from the parent skull altogether. the average musical comedy comes into being because somebody--not the public, but a manager--wants one. we will say that mr. and mrs. whoosis, the eminent ballroom dancers, have decided that they require a different sphere for the exhibition of their talents. they do not demand a drama. they commission somebody to write them a musical comedy. some poor, misguided creature is wheedled into signing a contract: and, from that moment, his troubles begin. an inspiration gives him a pleasing and ingenious plot. full of optimism, he starts to write it. by the time he has finished an excellent first act, he is informed that mr. and mrs. whoosis propose to sing three solos and two duets in the first act and five in the second, and will he kindly build his script accordingly? this baffles the author a little. he is aware that both artistes, though extremely gifted northward as far as the ankle-bone, go all to pieces above that level, with the result that by the time you reach the zone where the brains and voice are located, there is nothing stirring whatever. and he had allowed for this in his original conception of the play, by making mrs. whoosis a deaf-mute and mr. whoosis a trappist monk under the perpetual vow of silence. the unfolding of the plot he had left to the other characters, with a few ingenious gaps where the two stars could come on and dance. he takes a stiff bracer, ties a vinegar-soaked handkerchief round his forehead, and sets to work to remodel his piece. he is a trifle discouraged, but he perseveres. with almost superhuman toil he contrives the only possible story which will fit the necessities of the case. he has wrapped up the script and is about to stroll round the corner to mail it, when he learns from the manager who is acting as intermediary between the parties concerned in the production that there is a slight hitch. instead of having fifty thousand dollars deposited in the bank to back the play, it seems that the artistes merely said in their conversation that it would be awfully jolly if they _did_ have that sum, or words to that effect. by this time our author has got the thing into his system: or, rather, he has worked so hard that he feels he cannot abandon the venture now. he hunts for another manager who wants something musical, and at length finds one. the only proviso is that this manager does not need a piece built around two stars, but one suited to the needs of jasper cutup, the well-known comedian, whom he has under contract. the personality of jasper is familiar to the author, so he works for a month or two and remoulds the play to fit him. with the script under his arm he staggers to the manager's office. the manager reads the script--smiles--chuckles--thoroughly enjoys it. then a cloud passes athwart his brow. "there's only one thing the matter with this piece," he says. "you seem to have written it to star a comedian." "but you said you wanted it for jasper cutup," gasps the author, supporting himself against the water-cooler. "well, yes, that is so," replies the manager. "i remember i did want a piece for him then, but he's gone and signed up with k. and lee. what i wish you would do is to take this script and twist it to be a vehicle for pansy glucose." "pansy glucose?" moans the author. "the ingenue?" "yes," says the manager. "it won't take long. just turn your milwaukee pickle manufacturer into a debutante, and the thing is done. get to work as soon as you can. i want this rushed." all this is but a portion of the musical comedy author's troubles. we will assume that he eventually finds a manager who really does put the piece into rehearsal. we will even assume that he encounters none of the trials to which i have alluded. we will even go further and assume that he is commissioned to write a musical comedy without any definite stellar personality in mind, and that when he has finished it the manager will do his share by providing a suitable cast. is he in soft? no, dear reader, he is not in soft. you have forgotten the "gurls." critics are inclined to reproach, deride, blame and generally hammer the author of a musical comedy because his plot is not so consecutive and unbroken as the plot of a farce or a comedy. they do not realize the conditions under which he is working. it is one of the immutable laws governing musical plays that at certain intervals during the evening the audience demand to see the chorus. they may not be aware that they so demand, but it is nevertheless a fact that, unless the chorus come on at these fixed intervals, the audience's interest sags. the raciest farce-scenes cannot hold them, nor the most tender love passages. they want the gurls, the whole gurls, and nothing but the gurls. thus it comes about that the author, having at last finished his first act, is roused from his dream of content by a horrid fear. he turns to the script, and discovers that his panic was well grounded. he has carelessly allowed fully twenty pages to pass without once bringing on the chorus. this is where he begins to clutch his forehead and to grow gray at the temples. he cannot possibly shift musical number four, which is a chorus number, into the spot now occupied by musical number three, which is a duet, because three is a "situation" number, rooted to its place by the exigencies of the story. the only thing to do is to pull the act to pieces and start afresh. and when you consider that this sort of thing happens not once but a dozen times between the start of a musical comedy book and its completion, can you wonder that this branch of writing is included among the dangerous trades and that librettists always end by picking at the coverlet? then there is the question of cast. the author builds his hero in such a manner that he requires an actor who can sing, dance, be funny, and carry a love interest. when the time comes to cast the piece, he finds that the only possible man in sight wants fifteen hundred a week and, anyway, is signed up for the next five years with the rival syndicate. he is then faced with the alternative of revising his play to suit either: a) jones, who can sing and dance, but is not funny; b) smith, who is funny, but cannot sing and dance; c) brown, who is funny and can sing and dance, but who cannot carry a love-interest and, through working in revue, has developed a habit of wandering down to the footlights and chatting with the audience. whichever actor is given the job, it means more rewriting. overcome this difficulty, and another arises. certain scenes are constructed so that a gets a laugh at the expense of b; but b is a five-hundred-a-week comedian and a is a two-hundred-a-week juvenile, and b refuses to "play straight" even for an instant for a social inferior. the original line is such that it cannot be simply switched from one to the other. the scene has to be entirely reconstructed and further laugh lines thought of. multiply this by a hundred, and you will begin to understand why, when you see a librettist, he is generally lying on his back on the sidewalk with a crowd standing round, saying, "give him air." so, do not grudge the librettist his thousand a week or whatever it is. remember what he has suffered and consider his emotions on the morning after the production when he sees lines which he invented at the cost of permanently straining his brain, attributed by the critics to the impromptu invention of the leading comedian. of all the saddest words of tongue or pen, the saddest--to a musical comedy author--are these in the morning paper: "the bulk of the humor was sustained by walter wiffle, who gagged his way merrily through the piece." on the writing of lyrics the musical comedy lyric is an interesting survival of the days, long since departed, when poets worked. as everyone knows, the only real obstacle in the way of turning out poetry by the mile was the fact that you had to make the darned stuff rhyme. many lyricists rhyme as they pronounce, and their pronunciation is simply horrible. they can make "home" rhyme with "alone," and "saw" with "more," and go right off and look their innocent children in the eye without a touch of shame. but let us not blame the erring lyricist too much. it isn't his fault that he does these things. it is the fault of the english language. whoever invented the english language must have been a prose-writer, not a versifier; for he has made meagre provision for the poets. indeed, the word "you" is almost the only decent chance he has given them. you can do something with a word like "you." it rhymes with "sue," "eyes of blue," "woo," and all sorts of succulent things, easily fitted into the fabric of a lyric. and it has the enormous advantage that it can be repeated thrice at the end of a refrain when the composer has given you those three long notes, which is about all a composer ever thinks of. when a composer hands a lyricist a "dummy" for a song, ending thus, tiddley-tum, tiddley-tum, pom-pom-pom, pom-pom-pom, tum, tum, tum, the lyricist just shoves down "you, you, you" for the last line, and then sets to work to fit the rest of the words to it. i have dwelled on this, for it is noteworthy as the only bright spot in a lyricist's life, the only real cinch the poor man has. but take the word "love." when the board of directors, or whoever it was, was arranging the language, you would have thought that, if they had had a spark of pity in their systems, they would have tacked on to that emotion of thoughts of which the young man's fancy lightly turns in spring, some word ending in an open vowel. they must have known that lyricists would want to use whatever word they selected as a label for the above-mentioned emotion far more frequently than any other word in the language. it wasn't much to ask of them to choose a word capable of numerous rhymes. but no, they went and made it "love," causing vast misery to millions. "love" rhymes with "dove," "glove," "above," and "shove." it is true that poets who print their stuff instead of having it sung take a mean advantage by ringing in words like "prove" and "move"; but the lyricist is not allowed to do that. this is the wretched unfairness of the lyricist's lot. the language gets him both ways. it won't let him rhyme "love" with "move," and it won't let him rhyme "maternal" with "colonel." if he tries the first course, he is told that the rhyme, though all right for the eye, is wrong for the ear. if he tries the second course, they say that the rhyme, though more or less ninety-nine percent pure for the ear, falls short when tested by the eye. and, when he is driven back on one of the regular, guaranteed rhymes, he is taunted with triteness of phrase. no lyricist wants to keep linking "love" with "skies above" and "turtle dove," but what can he do? you can't do a thing with "shove"; and "glove" is one of those aloof words which are not good mixers. and--mark the brutality of the thing--there is no word you can substitute for "love." it is just as if they did it on purpose. "home" is another example. it is the lyricist's staff of life. but all he can do is to roam across the foam, if he wants to use it. he can put in "nome," of course, as a pinch-hitter in special crises, but very seldom; with the result that his poetic soul, straining at its bonds, goes and uses "alone," "bone," "tone," and "thrown," exciting hoots of derision. but it is not only the paucity of rhymes that sours the lyricist's life. he is restricted in his use of material, as well. if every audience to which a musical comedy is destined to play were a metropolitan audience, all might be well; but there is the "road" to consider. and even a metropolitan audience likes its lyrics as much as possible in the language of everyday. that is one of the thousand reasons why new gilberts do not arise. gilbert had the advantage of being a genius, but he had the additional advantage of writing for a public which permitted him to use his full vocabulary, and even to drop into foreign languages, even latin and a little greek when he felt like it. (i allude to that song in "the grand duke.") and yet the modern lyricist, to look on the bright side, has advantages that gilbert never had. gilbert never realised the possibilities of hawaii, with its admirably named beaches, shores, and musical instruments. hawaii--capable as it is of being rhymed with "higher"--has done much to sweeten the lot--and increase the annual income of an industrious and highly respectable but down-trodden class of the community. the past theatrical season and the six best performances by unstarred actors what lessons do we draw from the past theatrical season? in the first place, the success of _the wanderer_ proves that the day of the small and intimate production is over and that what the public wants is the large spectacle. in the second place, the success of _oh, boy!_--(i hate to refer to it, as i am one of the trio who perpetrated it; but, honestly, we're simply turning them away in droves, and rockefeller has to touch morgan for a bit if he wants to buy a ticket from the speculators)--proves that the day of the large spectacle is over and that what the public wants is the small and intimate production. then, the capacity business done by _the thirteenth chair_ shows clearly that what the proletariat demands nowadays, is the plotty piece and that the sun of the bright dialogue comedy has set; while the capacity business done by _a successful calamity_ shows clearly that the number of the plotty piece is up. you will all feel better and more able to enjoy yourselves now that a trained critical mind has put you right on this subtle point. no review of a theatrical season would be complete without a tabulated list--or even an untabulated one--of the six best performances by unstarred actors during the past season. the present past season--that is to say, the past season which at present is the last season--has been peculiarly rich in hot efforts by all sorts of performers. my own choice would be: 1. anna wheaton, in _oh, boy!_ 2. marie carroll, in the piece at the princess theatre. 3. edna may oliver, in comstock and elliott's new musical comedy. 4. tom powers, in the show on the south side of 39th street. 5. hal forde, in the successor to _very good, eddie_. 6. stephen maley, in _oh, boy!_ you would hardly credit the agony it gives me to allude, even in passing, to the above musical mélange, but one must be honest to one's public. in case there may be any who dissent from my opinion, i append a supplementary list of those entitled to honorable mention: 1. the third sheep from the o. p. side in _the wanderer_. 2. the trick lamp in _magic_. 3. the pink pajamas in _you're in love_. 4. the knife in _the thirteenth chair_. 5. the confused noise without in _the great divide_. 6. jack merritt's hair in _oh, boy!_ there were few discoveries among the dramatists. of the older playwrights, barrie produced a new one and an ancient one, but the shakespeare boom, so strong last year, petered out. there seems no doubt that the man, in spite of a flashy start, had not the stuff. i understand that some of his things are doing fairly well on the road. clare kummer, whose "dearie" i have so frequently sung in my bath, to the annoyance of all, suddenly turned right round, dropped song-writing, and ripped a couple of hot ones right over the plate. mr. somerset maugham succeeded in shocking broadway so that the sidewalks were filled with blushing ticket-speculators. most of the critics have done good work during this season. as for myself, i have guided the public mind in this magazine soundly and with few errors. if it were not for the fact that nearly all the plays i praised died before my review appeared, while the ones i said would not run a week are still packing them in, i could look back to a flawless season. as you can see, i have had a very pleasant theatrical season. the weather was uniformly fine on the nights when i went to the theatre. i was particularly fortunate in having neighbors at most of the plays who were not afflicted with coughs or a desire to explain the plot to their wives. i have shaken hands with a. l. erlanger and been nodded to on the street by lee shubert. i have broadened my mind by travel on the road with a theatrical company, with the result that, if you want to get me out of new york, you will have to use dynamite. take it for all in all, a most satisfactory season, full of pregnant possibilities--and all that sort of thing. poems damon and pythias a romance since earth was first created, since time began to fly, no friends were e'er so mated, so firm as jones and i. since primal man was fashioned to people ice and stones, no pair, i ween, had ever been such chums as i and jones. in fair and foulest weather, beginning when but boys, we faced our woes together, we shared each other's joys. together, sad or merry, we acted hand in glove, until--'twas careless, very- i chanced to fall in love. the lady's points to touch on, her name was julia white, her lineage high, her scutcheon untarnished; manners, bright; complexion, soft and creamy; her hair, of golden hue; her eyes, in aspect, dreamy, in colour, greyish blue. for her i sighed, i panted; i saw her in my dreams; i vowed, protested, ranted; i sent her chocolate creams. until methought one morning i seemed to hear a voice, a still, small voice of warning. "does jones approve your choice?" to jones of my affection i spoke that very night. if he had no objection, i said i'd wed miss white. i asked him for his blessing, but, turning rather blue, he said: "it's most distressing, but _i_ adore her, too." "then, jones," i answered, sobbing, "my wooing's at an end, i couldn't think of robbing my best, my only friend. the notion makes me furious- i'd much prefer to die." "perhaps you'll think it curious," said jones, "but so should i." nor he nor i would falter in our resolve one jot. i bade him seek the altar, he vowed that he would not. "she's yours, old fellow. make her as happy as you can." "not so," said i, "you take her- you are the lucky man." at length--the situation had lasted now a year- i had an inspiration, which seemed to make things clear. "supposing," i suggested, "we ask miss white to choose? i should be interested to hear her private views. "perhaps she has a preference- i own it sounds absurd- but i submit, with deference, that she might well be heard. in clear, commercial diction the case in point we'll state, disclose the cause of friction, and leave the rest to fate." we did, and on the morrow the postman brought us news. miss white expressed her sorrow at having to refuse. of all her many reasons this seemed to me the pith: six months before (or rather more) she'd married mr. smith. the haunted tram ghosts of the towers, the grange, the court, ghosts of the castle keep. ghosts of the finicking, "high-life" sort are growing a trifle cheap. but here is a spook of another stamp, no thin, theatrical sham, but a spectre who fears not dirt nor damp: he rides on a london tram. by the curious glance of a mortal eye he is not seen. he's heard. his steps go a-creeping, creeping by, he speaks but a single word. you may hear his feet: you may hear them plain, for--it's odd in a ghost--they crunch. you may hear the whirr of his rattling chain, and the ting of his ringing punch. the gathering shadows of night fall fast; the lamps in the street are lit; to the roof have the eerie footsteps passed, where the outside passengers sit. to the passenger's side has the spectre paced; for a moment he halts, they say, then a ring from the punch at the unseen waist, and the footsteps pass away. that is the tale of the haunted car; and if on that car you ride you won't, believe me, have journeyed far ere the spectre seeks your side. ay, all unseen by your seat he'll stand, and (unless it's a wig) your hair will rise at the touch of his icy hand, and the sound of his whispered "fare!" at the end of the trip, when you're getting down (and you'll probably simply fly!) just give the conductor half-a-crown, ask who is the ghost and why. and the man will explain with bated breath (and point you a moral) thus: "'e's a pore young bloke wot wos crushed to death by people as fought as they didn't ought for seats on a crowded bus." stories when papa swore in hindustani "sylvia!" "yes, papa." "that infernal dog of yours----" "oh, papa!" "yes, that infernal dog of yours has been at my carnations again!" colonel reynolds, v.c., glared sternly across the table at miss sylvia reynolds, and miss sylvia reynolds looked in a deprecatory manner back at colonel reynolds, v.c.; while the dog in question--a foppish pug--happening to meet the colonel's eye in transit, crawled unostentatiously under the sideboard, and began to wrestle with a bad conscience. "oh, naughty tommy!" said miss reynolds mildly, in the direction of the sideboard. "yes, my dear," assented the colonel; "and if you could convey to him the information that if he does it once more--yes, just once more!--i shall shoot him on the spot you would be doing him a kindness." and the colonel bit a large crescent out of his toast, with all the energy and conviction of a man who has thoroughly made up his mind. "at six o'clock this morning," continued he, in a voice of gentle melancholy, "i happened to look out of my bedroom window, and saw him. he had then destroyed two of my best plants, and was commencing on a third, with every appearance of self-satisfaction. i threw two large brushes and a boot at him." "oh, papa! they didn't hit him?" "no, my dear, they did not. the brushes missed him by several yards, and the boot smashed a fourth carnation. however, i was so fortunate as to attract his attention, and he left off." "i can't think what makes him do it. i suppose it's bones. he's got bones buried all over the garden." "well, if he does it again, you'll find that there will be a few more bones buried in the garden!" said the colonel grimly; and he subsided into his paper. sylvia loved the dog partly for its own sake, but principally for that of the giver, one reginald dallas, whom it had struck at an early period of their acquaintance that he and miss sylvia reynolds were made for one another. on communicating this discovery to sylvia herself he had found that her views upon the subject were identical with his own; and all would have gone well had it not been for a melancholy accident. one day while out shooting with the colonel, with whom he was doing his best to ingratiate himself, with a view to obtaining his consent to the match, he had allowed his sporting instincts to carry him away to such a degree that, in sporting parlance, he wiped his eye badly. now, the colonel prided himself with justice on his powers as a shot; but on this particular day he had a touch of liver, which resulted in his shooting over the birds, and under the birds, and on each side of the birds, but very rarely at the birds. dallas being in especially good form, it was found, when the bag came to be counted, that, while he had shot seventy brace, the colonel had only managed to secure five and a half! his bad marksmanship destroyed the last remnant of his temper. he swore for half an hour in hindustani, and for another half-hour in english. after that he felt better. and when, at the end of dinner, sylvia came to him with the absurd request that she might marry mr. reginald dallas he did not have a fit, but merely signified in fairly moderate terms his entire and absolute refusal to think of such a thing. this had happened a month before, and the pug, which had changed hands in the earlier days of the friendship, still remained, at the imminent risk of its life, to soothe sylvia and madden her father. it was generally felt that the way to find favour in the eyes of sylvia--which were a charming blue, and well worth finding favour in--was to show an intelligent and affectionate interest in her dog. this was so up to a certain point; but no farther, for the mournful recollection of mr. dallas prevented her from meeting their advances in quite the spirit they could have wished. however, they persevered, and scarcely a week went by in which thomas was not rescued from an artfully arranged horrible fate by somebody. but all their energy was in reality wasted, for sylvia remembered her faithful reggie, who corresponded vigorously every day, and refused to be put off with worthless imitations. the lovesick swains, however, could not be expected to know of this, and the rescuing of tommy proceeded briskly, now one, now another, playing the rôle of hero. the very day after the conversation above recorded had taken place a terrible tragedy occurred. the colonel, returning from a poor day's shooting, observed through the mist that was beginning to rise a small form busily engaged in excavating in the precious carnation-bed. slipping in a cartridge, he fired; and the skill which had deserted him during the day came back to him. there was a yelp; then silence. and sylvia, rushing out from the house, found the luckless thomas breathing his last on a heap of uprooted carnations. the news was not long in spreading. the cook told the postman, and the postman thoughtfully handed it on to the servants at the rest of the houses on his round. by noon it was public property; and in the afternoon, at various times from two to five, nineteen young men were struck, quite independently of one another, with a brilliant idea. the results of this idea were apparent on the following day. "is this all?" asked the colonel of the servant, as she brought in a couple of letters at breakfast-time. "there's a hamper for miss sylvia, sir." "a hamper, is there? well, bring it in." "if you please, sir, there's several of them." "what? several? how many are there?" "nineteen, sir," said mary, restraining with some difficulty an inclination to giggle. "eh? what? nineteen? nonsense! where are they?" "we've put them in the coachhouse for the present, sir. and if you please, sir, cook says she thinks there's something alive in them." "something alive?" "yes, sir. and john says he thinks it's dogs, sir!" the colonel uttered a sound that was almost a bark, and, followed by sylvia, rushed to the coachhouse. there, sure enough, as far as the eye could reach, were the hampers; and, as they looked, a sound proceeded from one of them that was unmistakably the plaintive note of a dog that has been shut up, and is getting tired of it. instantly the other eighteen hampers joined in, until the whole coachhouse rang with the noise. the colonel subsided against a wall, and began to express himself softly in hindustani. "poor dears!" said sylvia. "how stuffy they must be feeling!" she ran to the house, and returned with a basin of water. "poor dears!" she said again. "you'll soon have something to drink." she knelt down by the nearest hamper, and cut the cord that fastened it. a pug jumped out like a jack-in-the-box, and rushed to the water. sylvia continued her work of mercy, and by the time the colonel had recovered sufficiently to be able to express his views in english, eighteen more pugs had joined their companion. "get out, you brute!" shouted the colonel, as a dog insinuated itself between his legs. "sylvia, put them back again this minute! you had no business to let them out. put them back!" "but i can't, papa. i can't catch them." she looked helplessly from him to the seething mass of dogs, and back again. "where's my gun?" began the colonel. "papa, don't! you couldn't be so cruel! they aren't doing any harm, poor things!" "if i knew who sent them----" "perhaps there's something to show. yes; here's a visiting-card in this hamper." "whose is it?" bellowed the colonel through the din. "j. d'arcy henderson, the firs," read sylvia, at the top of her voice. "young blackguard!" bawled the colonel. "i expect there's one in each of the hampers. yes; here's another. w. k. ross, the elms." the colonel came across, and began to examine the hampers with his own hand. each hamper contained a visiting-card, and each card bore the name of a neighbour. the colonel returned to the breakfast-room, and laid the nineteen cards out in a row on the table. "h'm!" he said, at last. "mr. reginald dallas does not seem to be represented." sylvia said nothing. "no; he seems not to be represented. i did not give him credit for so much sense." then he dropped the subject, and breakfast proceeded in silence. a young gentleman met the colonel on his walk that morning. "morning, colonel!" said he. "good-morning!" said the colonel grimly. "er--colonel, i--er--suppose miss reynolds got that dog all right?" "to which dog do you refer?" "it was a pug, you know. it ought to have arrived by this time." "yes. i am inclined to think it has. had it any special characteristics?" "no, i don't think so. just an ordinary pug." "well, young man, if you will go to my coachhouse, you will find nineteen ordinary pugs; and if you would kindly select your beast, and shoot it, i should be much obliged." "nineteen?" said the other, in astonishment. "why, are you setting up as a dog-fancier in your old age, colonel?" this was too much for the colonel. he exploded. "old age! confound your impudence! dog-fancier! no, sir! i have not become a dog-fancier in what you are pleased to call my old age! but while there is no law to prevent a lot of dashed young puppies like yourself, sir--like yourself--sending your confounded pug-dogs to my daughter, who ought to have known better than to have let them out of their dashed hampers, i have no defence. "dog-fancier! gad! unless those dogs are removed by this time to-morrow, sir, they will go straight to the battersea home, where i devoutly trust they will poison them. here are the cards of the other gentlemen who were kind enough to think that i might wish to set up for a dog-fancier in my old age. perhaps you will kindly return them to their owners, and tell them what i have just said." and he strode off, leaving the young man in a species of trance. "sylvia!" said the colonel, on arriving home. "yes, papa." "do you still want to marry that dallas fellow? now, for heaven's sake, don't start crying! goodness knows i've been worried enough this morning without that. please answer a plain question in a fairly sane manner. do you, or do you not?" "of course i do, papa." "then you may. he's the furthest from being a fool of any of the young puppies who live about here, and he knows one end of a gun from the other. i'll write to him now." "dear dallas" (wrote the colonel),--"i find, on consideration, that you are the only sensible person in the neighbourhood. i hope you will come to lunch to-day. and if you still want to marry my daughter, you may." to which dallas replied by return of messenger: "thanks for both invitations. i will." an hour later he arrived in person, and the course of true love pulled itself together, and began to run smooth again. tom, dick, and harry this story will interest and amuse all cricketers, and while from the male point of view it may serve as a good illustration of the fickleness of woman and the impossibility of forecasting what course she will take, the fair sex will find in it an equally shining proof of the colossal vanity of man. "it's like this." tom ellison sat down on the bed, and paused. "whack it out," said dick henley encouragingly. "we're all friends here, and the password's 'portland.' what's the matter?" "i hate talking to a man when he's shaving. i don't want to have you cutting your head off." "don't worry about me. this is a safety razor. and, anyhow, what's the excitement? going to make my flesh creep?" tom ellison kicked uncomfortably at the chair he was trying to balance on one leg. "it's so hard to explain." "have a dash at it." "well, look here, dick, we've always been pals. what?" "of course we have." "we went to the empire last boatrace night together----" "and got chucked out simultaneously." "in fact, we've always been pals. what?" "of course we have." "then, whenever there was a rag on, and a bonner in the quad, you always knew you could help yourself to my chairs." "you had the run of mine." "we've shared each other's baccy." "and whisky." "in short, we've always been pals. what?" "of course we have." "then," said tom ellison, "what are you trying to cut me out for?" "cut you out?" "you know what i mean. what do you think i came here for? to play cricket? rot! i'd much rather have gone on tour with the authentics. i came here to propose to dolly burn." dick henley frowned. "i wish you'd speak of her as miss burn," he said austerely. "there you are, you see," said tom with sombre triumph; "you oughtn't to have noticed a thing like that. it oughtn't to matter to you what i call her. i always think of her as dolly." "you've no right to." "i shall have soon." "i'll bet you won't." "how much?" "ten to one in anything." "done," said tom. "i mean," he added hastily, "don't be a fool. there are some things one can't bet on. as you ought to have known," he said primly. "now, look here," said dick, "this thing has got to be settled. you say i'm trying to cut you out. i like that! we may fairly describe that as rich. as if my love were the same sort of passing fancy that yours is. you know you fall in love, as you call it, with every girl you meet." "i don't." "very well. if the subject is painful we won't discuss it. still, how about that girl you used to rave about last summer? ethel something?" tom blushed. "a mere platonic friendship. we both collected autographs. and, if it comes to that, how about dora thingummy? you had enough to say about her last winter." dick reddened. "we were on good terms. nothing more. she always sliced with her brassy. so did i. it formed a sort of bond." there was a pause. "after all," resumed dick, "i don't see the point of all this. why rake up the past? you aren't writing my life." "you started raking." "well, to drop that, what do you propose to do about this? you're a good chap, tom, when you aren't making an ass of yourself; but i'm hanged if i'm going to have you interfering between me and dolly." "miss burn." another pause. "look here," said dick. "cards on the table. i've loved her since last commem." "so have i." "we went up the char together in a canader. alone." "she also did the trip with me. no chaperone." "twice with me." "same here." "she gave me a couple of dances at the oriel ball." "so she did me. she said my dancing was so much better than the average young man's." "she told me i must have had a great deal of practice at waltzing." "in the matter of photographs," said tom, "she gave me one." "me, too." "do you mean 'also' or 'a brace'?" inquired tom anxiously. "'also,'" confessed dick with reluctance. "signed?" "rather!" a third pause. "i tell you what it is," said tom; "we must agree on something, or we shall both get left. all we're doing now is to confuse the poor girl. she evidently likes us both the same. what i mean is, we're both so alike that she can't possibly make a choice unless one of us chucks it. you don't feel like chucking it, dick. what?" "you needn't be more of an idiot than you can help." "i only asked. so we are evidently both determined to stick to it. we shall have to toss, then, to settle which is to back out and give the other man a show." "toss!" shouted dick. "for dolly! never!" "but we must do something. you won't back out like a sensible man. we must settle it somehow." "it's all right," said dick. "i've got it. we both seem to have come here and let ourselves in for this rotten little village match, on a wicket which will probably be all holes and hillocks, simply for dolly's sake. so it's only right that we should let the match decide this thing for us. it won't be so cold-blooded as tossing. see?" "you mean----?" "whichever of us makes the bigger score today wins. the loser has to keep absolutely off the grass. not so much as a look or a remark about the weather. then, of course, after the winner has had his innings, if he hasn't brought the thing off, and she has chucked him, the loser can have a look in. but not a moment before. understand?" "all right." "it'll give an interest to a rotten match," said dick. tom rose to a point of order. "there's one objection. you, being a stodgy sort of bat, and having a habit of sitting on the splice, always get put in first. i'm a hitter, so they generally shove me in about fourth wicket. in this sort of match the man who goes in fourth wicket is likely to be not out half a dozen at the end of the innings. nobody stays in more than three balls. whereas you, going in first, will have time for a decent knock before the rot starts. follow?" "i don't want to take any advantage of you," said dick condescendingly. "i shan't need it. we'll see drew after breakfast and get him to put us both in first." the rev. henry drew, cricketing curate, was the captain of the side. consulted on the matter after breakfast, the rev. henry looked grave. he was taking this match very seriously, and held decided views on the subject of managing his team. "the point is, my dear ellison," he said, "that i want the bowling broken a bit before you go in. then your free, aggressive style would have a better chance. i was thinking of putting you in fourth wicket. would not that suit you?" "i thought so. tell him, dick." "look here, drew," said dick; "you'll regard what i'm going to say as said under seal of the confessional and that sort of thing, won't you?" "i shall, of course, respect any confidence you impart to me, my dear henley. what is this dreadful secret?" dick explained. "so you see," he concluded, "it's absolutely necessary that we should start fair." the rev. henry looked as disturbed as if he had suddenly detected symptoms of pelagianism in a member of his sunday-school class. "is such a contest quite----? is it not a little--um?" he said. "not at all," said dick, hastening to justify himself and friend. "we must settle the thing somehow, and neither of us will back out. if we didn't do this we should have to toss." "heaven forbid!" said the curate, shocked. "well, is it a deal? will you put us in first?" "very well." "thanks," said tom. "good of you," said dick. "don't mention it," said harry. * * * * * there are two sorts of country cricket. there is the variety you get at a country-house, where the wicket is prepared with a care as meticulous as that in fashion on any county ground; where red marl and such-like aids to smoothness have been injected into the turf all through the winter; and where the out-fielding is good and the boundaries spacious. and there is the village match, where cows are apt to stroll on to the pitch before the innings and cover-point stands up to his neck in a furze-bush. the game which was to decide the fate of tom and dick belonged to the latter variety. a pitch had been mown in the middle of a meadow (kindly lent by farmer rollitt on condition that he should be allowed to umpire, and his eldest son ted put on to bowl first). the team consisted of certain horny-handed sons of toil, with terrific golf-shots in the direction of square-leg, and the enemy's ranks were composed of the same material. tom and dick, in ordinary circumstances, would have gone in to bat in such a match with a feeling of lofty disdain, as befitting experts from the civilised world, come to teach the rustic mind what was what. but on the present occasion the thought of all that depended on their bats induced a state of nerves which would have done credit to a test match. "would you mind taking first b-b-ball, old man?" said tom. "all r-right," said dick. he had been on the point of making the request himself, but it would not do to let tom see that he was nervous. he took guard from farmer rollitt, and settled himself into position to face the first delivery. whether it is due to the pure air of the country or to daily manual toil is not known, but the fact remains that bowlers in village matches, whatever their other shortcomings, seldom fall short in the matter of speed. the present trundler, having swung his arm round like a flail, bounded to the crease and sent down a ball which hummed in the air. it pitched halfway between the wickets in a slight hollow caused by the foot of a cow and shot. dick reached blindly forward, and the next moment his off-stump was out of the ground. a howl of approval went up from the supporters of the enemy, lying under the trees. tom sat down, limp with joy. dick out for a duck! what incredible good fortune! he began to frame in his mind epigrammatic sentences for use in the scene which would so shortly take place between miss dolly burn and himself. the next man came in and played flukily but successfully through the rest of the over. "just a single," said tom to himself as he faced the bowler at the other end. "just one solitary single. miss burn--may i call you dolly? do you remember that moonlight night? on the char? in my canadian canoe? we two?" "'s that?" shrieked bowler and wicket-keeper as one man. tom looked blankly at them. he had not gone within a mile and a half of the ball, he was certain. and yet--there was the umpire with his hand raised, as if he were the pope bestowing a blessing. he walked quickly back to the trees, flung off his pads, and began to smoke furiously. "well?" said a voice. dick was standing before him, grinning like a gargoyle. "of all the absolutely delirious decisions----" began tom. "oh, yes," said dick rudely, "i know all about that. why, i could hear the click from where i was sitting. the point is, what's to be done now? we shall have to settle it on the second innings." "if there is one." "oh, there'll be a second innings all right. there's another man out. on a wicket like this we shall all be out in an hour, and we'll have the other side out in another hour, and then we'll start again on this business. i shall play a big game next innings. it was only that infernal ball shooting that did me." "and i," said tom; "if the umpire has got over his fit of delirium tremens, or been removed to colney hatch, shall almost certainly make a century." it was four o'clock by the time tom and dick went to the wickets for the second time. their side had been headed by their opponents by a dozen on the first innings--68 to 56. a splendid spirit of confidence animated the two batsmen. the umpire who had effected tom's downfall in the first innings had since received a hard drive in the small of the back as he turned coyly away to avoid the ball, and was now being massaged by strong men in the taproom of the village inn. it was the sort of occurrence, said tom, which proved once and for all the existence of an all-seeing, benevolent providence. as for dick, he had smoothed out a few of the more important mountain-ranges which marred the smoothness of the wicket, and was feeling that all was right with the world. the pair started well. the demon bowler of the enemy, having been fêted considerably under the trees by enthusiastic admirers during the innings of his side, was a little incoherent in his deliveries. four full-pitches did he send down to dick in his first over, and dick had placed 16 to his credit before tom, who had had to look on anxiously, had opened his account. dick was a slow scorer as a rule, but he knew a full-pitch to leg when he saw one. from his place at the other crease tom could see miss burn and her mother sitting under the trees, watching the game. the sight nerved him. by the time he had played through his first over he had reduced dick's lead by half. an oyster would have hit out in such circumstances, and tom was always an aggressive batsman. by the end of the third over the scores were level. each had made 20. enthusiasm ran high amongst the spectators, or such of them as were natives of the village. such a stand for the first wicket had not been seen in all the matches ever played in the neighbourhood. when tom, with a nice straight drive (which should have been a 4, but was stopped by a cow and turned into a single), brought up the century, small boys burst buttons and octogenarians wept like babes. the bowling was collared. the demon had long since retired grumbling to the deep field. weird trundlers, with actions like nothing else on earth, had been tried, had fired their ringing shot, and passed. one individual had gone on with lobs, to the acute delight of everybody except the fieldsmen who had to retrieve the balls and the above-mentioned cow. and still tom and dick stayed in and smote, while in the west the sun slowly sank. the rev. henry looked anxious. it was magnificent, but it must not be overdone. a little more and they would not have time to get the foe out for the second time. in which case the latter would win on the first innings. and this thought was as gall to him. he walked out and addressed the rival captain. "i think," said he, "we will close our innings." tom and dick made two bee-lines for the scorer and waited palpitatingly for the verdict. "what's my score?" panted tom. "fifty-fower, sur." "and mine?" gasped dick. "fifty-fower, too, sur." * * * * * "you see, my dear fellows," said the rev. henry when they had finished--and his voice was like unto oil that is poured into a wound--"we had to win this match, and if you had gone on batting we should not have had time to get them out. as it is, we shall have to hurry." "but, hang it----" said tom. "but, look here----" said dick. "yes?" "what on earth are we to do?" said tom. "we're in precisely the same hole as we were before," said dick. "we don't know how to manage it." "we're absolutely bunkered." "our competition, you see." "about miss burn, don't you know." "which is to propose first?" "we can't settle it." the rev. henry smiled a faint, saintly smile and raised a protesting hand. "my advice," he said, "is that both of you should refrain from proposing." "what?" said dick. "_wha-at_?" said tom. "you see," purred the rev. henry, "you are both very young fellows. probably you do not know your own minds. you take these things too seri----" "now, look here," said tom. "none of that rot," said dick. "i shall propose tonight." "i shall propose this evening." "i shouldn't," said the rev. henry. "the fact is----" "well?" "well?" "i didn't tell you before, for fear it should put you off your game; but miss burn is engaged already, and has been for three days." the two rivals started. "engaged!" cried tom. "whom to?" hissed dick. "me," murmured harry. jeeves takes charge now, touching this business of old jeeves--my man, you know--how do we stand? lots of people think i'm much too dependent on him. my aunt agatha, in fact, has even gone so far as to call him my keeper. well, what i say is: why not? the man's a genius. from the collar upward he stands alone. i gave up trying to run my own affairs within a week of his coming to me. that was about half a dozen years ago, directly after the rather rummy business of florence craye, my uncle willoughby's book, and edwin, the boy scout. the thing really began when i got back to easeby, my uncle's place in shropshire. i was spending a week or so there, as i generally did in the summer; and i had had to break my visit to come back to london to get a new valet. i had found meadowes, the fellow i had taken to easeby with me, sneaking my silk socks, a thing no bloke of spirit could stick at any price. it transpiring, moreover, that he had looted a lot of other things here and there about the place, i was reluctantly compelled to hand the misguided blighter the mitten and go to london to ask the registry office to dig up another specimen for my approval. they sent me jeeves. i shall always remember the morning he came. it so happened that the night before i had been present at a rather cheery little supper, and i was feeling pretty rocky. on top of this i was trying to read a book florence craye had given me. she had been one of the house-party at easeby, and two or three days before i left we had got engaged. i was due back at the end of the week, and i knew she would expect me to have finished the book by then. you see, she was particularly keen on boosting me up a bit nearer her own plane of intellect. she was a girl with a wonderful profile, but steeped to the gills in serious purpose. i can't give you a better idea of the way things stood than by telling you that the book she'd given me to read was called "types of ethical theory," and that when i opened it at random i struck a page beginning:- _the postulate or common understanding involved in speech is certainly co-extensive, in the obligation it carries, with the social organism of which language is the instrument, and the ends of which it is an effort to subserve._ all perfectly true, no doubt; but not the sort of thing to spring on a lad with a morning head. i was doing my best to skim through this bright little volume when the bell rang. i crawled off the sofa and opened the door. a kind of darkish sort of respectful johnnie stood without. "i was sent by the agency, sir," he said. "i was given to understand that you required a valet." i'd have preferred an undertaker; but i told him to stagger in, and he floated noiselessly through the doorway like a healing zephyr. that impressed me from the start. meadowes had had flat feet and used to clump. this fellow didn't seem to have any feet at all. he just streamed in. he had a grave, sympathetic face, as if he, too, knew what it was to sup with the lads. "excuse me, sir," he said gently. then he seemed to flicker, and wasn't there any longer. i heard him moving about in the kitchen, and presently he came back with a glass on a tray. "if you would drink this, sir," he said, with a kind of bedside manner, rather like the royal doctor shooting the bracer into the sick prince. "it is a little preparation of my own invention. it is the worcester sauce that gives it its colour. the raw egg makes it nutritious. the red pepper gives it its bite. gentlemen have told me they have found it extremely invigorating after a late evening." i would have clutched at anything that looked like a life-line that morning. i swallowed the stuff. for a moment i felt as if somebody had touched off a bomb inside the old bean and was strolling down my throat with a lighted torch, and then everything seemed suddenly to get all right. the sun shone in through the window; birds twittered in the tree-tops; and, generally speaking, hope dawned once more. "you're engaged!" i said, as soon as i could say anything. i perceived clearly that this cove was one of the world's wonders, the sort no home should be without. "thank you, sir. my name is jeeves." "you can start in at once?" "immediately, sir." "because i'm due down at easeby, in shropshire, the day after tomorrow." "very good, sir." he looked past me at the mantelpiece. "that is an excellent likeness of lady florence craye, sir. it is two years since i saw her ladyship. i was at one time in lord worplesdon's employment. i tendered my resignation because i could not see eye to eye with his lordship in his desire to dine in dress trousers, a flannel shirt, and a shooting coat." he couldn't tell me anything i didn't know about the old boy's eccentricity. this lord worplesdon was florence's father. he was the old buster who, a few years later, came down to breakfast one morning, lifted the first cover he saw, said "eggs! eggs! eggs! damn all eggs!" in an overwrought sort of voice, and instantly legged it for france, never to return to the bosom of his family. this, mind you, being a bit of luck for the bosom of the family, for old worplesdon had the worst temper in the county. i had known the family ever since i was a kid, and from boyhood up this old boy had put the fear of death into me. time, the great healer, could never remove from my memory the occasion when he found me--then a stripling of fifteen--smoking one of his special cigars in the stables. he got after me with a hunting-crop just at the moment when i was beginning to realise that what i wanted most on earth was solitude and repose, and chased me more than a mile across difficult country. if there was a flaw, so to speak, in the pure joy of being engaged to florence, it was the fact that she rather took after her father, and one was never certain when she might erupt. she had a wonderful profile, though. "lady florence and i are engaged, jeeves," i said. "indeed, sir?" you know, there was a kind of rummy something about his manner. perfectly all right and all that, but not what you'd call chirpy. it somehow gave me the impression that he wasn't keen on florence. well, of course, it wasn't my business. i supposed that while he had been valeting old worplesdon she must have trodden on his toes in some way. florence was a dear girl, and, seen sideways, most awfully good-looking; but if she had a fault it was a tendency to be a bit imperious with the domestic staff. at this point in the proceedings there was another ring at the front door. jeeves shimmered out and came back with a telegram. i opened it. it ran: _return immediately. extremely urgent. catch first train. florence._ "rum!" i said. "sir?" "oh, nothing!" it shows how little i knew jeeves in those days that i didn't go a bit deeper into the matter with him. nowadays i would never dream of reading a rummy communication without asking him what he thought of it. and this one was devilish odd. what i mean is, florence knew i was going back to easeby the day after to-morrow, anyway; so why the hurry call? something must have happened, of course; but i couldn't see what on earth it could be. "jeeves," i said, "we shall be going down to easeby this afternoon. can you manage it?" "certainly, sir." "you can get your packing done and all that?" "without any difficulty, sir. which suit will you wear for the journey?" "this one." i had on a rather sprightly young check that morning, to which i was a good deal attached; i fancied it, in fact, more than a little. it was perhaps rather sudden till you got used to it, but, nevertheless, an extremely sound effort, which many lads at the club and elsewhere had admired unrestrainedly. "very good, sir." again there was that kind of rummy something in his manner. it was the way he said it, don't you know. he didn't like the suit. i pulled myself together to assert myself. something seemed to tell me that, unless i was jolly careful and nipped this lad in the bud, he would be starting to boss me. he had the aspect of a distinctly resolute blighter. well, i wasn't going to have any of that sort of thing, by jove! i'd seen so many cases of fellows who had become perfect slaves to their valets. i remember poor old aubrey fothergill telling me--with absolute tears in his eyes, poor chap!--one night at the club, that he had been compelled to give up a favourite pair of brown shoes simply because meekyn, his man, disapproved of them. you have to keep these fellows in their place, don't you know. you have to work the good old iron-hand-in-the-velvet-glove wheeze. if you give them a what's-its-name, they take a thingummy. "don't you like this suit, jeeves?" i said coldly. "oh, yes, sir." "well, what don't you like about it?" "it is a very nice suit, sir." "well, what's wrong with it? out with it, dash it!" "if i might make the suggestion, sir, a simple brown or blue, with a hint of some quiet twill----" "what absolute rot!" "very good, sir." "perfectly blithering, my dear man!" "as you say, sir." i felt as if i had stepped on the place where the last stair ought to have been, but wasn't. i felt defiant, if you know what i mean, and there didn't seem anything to defy. "all right, then," i said. "yes, sir." and then he went away to collect his kit, while i started in again on "types of ethical theory" and took a stab at a chapter headed "idiopsychological ethics." * * * * * most of the way down in the train that afternoon, i was wondering what could be up at the other end. i simply couldn't see what could have happened. easeby wasn't one of those country houses you read about in the society novels, where young girls are lured on to play baccarat and then skinned to the bone of their jewellery, and so on. the house-party i had left had consisted entirely of law-abiding birds like myself. besides, my uncle wouldn't have let anything of that kind go on in his house. he was a rather stiff, precise sort of old boy, who liked a quiet life. he was just finishing a history of the family or something, which he had been working on for the last year, and didn't stir much from the library. he was rather a good instance of what they say about its being a good scheme for a fellow to sow his wild oats. i'd been told that in his youth uncle willoughby had been a bit of a rounder. you would never have thought it to look at him now. when i got to the house, oakshott, the butler, told me that florence was in her room, watching her maid pack. apparently there was a dance on at a house about twenty miles away that night, and she was motoring over with some of the easeby lot and would be away some nights. oakshott said she had told him to tell her the moment i arrived; so i trickled into the smoking-room and waited, and presently in she came. a glance showed me that she was perturbed, and even peeved. her eyes had a goggly look, and altogether she appeared considerably pipped. "darling!" i said, and attempted the good old embrace; but she sidestepped like a bantam weight. "don't!" "what's the matter?" "everything's the matter! bertie, you remember asking me, when you left, to make myself pleasant to your uncle?" "yes." the idea being, of course, that as at that time i was more or less dependent on uncle willoughby i couldn't very well marry without his approval. and though i knew he wouldn't have any objection to florence, having known her father since they were at oxford together, i hadn't wanted to take any chances; so i had told her to make an effort to fascinate the old boy. "you told me it would please him particularly if i asked him to read me some of his history of the family." "wasn't he pleased?" "he was delighted. he finished writing the thing yesterday afternoon, and read me nearly all of it last night. i have never had such a shock in my life. the book is an outrage. it is impossible. it is horrible!" "but, dash it, the family weren't so bad as all that." "it is not a history of the family at all. your uncle has written his reminiscences! he calls them 'recollections of a long life'!" i began to understand. as i say, uncle willoughby had been somewhat on the tabasco side as a young man, and it began to look as if he might have turned out something pretty fruity if he had started recollecting his long life. "if half of what he has written is true," said florence, "your uncle's youth must have been perfectly appalling. the moment we began to read he plunged straight into a most scandalous story of how he and my father were thrown out of a music-hall in 1887!" "why?" "i decline to tell you why." it must have been something pretty bad. it took a lot to make them chuck people out of music-halls in 1887. "your uncle specifically states that father had drunk a quart and a half of champagne before beginning the evening," she went on. "the book is full of stories like that. there is a dreadful one about lord emsworth." "lord emsworth? not the one we know? not the one at blandings?" a most respectable old johnnie, don't you know. doesn't do a thing nowadays but dig in the garden with a spud. "the very same. that is what makes the book so unspeakable. it is full of stories about people one knows who are the essence of propriety today, but who seem to have behaved, when they were in london in the 'eighties, in a manner that would not have been tolerated in the fo'c'sle of a whaler. your uncle seems to remember everything disgraceful that happened to anybody when he was in his early twenties. there is a story about sir stanley gervase-gervase at rosherville gardens which is ghastly in its perfection of detail. it seems that sir stanley--but i can't tell you!" "have a dash!" "no!" "oh, well, i shouldn't worry. no publisher will print the book if it's as bad as all that." "on the contrary, your uncle told me that all negotiations are settled with riggs and ballinger, and he's sending off the manuscript tomorrow for immediate publication. they make a special thing of that sort of book. they published lady carnaby's 'memories of eighty interesting years.'" "i read 'em!" "well, then, when i tell you that lady carnaby's memories are simply not to be compared with your uncle's recollections, you will understand my state of mind. and father appears in nearly every story in the book! i am horrified at the things he did when he was a young man!" "what's to be done?" "the manuscript must be intercepted before it reaches riggs and ballinger, and destroyed!" i sat up. this sounded rather sporting. "how are you going to do it?" i enquired. "how can i do it? didn't i tell you the parcel goes off to-morrow? i am going to the murgatroyds' dance to-night and shall not be back till monday. you must do it. that is why i telegraphed to you." "what!" she gave me a look. "do you mean to say you refuse to help me, bertie?" "no; but--i say!" "it's quite simple." "but even if i--what i mean is--of course, anything i can do--but--if you know what i mean----" "you say you want to marry me, bertie?" "yes, of course; but still----" for a moment she looked exactly like her old father. "i will never marry you if those recollections are published." "but, florence, old thing!" "i mean it. you may look on it as a test, bertie. if you have the resource and courage to carry this thing through, i will take it as evidence that you are not the vapid and shiftless person most people think you. if you fail, i shall know that your aunt agatha was right when she called you a spineless invertebrate and advised me strongly not to marry you. it will be perfectly simple for you to intercept the manuscript, bertie. it only requires a little resolution." "but suppose uncle willoughby catches me at it? he'd cut me off with a bob." "if you care more for your uncle's money than for me----" "no, no! rather not!" "very well, then. the parcel containing the manuscript will, of course, be placed on the hall table to-morrow for oakshott to take to the village with the letters. all you have to do is to take it away and destroy it. then your uncle will think it has been lost in the post." it sounded thin to me. "hasn't he got a copy of it?" "no; it has not been typed. he is sending the manuscript just as he wrote it." "but he could write it over again." "as if he would have the energy!" "but----" "if you are going to do nothing but make absurd objections, bertie----" "i was only pointing things out." "well, don't! once and for all, will you do me this quite simple act of kindness?" the way she put it gave me an idea. "why not get edwin to do it? keep it in the family, kind of, don't you know. besides, it would be a boon to the kid." a jolly bright idea it seemed to me. edwin was her young brother, who was spending his holidays at easeby. he was a ferret-faced kid, whom i had disliked since birth. as a matter of fact, talking of recollections and memories, it was young blighted edwin who, nine years before, had led his father to where i was smoking his cigar and caused all of the unpleasantness. he was fourteen now and had just joined the boy scouts. he was one of those thorough kids, and took his responsibilities pretty seriously. he was always in a sort of fever because he was dropping behind schedule with his daily acts of kindness. however hard he tried, he'd fall behind; and then you would find him prowling about the house, setting such a clip to try and catch up with himself that easeby was rapidly becoming a perfect hell for man and beast. the idea didn't seem to strike florence. "i shall do nothing of the kind, bertie. i wonder you can't appreciate the compliment i am paying you--trusting you like this." "oh, i see that all right, but what i mean is, edwin would do it so much better than i would. these boy scouts are up to all sorts of dodges. they spoor, don't you know, and take cover and creep about, and what not." "bertie, will you or will you not do this perfectly trivial thing for me? if not, say so now, and let us end this farce of pretending that you care a snap of the fingers for me." "dear old soul, i love you devotedly!" "then will you or will you not----" "oh, all right," i said. "all right! all right! all right!" and then i tottered forth to think it over. i met jeeves in the passage just outside. "i beg your pardon, sir. i was endeavouring to find you." "what's the matter?" "i felt that i should tell you, sir, that somebody has been putting black polish on our brown walking shoes." "what! who? why?" "i could not say, sir." "can anything be done with them?" "nothing, sir." "damn!" "very good, sir." * * * * * i've often wondered since then how these murderer fellows manage to keep in shape while they're contemplating their next effort. i had a much simpler sort of job on hand, and the thought of it rattled me to such an extent in the night watches that i was a perfect wreck next day. dark circles under the eyes--i give you my word! i had to call on jeeves to rally round with one of those life-savers of his. from breakfast on i felt like a bag-snatcher at a railway station. i had to hang about waiting for the parcel to be put on the hall table, and it wasn't put. uncle willoughby was a fixture in the library, adding the finishing touches to the great work, i supposed, and the more i thought the thing over the less i liked it. the chances against my pulling it off seemed about three to two, and the thought of what would happen if i didn't gave me cold shivers down the spine. uncle willoughby was a pretty mild sort of old boy, as a rule, but i've known him to cut up rough, and, by jove, he was scheduled to extend himself if he caught me trying to get away with his life work. it wasn't till nearly four that he toddled out of the library with the parcel under his arm, put it on the table, and toddled off again. i was hiding a bit to the south-east at the moment, behind a suit of armour. i bounded out and legged it for the table. then i nipped upstairs to hide the swag. i charged in like a mustang and nearly stubbed my toe on young blighted edwin, the boy scout. he was standing at the chest of drawers, confound him, messing about with my ties. "hallo!" he said. "what are you doing here?" "i'm tidying your room. it's my last saturday's act of kindness." "last saturday's?" "i'm five days behind. i was six till last night, but i polished your shoes." "was it you----" "yes. did you see them? i just happened to think of it. i was in here, looking round. mr. berkeley had this room while you were away. he left this morning. i thought perhaps he might have left something in it that i could have sent on. i've often done acts of kindness that way." "you must be a comfort to one and all!" it became more and more apparent to me that this infernal kid must somehow be turned out eftsoons or right speedily. i had hidden the parcel behind my back, and i didn't think he had seen it; but i wanted to get at that chest of drawers quick, before anyone else came along. "i shouldn't bother about tidying the room," i said. "i like tidying it. it's not a bit of trouble--really." "but it's quite tidy now." "not so tidy as i shall make it." this was getting perfectly rotten. i didn't want to murder the kid, and yet there didn't seem any other way of shifting him. i pressed down the mental accelerator. the old lemon throbbed fiercely. i got an idea. "there's something much kinder than that which you could do," i said. "you see that box of cigars? take it down to the smoking-room and snip off the ends for me. that would save me no end of trouble. stagger along, laddie." he seemed a bit doubtful; but he staggered. i shoved the parcel into a drawer, locked it, trousered the key, and felt better. i might be a chump, but, dash it, i could out-general a mere kid with a face like a ferret. i went downstairs again. just as i was passing the smoking-room door, out curveted edwin. it seemed to me that if he wanted to do a real act of kindness he would commit suicide. "i'm snipping them," he said. "snip on! snip on!" "do you like them snipped much, or only a bit?" "medium." "all right. i'll be getting on, then." "i should." and we parted. fellows who know all about that sort of thing--detectives, and so on--will tell you that the most difficult thing in the world is to get rid of the body. i remember, as a kid, having to learn by heart a poem about a bird by the name of eugene aram, who had the deuce of a job in this respect. all i can recall of the actual poetry is the bit that goes: _tum-tum, tum-tum, tum-tumty-tum, i slew him, tum-tum-tum!_ but i recollect that the poor blighter spent much of his valuable time dumping the corpse into ponds and burying it, and what not, only to have it pop out at him again. it was about an hour after i had shoved the parcel into the drawer when i realised that i had let myself in for just the same sort of thing. florence had talked in an airy sort of way about destroying the manuscript; but when one came down to it, how the deuce can a chap destroy a great chunky mass of paper in somebody else's house in the middle of summer? i couldn't ask to have a fire in my bedroom, with the thermometer in the eighties. and if i didn't burn the thing, how else could i get rid of it? fellows on the battle-field eat dispatches to keep them from falling into the hands of the enemy, but it would have taken me a year to eat uncle willoughby's recollections. i'm bound to say the problem absolutely baffled me. the only thing seemed to be to leave the parcel in the drawer and hope for the best. i don't know whether you have ever experienced it, but it's a dashed unpleasant thing having a crime on one's conscience. towards the end of the day the mere sight of the drawer began to depress me. i found myself getting all on edge; and once when uncle willoughby trickled silently into the smoking-room when i was alone there and spoke to me before i knew he was there, i broke the record for the sitting high jump. i was wondering all the time when uncle willoughby would sit up and take notice. i didn't think he would have time to suspect that anything had gone wrong till saturday morning, when he would be expecting, of course, to get the acknowledgment of the manuscript from the publishers. but early on friday evening he came out of the library as i was passing and asked me to step in. he was looking considerably rattled. "bertie," he said--he always spoke in a precise sort of pompous kind of way--"an exceedingly disturbing thing has happened. as you know, i dispatched the manuscript of my book to messrs. riggs and ballinger, the publishers, yesterday afternoon. it should have reached them by the first post this morning. why i should have been uneasy i cannot say, but my mind was not altogether at rest respecting the safety of the parcel. i therefore telephoned to messrs. riggs and ballinger a few moments back to make enquiries. to my consternation they informed me that they were not yet in receipt of my manuscript." "very rum!" "i recollect distinctly placing it myself on the hall table in good time to be taken to the village. but here is a sinister thing. i have spoken to oakshott, who took the rest of the letters to the post office, and he cannot recall seeing it there. he is, indeed, unswerving in his assertions that when he went to the hall to collect the letters there was no parcel among them." "sounds funny!" "bertie, shall i tell you what i suspect?" "what's that?" "the suspicion will no doubt sound to you incredible, but it alone seems to fit the facts as we know them. i incline to the belief that the parcel has been stolen." "oh, i say! surely not!" "wait! hear me out. though i have said nothing to you before, or to anyone else, concerning the matter, the fact remains that during the past few weeks a number of objects--some valuable, others not--have disappeared in this house. the conclusion to which one is irresistibly impelled is that we have a kleptomaniac in our midst. it is a peculiarity of kleptomania, as you are no doubt aware, that the subject is unable to differentiate between the intrinsic values of objects. he will purloin an old coat as readily as a diamond ring, or a tobacco pipe costing but a few shillings with the same eagerness as a purse of gold. the fact that this manuscript of mine could be of no possible value to any outside person convinces me that----" "but, uncle, one moment; i know all about those things that were stolen. it was meadowes, my man, who pinched them. i caught him snaffling my silk socks. right in the act, by jove!" he was tremendously impressed. "you amaze me, bertie! send for the man at once and question him." "but he isn't here. you see, directly i found that he was a sock-sneaker i gave him the boot. that's why i went to london--to get a new man." "then, if the man meadowes is no longer in the house it could not be he who purloined my manuscript. the whole thing is inexplicable." after which we brooded for a bit. uncle willoughby pottered about the room, registering baffledness, while i sat sucking at a cigarette, feeling rather like a chappie i'd once read about in a book, who murdered another cove and hid the body under the dining-room table, and then had to be the life and soul of a dinner party, with it there all the time. my guilty secret oppressed me to such an extent that after a while i couldn't stick it any longer. i lit another cigarette and started for a stroll in the grounds, by way of cooling off. it was one of those still evenings you get in the summer, when you can hear a snail clear its throat a mile away. the sun was sinking over the hills and the gnats were fooling about all over the place, and everything smelled rather topping--what with the falling dew and so on--and i was just beginning to feel a little soothed by the peace of it all when suddenly i heard my name spoken. "it's about bertie." it was the loathsome voice of young blighted edwin! for a moment i couldn't locate it. then i realised that it came from the library. my stroll had taken me within a few yards of the open window. i had often wondered how those johnnies in books did it--i mean the fellows with whom it was the work of a moment to do about a dozen things that ought to have taken them about ten minutes. but, as a matter of fact, it was the work of a moment with me to chuck away my cigarette, swear a bit, leap about ten yards, dive into a bush that stood near the library window, and stand there with my ears flapping. i was as certain as i've ever been of anything that all sorts of rotten things were in the offing. "about bertie?" i heard uncle willoughby say. "about bertie and your parcel. i heard you talking to him just now. i believe he's got it." when i tell you that just as i heard these frightful words a fairly substantial beetle of sorts dropped from the bush down the back of my neck, and i couldn't even stir to squash the same, you will understand that i felt pretty rotten. everything seemed against me. "what do you mean, boy? i was discussing the disappearance of my manuscript with bertie only a moment back, and he professed himself as perplexed by the mystery as myself." "well, i was in his room yesterday afternoon, doing him an act of kindness, and he came in with a parcel. i could see it, though he tried to keep it behind his back. and then he asked me to go to the smoking-room and snip some cigars for him; and about two minutes afterwards he came down--and he wasn't carrying anything. so it must be in his room." i understand they deliberately teach these dashed boy scouts to cultivate their powers of observation and deduction and what not. devilish thoughtless and inconsiderate of them, i call it. look at the trouble it causes. "it sounds incredible," said uncle willoughby, thereby bucking me up a trifle. "shall i go and look in his room?" asked young blighted edwin. "i'm sure the parcel's there." "but what could be his motive for perpetrating this extraordinary theft?" "perhaps he's a--what you said just now." "a kleptomaniac? impossible!" "it might have been bertie who took all those things from the very start," suggested the little brute hopefully. "he may be like raffles." "raffles?" "he's a chap in a book who went about pinching things." "i cannot believe that bertie would--ah--go about pinching things." "well, i'm sure he's got the parcel. i'll tell you what you might do. you might say that mr. berkeley wired that he had left something here. he had bertie's room, you know. you might say you wanted to look for it." "that would be possible. i----" i didn't wait to hear any more. things were getting too hot. i sneaked softly out of my bush and raced for the front door. i sprinted up to my room and made for the drawer where i had put the parcel. and then i found i hadn't the key. it wasn't for the deuce of a time that i recollected i had shifted it to my evening trousers the night before and must have forgotten to take it out again. where the dickens were my evening things? i had looked all over the place before i remembered that jeeves must have taken them away to brush. to leap at the bell and ring it was, with me, the work of a moment. i had just rung it when there was a footstep outside, and in came uncle willoughby. "oh, bertie," he said, without a blush, "i have--ah--received a telegram from berkeley, who occupied this room in your absence, asking me to forward him his--er--his cigarette-case, which, it would appear, he inadvertently omitted to take with him when he left the house. i cannot find it downstairs; and it has, therefore, occurred to me that he may have left it in this room. i will--er--just take a look around." it was one of the most disgusting spectacles i've ever seen--this white-haired old man, who should have been thinking of the hereafter, standing there lying like an actor. "i haven't seen it anywhere," i said. "nevertheless, i will search. i must--ah--spare no effort." "i should have seen it if it had been here--what?" "it may have escaped your notice. it is--er--possibly in one of the drawers." he began to nose about. he pulled out drawer after drawer, pottering around like an old bloodhound, and babbling from time to time about berkeley and his cigarette-case in a way that struck me as perfectly ghastly. i just stood there, losing weight every moment. then he came to the drawer where the parcel was. "this appears to be locked," he said, rattling the handle. "yes; i shouldn't bother about that one. it--it's--er--locked, and all that sort of thing." "you have not the key?" a soft, respectful voice spoke behind me. "i fancy, sir, that this must be the key you require. it was in the pocket of your evening trousers." it was jeeves. he had shimmered in, carrying my evening things, and was standing there holding out the key. i could have massacred the man. "thank you," said my uncle. "not at all, sir." the next moment uncle willoughby had opened the drawer. i shut my eyes. "no," said uncle willoughby, "there is nothing here. the drawer is empty. thank you, bertie. i hope i have not disturbed you. i fancy--er--berkeley must have taken his case with him after all." when he had gone i shut the door carefully. then i turned to jeeves. the man was putting my evening things out on a chair. "er--jeeves!" "sir?" "oh, nothing." it was deuced difficult to know how to begin. "er--jeeves!" "sir?" "did you--was there--have you by chance----" "i removed the parcel this morning, sir." "oh--ah--why?" "i considered it more prudent, sir." i mused for a while. "of course, i suppose all this seems tolerably rummy to you, jeeves?" "not at all, sir. i chanced to overhear you and lady florence speaking of the matter the other evening, sir." "did you, by jove?" "yes, sir." "well--er--jeeves, i think that, on the whole, if you were to--as it were--freeze on to that parcel until we get back to london----" "exactly, sir." "and then we might--er--so to speak--chuck it away somewhere--what?" "precisely, sir." "i'll leave it in your hands." "entirely, sir." "you know, jeeves, you're by way of being rather a topper." "i endeavour to give satisfaction, sir." "one in a million, by jove!" "it is very kind of you to say so, sir." "well, that's about all, then, i think." "very good, sir." florence came back on monday. i didn't see her till we were all having tea in the hall. it wasn't till the crowd had cleared away a bit that we got a chance of having a word together. "well, bertie?" she said. "it's all right." "you have destroyed the manuscript?" "not exactly; but----" "what do you mean?" "i mean i haven't absolutely----" "bertie, your manner is furtive!" "it's all right. it's this way----" and i was just going to explain how things stood when out of the library came leaping uncle willoughby looking as braced as a two-year-old. the old boy was a changed man. "a most remarkable thing, bertie! i have just been speaking with mr. riggs on the telephone, and he tells me he received my manuscript by the first post this morning. i cannot imagine what can have caused the delay. our postal facilities are extremely inadequate in the rural districts. i shall write to headquarters about it. it is insufferable if valuable parcels are to be delayed in this fashion." i happened to be looking at florence's profile at the moment, and at this juncture she swung round and gave me a look that went right through me like a knife. uncle willoughby meandered back to the library, and there was a silence that you could have dug bits out of with a spoon. "i can't understand it," i said at last. "i can't understand it, by jove!" "i can. i can understand it perfectly, bertie. your heart failed you. rather than risk offending your uncle you----" "no, no! absolutely!" "you preferred to lose me rather than risk losing the money. perhaps you did not think i meant what i said. i meant every word. our engagement is ended." "but--i say!" "not another word!" "but, florence, old thing!" "i do not wish to hear any more. i see now that your aunt agatha was perfectly right. i consider that i have had a very lucky escape. there was a time when i thought that, with patience, you might be moulded into something worth while. i see now that you are impossible!" and she popped off, leaving me to pick up the pieces. when i had collected the debris to some extent i went to my room and rang for jeeves. he came in looking as if nothing had happened or was ever going to happen. he was the calmest thing in captivity. "jeeves!" i yelled. "jeeves, that parcel has arrived in london!" "yes, sir?" "did you send it?" "yes, sir. i acted for the best, sir. i think that both you and lady florence overestimated the danger of people being offended at being mentioned in sir willoughby's recollections. it has been my experience, sir, that the normal person enjoys seeing his or her name in print, irrespective of what is said about them. i have an aunt, sir, who a few years ago was a martyr to swollen limbs. she tried walkinshaw's supreme ointment and obtained considerable relief--so much so that she sent them an unsolicited testimonial. her pride at seeing her photograph in the daily papers in connection with descriptions of her lower limbs before taking, which were nothing less than revolting, was so intense that it led me to believe that publicity, of whatever sort, is what nearly everybody desires. moreover, if you have ever studied psychology, sir, you will know that respectable old gentlemen are by no means averse to having it advertised that they were extremely wild in their youth. i have an uncle----" i cursed his aunts and his uncles and him and all the rest of the family. "do you know that lady florence has broken off her engagement with me?" "indeed, sir?" not a bit of sympathy! i might have been telling him it was a fine day. "you're sacked!" "very good, sir." he coughed gently. "as i am no longer in your employment, sir, i can speak freely without appearing to take a liberty. in my opinion you and lady florence were quite unsuitably matched. her ladyship is of a highly determined and arbitrary temperament, quite opposed to your own. i was in lord worplesdon's service for nearly a year, during which time i had ample opportunities of studying her ladyship. the opinion of the servants' hall was far from favourable to her. her ladyship's temper caused a good deal of adverse comment among us. it was at times quite impossible. you would not have been happy, sir!" "get out!" "i think you would also have found her educational methods a little trying, sir. i have glanced at the book her ladyship gave you--it has been lying on your table since our arrival--and it is, in my opinion, quite unsuitable. you would not have enjoyed it. and i have it from her ladyship's own maid, who happened to overhear a conversation between her ladyship and one of the gentlemen staying here--mr. maxwell, who is employed in an editorial capacity by one of the reviews--that it was her intention to start you almost immediately upon nietzsche. you would not enjoy nietzsche, sir. he is fundamentally unsound." "get out!" "very good, sir." * * * * * it's rummy how sleeping on a thing often makes you feel quite different about it. it's happened to me over and over again. somehow or other, when i woke next morning the old heart didn't feel half so broken as it had done. it was a perfectly topping day, and there was something about the way the sun came in at the window and the row the birds were kicking up in the ivy that made me half wonder whether jeeves wasn't right. after all, though she had a wonderful profile, was it such a catch being engaged to florence craye as the casual observer might imagine? wasn't there something in what jeeves had said about her character? i began to realise that my ideal wife was something quite different, something a lot more clinging and drooping and prattling, and what not. i had got as far as this in thinking the thing out when that "types of ethical theory" caught my eye. i opened it, and i give you my honest word this was what hit me: _of the two antithetic terms in the greek philosophy one only was real and self-subsisting; and that one was ideal thought as opposed to that which it has to penetrate and mould. the other, corresponding to our nature, was in itself phenomenal, unreal, without any permanent footing, having no predicates that held true for two moments together, in short, redeemed from negation only by including indwelling realities appearing through_. well--i mean to say--what? and nietzsche, from all accounts, a lot worse than that! "jeeves," i said, when he came in with my morning tea, "i've been thinking it over. you're engaged again." "thank you, sir." i sucked down a cheerful mouthful. a great respect for this bloke's judgment began to soak through me. "oh, jeeves," i said; "about that check suit." "yes, sir?" "is it really a frost?" "a trifle too bizarre, sir, in my opinion." "but lots of fellows have asked me who my tailor is." "doubtless in order to avoid him, sir." "he's supposed to be one of the best men in london." "i am saying nothing against his moral character, sir." i hesitated a bit. i had a feeling that i was passing into this chappie's clutches, and that if i gave in now i should become just like poor old aubrey fothergill, unable to call my soul my own. on the other hand, this was obviously a cove of rare intelligence, and it would be a comfort in a lot of ways to have him doing the thinking for me. i made up my mind. "all right, jeeves," i said. "you know! give the bally thing away to somebody!" he looked down at me like a father gazing tenderly at the wayward child. "thank you, sir. i gave it to the under-gardener last night. a little more tea, sir?" disentangling old duggie doesn't some poet or philosopher fellow say that it's when our intentions are best that we always make the worst breaks? i can't put my hand on the passage, but you'll find it in shakespeare or somewhere, i'm pretty certain. at any rate, it's always that way with me. and the affair of douglas craye is a case in point. i had dined with duggie (a dear old pal of mine) one night at his club, and as he was seeing me out he said: "reggie, old top"--my name's reggie pepper--"reggie, old top, i'm rather worried." "are you, duggie, old pal?" i said. "yes, reggie, old fellow," he said, "i am. it's like this. the booles have asked me down to their place for the week-end, and i don't know whether to go or not. you see, they have early breakfast, and besides that there's a frightful risk of music after dinner. on the other hand, young roderick boole thinks he can play piquet." "i should go," i said. "but i'm not sure roderick's going to be there this time." it was a problem, and i didn't wonder poor old dug had looked pale and tired at dinner. then i had the idea which really started all the trouble. "why don't you consult a palmist?" i said. "that sounds a good idea," said duggie. "go and see dorothea in forty-second street. she's a wonder. she'll settle it for you in a second. she'll see from your lines that you are thinking of making a journey, and she'll either tell you to get a move on, which will mean that roderick will be there, or else to keep away because she sees disaster." "you seem to be next to the game all right." "i've been to a good many of them. you'll like dorothea." "what did you say her name was--dorothea? what do i do? do i just walk in? shan't i feel a fearful chump? how much do i give her?" "five bucks. you'd better write and make a date." "all right," said duggie. "but i know i shall look a frightful fool." about a week later i ran into him between the acts at the knickerbocker. the old boy was beaming. "reggie," he said, "you did me the best turn anyone's ever done me, sending me to mrs. darrell." "mrs. darrell?" "you know. dorothea. her real name's darrell. she's a widow. her husband was in some regiment, and left her without a penny. it's a frightfully pathetic story. haven't time to tell you now. my boy, she's a marvel. she had hardly looked at my hand, when she said: 'you will prosper in any venture you undertake.' and next day, by george, i went down to the booles' and separated young roderick from seventy dollars. she's a wonderful woman. did you ever see just that shade of hair?" "i didn't notice her hair." he gaped at me in a sort of petrified astonishment. "you--didn't--notice--her--hair!" he gasped. i can't fix the dates exactly, but it must have been about three weeks after this that i got a telegram: "call madison avenue immediately--florence craye." she needn't have signed her name. i should have known who it was from by the wording. ever since i was a kid, duggie's sister florence has oppressed me to the most fearful extent. not that i'm the only one. her brothers live in terror of her, i know. especially edwin. he's never been able to get away from her and it's absolutely broken his spirit. he's a mild, hopeless sort of chump who spends all his time at home--they live near philadelphia--and has never been known to come to new york. he's writing a history of the family, or something, i believe. you see, events have conspired, so to speak, to let florence do pretty much as she likes with them. originally there was old man craye, duggie's father, who made a fortune out of the soup trust; duggie's elder brother edwin; florence; and duggie. mrs. craye has been dead some years. then came the smash. it happened through the old man. most people, if you ask them, will tell you that he ought to be in bloomingdale; and i'm not sure they're not right. at any rate, one morning he came down to breakfast, lifted the first cover on the sideboard, said in a sort of despairing way, "eggs! eggs! eggs! curse all eggs!" and walked out of the room. nobody thought much of it till about an hour afterward, when they found that he had packed a grip, left the house, and caught the train to new york. next day they got a letter from him, saying that he was off to europe, never to return, and that all communications were to be addressed to his lawyers. and from that day on none of them had seen him. he wrote occasionally, generally from paris; and that was all. well, directly news of this got about, down swooped a series of aunts to grab the helm. they didn't stay long. florence had them out, one after the other, in no time. if any lingering doubt remained in their minds, don't you know, as to who was going to be boss at home, it wasn't her fault. since then she has run the show. i went to madison avenue. it was one of the aunts' houses. there was no sign of the aunt when i called--she had probably climbed a tree and pulled it up after her--but florence was there. she is a tall woman with what, i believe, is called "a presence." her eyes are bright and black, and have a way of getting right inside you, don't you know, and running up and down your spine. she has a deep voice. she is about ten years older than duggie's brother edwin, who is six years older than duggie. "good afternoon," she said. "sit down." i poured myself into a chair. "reginald," she said, "what is this i hear about douglas?" i said i didn't know. "he says that you introduced him." "eh?" "to this woman--this mrs. darrell." "mrs. darrell?" my memory's pretty rocky, and the name conveyed nothing to me. she pulled out a letter. "yes," she said, "mrs. dorothy darrell." "great scott! dorothea!" her eyes resumed their spine drill. "who is she?" "only a palmist." "only a palmist!" her voice absolutely boomed. "well, my brother douglas is engaged to be married to her." "many happy returns of the day," i said. i don't know why i said it. it wasn't what i meant to say. i'm not sure i meant to say anything. she glared at me. by this time i was pure jelly. i simply flowed about the chair. "you are facetious, reginald," she said. "no, no, no," i shouted. "it slipped out. i wouldn't be facetious for worlds." "i am glad. it is no laughing matter. have you any suggestions?" "suggestions?" "you don't imagine it can be allowed to go on? the engagement must be broken, of course. but how?" "why don't you tell him he mustn't?" "i shall naturally express my strong disapproval, but it may not be effective. when out of the reach of my personal influence, my wretched brother is self-willed to a degree." i saw what she meant. good old duggie wasn't going to have those eyes patrolling his spine if he knew it. he meant to keep away and conduct this business by letter. there was going to be no personal interview with sister, if he had to dodge about america like a snipe. we sat for a long time without speaking. then i became rather subtle. i had a brain-wave and saw my way to making things right for dug and at the same time squaring myself with florence. after all, i thought, the old boy couldn't keep away from home for the rest of his life. he would have to go there sooner or later. and my scheme made it pleasant and easy for him. "i'll tell you what i should do if i were you," i said. "i'm not sure i didn't read some book or see some play somewhere or other where they tried it on, and it worked all right. fellow got engaged to a girl, and the family didn't like it, but, instead of kicking, they pretended to be tickled to pieces, and had the fellow and the girl down to visit them. and then, after the fellow had seen the girl with the home circle as a background, don't you know, he came to the conclusion that it wouldn't do, and broke off the engagement." it seemed to strike her. "i hardly expected so sensible a suggestion from you, reginald," she said. "it is a very good plan. it shows that you really have a definite substratum of intelligence; and it is all the more deplorable that you should idle your way through the world as you do, when you might be performing some really useful work." that was florence all over. even when she patted you on the head, she had to do it with her knuckles. "i will invite them down next week," she went on. "you had better come, too." "it's awfully kind of you, but the fact is----" "next wednesday. take the three-forty-seven." i met duggie next day. he was looking happy, but puzzled, like a man who has found a dime on the street and is wondering if there's a string tied to it. i congratulated him on his engagement. "reggie," he said, "a queer thing has happened. i feel as if i'd trodden on the last step when it wasn't there. i've just had a letter from my sister florence asking me to bring dorothy home on wednesday. florence doesn't seem to object to the idea of the engagement at all; and i'd expected that i'd have to call out the police reserves when she heard of it. i believe there's a catch somewhere." i tapped him on the breastbone. "there is, dug," i said, "and i'll tell you what it is. i saw her yesterday, and i can put you next to the game. she thinks that if you see mrs. darrell mingling with the home circle, you'll see flaws in her which you don't see when you don't see her mingling with the home circle, don't you see? do you see now?" he laughed--heroically, don't you know. "i'm afraid she'll be disappointed. love like mine is not dependent on environment." which wasn't bad, i thought, if it was his own. i said good-by to him, and toddled along rather pleased with myself. it seemed to me that i had handled his affairs in a pretty masterly manner for a chap who's supposed to be one of the biggest chumps in new york. well, of course, the thing was an absolute fliver, as i ought to have guessed it would be. whatever could have induced me to think that a fellow like poor old dug stood a dog's chance against a determined female like his sister florence, i can't imagine. it was like expecting a rabbit to put up a show with a python. from the very start there was only one possible end to the thing. to a woman like florence, who had trained herself as tough as whalebone by years of scrapping with her father and occasional by-battles with aunts, it was as easy as killing rats with a stick. i was sorry for mrs. darrell. she was a really good sort and, as a matter of fact, just the kind of wife who would have done old duggie a bit of good. and on her own ground i shouldn't wonder if she might not have made a fight for it. but now she hadn't a chance. poor old duggie was just like so much putty in florence's hands when he couldn't get away from her. you could see the sawdust trickling out of love's young dream in a steady flow. i took mrs. darrell for a walk one afternoon, to see if i couldn't cheer her up a bit, but it wasn't much good. she hardly spoke a word till we were on our way home. then she said with a sort of jerk: "i'm going back to new york tomorrow, mr. pepper." i suppose i ought to have pretended to be surprised, but i couldn't work it. "i'm afraid you've had a bad time," i said. "i'm very sorry." she laughed. "thank you," she said. "it's nice of you to be sympathetic instead of tactful. you're rather a dear, mr. pepper." i hadn't any remarks to make. i whacked at a nettle with my stick. "i shall break off my engagement after dinner, so that douglas can have a good night's rest. i'm afraid he has been brooding on the future a good deal. it will be a great relief to him." "oh, no," i said. "oh, yes. i know exactly how he feels. he thought he could carry me off, but he finds he overestimated his powers. he has remembered that he is a craye. i imagine that the fact has been pointed out to him." "if you ask my opinion," i said--i was feeling pretty sore about it--"that woman florence is an absolute cat." "my dear mr. pepper, i wouldn't have dreamed of asking your opinion on such a delicate subject. but i'm glad to have it. thank you very much. do i strike you as a vindictive woman, mr. pepper?" "i don't think you do," i said. "by nature i don't think i am. but i'm feeling a little vindictive just at present." she stopped suddenly. "i don't know why i'm boring you like this, mr. pepper," she said. "for goodness' sake let's be cheerful. say something bright." i was going to take a whirl at it, but she started in to talk, and talked all the rest of the way. she seemed to have cheered up a whole lot. she left next day. i gather she fired duggie as per schedule, for the old boy looked distinctly brighter, and florence wore an off-duty expression and was quite decently civil. mrs. darrell bore up all right. she avoided duggie, of course, and put in most of the time talking to edwin. he evidently appreciated it, for i had never seen him look so nearly happy before. i went back to new york directly afterward, and i hadn't been there much more than a week when a most remarkably queer thing happened. turning in at hammerstein's for half an hour one evening, whom should i meet but brother edwin, quite fairly festive, with a fat cigar in his mouth. "hello, reggie," he said. "what are you doing here?" i said. "i had to come up to new york to look up a life of hilary de craye at the library. i believe mister man was a sort of ancestor." "this isn't the library." "i was beginning to guess as much. the difference is subtle but well marked." it struck me that there was another difference that was subtle but well marked, and that was the difference between the edwin i'd left messing about over his family history a week before and the jovial rounder who was blowing smoke in my face now. "as a matter of fact," he said, "the library would be all the better for a little of this sort of thing. it's too conservative. that's what's the trouble with the library. what's the matter with having a cross-talk team and a few performing dogs there? it would brighten the place up and attract custom. reggie, you're looking fatigued. i've heard there's a place somewhere in this city, if you can only find it, expressly designed for supplying first-aid to the fatigued. let's go and look for it." i'm not given to thinking much as a rule, but i couldn't help pondering over this meeting with edwin. it's hard to make you see the remarkableness of the whole thing, for, of course, if you look at it, in one way, there's nothing so record-breaking in smoking a cigar and drinking a highball. but then you have never seen edwin. there are degrees in everything, don't you know. for edwin to behave as he did with me that night was simply nothing more nor less than a frightful outburst, and it disturbed me. not that i cared what edwin did, as a rule, but i couldn't help feeling a sort of what-d'you-call-it--a presentiment, that somehow, in some way i didn't understand, i was mixed up in it, or was soon going to be. i think the whole fearful family had got on my nerves to such an extent that the mere sight of any of them made me jumpy. and, by george, i was perfectly right, don't you know. in a day or two along came the usual telegram from florence, telling me to come to madison avenue. the mere idea of madison avenue was beginning to give me that tired feeling, and i made up my mind i wouldn't go near the place. but of course i did. when it came to the point, i simply hadn't the common manly courage to keep away. florence was there as before. "reginald," she said, "i think i shall go raving mad." this struck me as a mighty happy solution of everybody's troubles, but i felt it was too good to be true. "over a week ago," she went on, "my brother edwin came up to new york to consult a book at the library. i anticipated that this would occupy perhaps an afternoon, and was expecting him back by an early train next day. he did not arrive. he sent an incoherent telegram. but even then i suspected nothing." she paused. "yesterday morning," she said, "i had a letter from my aunt augusta." she paused again. she seemed to think i ought to be impressed. her eyes tied a bowknot in my spine. "let me read you her letter. no, i will tell you its contents. aunt augusta had seen edwin lunching at the waldorf with a creature." "a what?" "my aunt described her. her hair was of a curious dull bronze tint." "your aunt's?" "the woman's. it was then that i began to suspect. how many women with dull bronze hair does edwin know?" "great scott! why ask me?" i had got used to being treated as a sort of "hey, bill!" by florence, but i was darned if i was going to be expected to be an encyclopedia as well. "one," she said. "that appalling darrell woman." she drew a deep breath. "yesterday evening," she said, "i saw them together in a taximeter cab. they were obviously on their way to some theatre." she fixed me with her eye. "reginald," she said, "you must go and see her the first thing to-morrow." "what!" i cried. "me? why? why me?" "because you are responsible for the whole affair. you introduced douglas to her. you suggested that he should bring her home. go to her to-morrow and ascertain her intentions." "but----" "the very first thing." "but wouldn't it be better to have a talk with edwin?" "i have made every endeavour to see edwin, but he deliberately avoids me. his answers to my telegrams are willfully evasive." there was no doubt that edwin had effected a thorough bolt. he was having quite a pleasant little vacation: two weeks in sunny new york. and from what i'd seen of him, he seemed to be thriving on it. i didn't wonder florence had got rather anxious. she'd have been more anxious if she had seen him when i did. he'd got a sort of "new-york-is-so-bracing" look about him, which meant a whole heap of trouble before he trotted back to the fold. well, i started off to interview mrs. darrell, and, believe me, i didn't like the prospect. i think they ought to train a. d. t. messengers to do this sort of thing. i found her alone. the rush hour of clients hadn't begun. "how do you do, mr. pepper?" she said. "how nice of you to call." very friendly, and all that. it made the situation darned difficult for a fellow, if you see what i mean. "say," i said. "what about it, don't you know?" "i certainly don't," she said. "what ought i to know about what?" "well, about edwin--edwin craye," i said. she smiled. "oh! so you're an ambassador, mr. pepper?" "well, as a matter of fact, i did come to see if i could find out how things were running. what's going to happen?" "are you consulting me professionally? if so, you must show me your hand. or perhaps you would rather i showed you mine?" it was subtle, but i got on to it after a bit. "yes," i said, "i wish you would." "very well. do you remember a conversation we had, mr. pepper, my last afternoon at the crayes'? we came to the conclusion that i was rather a vindictive woman." "by george! you're stringing old edwin so as to put one over on florence?" she flushed a little. "how very direct you are, mr. pepper! how do you know i'm not very fond of mr. craye? at any rate, i'm very sorry for him." "he's such a chump." "but he's improving every day. have you seen him? you must notice the difference?" "there is a difference." "he only wanted taking out of himself. i think he found his sister florence's influence a little oppressive sometimes." "no, but see here," i said, "are you going to marry him?" "i'm only a palmist. i don't pretend to be a clairvoyant. a marriage may be indicated in mr. craye's hand, but i couldn't say without looking at it." "but i shall have to tell her something definite, or she won't give me a moment's peace." "tell her her brother is of age. surely that's definite enough?" and i couldn't get any more out of her. i went back to florence and reported. she got pretty excited about it. "oh, if i were a man!" she said. i didn't see how that would have helped. i said so. "i'd go straight to edwin and _drag_ him away. he is staying at his club. if i were a man i could go in and find him----" "not if you weren't a member," i said. "--and tell him what i thought of his conduct. as i'm only a woman, i have to wait in the hall while a deceitful small boy pretends to go and look for him." it had never struck me before what a splendid institution a club was. only a few days back i'd been thinking that the subscription to mine was a bit steep. but now i saw that the place earned every cent of the money. "have you no influence with him, reginald?" i said i didn't think i had. she called me something. invertebrate, or something. i didn't catch it. "then there's only one thing to do. you must find my father and tell him all. perhaps you may rouse him to a sense of what is right. you may make him remember that he has duties as a parent." i thought it far more likely that i should make him remember that he had a foot. i hadn't a very vivid recollection of old man craye. i was quite a kid when he made his great speech on the egg question and beat it for europe--but what i did recollect didn't encourage me to go and chat with him about the duties of a parent. as i remember him, he was a rather large man with elephantiasis of the temper. i distinctly recalled one occasion when i was spending a school vacation at his home, and he found me trying to shave old duggie, then a kid of fourteen, with his razor. "i shouldn't be able to find him," i said. "you can get his address from his lawyers." "he may be at the north pole." "then you must go to the north pole." "but say----!" "reginald!" "oh, all right." i knew just what would happen. parbury and stevens, the lawyers, simply looked at me as if i had been caught snatching bags. at least, stevens did. and parbury would have done it, too, only he had been dead a good time. finally, after drinking me in for about a quarter of an hour, stevens said that if i desired to address a communication to his client, care of this office, it would be duly forwarded. good morning. good morning. anything further? no, thanks. good morning. good morning. i handed the glad news on to florence and left her to do what she liked about it. she went down and interviewed stevens. i suppose he'd had experience of her. at any rate, he didn't argue. he yielded up the address in level time. old man craye was living in paris, but was to arrive in new york that night, and would doubtless be at his club. it was the same club where edwin was hiding from florence. i pointed this out to her. "there's no need for me to butt in after all," i said. "he'll meet edwin there, and they can fight it out in the smoking room. you've only to drop him a line explaining the facts." "i shall certainly communicate with him in writing, but, nevertheless, you must see him. i cannot explain everything in a letter." "but doesn't it strike you that he may think it pretty bad gall--impertinence, don't you know, for a comparative stranger like me to be tackling a delicate family affair like this?" "you will explain that you are acting for me." "it wouldn't be better if old duggie went along instead?" "i wish you to go, reginald." well, of course, it was all right, don't you know, but i was losing several pounds a day over the business. i was getting so light that i felt that, when the old man kicked me, i should just soar up to the ceiling like an air balloon. the club was one of those large clubs that look like prisons. i used to go there to lunch with my uncle, the one who left me his money, and i always hated the place. it was one of those clubs that are all red leather and hushed whispers. i'm bound to say, though, there wasn't much hushed whispering when i started my interview with old man craye. his voice was one of my childhood's recollections. he was most extraordinarily like florence. he had just the same eyes. i felt boneless from the start. "good morning," i said. "what?" he said. "speak up. don't mumble." i hadn't known he was deaf. the last time we'd had any conversation--on the subject of razors--he had done all the talking. this seemed to me to put the lid on it. "i only said 'good morning,'" i shouted. "good what? speak up. i believe you're sucking candy. oh, good morning? i remember you now. you're the boy who spoiled my razor." i didn't half like this reopening of old wounds. i hurried on. "i came about edwin," i said. "who?" "edwin. your son." "what about him?" "florence told me to see you." "who?" "florence. your daughter." "what about her?" all this vaudeville team business, mind you, as if we were bellowing at each other across the street. all round the room you could see old gentlemen shooting out of their chairs like rockets and dashing off at a gallop to write to the governing board about it. thousands of waiters had appeared from nowhere, and were hanging about, dusting table legs. if ever a business wanted to be discussed privately, this seemed to me to be it. and it was just about as private as a conversation through megaphones in longacre square. "didn't she write to you?" "i got a letter from her. i tore it up. i didn't read it." pleasant, was it not? it was not. i began to understand what a shipwrecked sailor must feel when he finds there's something gone wrong with the life belt. i thought i might as well get to the point and get it over. "edwin's going to marry a palmist," i said. "who the devil's harry?" "not harry. marry. he's going to marry a palmist." about four hundred waiters noticed a speck of dust on an ash tray at the table next to ours, and swooped down on it. "edwin is going to marry a palmist?" "yes." "she must be mad. hasn't she seen edwin?" and just then who should stroll in but edwin himself. i sighted him and gave him a hail. he curveted up to us. it was amazing the way the fellow had altered. he looked like a two-year-old. flower in his button-hole and a six-inch grin, and all that. the old man seemed surprised, too. i didn't wonder. the edwin he remembered was a pretty different kind of a fellow. "hullo, dad," he said. "fancy meeting you here. have a cigarette?" he shoved out his case. old man craye helped himself in a sort of dazed way. "you _are_ edwin?" he said slowly. i began to sidle out. they didn't notice me. they had moved to a settee, and edwin seemed to be telling his father a funny story. at least, he was talking and grinning, and the old man was making a noise like distant thunder, which i supposed was his way of chuckling. i slid out and left them. some days later duggie called on me. the old boy was looking scared. "reggie," he said, "what do doctors call it when you think you see things when you don't? hal-something. i've got it, whatever it is. it's sometimes caused by overwork. but it can't be that with me, because i've not been doing any work. you don't think my brain's going or anything like that, do you?" "what do you mean? what's been happening?" "it's like being haunted. i read a story somewhere of a fellow who kept thinking he saw a battleship bearing down on him. i've got it, too. four times in the last three days i could have sworn i saw my father and edwin. i saw them as plainly as i see you. and, of course, edwin's at home and father's in europe somewhere. do you think it's some sort of a warning? do you think i'm going to die?" "it's all right, old top," i said. "as a matter of fact, they are both in new york just now." "you don't mean that? great scot, what a relief! but, reggie, old fox, it couldn't have been them really. the last time was at louis martin's, and the fellow i mistook for edwin was dancing all by himself in the middle of the floor." i admitted it was pretty queer. i was away for a few days after that in the country. when i got back i found a pile of telegrams waiting for me. they were all from florence, and they all wanted me to go to madison avenue. the last of the batch, which had arrived that morning, was so peremptory that i felt as if something had bitten me when i read it. for a moment i admit i hung back. then i rallied. there are times in a man's life when he has got to show a flash of the old bulldog pluck, don't you know, if he wants to preserve his self-respect. i did then. my grip was still unpacked. i told my man to put it on a cab. and in about two ticks i was bowling off to the club. i left for england next day by the _lusitania_. about three weeks later i fetched up at nice. you can't walk far at nice without bumping into a casino. the one i hit my first evening was the casino municipale in the place masséna. it looked more or less of a home from home, so i strolled in. there was quite a crowd round the boule tables, and i squashed in. and when i'd worked through into the front rank i happened to look down the table, and there was edwin, with a green tyrolese hat hanging over one ear, clutching out for a lot of five-franc pieces which the croupier was steering toward him at the end of a rake. i was feeling lonesome, for i knew no one in the place, so i edged round in his direction. halfway there i heard my name called, and there was mrs. darrell. i saw the whole thing in a flash. old man craye hadn't done a thing to prevent it--apart from being eccentric, he was probably glad that edwin had had the sense to pick out anybody half as good a sort--and the marriage had taken place. and here they were on their honeymoon. i wondered what florence was thinking of it. "well, well, well, here we all are," i said. "i've just seen edwin. he seems to be winning." "dear boy!" she said. "he does enjoy it so. i think he gets so much more out of life than he used to, don't you?" "sure thing. may i wish you happiness? why didn't you let me know and collect the silver fish-slice?" "thank you so much, mr. pepper. i did write to you, but i suppose you never got the letter." "mr. craye didn't make any objections, then?" "on the contrary. he was more in favor of the marriage than anyone." "and i'll tell you why," i said. "i'm rather a chump, you know, but i observe things. i bet he was most frightfully grateful to you for taking edwin in hand and making him human." "why, you're wonderful, mr. pepper. that is exactly what he said himself. it was that that first made us friends." "and--er--florence?" she sighed. "i'm afraid florence has taken the thing a little badly. but i hope to win her over in time. i want all my children to love me." "all your what?" "i think of them as my children, you see, mr. pepper. i adopted them as my own when i married their father. did you think i had married edwin? what a funny mistake. i am very fond of edwin, but not in that way. no, i married mr. craye. we left him at our villa tonight, as he had some letters to get off. you must come and see us, mr. pepper. i always feel that it was you who brought us together, you know. i wonder if you will be seeing florence when you get back? will you give her my very best love?" death at the excelsior and other stories by p. g. wodehouse [transcriber's note: this selection of early wodehouse stories was assembled for project gutenberg. the original publication date of each story is listed in square brackets in the table of contents.] contents death at the excelsior [1914] misunderstood [1910] the best sauce [1911] jeeves and the chump cyril [1918] jeeves in the springtime [1921] concealed art [1915] the test case [1915] death at the excelsior i the room was the typical bedroom of the typical boarding-house, furnished, insofar as it could be said to be furnished at all, with a severe simplicity. it contained two beds, a pine chest of drawers, a strip of faded carpet, and a wash basin. but there was that on the floor which set this room apart from a thousand rooms of the same kind. flat on his back, with his hands tightly clenched and one leg twisted oddly under him and with his teeth gleaming through his grey beard in a horrible grin, captain john gunner stared up at the ceiling with eyes that saw nothing. until a moment before, he had had the little room all to himself. but now two people were standing just inside the door, looking down at him. one was a large policeman, who twisted his helmet nervously in his hands. the other was a tall, gaunt old woman in a rusty black dress, who gazed with pale eyes at the dead man. her face was quite expressionless. the woman was mrs. pickett, owner of the excelsior boarding-house. the policeman's name was grogan. he was a genial giant, a terror to the riotous element of the waterfront, but obviously ill at ease in the presence of death. he drew in his breath, wiped his forehead, and whispered: "look at his eyes, ma'am!" mrs. pickett had not spoken a word since she had brought the policeman into the room, and she did not do so now. constable grogan looked at her quickly. he was afraid of mother pickett, as was everybody else along the waterfront. her silence, her pale eyes, and the quiet decisiveness of her personality cowed even the tough old salts who patronized the excelsior. she was a formidable influence in that little community of sailormen. "that's just how i found him," said mrs. pickett. she did not speak loudly, but her voice made the policeman start. he wiped his forehead again. "it might have been apoplexy," he hazarded. mrs. pickett said nothing. there was a sound of footsteps outside, and a young man entered, carrying a black bag. "good morning, mrs. pickett. i was told that--good lord!" the young doctor dropped to his knees beside the body and raised one of the arms. after a moment he lowered it gently to the floor, and shook his head in grim resignation. "he's been dead for hours," he announced. "when did you find him?" "twenty minutes back," replied the old woman. "i guess he died last night. he never would be called in the morning. said he liked to sleep on. well, he's got his wish." "what did he die of, sir?" asked the policeman. "it's impossible to say without an examination," the doctor answered. "it looks like a stroke, but i'm pretty sure it isn't. it might be a coronary attack, but i happen to know his blood pressure was normal, and his heart sound. he called in to see me only a week ago, and i examined him thoroughly. but sometimes you can be deceived. the inquest will tell us." he eyed the body almost resentfully. "i can't understand it. the man had no right to drop dead like this. he was a tough old sailor who ought to have been good for another twenty years. if you want my honest opinion--though i can't possibly be certain until after the inquest--i should say he had been poisoned." "how would he be poisoned?" asked mrs. pickett quietly. "that's more than i can tell you. there's no glass about that he could have drunk it from. he might have got it in capsule form. but why should he have done it? he was always a pretty cheerful sort of old man, wasn't he?" "yes, sir," said the constable. "he had the name of being a joker in these parts. kind of sarcastic, they tell me, though he never tried it on me." "he must have died quite early last night," said the doctor. he turned to mrs. pickett. "what's become of captain muller? if he shares this room he ought to be able to tell us something about it." "captain muller spent the night with some friends at portsmouth," said mrs. pickett. "he left right after supper, and hasn't returned." the doctor stared thoughtfully about the room, frowning. "i don't like it. i can't understand it. if this had happened in india i should have said the man had died from some form of snakebite. i was out there two years, and i've seen a hundred cases of it. the poor devils all looked just like this. but the thing's ridiculous. how could a man be bitten by a snake in a southampton waterfront boarding-house? was the door locked when you found him, mrs. pickett?" mrs. pickett nodded. "i opened it with my own key. i had been calling to him and he didn't answer, so i guessed something was wrong." the constable spoke: "you ain't touched anything, ma'am? they're always very particular about that. if the doctor's right, and there's been anything up, that's the first thing they'll ask." "everything's just as i found it." "what's that on the floor beside him?" the doctor asked. "only his harmonica. he liked to play it of an evening in his room. i've had some complaints about it from some of the gentlemen, but i never saw any harm, so long as he didn't play it too late." "seems as if he was playing it when--it happened," constable grogan said. "that don't look much like suicide, sir." "i didn't say it was suicide." grogan whistled. "you don't think----" "i'm not thinking anything--until after the inquest. all i say is that it's queer." another aspect of the matter seemed to strike the policeman. "i guess this ain't going to do the excelsior any good, ma'am," he said sympathetically. mrs. pickett shrugged her shoulders. "i suppose i had better go and notify the coroner," said the doctor. he went out, and after a momentary pause the policeman followed him. constable grogan was not greatly troubled with nerves, but he felt a decided desire to be somewhere where he could not see the dead man's staring eyes. mrs. pickett remained where she was, looking down at the still form on the floor. her face was expressionless, but inwardly she was tormented and alarmed. it was the first time such a thing as this had happened at the excelsior, and, as constable grogan had hinted, it was not likely to increase the attractiveness of the house in the eyes of possible boarders. it was not the threatened pecuniary loss which was troubling her. as far as money was concerned, she could have lived comfortably on her savings, for she was richer than most of her friends supposed. it was the blot on the escutcheon of the excelsior--the stain on its reputation--which was tormenting her. the excelsior was her life. starting many years before, beyond the memory of the oldest boarder, she had built up the model establishment, the fame of which had been carried to every corner of the world. men spoke of it as a place where you were fed well, cleanly housed, and where petty robbery was unknown. such was the chorus of praise that it is not likely that much harm could come to the excelsior from a single mysterious death but mother pickett was not consoling herself with such reflections. she looked at the dead man with pale, grim eyes. out in the hallway the doctor's voice further increased her despair. he was talking to the police on the telephone, and she could distinctly hear his every word. ii the offices of mr. paul snyder's detective agency in new oxford street had grown in the course of a dozen years from a single room to an impressive suite bright with polished wood, clicking typewriters, and other evidences of success. where once mr. snyder had sat and waited for clients and attended to them himself, he now sat in his private office and directed eight assistants. he had just accepted a case--a case that might be nothing at all or something exceedingly big. it was on the latter possibility that he had gambled. the fee offered was, judged by his present standards of prosperity, small. but the bizarre facts, coupled with something in the personality of the client, had won him over. he briskly touched the bell and requested that mr. oakes should be sent in to him. elliot oakes was a young man who both amused and interested mr. snyder, for though he had only recently joined the staff, he made no secret of his intention of revolutionizing the methods of the agency. mr. snyder himself, in common with most of his assistants, relied for results on hard work and plenty of common sense. he had never been a detective of the showy type. results had justified his methods, but he was perfectly aware that young mr. oakes looked on him as a dull old man who had been miraculously favored by luck. mr. snyder had selected oakes for the case in hand principally because it was one where inexperience could do no harm, and where the brilliant guesswork which oakes preferred to call his inductive reasoning might achieve an unexpected success. another motive actuated mr. snyder in his choice. he had a strong suspicion that the conduct of this case was going to have the beneficial result of lowering oakes' self-esteem. if failure achieved this end, mr. snyder felt that failure, though it would not help the agency, would not be an unmixed ill. the door opened and oakes entered tensely. he did everything tensely, partly from a natural nervous energy, and partly as a pose. he was a lean young man, with dark eyes and a thin-lipped mouth, and he looked quite as much like a typical detective as mr. snyder looked like a comfortable and prosperous stock broker. "sit down, oakes," said mr. snyder. "i've got a job for you." oakes sank into a chair like a crouching leopard, and placed the tips of his fingers together. he nodded curtly. it was part of his pose to be keen and silent. "i want you to go to this address"--mr. snyder handed him an envelope--"and look around. the address on that envelope is of a sailors' boarding-house down in southampton. you know the sort of place--retired sea captains and so on live there. all most respectable. in all its history nothing more sensational has ever happened than a case of suspected cheating at halfpenny nap. well, a man had died there." "murdered?" oakes asked. "i don't know. that's for you to find out. the coroner left it open. 'death by misadventure' was the verdict, and i don't blame him. i don't see how it could have been murder. the door was locked on the inside, so nobody could have got in." "the window?" "the window was open, granted. but the room is on the second floor. anyway, you may dismiss the window. i remember the old lady saying there was a bar across it, and that nobody could have squeezed through." oakes' eyes glistened. he was interested. "what was the cause of death?" he asked. mr. snyder coughed. "snake bite," he said. oakes' careful calm deserted him. he uttered a cry of astonishment. "why, that's incredible!" "it's the literal truth. the medical examination proved that the fellow had been killed by snake poison--cobra, to be exact, which is found principally in india." "cobra!" "just so. in a southampton boarding-house, in a room with a locked door, this man was stung by a cobra. to add a little mystification to the limpid simplicity of the affair, when the door was opened there was no sign of any cobra. it couldn't have got out through the door, because the door was locked. it couldn't have got out of the window, because the window was too high up, and snakes can't jump. and it couldn't have gotten up the chimney, because there was no chimney. so there you have it." he looked at oakes with a certain quiet satisfaction. it had come to his ears that oakes had been heard to complain of the infantile nature and unworthiness of the last two cases to which he had been assigned. he had even said that he hoped some day to be given a problem which should be beyond the reasoning powers of a child of six. it seemed to mr. snyder that oakes was about to get his wish. "i should like further details," said oakes, a little breathlessly. "you had better apply to mrs. pickett, who owns the boarding-house," mr. snyder said. "it was she who put the case in my hands. she is convinced that it is murder. but, if we exclude ghosts, i don't see how any third party could have taken a hand in the thing at all. however, she wanted a man from this agency, and was prepared to pay for him, so i promised her i would send one. it is not our policy to turn business away." he smiled wryly. "in pursuance of that policy i want you to go and put up at mrs. pickett's boarding house and do your best to enhance the reputation of our agency. i would suggest that you pose as a ship's chandler or something of that sort. you will have to be something maritime or they'll be suspicious of you. and if your visit produces no other results, it will, at least, enable you to make the acquaintance of a very remarkable woman. i commend mrs. pickett to your notice. by the way, she says she will help you in your investigations." oakes laughed shortly. the idea amused him. "it's a mistake to scoff at amateur assistance, my boy," said mr. snyder in the benevolently paternal manner which had made a score of criminals refuse to believe him a detective until the moment when the handcuffs snapped on their wrists. "crime investigation isn't an exact science. success or failure depends in a large measure on applied common sense, and the possession of a great deal of special information. mrs. pickett knows certain things which neither you nor i know, and it's just possible that she may have some stray piece of information which will provide the key to the entire mystery." oakes laughed again. "it is very kind of mrs. pickett," he said, "but i prefer to trust to my own methods." oakes rose, his face purposeful. "i'd better be starting at once," he said. "i'll send you reports from time to time." "good. the more detailed the better," said mr. snyder genially. "i hope your visit to the excelsior will be pleasant. and cultivate mrs. pickett. she's worth while." the door closed, and mr. snyder lighted a fresh cigar. "dashed young fool," he murmured, as he turned his mind to other matters. iii a day later mr. snyder sat in his office reading a typewritten report. it appeared to be of a humorous nature, for, as he read, chuckles escaped him. finishing the last sheet he threw his head back and laughed heartily. the manuscript had not been intended by its author for a humorous effort. what mr. snyder had been reading was the first of elliott oakes' reports from the excelsior. it read as follows: i am sorry to be unable to report any real progress. i have formed several theories which i will put forward later, but at present i cannot say that i am hopeful. directly i arrived here i sought out mrs. pickett, explained who i was, and requested her to furnish me with any further information which might be of service to me. she is a strange, silent woman, who impressed me as having very little intelligence. your suggestion that i should avail myself of her assistance seems more curious than ever, now that i have seen her. the whole affair seems to me at the moment of writing quite inexplicable. assuming that this captain gunner was murdered, there appears to have been no motive for the crime whatsoever. i have made careful inquiries about him, and find that he was a man of fifty-five; had spent nearly forty years of his life at sea, the last dozen in command of his own ship; was of a somewhat overbearing disposition, though with a fund of rough humour; had travelled all over the world, and had been an inmate of the excelsior for about ten months. he had a small annuity, and no other money at all, which disposes of money as the motive for the crime. in my character of james burton, a retired ship's chandler, i have mixed with the other boarders, and have heard all they have to say about the affair. i gather that the deceased was by no means popular. he appears to have had a bitter tongue, and i have not met one man who seems to regret his death. on the other hand, i have heard nothing which would suggest that he had any active and violent enemies. he was simply the unpopular boarder--there is always one in every boarding-house--but nothing more. i have seen a good deal of the man who shared his room--another sea captain, named muller. he is a big, silent person, and it is not easy to get him to talk. as regards the death of captain gunner he can tell me nothing. it seems that on the night of the tragedy he was away at portsmouth with some friends. all i have got from him is some information as to captain gunner's habits, which leads nowhere. the dead man seldom drank, except at night when he would take some whisky. his head was not strong, and a little of the spirit was enough to make him semi-intoxicated, when he would be hilarious and often insulting. i gather that muller found him a difficult roommate, but he is one of those placid persons who can put up with anything. he and gunner were in the habit of playing draughts together every night in their room, and gunner had a harmonica which he played frequently. apparently, he was playing it very soon before he died, which is significant, as seeming to dispose of the idea of suicide. as i say, i have one or two theories, but they are in a very nebulous state. the most plausible is that on one of his visits to india--i have ascertained that he made several voyages there--captain gunner may in some way have fallen foul of the natives. the fact that he certainly died of the poison of an indian snake supports this theory. i am making inquiries as to the movements of several indian sailors who were here in their ships at the time of the tragedy. i have another theory. does mrs. pickett know more about this affair than she appears to? i may be wrong in my estimate of her mental qualities. her apparent stupidity may be cunning. but here again, the absence of motive brings me up against a dead wall. i must confess that at present i do not see my way clearly. however, i will write again shortly. mr. snyder derived the utmost enjoyment from the report. he liked the substance of it, and above all, he was tickled by the bitter tone of frustration which characterized it. oakes was baffled, and his knowledge of oakes told him that the sensation of being baffled was gall and wormwood to that high-spirited young man. whatever might be the result of this investigation, it would teach him the virtue of patience. he wrote his assistant a short note: dear oakes, your report received. you certainly seem to have got the hard case which, i hear, you were pining for. don't build too much on plausible motives in a case of this sort. fauntleroy, the london murderer, killed a woman for no other reason than that she had thick ankles. many years ago, i myself was on a case where a man murdered an intimate friend because of a dispute about a bet. my experience is that five murderers out of ten act on the whim of the moment, without anything which, properly speaking, you could call a motive at all. yours very cordially, paul snyder p. s. i don't think much of your pickett theory. however, you're in charge. i wish you luck. iv young mr. oakes was not enjoying himself. for the first time in his life, the self-confidence which characterized all his actions seemed to be failing him. the change had taken place almost overnight. the fact that the case had the appearance of presenting the unusual had merely stimulated him at first. but then doubts had crept in and the problem had begun to appear insoluble. true, he had only just taken it up, but something told him that, for all the progress he was likely to make, he might just as well have been working on it steadily for a month. he was completely baffled. and every moment which he spent in the excelsior boarding-house made it clearer to him that that infernal old woman with the pale eyes thought him an incompetent fool. it was that, more than anything, which made him acutely conscious of his lack of success. his nerves were being sorely troubled by the quiet scorn of mrs. pickett's gaze. he began to think that perhaps he had been a shade too self-confident and abrupt in the short interview which he had had with her on his arrival. as might have been expected, his first act, after his brief interview with mrs. pickett, was to examine the room where the tragedy had taken place. the body was gone, but otherwise nothing had been moved. oakes belonged to the magnifying-glass school of detection. the first thing he did on entering the room was to make a careful examination of the floor, the walls, the furniture, and the windowsill. he would have hotly denied the assertion that he did this because it looked well, but he would have been hard put to it to advance any other reason. if he discovered anything, his discoveries were entirely negative, and served only to deepen the mystery of the case. as mr. snyder had said, there was no chimney, and nobody could have entered through the locked door. there remained the window. it was small, and apprehensiveness, perhaps, of the possibility of burglars, had caused the proprietress to make it doubly secure with an iron bar. no human being could have squeezed his way through it. it was late that night that he wrote and dispatched to headquarters the report which had amused mr. snyder. v two days later mr. snyder sat at his desk, staring with wide, unbelieving eyes at a telegram he had just received. it read as follows: have solved gunner mystery. returning.... oakes. mr. snyder narrowed his eyes and rang the bell. "send mr. oakes to me directly he arrives," he said. he was pained to find that his chief emotion was one of bitter annoyance. the swift solution of such an apparently insoluble problem would reflect the highest credit on the agency, and there were picturesque circumstances connected with the case which would make it popular with the newspapers and lead to its being given a great deal of publicity. yet, in spite of all this, mr. snyder was annoyed. he realized now how large a part the desire to reduce oakes' self-esteem had played with him. he further realized, looking at the thing honestly, that he had been firmly convinced that the young man would not come within a mile of a reasonable solution of the mystery. he had desired only that his failure would prove a valuable educational experience for him. for he believed that failure at this particular point in his career would make oakes a more valuable asset to the agency. but now here oakes was, within a ridiculously short space of time, returning to the fold, not humble and defeated, but triumphant. mr. snyder looked forward with apprehension to the young man's probable demeanor under the intoxicating influence of victory. his apprehensions were well grounded. he had barely finished the third of the series of cigars, which, like milestones, marked the progress of his afternoon, when the door opened and young oakes entered. mr. snyder could not repress a faint moan at the sight of him. one glance was enough to tell him that his worst fears were realised. "i got your telegram," said mr. snyder. oakes nodded. "it surprised you, eh?" he asked. mr. snyder resented the patronizing tone of the question, but he had resigned himself to be patronized, and keep his anger in check. "yes," he replied, "i must say it did surprise me. i didn't gather from your report that you had even found a clue. was it the indian theory that turned the trick?" oakes laughed tolerantly. "oh, i never really believed that preposterous theory for one moment. i just put it in to round out my report. i hadn't begun to think about the case then--not really think." mr. snyder, nearly exploding with wrath, extended his cigar-case. "light up, and tell me all about it," he said, controlling his anger. "well, i won't say i haven't earned this," said oakes, puffing away. he let the ash of his cigar fall delicately to the floor--another action which seemed significant to his employer. as a rule, his assistants, unless particularly pleased with themselves, used the ashtray. "my first act on arriving," oakes said, "was to have a talk with mrs. pickett. a very dull old woman." "curious. she struck me as rather intelligent." "not on your life. she gave me no assistance whatever. i then examined the room where the death had taken place. it was exactly as you described it. there was no chimney, the door had been locked on the inside, and the one window was very high up. at first sight, it looked extremely unpromising. then i had a chat with some of the other boarders. they had nothing of any importance to contribute. most of them simply gibbered. i then gave up trying to get help from the outside, and resolved to rely on my own intelligence." he smiled triumphantly. "it is a theory of mine, mr. snyder, which i have found valuable that, in nine cases out of ten, remarkable things don't happen." "i don't quite follow you there," mr. snyder interrupted. "i will put it another way, if you like. what i mean is that the simplest explanation is nearly always the right one. consider this case. it seemed impossible that there should have been any reasonable explanation of the man's death. most men would have worn themselves out guessing at wild theories. if i had started to do that, i should have been guessing now. as it is--here i am. i trusted to my belief that nothing remarkable ever happens, and i won out." mr. snyder sighed softly. oakes was entitled to a certain amount of gloating, but there could be no doubt that his way of telling a story was downright infuriating. "i believe in the logical sequence of events. i refuse to accept effects unless they are preceded by causes. in other words, with all due respect to your possibly contrary opinions, mr. snyder, i simply decline to believe in a murder unless there was a motive for it. the first thing i set myself to ascertain was--what was the motive for the murder of captain gunner? and, after thinking it over and making every possible inquiry, i decided that there was no motive. therefore, there was no murder." mr. snyder's mouth opened, and he obviously was about to protest. but he appeared to think better of it and oakes proceeded: "i then tested the suicide theory. what motive was there for suicide? there was no motive. therefore, there was no suicide." this time mr. snyder spoke. "you haven't been spending the last few days in the wrong house by any chance, have you? you will be telling me next that there wasn't any dead man." oakes smiled. "not at all. captain john gunner was dead, all right. as the medical evidence proved, he died of the bite of a cobra. it was a small cobra which came from java." mr. snyder stared at him. "how do you know?" "i do know, beyond any possibility of doubt." "did you see the snake?" oakes shook his head. "then, how in heaven's name----" "i have enough evidence to make a jury convict mr. snake without leaving the box." "then suppose you tell me this. how did your cobra from java get out of the room?" "by the window," replied oakes, impassively. "how can you possibly explain that? you say yourself that the window was high up." "nevertheless, it got out by the window. the logical sequence of events is proof enough that it was in the room. it killed captain gunner there, and left traces of its presence outside. therefore, as the window was the only exit, it must have escaped by that route. it may have climbed or it may have jumped, but somehow it got out of that window." "what do you mean--it left traces of its presence outside?" "it killed a dog in the backyard behind the house," oakes said. "the window of captain gunner's room projects out over it. it is full of boxes and litter and there are a few stunted shrubs scattered about. in fact, there is enough cover to hide any small object like the body of a dog. that's why it was not discovered at first. the maid at the excelsior came on it the morning after i sent you my report while she was emptying a box of ashes in the yard. it was just an ordinary stray dog without collar or license. the analyst examined the body, and found that the dog had died of the bite of a cobra." "but you didn't find the snake?" "no. we cleaned out that yard till you could have eaten your breakfast there, but the snake had gone. it must have escaped through the door of the yard, which was standing ajar. that was a couple of days ago, and there has been no further tragedy. in all likelihood it is dead. the nights are pretty cold now, and it would probably have died of exposure." "but, i just don't understand how a cobra got to southampton," said the amazed mr. snyder. "can't you guess it? i told you it came from java." "how did you know it did?" "captain muller told me. not directly, but i pieced it together from what he said. it seems that an old shipmate of captain gunner's was living in java. they corresponded, and occasionally this man would send the captain a present as a mark of his esteem. the last present he sent was a crate of bananas. unfortunately, the snake must have got in unnoticed. that's why i told you the cobra was a small one. well, that's my case against mr. snake, and short of catching him with the goods, i don't see how i could have made out a stronger one. don't you agree?" it went against the grain for mr. snyder to acknowledge defeat, but he was a fair-minded man, and he was forced to admit that oakes did certainly seem to have solved the impossible. "i congratulate you, my boy," he said as heartily as he could. "to be completely frank, when you started out, i didn't think you could do it. by the way, i suppose mrs. pickett was pleased?" "if she was, she didn't show it. i'm pretty well convinced she hasn't enough sense to be pleased at anything. however, she has invited me to dinner with her tonight. i imagine she'll be as boring as usual, but she made such a point of it, i had to accept." vi for some time after oakes had gone, mr. snyder sat smoking and thinking, in embittered meditation. suddenly there was brought the card of mrs. pickett, who would be grateful if he could spare her a few moments. mr. snyder was glad to see mrs. pickett. he was a student of character, and she had interested him at their first meeting. there was something about her which had seemed to him unique, and he welcomed this second chance of studying her at close range. she came in and sat down stiffly, balancing herself on the extreme edge of the chair in which a short while before young oakes had lounged so luxuriously. "how are you, mrs. pickett?" said mr. snyder genially. "i'm very glad that you could find time to pay me a visit. well, so it wasn't murder after all." "sir?" "i've just been talking to mr. oakes, whom you met as james burton," said the detective. "he has told me all about it." "he told _me_ all about it," said mrs. pickett dryly. mr. snyder looked at her inquiringly. her manner seemed more suggestive than her words. "a conceited, headstrong young fool," said mrs. pickett. it was no new picture of his assistant that she had drawn. mr. snyder had often drawn it himself, but at the present juncture it surprised him. oakes, in his hour of triumph, surely did not deserve this sweeping condemnation. "did not mr. oakes' solution of the mystery satisfy you, mrs. pickett?" "no!" "it struck me as logical and convincing," mr. snyder said. "you may call it all the fancy names you please, mr. snyder. but mr. oakes' solution was not the right one." "have you an alternative to offer?" mrs. pickett tightened her lips. "if you have, i should like to hear it." "you will--at the proper time." "what makes you so certain that mr. oakes is wrong?" "he starts out with an impossible explanation, and rests his whole case on it. there couldn't have been a snake in that room because it couldn't have gotten out. the window was too high." "but surely the evidence of the dead dog?" mrs. pickett looked at him as if he had disappointed her. "i had always heard _you_ spoken of as a man with common sense, mr. snyder." "i have always tried to use common sense." "then why are you trying now to make yourself believe that something happened which could not possibly have happened just because it fits in with something which isn't easy to explain?" "you mean that there is another explanation of the dead dog?" mr. snyder asked. "not _another_. what mr. oakes takes for granted is not an explanation. but there is a common sense explanation, and if he had not been so headstrong and conceited he might have found it." "you speak as if you had found it," chided mr. snyder. "i have." mrs. pickett leaned forward as she spoke, and stared at him defiantly. mr. snyder started. "_you_ have?" "yes." "what is it?" "you will know before tomorrow. in the meantime try and think it out for yourself. a successful and prosperous detective agency like yours, mr. snyder, ought to do something in return for a fee." there was something in her manner so reminiscent of the school teacher reprimanding a recalcitrant pupil that mr. snyder's sense of humor came to his rescue. "we do our best, mrs. pickett," he said. "but you mustn't forget that we are only human and cannot guarantee results." mrs. pickett did not pursue the subject. instead, she proceeded to astonish mr. snyder by asking him to swear out a warrant for the arrest of a man known to them both on a charge of murder. mr. snyder's breath was not often taken away in his own office. as a rule, he received his clients' communications calmly, strange as they often were. but at her words he gasped. the thought crossed his mind that mrs. pickett might well be mentally unbalanced. the details of the case were fresh in his memory, and he distinctly recollected that the person she mentioned had been away from the boarding house on the night of captain gunner's death, and could, he imagined, produce witnesses to prove it. mrs. pickett was regarding him with an unfaltering stare. to all outward appearances, she was the opposite of unbalanced. "but you can't swear out a warrant without evidence," he told her. "i have evidence," she replied firmly. "precisely what kind of evidence?" he demanded. "if i told you now you would think that i was out of my mind." "but, mrs. pickett, do you realize what you are asking me to do? i cannot make this agency responsible for the arbitrary arrest of a man on the strength of a single individual's suspicions. it might ruin me. at the least it would make me a laughing stock." "mr. snyder, you may use your own judgment whether or not to make the arrest on that warrant. you will listen to what i have to say, and you will see for yourself how the crime was committed. if after that you feel that you cannot make the arrest i will accept your decision. i know who killed captain gunner," she said. "i knew it from the beginning. it was like a vision. but i had no proof. now things have come to light and everything is clear." against his judgment, mr. snyder was impressed. this woman had the magnetism which makes for persuasiveness. "it--it sounds incredible." even as he spoke, he remembered that it had long been a professional maxim of his that nothing was incredible, and he weakened still further. "mr. snyder, i ask you to swear out that warrant." the detective gave in. "very well," he said. mrs. pickett rose. "if you will come and dine at my house to-night i think i can prove to you that it will be needed. will you come?" "i'll come," promised mr. snyder. vii when mr. snyder arrived at the excelsior and shortly after he was shown into the little private sitting room where he found oakes, the third guest of the evening unexpectedly arrived. mr. snyder looked curiously at the newcomer. captain muller had a peculiar fascination for him. it was not mr. snyder's habit to trust overmuch to appearances. but he could not help admitting that there was something about this man's aspect which brought mrs. pickett's charges out of the realm of the fantastic into that of the possible. there was something odd--an unnatural aspect of gloom--about the man. he bore himself like one carrying a heavy burden. his eyes were dull, his face haggard. the next moment the detective was reproaching himself with allowing his imagination to run away with his calmer judgment. the door opened, and mrs. pickett came in. she made no apology for her lateness. to mr. snyder one of the most remarkable points about the dinner was the peculiar metamorphosis of mrs. pickett from the brooding silent woman he had known to the gracious and considerate hostess. oakes appeared also to be overcome with surprise, so much so that he was unable to keep his astonishment to himself. he had come prepared to endure a dull evening absorbed in grim silence, and he found himself instead opposite a bottle of champagne of a brand and year which commanded his utmost respect. what was even more incredible, his hostess had transformed herself into a pleasant old lady whose only aim seemed to be to make him feel at home. beside each of the guests' plates was a neat paper parcel. oakes picked his up, and stared at it in wonderment. "why, this is more than a party souvenir, mrs. pickett," he said. "it's the kind of mechanical marvel i've always wanted to have on my desk." "i'm glad you like it, mr. oakes," mrs. pickett said, smiling. "you must not think of me simply as a tired old woman whom age has completely defeated. i am an ambitious hostess. when i give these little parties, i like to make them a success. i want each of you to remember this dinner." "i'm sure i will." mrs. pickett smiled again. "i think you all will. you, mr. snyder." she paused. "and you, captain muller." to mr. snyder there was so much meaning in her voice as she said this that he was amazed that it conveyed no warning to muller. captain muller, however, was already drinking heavily. he looked up when addressed and uttered a sound which might have been taken for an expression of polite acquiescence. then he filled his glass again. mr. snyder's parcel revealed a watch-charm fashioned in the shape of a tiny, candid-eye camera. "that," said mrs. pickett, "is a compliment to your profession." she leaned toward the captain. "mr. snyder is a detective, captain muller." he looked up. it seemed to mr. snyder that a look of fear lit up his heavy eyes for an instant. it came and went, if indeed it came at all, so swiftly that he could not be certain. "so?" said captain muller. he spoke quite evenly, with just the amount of interest which such an announcement would naturally produce. "now for yours, captain," said oakes. "i guess it's something special. it's twice the size of mine, anyway." it may have been something in the old woman's expression as she watched captain muller slowly tearing the paper that sent a thrill of excitement through mr. snyder. something seemed to warn him of the approach of a psychological moment. he bent forward eagerly. there was a strangled gasp, a thump, and onto the table from the captain's hands there fell a little harmonica. there was no mistaking the look on muller's face now. his cheeks were like wax, and his eyes, so dull till then, blazed with a panic and horror which he could not repress. the glasses on the table rocked as he clutched at the cloth. mrs. pickett spoke. "why, captain muller, has it upset you? i thought that, as his best friend, the man who shared his room, you would value a memento of captain gunner. how fond you must have been of him for the sight of his harmonica to be such a shock." the captain did not speak. he was staring fascinated at the thing on the table. mrs. pickett turned to mr. snyder. her eyes, as they met his, held him entranced. "mr. snyder, as a detective, you will be interested in a curious and very tragic affair which happened in this house a few days ago. one of my boarders, captain gunner, was found dead in his room. it was the room which he shared with captain muller. i am very proud of the reputation of my house, mr. snyder, and it was a blow to me that this should have happened. i applied to an agency for a detective, and they sent me a stupid boy, with nothing to recommend him except his belief in himself. he said that captain gunner had died by accident, killed by a snake which had come out of a crate of bananas. i knew better. i knew that captain gunner had been murdered. are you listening, captain muller? this will interest you, as you were such a friend of his." the captain did not answer. he was staring straight before him, as if he saw something invisible in eyes forever closed in death. "yesterday we found the body of a dog. it had been killed, as captain gunner had been, by the poison of a snake. the boy from the agency said that this was conclusive. he said that the snake had escaped from the room after killing captain gunner and had in turn killed the dog. i knew that to be impossible, for, if there had been a snake in that room it could not have made its escape." her eyes flashed, and became remorselessly accusing. "it was not a snake that killed captain gunner. it was a cat. captain gunner had a friend who hated him. one day, in opening a crate of bananas, this friend found a snake. he killed it, and extracted the poison. he knew captain gunner's habits. he knew that he played a harmonica. this man also had a cat. he knew that cats hated the sound of a harmonica. he had often seen this particular cat fly at captain gunner and scratch him when he played. he took the cat and covered its claws with the poison. and then he left it in the room with captain gunner. he knew what would happen." oakes and mr. snyder were on their feet. captain muller had not moved. he sat there, his fingers gripping the cloth. mrs. pickett rose and went to a closet. she unlocked the door. "kitty!" she called. "kitty! kitty!" a black cat ran swiftly out into the room. with a clatter and a crash of crockery and a ringing of glass the table heaved, rocked and overturned as muller staggered to his feet. he threw up his hands as if to ward something off. a choking cry came from his lips. "gott! gott!" mrs. pickett's voice rang through the room, cold and biting: "captain muller, you murdered captain gunner!" the captain shuddered. then mechanically he replied: "gott! yes, i killed him." "you heard, mr. snyder," said mrs. pickett. "he has confessed before witnesses. take him away." muller allowed himself to be moved toward the door. his arm in mr. snyder's grip felt limp. mrs. pickett stopped and took something from the debris on the floor. she rose, holding the harmonica. "you are forgetting your souvenir, captain muller," she said. misunderstood the profession of mr. james ("spider") buffin was pocket-picking. his hobby was revenge. james had no objection to letting the sun go down on his wrath. indeed, it was after dark that he corrected his numerous enemies most satisfactorily. it was on a dark night, while he was settling a small score against one kelly, a mere acquaintance, that he first fell foul of constable keating, whose beat took him through the regions which james most frequented. james, having "laid for" mr. kelly, met him in a murky side-street down clerkenwell way, and attended to his needs with a sand-bag. it was here that constable keating first came prominently into his life. just as james, with the satisfying feeling that his duty had been done, was preparing to depart, officer keating, who had been a distant spectator of the affair, charged up and seized him. it was intolerable that he should interfere in a purely private falling-out between one gentleman and another, but there was nothing to be done. the policeman weighed close upon fourteen stone, and could have eaten mr. buffin. the latter, inwardly seething, went quietly, and in due season was stowed away at the government's expense for the space of sixty days. physically, there is no doubt that his detention did him good. the regular hours and the substitution of bread and water for his wonted diet improved his health thirty per cent. it was mentally that he suffered. his was one of those just-as-good cheap-substitute minds, incapable of harbouring more than one idea at a time, and during those sixty days of quiet seclusion it was filled with an ever-growing resentment against officer keating. every day, as he moved about his appointed tasks, he brooded on his wrongs. every night was to him but the end of another day that kept him from settling down to the serious business of revenge. to be haled to prison for correcting a private enemy with a sand-bag--that was what stung. in the privacy of his cell he dwelt unceasingly on the necessity for revenge. the thing began to take on to him the aspect almost of a holy mission, a sort of crusade. * * * * * the days slipped by, bringing winter to clerkenwell, and with it mr. buffin. he returned to his old haunts one friday night, thin but in excellent condition. one of the first acquaintances he met was officer keating. the policeman, who had a good memory for faces, recognised him, and stopped. "so you're out, young feller?" he said genially. when not in the active discharge of his professional duties the policeman was a kindly man. he bore mr. buffin no grudge. "um," said mr. buffin. "feeling fine, eh?" "um." "goin' round to see some of the chaps and pass them the time of day, i shouldn't wonder?" "um." "well, you keep clear of that lot down in frith street, young feller. they're no good. and if you get mixed up with them, first thing you know, you'll be in trouble again. and you want to keep out of that now." "um." "if you never get into trouble," said the policeman sententiously, "you'll never have to get out of it." "um," said mr. buffin. if he had a fault as a conversationalist, it was a certain tendency to monotony, a certain lack of sparkle and variety in his small-talk. constable keating, with a dignified but friendly wave of the hand, as one should say, "you have our leave to depart," went on his way; while mr. buffin, raging, shuffled off in the opposite direction, thinking as hard as his limited mental equipment would allow him. his thoughts, which were many and confused, finally composed themselves into some order. he arrived at a definite conclusion, which was that if the great settlement was to be carried through successfully it must be done when the policeman was off duty. till then he had pictured himself catching officer keating in an unguarded moment on his beat. this, he now saw, was out of the question. on his beat the policeman had no unguarded moments. there was a quiet alertness in his poise, a danger-signal in itself. there was only one thing for mr. buffin to do. greatly as it would go against the grain, he must foregather with the man, win his confidence, put himself in a position where he would be able to find out what he did with himself when off duty. the policeman offered no obstacle to the move. a supreme self-confidence was his leading characteristic. few london policemen are diffident, and mr. keating was no exception. it never occurred to him that there could be an ulterior motive behind mr. buffin's advances. he regarded mr. buffin much as one regards a dog which one has had to chastise. one does not expect the dog to lie in wait and bite. officer keating did not expect mr. buffin to lie in wait and bite. so every day, as he strolled on his beat, there sidled up to him the meagre form of spider buffin. every day there greeted him the spider's "good-morning, mr. keating," till the sight of officer keating walking solidly along the pavement with spider buffin shuffling along at his side, listening with rapt interest to his views on life and his hints on deportment, became a familiar spectacle in clerkenwell. * * * * * mr. buffin played his part well. in fact, too well. it was on the seventh day that, sidling along in the direction of his favourite place of refreshment, he found himself tapped on the shoulder. at the same moment an arm, linking itself in his, brought him gently to a halt. beside him were standing two of the most eminent of the great frith street gang, otto the sausage and rabbit butler. it was the finger of the rabbit that had tapped his shoulder. the arm tucked in his was the arm of otto the sausage. "hi, spider," said mr. butler, "sid wants to see you a minute." the spider's legs felt boneless. there was nothing in the words to alarm a man, but his practised ear had seemed to detect a certain unpleasant dryness in the speaker's tone. sid marks, the all-powerful leader of the frith street gang, was a youth whose company the spider had always avoided with some care. the great sid, seated in state at a neighbouring hostelry, fixed his visitor with a cold and questioning eye. mr. buffin looked nervous and interrogative. mr. marks spoke. "your pal keating pinched porky binns this mornin'," said sid. the spider's heart turned to water. "you and that slop," observed sid dreamily, "have been bloomin' thick these days." mr. buffin did not affect to misunderstand. sid marks was looking at him in that nasty way. otto the sausage was looking at him in that nasty way. rabbit butler was looking at him in that nasty way. this was an occasion where manly frankness was the quality most to be aimed at. to be misunderstood in the circles in which mr. buffin moved meant something more than the mere risk of being treated with cold displeasure. he began to explain with feverish eagerness. "strike me, sid," he stammered, "it ain't like that. it's all right. blimey, you don't fink i'm a nark?" mr. marks chewed a straw in silence. "i'm layin' for him, sid," babbled mr. buffin. "that's true. strike me if it ain't. i'm just tryin' to find out where he goes when he's off duty. he pinched me, so i'm layin' for him." mr. marks perpended. rabbit butler respectfully gave it as his opinion that it would be well to put mr. buffin through it. there was nothing like being on the safe side. by putting mr. buffin through it, argued rabbit butler, they would stand to win either way. if he _had_ "smitched" to officer keating about porky binns he would deserve it. if he had not--well, it would prevent him doing so on some future occasion. play for safety, was mr. butler's advice, seconded by otto the sausage. mr. buffin, pale to the lips, thought he had never met two more unpleasant persons. the great sid, having chewed his straw for a while in silence, delivered judgment. the prisoner should have the benefit of the doubt this time. his story, however unplausible, might possibly be true. officer keating undoubtedly had pinched him. that was in his favour. "you can hop it this time," he said, "but if you ever do start smitchin', spider, yer knows what'll happen." mr. buffin withdrew, quaking. matters had now come to a head. unless he very speedily gave proof of his pure and noble intentions, life would become extremely unsafe for him. he must act at once. the thought of what would happen should another of the frith streeters be pinched before he, mr. buffin, could prove himself innocent of the crime of friendliness with officer keating, turned him cold. fate played into his hands. on the very next morning mr. keating, all unsuspecting, asked him to go to his home with a message for his wife. "tell her," said mr. keating, "a newspaper gent has given me seats for the play to-night, and i'll be home at a quarter to seven." mr. buffin felt as cromwell must have felt at dunbar when the scots left their stronghold on the hills and came down to the open plain. the winter had set in with some severity that year, and mr. buffin's toes, as he stood in the shadows close to the entrance of the villa where officer keating lived when off duty, were soon thoroughly frozen. he did not dare to stamp his feet, for at any moment now the victim might arrive. and when the victim weighs fourteen stone, against the high priest's eight and a half, it behooves the latter to be circumspect, if the sacrifice is to be anything like a success. so mr. buffin waited and froze in silence. it was a painful process, and he added it to the black score which already stood against officer keating. never had his thirst for revenge been more tormenting. it is doubtful if a strictly logical and impartial judge would have held mr. keating to blame for the fact that sid marks' suspicions (and all that those suspicions entailed) had fallen upon mr. buffin; but the spider did so. he felt fiercely resentful against the policeman for placing him in such an unpleasant and dangerous position. as his thoughts ran on the matter, he twisted his fingers tighter round his stick. as he did so there came from down the road the brisk tramp of feet and a cheerful whistling of "the wearing of the green." it is a lugubrious song as a rule, but, as rendered by officer keating returning home with theatre tickets, it had all the joyousness of a march-tune. every muscle in mr. buffin's body stiffened. he gripped his stick and waited. the road was deserted. in another moment.... and then, from nowhere, dark indistinct forms darted out like rats. the whistling stopped in the middle of a bar. a deep-chested oath rang out, and then a confused medley of sound, the rasping of feet, a growling almost canine, a sharp yelp, gasps, and over all the vast voice of officer keating threatening slaughter. for a moment mr. buffin stood incapable of motion. the thing had been so sudden, so unexpected. and then, as he realised what was happening, there swept over him in a wave a sense of intolerable injustice. it is not easy to describe his emotions, but they resembled most nearly those of an inventor whose patent has been infringed, or an author whose idea has been stolen. for weeks--and weeks that had seemed like years--he had marked down officer keating for his prey. for weeks he had tortured a mind all unused to thinking into providing him with schemes for accomplishing his end. he had outraged his nature by being civil to a policeman. he had risked his life by incurring the suspicions of sid marks. he had bought a stick. and he had waited in the cold till his face was blue and his feet blocks of ice. and now ... _now_ ... after all this ... a crowd of irresponsible strangers, with no rights in the man whatsoever probably, if the truth were known, filled with mere ignoble desire for his small change, had dared to rush in and jump his claim before his very eyes. with one passionate cry, mr. buffin, forgetting his frozen feet, lifted his stick, and galloped down the road to protect his property.... "that's the stuff," said a voice. "pour some more into him, jerry." mr. buffin opened his eyes. a familiar taste was in his mouth. somebody of liberal ideas seemed to be pouring whisky down his throat. could this be heaven? he raised his head, and a sharp pain shot through it. and with the pain came recollection. he remembered now, dimly, as if it had all happened in another life, the mad rush down the road, the momentary pause in the conflict, and then its noisy renewal on a more impressive scale. he remembered striking out left and right with his stick. he remembered the cries of the wounded, the pain of his frozen feet, and finally the crash of something hard and heavy on his head. he sat up, and found himself the centre of a little crowd. there was officer keating, dishevelled but intact; three other policemen, one of whom was kneeling by his side with a small bottle in his hand; and, in the grip of the two were standing two youths. one was otto the sausage; the other was rabbit butler. the kneeling policeman was proffering the bottle once more. mr. buffin snatched at it. he felt that it was just what at that moment he needed most. * * * * * he did what he could. the magistrate asked for his evidence. he said he had none. he said he thought there must be some mistake. with a twisted smile in the direction of the prisoners, he said that he did not remember having seen either of them at the combat. he didn't believe they were there at all. he didn't believe they were capable of such a thing. if there was one man who was less likely to assault a policeman than otto the sausage, it was rabbit butler. the bench reminded him that both these innocents had actually been discovered in officer keating's grasp. mr. buffin smiled a harassed smile, and wiped a drop of perspiration from his brow. officer keating was enthusiastic. he described the affair from start to finish. but for mr. buffin he would have been killed. but for mr. buffin there would have been no prisoners in court that day. the world was full of men with more or less golden hearts, but there was only one mr. buffin. might he shake hands with mr. buffin? the magistrate ruled that he might. more, he would shake hands with him himself. summoning mr. buffin behind his desk, he proceeded to do so. if there were more men like mr. buffin, london would be a better place. it was the occasional discovery in our midst of ethereal natures like that of mr. buffin which made one so confident for the future of the race. the paragon shuffled out. it was bright and sunny in the street, but in mr. buffin's heart there was no sunlight. he was not a quick thinker, but he had come quite swiftly to the conclusion that london was no longer the place for him. sid marks had been in court chewing a straw and listening with grave attention to the evidence, and for one moment mr. buffin had happened to catch his eye. no medical testimony as to the unhealthiness of london could have moved him more. once round the corner, he ran. it hurt his head to run, but there were things behind him that could hurt his head more than running. * * * * * at the entrance to the tube he stopped. to leave the locality he must have money. he felt in his pockets. slowly, one by one, he pulled forth his little valuables. his knife ... his revolver ... the magistrate's gold watch ... he inspected them sadly. they must all go. he went into a pawnbroker's shop at the corner of the street. a few moments later, with money in his pockets, he dived into the tube. the best sauce eve hendrie sat up in bed. for two hours she had been trying to get to sleep, but without success. never in her life had she felt more wakeful. there were two reasons for this. her mind was disturbed, and she was very hungry. neither sensation was novel to her. since first she had become paid companion to mrs. rastall-retford there had hardly been a moment when she had not been hungry. some time before mrs. rastall-retford's doctor had recommended to that lady a spartan diet, and in this eve, as companion, had unwillingly to share. it was not pleasant for either of them, but at least mrs. rastall-retford had the knowledge that she had earned it by years of honest self-indulgence. eve had not that consolation. meagre fare, moreover, had the effect of accentuating mrs. rastall-retford's always rather pronounced irritability. she was a massive lady, with a prominent forehead, some half-dozen chins, and a manner towards those in her employment which would have been resented in a second mate by the crew of a western ocean tramp. even at her best she was no ray of sunshine about the house. and since the beginning of the self-denying ordinance she had been at her worst. but it was not depression induced by her employer that was disturbing eve. that was a permanent evil. what was agitating her so extremely to-night was the unexpected arrival of peter rayner. it was eve's practice to tell herself several times a day that she had no sentiment for peter rayner but dislike. she did not attempt to defend her attitude logically, but nevertheless she clung to it, and to-night, when he entered the drawing-room, she had endeavoured to convey by her manner that it was only with the greatest difficulty that she remembered him at all, and that, having accomplished that feat, she now intended to forget him again immediately. and he had grinned a cheerful, affectionate grin, and beamed on her without a break till bedtime. before coming as companion to mrs. rastall-retford eve had been governess to hildebrand, aged six, the son of a mrs. elphinstone. it had been, on the whole, a comfortable situation. she had not liked mrs. elphinstone, but hildebrand had been docile, and altogether life was quite smooth and pleasant until mrs. elphinstone's brother came for a visit. peter rayner was that brother. there is a type of man who makes love with the secrecy and sheepish reserve of a cowboy shooting up a wild west saloon. to this class peter belonged. he fell in love with eve at sight, and if, at the end of the first day, there was anyone in the house who was not aware of it, it was only hildebrand, aged six. and even hildebrand must have had his suspicions. mrs. elphinstone was among the first to become aware of it. for two days, frostily silent and gimlet-like as to the eye, she observed peter's hurricane wooing from afar; then she acted. peter she sent to london, pacifying him with an invitation to return to the house in the following week. this done, she proceeded to eliminate eve. in the course of the parting interview she expressed herself perhaps a little less guardedly than was either just or considerate; and eve, flushed and at war with the whole race of rayners, departed that afternoon to seek a situation elsewhere. she had found it at the house of mrs. rastall-retford. and now this evening, as she sat in the drawing-room playing the piano to her employer, in had walked the latter's son, a tall, nervous young man, perpetually clearing his throat and fiddling with a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, with the announcement that he had brought his friend, mr. rayner, to spend a few days in the old home. eve could still see the look on peter's face as, having shaken hands with his hostess, he turned to her. it was the look of the cowboy who, his weary ride over, sees through the dusk the friendly gleam of the saloon windows, and with a happy sigh reaches for his revolver. there could be no two meanings to that look. it said, as clearly as if he had shouted it, that this was no accidental meeting; that he had tracked her down and proposed to resume matters at the point where they had left off. eve was indignant. it was abominable that he should pursue her in this way. she sat thinking how abominable it was for five minutes; and then it suddenly struck her that she was hungrier than ever. she had forgotten her material troubles for the moment. it seemed to her now that she was quite faint with hunger. a cuckoo clock outside the door struck one. and, as it did so, it came to eve that on the sideboard in the dining-room there were biscuits. a moment later she was creeping softly down the stairs. * * * * * it was dark and ghostly on the stairs. the house was full of noises. she was glad when she reached the dining-room. it would be pleasant to switch on the light. she pushed open the door, and uttered a cry. the light was already switched on, and at the table, his back to her, was a man. there was no time for flight. he must have heard the door open. in another moment he would turn and spring. she spoke tremulously. "don't--don't move. i'm pointing a pistol at you." the man did not move. "foolish child!" he said, indulgently. "suppose it went off!" she uttered an exclamation of surprise. "you! what are you doing here, mr. rayner?" she moved into the room, and her relief changed swiftly into indignation. on the table were half a chicken, a loaf, some cold potatoes, and a bottle of beer. "i'm eating, thank goodness!" said peter, helping himself to a cold potato. "i had begun to think i never should again." "eating!" "eating. i know a man of sensibility and refinement ought to shrink from raiding his hostess's larder in the small hours, but hunger's death to the finer feelings. it's the solar plexus punch which puts one's better self down and out for the count of ten. i am a large and healthy young man, and, believe me, i need this little snack. i need it badly. may i cut you a slice of chicken?" she could hardly bear to look at it, but pride gave her strength. "no," she snapped. "you're sure? poor little thing; i know you're half starved." eve stamped. "how dare you speak to me like that, mr. rayner?" he drank bottled beer thoughtfully. "what made you come down? i suppose you heard a noise and thought it was burglars?" he said. "yes," said eve, thankfully accepting the idea. at all costs she must conceal the biscuit motive. "that was very plucky of you. won't you sit down?" "no, i'm going back to bed." "not just yet. i've several things to talk to you about. sit down. that's right. now cover up your poor little pink ankles, or you'll be catching----" she started up. "mr. rayner!" "sit down." she looked at him defiantly, then, wondering at herself for doing it, sat down. "now," said peter, "what do you mean by it? what do you mean by dashing off from my sister's house without leaving a word for me as to where you were going? you knew i loved you." "good night, mr. rayner." "sit down. you've given me a great deal of trouble. do you know it cost me a sovereign in tips to find out your address? i couldn't get it out of my sister, and i had to apply to the butler. i've a good mind to knock it off your first week's pin-money." "i shall not stay here listening----" "you knew perfectly well i wanted to marry you. but you fly off without a word and bury yourself in this benighted place with a gorgon who nags and bullies you----" "a nice way to speak of your hostess," said eve, scornfully. "a very soothing way. i don't think i ever took such a dislike to a woman at first sight before. and when she started to bullyrag you, it was all i could do--but it won't last long now. you must come away at once. we'll be married after christmas, and in the meantime you can go and live with my sister----" eve listened speechlessly. she had so much to say that the difficulty of selection rendered her dumb. "when can you start? i mean, do you have to give a month's notice or anything?" eve got up with a short laugh. "good night, mr. rayner," she said. "you have been very amusing, but i am getting tired." "i'm glad it's all settled," said peter. "good night." eve stopped. she could not go tamely away without saying a single one of the things that crowded in her mind. "do you imagine," she said, "that i intend to marry you? do you suppose, for one moment----" "rather!" said peter. "you shall have a splendid time from now on, to make up for all you've gone through. i'm going to be awfully good to you, eve. you sha'n't ever have any more worries, poor old thing." he looked at her affectionately. "i wonder why it is that large men always fall in love with little women. there are you, a fragile, fairy-like, ethereal wisp of a little creature; and here am i----" "a great, big, greedy pig!" burst out eve, "who thinks about nothing but eating and drinking." "i wasn't going to have put it quite like that," said peter, thoughtfully. "i hate a greedy man," said eve, between her teeth. "i have a healthy appetite," protested peter. "nothing more. it runs in the family. at the time of the civil war the rayner of the period, who was king charles's right-hand man, would frequently eat despatches to prevent them falling into the hands of the enemy. he was noted for it." eve reached the door and turned. "i despise you," she said. "good night," said peter, tenderly. "to-morrow morning we'll go for a walk." his prediction proved absolutely correct. he was smoking a cigarette after breakfast when eve came to him. her face was pink and mutinous, but there was a gleam in her eye. "are you ready to come out, mr. rayner?" she said. "mrs. rastall-retford says i'm to take you to see the view from the golf links." "you'll like that," said peter. "i shall not like it," snapped eve. "but mrs. rastall-retford is paying me a salary to do what she tells me, and i have to earn it." conversation during the walk consisted mainly of a monologue on the part of peter. it was a crisp and exhilarating morning, and he appeared to be feeling a universal benevolence towards all created things. he even softened slightly on the subject of mrs. rastall-retford, and advanced the theory that her peculiar manner might be due to her having been ill-treated as a child. eve listened in silence. it was not till they were nearing home on their return journey that she spoke. "mr. rayner," she said. "yes?" said peter. "i was talking to mrs. rastall-retford after breakfast," said eve, "and i told her something about you." "my conscience is clear." "oh, nothing bad. some people would say it was very much to your credit." she looked away across the fields. "i told her you were a vegetarian," she added, carelessly. there was a long silence. then peter spoke three words, straight from the heart. "you little devil!" eve turned and looked at him, her eyes sparkling wickedly. "you see!" she said. "now perhaps you will go." "without you?" said peter, stoutly. "never!" "in london you will be able to eat all day--anything you like. you will be able to creep about your club gnawing cold chicken all night. but if you stay here----" "you have got a wrong idea of the london clubman's life," said peter. "if i crept about my club gnawing cold chicken i should have the committee after me. no, i shall stay here and look after you. after all, what is food?" "i'll tell you what yours will be, if you like. or would you rather wait and let it be a surprise? well, for lunch you will have some boiled potatoes and cabbage and a sweet--a sort of light _soufflã©_ thing. and for dinner----" "yes, but one moment," said peter. "if i'm a vegetarian, how did you account for my taking all the chicken i could get at dinner last night, and looking as if i wanted more?" "oh, that was your considerateness. you didn't want to give trouble, even if you had to sacrifice your principles. but it's all right now. you are going to have your vegetables." peter drew a deep breath--the breath of the man who braces himself up and thanks whatever gods there be for his unconquerable soul. "i don't care," he said. "'a book of verses underneath the bough, a jug of wine, and thou----'" "oh, and i forgot," interrupted eve. "i told her you were a teetotaller as well." there was another silence, longer than the first. "the best train," said eve, at last, "is the ten-fifty." he looked at her inquiringly. "the best train?" "for london." "what makes you think that i am interested in trains to london?" eve bit her lip. "mr. rayner," she said, after a pause, "do you remember at lunch one day at mrs. elphinstone's refusing parsnips? you said that, so far as you were concerned, parsnips were first by a mile, and that prussic acid and strychnine also ran." "well?" said peter. "oh, nothing," said eve. "only i made a stupid mistake. i told the cook you were devoted to parsnips. i'm sorry." peter looked at her gravely. "i'm putting up with a lot for your sake," he said. "you needn't. why don't you go away?" "and leave you chained to the rock, andromeda? not for perseus! i've only been here one night, but i've seen enough to know that i've got to take you away from this place. honestly, it's killing you. i was watching you last night. you're scared if that infernal old woman starts to open her mouth. she's crushing the life out of you. i'm going to stay on here till you say you'll marry me, or till they throw me out." "there are parsnips for dinner to-night," said eve, softly. "i shall get to like them. they are an acquired taste, i expect. perhaps i am, too. perhaps i am the human parsnip, and you will have to learn to love me." "you are the human burr," said eve, shortly. "i shouldn't have thought it possible for a man to behave as you are doing." * * * * * in spite of herself, there were moments during the next few days when eve felt twinges of remorse. it was only by telling herself that he had no right to have followed her to this house, and that he was at perfect liberty to leave whenever he wished, that she could harden her heart again. and even this reflection was not entirely satisfactory, for it made her feel how fond he must be of her to endure these evils for her sake. and there was no doubt about there being evils. it was a dreary house in which to spend winter days. there were no books that one could possibly read. the nearest railway station was five miles away. there was not even a dog to talk to. generally it rained. though eve saw little of peter, except at meals and in the drawing-room after dinner--for mrs. rastall-retford spent most of the day in her own sitting-room and required eve to be at her side--she could picture his sufferings, and, try as she would, she could not keep herself from softening a little. her pride was weakening. constant attendance on her employer was beginning to have a bad effect on her nerves. association in a subordinate capacity with mrs. rastall-retford did not encourage a proud and spirited outlook on life. her imagination had not exaggerated peter's sufferings. many people consider that dante has spoken the last word on the post-mortem housing of the criminal classes. peter, after the first week of his visit, could have given him a few new ideas. * * * * * it is unpleasant to be half starved. it is unpleasant to be cooped up in a country-house in winter with nothing to do. it is unpleasant to have to sit at meals and listen to the only girl you have ever really loved being bullyragged by an old lady with six chins. and all these unpleasantnesses were occurring to peter simultaneously. it is highly creditable to him that the last should completely have outweighed the others. he was generally alone. mr. rastall-retford, who would have been better than nothing as a companion, was a man who enjoyed solitude. he was a confirmed vanisher. he would be present at one moment, the next he would have glided silently away. and, even on the rare occasions when he decided not to vanish, he seldom did much more than clear his throat nervously and juggle with his pince-nez. peter, in his boyhood, had been thrilled once by a narrative of a man who got stuck in the sargasso sea. it seemed to him now that the monotony of the sargasso sea had been greatly exaggerated. nemesis was certainly giving peter his due. he had wormed his way into the rastall-retford home-circle by grossly deceitful means. the moment he heard that eve had gone to live with mrs. rastall-retford, and had ascertained that the rastall-retford with whom he had been at cambridge and whom he still met occasionally at his club when he did not see him first, was this lady's son, he had set himself to court young mr. rastall-retford. he had cornered him at the club and begun to talk about the dear old 'varsity days, ignoring the embarrassment of the latter, whose only clear recollection of the dear old 'varsity days as linking peter and himself was of a certain bump-supper night, when sundry of the festive, led and inspired by peter, had completely wrecked his rooms and shaved off half a growing moustache. he conveyed to young mr. rastall-retford the impression that, in the dear old 'varsity days, they had shared each other's joys and sorrows, and, generally, had made damon and pythias look like a pair of cross-talk knockabouts at one of the rowdier music-halls. not to invite so old a friend to stay at his home, if he ever happened to be down that way, would, he hinted, be grossly churlish. mr. rastall-retford, impressed, issued the invitation. and now peter was being punished for his deceit. nemesis may not be an alfred shrubb, but give her time and she gets there. * * * * * it was towards the middle of the second week of his visit that eve, coming into the drawing-room before dinner, found peter standing in front of the fire. they had not been alone together for several days. "well?" said he. eve went to the fire and warmed her hands. "well?" she said, dispiritedly. she was feeling nervous and ill. mrs. rastall-retford had been in one of her more truculent moods all day, and for the first time eve had the sensation of being thoroughly beaten. she dreaded the long hours to bedtime. the thought that there might be bridge after dinner made her feel physically ill. she felt she could not struggle through a bridge night. on the occasions when she was in one of her dangerous moods, mrs. rastall-retford sometimes chose rest as a cure, sometimes relaxation. rest meant that she retired to her room immediately after dinner, and expended her venom on her maid; relaxation meant bridge, and bridge seemed to bring out all her worst points. they played the game for counters at her house, and there had been occasions in eve's experience when the loss of a hundred or so of these useful little adjuncts to fun in the home had lashed her almost into a frenzy. she was one of those bridge players who keep up a running quarrel with fate during the game, and when she was not abusing fate she was generally reproaching her partner. eve was always her partner; and to-night she devoutly hoped that her employer would elect to rest. she always played badly with mrs. rastall-retford, through sheer nervousness. once she had revoked, and there had been a terrible moment and much subsequent recrimination. peter looked at her curiously. "you're pale to-night," he said. "i have a headache." "h'm! how is our hostess? fair? or stormy?" "as i was passing her door i heard her bullying her maid, so i suppose stormy." "that means a bad time for you?" he said, sympathetically. "i suppose so. if we play bridge. but she may go to bed directly after dinner." she tried to keep her voice level, but he detected the break. "eve," he said, quickly, "won't you let me take you away from here? you've no business in this sort of game. you're not tough enough. you've got to be loved and made a fuss of and----" she laughed shakily. "perhaps you can give me the address of some lady who wants a companion to love and make a fuss of?" "i can give you the address of a man." she rested an arm on the mantelpiece and stood looking into the blaze, without replying. before he could speak again there was a step outside the door, and mrs. rastall-retford rustled into the room. eve had not misread the storm-signals. her employer's mood was still as it had been earlier in the day. dinner passed in almost complete silence. mrs. rastall-retford sat brooding dumbly. her eye was cold and menacing, and peter, working his way through his vegetables, shuddered for eve. he had understood her allusion to bridge, having been privileged several times during his stay to see his hostess play that game, and he hoped that there would be no bridge to-night. and this was unselfish of him, for bridge meant sandwiches. punctually at nine o'clock on bridge nights the butler would deposit on a side-table a plate of chicken sandwiches and (in deference to peter's vegetarian views) a smaller plate of cheese sandwiches. at the close of play mrs. rastall-retford would take one sandwich from each plate, drink a thimbleful of weak whisky and water, and retire. peter could always do with a sandwich or two these days. but he was prepared to abandon them joyfully if his hostess would waive bridge for this particular evening. it was not to be. in the drawing-room mrs. rastall-retford came out of her trance and called imperiously for the cards. peter, when he saw his hand after the first deal, had a presentiment that if all his hands were to be as good as this, the evening was going to be a trying one. on the other occasions when they had played he had found it an extremely difficult task, even with moderate cards, to bring it about that his hostess should always win the odd rubber, for he was an excellent player, and, like most good players, had an artistic conscience which made it painful to him to play a deliberately bad game, even from the best motives. if all his hands were going to be as strong as this first one he saw that there was disaster ahead. he could not help winning. mrs. rastall-retford, who had dealt the first hand, made a most improper diamond declaration. her son unfilially doubled, and, eve having chicane--a tragedy which her partner evidently seemed to consider could have been avoided by the exercise of ordinary common sense--peter and his partner, despite peter's best efforts, won the game handsomely. the son of the house dealt the next hand. eve sorted her cards listlessly. she was feeling curiously tired. her brain seemed dulled. this hand, as the first had done, went all in favour of the two men. mr. rastall-retford won five tricks in succession, and, judging from the glitter in his mild eye, was evidently going to win as many more as he possibly could. mrs. rastall-retford glowered silently. there was electricity in the air. the son of the house led a club. eve played a card mechanically. "have you no clubs, miss hendrie?" eve started, and looked at her hand. "no," she said. mrs. rastall-retford grunted suspiciously. not long ago, in westport, connecticut, u.s.a., a young man named harold sperry, a telephone worker, was boring a hole in the wall of a house with a view to passing a wire through it. he whistled joyously as he worked. he did not know that he had selected for purposes of perforation the exact spot where there lay, nestling in the brickwork, a large leaden water-pipe. the first intimation he had of that fact was when a jet of water suddenly knocked him fifteen feet into a rosebush. as harold felt then, so did eve now, when, examining her hand once more to make certain that she had no clubs, she discovered the ace of that ilk peeping coyly out from behind the seven of spades. her face turned quite white. it is never pleasant to revoke at bridge, but to eve just then it seemed a disaster beyond words. she looked across at her partner. her imagination pictured the scene there would be ere long, unless---it happens every now and then that the human brain shows in a crisis an unwonted flash of speed. eve's did at this juncture. to her in her trouble there came a sudden idea. she looked round the table. mr. rastall-retford, having taken the last trick, had gathered it up in the introspective manner of one planning big _coups_, and was brooding tensely, with knit brows. his mother was frowning over her cards. she was unobserved. she seized the opportunity. she rose from her seat, moved quickly to the side-table, and, turning her back, slipped the fatal card dexterously into the interior of a cheese sandwich. mrs. rastall-retford, absorbed, did not notice for an instant. then she gave tongue. "what are you doing, miss hendrie?" eve was breathing quickly. "i--i thought that mr. rayner might like a sandwich." she was at his elbow with the plate. it trembled in her hand. "a sandwich! kindly do not be so officious, miss hendrie. the idea--in the middle of a hand----" her voice died away in a resentful mumble. peter started. he had been allowing his thoughts to wander. he looked from the sandwich to eve and then at the sandwich again. he was puzzled. this had the aspect of being an olive-branch--could it be? could she be meaning----? or was it a subtle insult? who could say? at any rate it was a sandwich, and he seized it, without prejudice. "i hope at least you have had the sense to remember that mr. rayner is a vegetarian, miss hendrie," said mrs. rastall-retford. "that is not a chicken sandwich?" "no," said eve; "it is not a chicken sandwich." peter beamed gratefully. he raised the olive-branch, and bit into it with the energy of a starving man. and as he did so he caught eve's eye. "miss hendrie!" cried mrs. rastall-retford. eve started violently. "miss hendrie, will you be good enough to play? the king of clubs to beat. i can't think what's the matter with you to-night." "i'm very sorry," said eve, and put down the nine of spades. mrs. rastall-retford glared. "this is absurd," she cried. "you _must_ have the ace of clubs. if you have not got it, who has? look through your hand again. is it there?" "no." "then where can it be?" "where can it be?" echoed peter, taking another bite. "why--why," said eve, crimson, "i--i--have only five cards. i ought to have six." "five?" said mrs. rastall-retford "nonsense! count again. have you dropped it on the floor?" mr. rastall-retford stooped and looked under the table. "it is not on the floor," he said. "i suppose it must have been missing from the pack before i dealt." mrs. rastall-retford threw down her cards and rose ponderously. it offended her vaguely that there seemed to be nobody to blame. "i shall go to bed," she said. * * * * * peter stood before the fire and surveyed eve as she sat on the sofa. they were alone in the room, mr. rastall-retford having drifted silently away in the wake of his mother. suddenly eve began to laugh helplessly. he shook his head at her. "this is considerably sharper than a serpent's tooth," he said. "you should be fawning gratefully upon me, not laughing. do you suppose king charles laughed at my ancestor when he ate the despatches? however, for the first time since i have been in this house i feel as if i had had a square meal." eve became suddenly serious. the smile left her face. "mr. rayner, please don't think i'm ungrateful. i couldn't help laughing, but i can't tell you how grateful i am. you don't know what it would have been like if she had found out that i had revoked. i did it once before, and she kept on about it for days and days. it was awful." she shivered. "i think you must be right, and my nerves _are_ going." he nodded. "so are you--to-morrow, by the first train. i wonder how soon we can get married. do you know anything about special licenses?" she looked at him curiously. "you're very obstinate," she said. "firm," he corrected. "firm. could you pack to-night, do you think, and be ready for that ten-fifty to-morrow morning?" she began to trace an intricate pattern on the floor with the point of her shoe. "i can't imagine why you are fond of me!" she said. "i've been very horrid to you." "nonsense. you've been all that's sweet and womanly." "and i want to tell you why," she went on. "your--your sister----" "ah, i thought as much!" "she--she saw that you seemed to be getting fond of me, and she----" "she would!" "said some rather horrid things that--hurt," said eve, in a low voice. peter crossed over to where she sat and took her hand. "don't you worry about her," he said. "she's not a bad sort really, but about once every six months she needs a brotherly talking-to, or she gets above herself. one is about due during the next few days." he stroke her hand. "fasting," he said, thoughtfully, "clears and stimulates the brain. i fancy i shall be able to think out some rather special things to say to her this time." jeeves and the chump cyril you know, the longer i live, the more clearly i see that half the trouble in this bally world is caused by the light-hearted and thoughtless way in which chappies dash off letters of introduction and hand them to other chappies to deliver to chappies of the third part. it's one of those things that make you wish you were living in the stone age. what i mean to say is, if a fellow in those days wanted to give anyone a letter of introduction, he had to spend a month or so carving it on a large-sized boulder, and the chances were that the other chappie got so sick of lugging the thing round in the hot sun that he dropped it after the first mile. but nowadays it's so easy to write letters of introduction that everybody does it without a second thought, with the result that some perfectly harmless cove like myself gets in the soup. mark you, all the above is what you might call the result of my riper experience. i don't mind admitting that in the first flush of the thing, so to speak, when jeeves told me--this would be about three weeks after i'd landed in america--that a blighter called cyril bassington-bassington had arrived and i found that he had brought a letter of introduction to me from aunt agatha ... where was i? oh, yes ... i don't mind admitting, i was saying, that just at first i was rather bucked. you see, after the painful events which had resulted in my leaving england i hadn't expected to get any sort of letter from aunt agatha which would pass the censor, so to speak. and it was a pleasant surprise to open this one and find it almost civil. chilly, perhaps, in parts, but on the whole quite tolerably polite. i looked on the thing as a hopeful sign. sort of olive-branch, you know. or do i mean orange blossom? what i'm getting at is that the fact that aunt agatha was writing to me without calling me names seemed, more or less, like a step in the direction of peace. and i was all for peace, and that right speedily. i'm not saying a word against new york, mind you. i liked the place, and was having quite a ripe time there. but the fact remains that a fellow who's been used to london all his life does get a trifle homesick on a foreign strand, and i wanted to pop back to the cosy old flat in berkeley street--which could only be done when aunt agatha had simmered down and got over the glossop episode. i know that london is a biggish city, but, believe me, it isn't half big enough for any fellow to live in with aunt agatha when she's after him with the old hatchet. and so i'm bound to say i looked on this chump bassington-bassington, when he arrived, more or less as a dove of peace, and was all for him. he would seem from contemporary accounts to have blown in one morning at seven-forty-five, that being the ghastly sort of hour they shoot you off the liner in new york. he was given the respectful raspberry by jeeves, and told to try again about three hours later, when there would be a sporting chance of my having sprung from my bed with a glad cry to welcome another day and all that sort of thing. which was rather decent of jeeves, by the way, for it so happened that there was a slight estrangement, a touch of coldness, a bit of a row in other words, between us at the moment because of some rather priceless purple socks which i was wearing against his wishes: and a lesser man might easily have snatched at the chance of getting back at me a bit by loosing cyril into my bedchamber at a moment when i couldn't have stood a two-minutes' conversation with my dearest pal. for until i have had my early cup of tea and have brooded on life for a bit absolutely undisturbed, i'm not much of a lad for the merry chit-chat. so jeeves very sportingly shot cyril out into the crisp morning air, and didn't let me know of his existence till he brought his card in with the bohea. "and what might all this be, jeeves?" i said, giving the thing the glassy gaze. "the gentleman has arrived from england, i understand, sir. he called to see you earlier in the day." "good lord, jeeves! you don't mean to say the day starts earlier than this?" "he desired me to say he would return later, sir." "i've never heard of him. have you ever heard of him, jeeves?" "i am familiar with the name bassington-bassington, sir. there are three branches of the bassington-bassington family--the shropshire bassington-bassingtons, the hampshire bassington-bassingtons, and the kent bassington-bassingtons." "england seems pretty well stocked up with bassington-bassingtons." "tolerably so, sir." "no chance of a sudden shortage, i mean, what?" "presumably not, sir." "and what sort of a specimen is this one?" "i could not say, sir, on such short acquaintance." "will you give me a sporting two to one, jeeves, judging from what you have seen of him, that this chappie is not a blighter or an excrescence?" "no, sir. i should not care to venture such liberal odds." "i knew it. well, the only thing that remains to be discovered is what kind of a blighter he is." "time will tell, sir. the gentleman brought a letter for you, sir." "oh, he did, did he?" i said, and grasped the communication. and then i recognised the handwriting. "i say, jeeves, this is from my aunt agatha!" "indeed, sir?" "don't dismiss it in that light way. don't you see what this means? she says she wants me to look after this excrescence while he's in new york. by jove, jeeves, if i only fawn on him a bit, so that he sends back a favourable report to head-quarters, i may yet be able to get back to england in time for goodwood. now is certainly the time for all good men to come to the aid of the party, jeeves. we must rally round and cosset this cove in no uncertain manner." "yes, sir." "he isn't going to stay in new york long," i said, taking another look at the letter. "he's headed for washington. going to give the nibs there the once-over, apparently, before taking a whirl at the diplomatic service. i should say that we can win this lad's esteem and affection with a lunch and a couple of dinners, what?" "i fancy that should be entirely adequate, sir." "this is the jolliest thing that's happened since we left england. it looks to me as if the sun were breaking through the clouds." "very possibly, sir." he started to put out my things, and there was an awkward sort of silence. "not those socks, jeeves," i said, gulping a bit but having a dash at the careless, off-hand tone. "give me the purple ones." "i beg your pardon, sir?" "those jolly purple ones." "very good, sir." he lugged them out of the drawer as if he were a vegetarian fishing a caterpillar out of the salad. you could see he was feeling deeply. deuced painful and all that, this sort of thing, but a chappie has got to assert himself every now and then. absolutely. * * * * * i was looking for cyril to show up again any time after breakfast, but he didn't appear: so towards one o'clock i trickled out to the lambs club, where i had an appointment to feed the wooster face with a cove of the name of caffyn i'd got pally with since my arrival--george caffyn, a fellow who wrote plays and what not. i'd made a lot of friends during my stay in new york, the city being crammed with bonhomous lads who one and all extended a welcoming hand to the stranger in their midst. caffyn was a bit late, but bobbed up finally, saying that he had been kept at a rehearsal of his new musical comedy, "ask dad"; and we started in. we had just reached the coffee, when the waiter came up and said that jeeves wanted to see me. jeeves was in the waiting-room. he gave the socks one pained look as i came in, then averted his eyes. "mr. bassington-bassington has just telephoned, sir." "oh?" "yes, sir." "where is he?" "in prison, sir." i reeled against the wallpaper. a nice thing to happen to aunt agatha's nominee on his first morning under my wing, i did _not_ think! "in prison!" "yes, sir. he said on the telephone that he had been arrested and would be glad if you could step round and bail him out." "arrested! what for?" "he did not favour me with his confidence in that respect, sir." "this is a bit thick, jeeves." "precisely, sir." i collected old george, who very decently volunteered to stagger along with me, and we hopped into a taxi. we sat around at the police-station for a bit on a wooden bench in a sort of ante-room, and presently a policeman appeared, leading in cyril. "halloa! halloa! halloa!" i said. "what?" my experience is that a fellow never really looks his best just after he's come out of a cell. when i was up at oxford, i used to have a regular job bailing out a pal of mine who never failed to get pinched every boat-race night, and he always looked like something that had been dug up by the roots. cyril was in pretty much the same sort of shape. he had a black eye and a torn collar, and altogether was nothing to write home about--especially if one was writing to aunt agatha. he was a thin, tall chappie with a lot of light hair and pale-blue goggly eyes which made him look like one of the rarer kinds of fish. "i got your message," i said. "oh, are you bertie wooster?" "absolutely. and this is my pal george caffyn. writes plays and what not, don't you know." we all shook hands, and the policeman, having retrieved a piece of chewing-gum from the underside of a chair, where he had parked it against a rainy day, went off into a corner and began to contemplate the infinite. "this is a rotten country," said cyril. "oh, i don't know, you know, don't you know!" i said. "we do our best," said george. "old george is an american," i explained. "writes plays, don't you know, and what not." "of course, i didn't invent the country," said george. "that was columbus. but i shall be delighted to consider any improvements you may suggest and lay them before the proper authorities." "well, why don't the policemen in new york dress properly?" george took a look at the chewing officer across the room. "i don't see anything missing," he said "i mean to say, why don't they wear helmets like they do in london? why do they look like postmen? it isn't fair on a fellow. makes it dashed confusing. i was simply standing on the pavement, looking at things, when a fellow who looked like a postman prodded me in the ribs with a club. i didn't see why i should have postmen prodding me. why the dickens should a fellow come three thousand miles to be prodded by postmen?" "the point is well taken," said george. "what did you do?" "i gave him a shove, you know. i've got a frightfully hasty temper, you know. all the bassington-bassingtons have got frightfully hasty tempers, don't you know! and then he biffed me in the eye and lugged me off to this beastly place." "i'll fix it, old son," i said. and i hauled out the bank-roll and went off to open negotiations, leaving cyril to talk to george. i don't mind admitting that i was a bit perturbed. there were furrows in the old brow, and i had a kind of foreboding feeling. as long as this chump stayed in new york, i was responsible for him: and he didn't give me the impression of being the species of cove a reasonable chappie would care to be responsible for for more than about three minutes. i mused with a considerable amount of tensity over cyril that night, when i had got home and jeeves had brought me the final whisky. i couldn't help feeling that this visit of his to america was going to be one of those times that try men's souls and what not. i hauled out aunt agatha's letter of introduction and re-read it, and there was no getting away from the fact that she undoubtedly appeared to be somewhat wrapped up in this blighter and to consider it my mission in life to shield him from harm while on the premises. i was deuced thankful that he had taken such a liking for george caffyn, old george being a steady sort of cove. after i had got him out of his dungeon-cell, he and old george had gone off together, as chummy as brothers, to watch the afternoon rehearsal of "ask dad." there was some talk, i gathered, of their dining together. i felt pretty easy in my mind while george had his eye on him. i had got about as far as this in my meditations, when jeeves came in with a telegram. at least, it wasn't a telegram: it was a cable--from aunt agatha--and this is what it said:--- has cyril bassington-bassington called yet? on no account introduce him into theatrical circles. vitally important. letter follows. i read it a couple of times. "this is rummy, jeeves!" "yes, sir." "very rummy and dashed disturbing!" "will there be anything further to-night, sir?" of course, if he was going to be as bally unsympathetic as that there was nothing to be done. my idea had been to show him the cable and ask his advice. but if he was letting those purple socks rankle to that extent, the good old _noblesse oblige_ of the woosters couldn't lower itself to the extent of pleading with the man. absolutely not. so i gave it a miss. "nothing more, thanks." "good night, sir." "good night." he floated away, and i sat down to think the thing over. i had been directing the best efforts of the old bean to the problem for a matter of half an hour, when there was a ring at the bell. i went to the door, and there was cyril, looking pretty festive. "i'll come in for a bit if i may," he said. "got something rather priceless to tell you." he curveted past me into the sitting-room, and when i got there after shutting the front door i found him reading aunt agatha's cable and giggling in a rummy sort of manner. "oughtn't to have looked at this, i suppose. caught sight of my name and read it without thinking. i say, wooster, old friend of my youth, this is rather funny. do you mind if i have a drink? thanks awfully and all that sort of rot. yes, it's rather funny, considering what i came to tell you. jolly old caffyn has given me a small part in that musical comedy of his, 'ask dad.' only a bit, you know, but quite tolerably ripe. i'm feeling frightfully braced, don't you know!" he drank his drink, and went on. he didn't seem to notice that i wasn't jumping about the room, yapping with joy. "you know, i've always wanted to go on the stage, you know," he said. "but my jolly old guv'nor wouldn't stick it at any price. put the old waukeesi down with a bang, and turned bright purple whenever the subject was mentioned. that's the real reason why i came over here, if you want to know. i knew there wasn't a chance of my being able to work this stage wheeze in london without somebody getting on to it and tipping off the guv'nor, so i rather brainily sprang the scheme of popping over to washington to broaden my mind. there's nobody to interfere on this side, you see, so i can go right ahead!" i tried to reason with the poor chump. "but your guv'nor will have to know some time." "that'll be all right. i shall be the jolly old star by then, and he won't have a leg to stand on." "it seems to me he'll have one leg to stand on while he kicks me with the other." "why, where do you come in? what have you got to do with it?" "i introduced you to george caffyn." "so you did, old top, so you did. i'd quite forgotten. i ought to have thanked you before. well, so long. there's an early rehearsal of 'ask dad' to-morrow morning, and i must be toddling. rummy the thing should be called 'ask dad,' when that's just what i'm not going to do. see what i mean, what, what? well, pip-pip!" "toodle-oo!" i said sadly, and the blighter scudded off. i dived for the phone and called up george caffyn. "i say, george, what's all this about cyril bassington-bassington?" "what about him?" "he tells me you've given him a part in your show." "oh, yes. just a few lines." "but i've just had fifty-seven cables from home telling me on no account to let him go on the stage." "i'm sorry. but cyril is just the type i need for that part. he's simply got to be himself." "it's pretty tough on me, george, old man. my aunt agatha sent this blighter over with a letter of introduction to me, and she will hold me responsible." "she'll cut you out of her will?" "it isn't a question of money. but--of course, you've never met my aunt agatha, so it's rather hard to explain. but she's a sort of human vampire-bat, and she'll make things most fearfully unpleasant for me when i go back to england. she's the kind of woman who comes and rags you before breakfast, don't you know." "well, don't go back to england, then. stick here and become president." "but, george, old top----!" "good night!" "but, i say, george, old man!" "you didn't get my last remark. it was 'good night!' you idle rich may not need any sleep, but i've got to be bright and fresh in the morning. god bless you!" i felt as if i hadn't a friend in the world. i was so jolly well worked up that i went and banged on jeeves's door. it wasn't a thing i'd have cared to do as a rule, but it seemed to me that now was the time for all good men to come to the aid of the party, so to speak, and that it was up to jeeves to rally round the young master, even if it broke up his beauty-sleep. jeeves emerged in a brown dressing-gown. "sir?" "deuced sorry to wake you up, jeeves, and what not, but all sorts of dashed disturbing things have been happening." "i was not asleep. it is my practice, on retiring, to read a few pages of some instructive book." "that's good! what i mean to say is, if you've just finished exercising the old bean, it's probably in mid-season form for tackling problems. jeeves, mr. bassington-bassington is going on the stage!" "indeed, sir?" "ah! the thing doesn't hit you! you don't get it properly! here's the point. all his family are most fearfully dead against his going on the stage. there's going to be no end of trouble if he isn't headed off. and, what's worse, my aunt agatha will blame me, you see." "i see, sir." "well, can't you think of some way of stopping him?" "not, i confess, at the moment, sir." "well, have a stab at it." "i will give the matter my best consideration, sir. will there be anything further to-night?" "i hope not! i've had all i can stand already." "very good, sir." he popped off. * * * * * the part which old george had written for the chump cyril took up about two pages of typescript; but it might have been hamlet, the way that poor, misguided pinhead worked himself to the bone over it. i suppose, if i heard him his lines once, i did it a dozen times in the first couple of days. he seemed to think that my only feeling about the whole affair was one of enthusiastic admiration, and that he could rely on my support and sympathy. what with trying to imagine how aunt agatha was going to take this thing, and being woken up out of the dreamless in the small hours every other night to give my opinion of some new bit of business which cyril had invented, i became more or less the good old shadow. and all the time jeeves remained still pretty cold and distant about the purple socks. it's this sort of thing that ages a chappie, don't you know, and makes his youthful _joie-de-vivre_ go a bit groggy at the knees. in the middle of it aunt agatha's letter arrived. it took her about six pages to do justice to cyril's father's feelings in regard to his going on the stage and about six more to give me a kind of sketch of what she would say, think, and do if i didn't keep him clear of injurious influences while he was in america. the letter came by the afternoon mail, and left me with a pretty firm conviction that it wasn't a thing i ought to keep to myself. i didn't even wait to ring the bell: i whizzed for the kitchen, bleating for jeeves, and butted into the middle of a regular tea-party of sorts. seated at the table were a depressed-looking cove who might have been a valet or something, and a boy in a norfolk suit. the valet-chappie was drinking a whisky and soda, and the boy was being tolerably rough with some jam and cake. "oh, i say, jeeves!" i said. "sorry to interrupt the feast of reason and flow of soul and so forth, but----" at this juncture the small boy's eye hit me like a bullet and stopped me in my tracks. it was one of those cold, clammy, accusing sort of eyes--the kind that makes you reach up to see if your tie is straight: and he looked at me as if i were some sort of unnecessary product which cuthbert the cat had brought in after a ramble among the local ash-cans. he was a stoutish infant with a lot of freckles and a good deal of jam on his face. "hallo! hallo! hallo!" i said. "what?" there didn't seem much else to say. the stripling stared at me in a nasty sort of way through the jam. he may have loved me at first sight, but the impression he gave me was that he didn't think a lot of me and wasn't betting much that i would improve a great deal on acquaintance. i had a kind of feeling that i was about as popular with him as a cold welsh rabbit. "what's your name?" he asked. "my name? oh, wooster, don't you know, and what not." "my pop's richer than you are!" that seemed to be all about me. the child having said his say, started in on the jam again. i turned to jeeves. "i say, jeeves, can you spare a moment? i want to show you something." "very good, sir." we toddled into the sitting-room. "who is your little friend, sidney the sunbeam, jeeves?" "the young gentleman, sir?" "it's a loose way of describing him, but i know what you mean." "i trust i was not taking a liberty in entertaining him, sir?" "not a bit. if that's your idea of a large afternoon, go ahead." "i happened to meet the young gentleman taking a walk with his father's valet, sir, whom i used to know somewhat intimately in london, and i ventured to invite them both to join me here." "well, never mind about him, jeeves. read this letter." he gave it the up-and-down. "very disturbing, sir!" was all he could find to say. "what are we going to do about it?" "time may provide a solution, sir." "on the other hand, it mayn't, what?" "extremely true, sir.". we'd got as far as this, when there was a ring at the door. jeeves shimmered off, and cyril blew in, full of good cheer and blitheringness. "i say, wooster, old thing," he said, "i want your advice. you know this jolly old part of mine. how ought i to dress it? what i mean is, the first act scene is laid in an hotel of sorts, at about three in the afternoon. what ought i to wear, do you think?" i wasn't feeling fit for a discussion of gent's suitings. "you'd better consult jeeves," i said. "a hot and by no means unripe idea! where is he?" "gone back to the kitchen, i suppose." "i'll smite the good old bell, shall i? yes? no?" "right-o!" jeeves poured silently in. "oh, i say, jeeves," began cyril, "i just wanted to have a syllable or two with you. it's this way--hallo, who's this?" i then perceived that the stout stripling had trickled into the room after jeeves. he was standing near the door looking at cyril as if his worst fears had been realised. there was a bit of a silence. the child remained there, drinking cyril in for about half a minute; then he gave his verdict: "fish-face!" "eh? what?" said cyril. the child, who had evidently been taught at his mother's knee to speak the truth, made his meaning a trifle clearer. "you've a face like a fish!" he spoke as if cyril was more to be pitied than censured, which i am bound to say i thought rather decent and broad-minded of him. i don't mind admitting that, whenever i looked at cyril's face, i always had a feeling that he couldn't have got that way without its being mostly his own fault. i found myself warming to this child. absolutely, don't you know. i liked his conversation. it seemed to take cyril a moment or two really to grasp the thing, and then you could hear the blood of the bassington-bassingtons begin to sizzle. "well, i'm dashed!" he said. "i'm dashed if i'm not!" "i wouldn't have a face like that," proceeded the child, with a good deal of earnestness, "not if you gave me a million dollars." he thought for a moment, then corrected himself. "two million dollars!" he added. just what occurred then i couldn't exactly say, but the next few minutes were a bit exciting. i take it that cyril must have made a dive for the infant. anyway, the air seemed pretty well congested with arms and legs and things. something bumped into the wooster waistcoat just around the third button, and i collapsed on to the settee and rather lost interest in things for the moment. when i had unscrambled myself, i found that jeeves and the child had retired and cyril was standing in the middle of the room snorting a bit. "who's that frightful little brute, wooster?" "i don't know. i never saw him before to-day." "i gave him a couple of tolerably juicy buffets before he legged it. i say, wooster, that kid said a dashed odd thing. he yelled out something about jeeves promising him a dollar if he called me--er--what he said." it sounded pretty unlikely to me. "what would jeeves do that for?" "it struck me as rummy, too." "where would be the sense of it?" "that's what i can't see." "i mean to say, it's nothing to jeeves what sort of a face you have!" "no!" said cyril. he spoke a little coldly, i fancied. i don't know why. "well, i'll be popping. toodle-oo!" "pip-pip!" it must have been about a week after this rummy little episode that george caffyn called me up and asked me if i would care to go and see a run-through of his show. "ask dad," it seemed, was to open out of town in schenectady on the following monday, and this was to be a sort of preliminary dress-rehearsal. a preliminary dress-rehearsal, old george explained, was the same as a regular dress-rehearsal inasmuch as it was apt to look like nothing on earth and last into the small hours, but more exciting because they wouldn't be timing the piece and consequently all the blighters who on these occasions let their angry passions rise would have plenty of scope for interruptions, with the result that a pleasant time would be had by all. the thing was billed to start at eight o'clock, so i rolled up at ten-fifteen, so as not to have too long to wait before they began. the dress-parade was still going on. george was on the stage, talking to a cove in shirt-sleeves and an absolutely round chappie with big spectacles and a practically hairless dome. i had seen george with the latter merchant once or twice at the club, and i knew that he was blumenfield, the manager. i waved to george, and slid into a seat at the back of the house, so as to be out of the way when the fighting started. presently george hopped down off the stage and came and joined me, and fairly soon after that the curtain went down. the chappie at the piano whacked out a well-meant bar or two, and the curtain went up again. i can't quite recall what the plot of "ask dad" was about, but i do know that it seemed able to jog along all right without much help from cyril. i was rather puzzled at first. what i mean is, through brooding on cyril and hearing him in his part and listening to his views on what ought and what ought not to be done, i suppose i had got a sort of impression rooted in the old bean that he was pretty well the backbone of the show, and that the rest of the company didn't do much except go on and fill in when he happened to be off the stage. i sat there for nearly half an hour, waiting for him to make his entrance, until i suddenly discovered he had been on from the start. he was, in fact, the rummy-looking plug-ugly who was now leaning against a potted palm a couple of feet from the o.p. side, trying to appear intelligent while the heroine sang a song about love being like something which for the moment has slipped my memory. after the second refrain he began to dance in company with a dozen other equally weird birds. a painful spectacle for one who could see a vision of aunt agatha reaching for the hatchet and old bassington-bassington senior putting on his strongest pair of hob-nailed boots. absolutely! the dance had just finished, and cyril and his pals had shuffled off into the wings when a voice spoke from the darkness on my right. "pop!" old blumenfield clapped his hands, and the hero, who had just been about to get the next line off his diaphragm, cheesed it. i peered into the shadows. who should it be but jeeves's little playmate with the freckles! he was now strolling down the aisle with his hands in his pockets as if the place belonged to him. an air of respectful attention seemed to pervade the building. "pop," said the stripling, "that number's no good." old blumenfield beamed over his shoulder. "don't you like it, darling?" "it gives me a pain." "you're dead right." "you want something zippy there. something with a bit of jazz to it!" "quite right, my boy. i'll make a note of it. all right. go on!" i turned to george, who was muttering to himself in rather an overwrought way. "i say, george, old man, who the dickens is that kid?" old george groaned a bit hollowly, as if things were a trifle thick. "i didn't know he had crawled in! it's blumenfield's son. now we're going to have a hades of a time!" "does he always run things like this?" "always!" "but why does old blumenfield listen to him?" "nobody seems to know. it may be pure fatherly love, or he may regard him as a mascot. my own idea is that he thinks the kid has exactly the amount of intelligence of the average member of the audience, and that what makes a hit with him will please the general public. while, conversely, what he doesn't like will be too rotten for anyone. the kid is a pest, a wart, and a pot of poison, and should be strangled!" the rehearsal went on. the hero got off his line. there was a slight outburst of frightfulness between the stage-manager and a voice named bill that came from somewhere near the roof, the subject under discussion being where the devil bill's "ambers" were at that particular juncture. then things went on again until the moment arrived for cyril's big scene. i was still a trifle hazy about the plot, but i had got on to the fact that cyril was some sort of an english peer who had come over to america doubtless for the best reasons. so far he had only had two lines to say. one was "oh, i say!" and the other was "yes, by jove!"; but i seemed to recollect, from hearing him read his part, that pretty soon he was due rather to spread himself. i sat back in my chair and waited for him to bob up. he bobbed up about five minutes later. things had got a bit stormy by that time. the voice and the stage-director had had another of their love-feasts--this time something to do with why bill's "blues" weren't on the job or something. and, almost as soon as that was over, there was a bit of unpleasantness because a flower-pot fell off a window-ledge and nearly brained the hero. the atmosphere was consequently more or less hotted up when cyril, who had been hanging about at the back of the stage, breezed down centre and toed the mark for his most substantial chunk of entertainment. the heroine had been saying something--i forget what--and all the chorus, with cyril at their head, had begun to surge round her in the restless sort of way those chappies always do when there's a number coming along. cyril's first line was, "oh, i say, you know, you mustn't say that, really!" and it seemed to me he passed it over the larynx with a goodish deal of vim and _je-ne-sais-quoi._ but, by jove, before the heroine had time for the come-back, our little friend with the freckles had risen to lodge a protest. "pop!" "yes, darling?" "that one's no good!" "which one, darling?" "the one with a face like a fish." "but they all have faces like fish, darling." the child seemed to see the justice of this objection. he became more definite. "the ugly one." "which ugly one? that one?" said old blumenfield, pointing to cyril. "yep! he's rotten!" "i thought so myself." "he's a pill!" "you're dead right, my boy. i've noticed it for some time." cyril had been gaping a bit while these few remarks were in progress. he now shot down to the footlights. even from where i was sitting, i could see that these harsh words had hit the old bassington-bassington family pride a frightful wallop. he started to get pink in the ears, and then in the nose, and then in the cheeks, till in about a quarter of a minute he looked pretty much like an explosion in a tomato cannery on a sunset evening. "what the deuce do you mean?" "what the deuce do you mean?" shouted old blumenfield. "don't yell at me across the footlights!" "i've a dashed good mind to come down and spank that little brute!" "what!" "a dashed good mind!" old blumenfield swelled like a pumped-up tyre. he got rounder than ever. "see here, mister--i don't know your darn name----!" "my name's bassington-bassington, and the jolly old bassington-bassingtons--i mean the bassington-bassingtons aren't accustomed----" old blumenfield told him in a few brief words pretty much what he thought of the bassington-bassingtons and what they weren't accustomed to. the whole strength of the company rallied round to enjoy his remarks. you could see them jutting out from the wings and protruding from behind trees. "you got to work good for my pop!" said the stout child, waggling his head reprovingly at cyril. "i don't want any bally cheek from you!" said cyril, gurgling a bit. "what's that?" barked old blumenfield. "do you understand that this boy is my son?" "yes, i do," said cyril. "and you both have my sympathy!" "you're fired!" bellowed old blumenfield, swelling a good bit more. "get out of my theatre!" * * * * * about half-past ten next morning, just after i had finished lubricating the good old interior with a soothing cup of oolong, jeeves filtered into my bedroom, and said that cyril was waiting to see me in the sitting-room. "how does he look, jeeves?" "sir?" "what does mr. bassington-bassington look like?" "it is hardly my place, sir, to criticise the facial peculiarities of your friends." "i don't mean that. i mean, does he appear peeved and what not?" "not noticeably, sir. his manner is tranquil." "that's rum!" "sir?" "nothing. show him in, will you?" i'm bound to say i had expected to see cyril showing a few more traces of last night's battle. i was looking for a bit of the overwrought soul and the quivering ganglions, if you know what i mean. he seemed pretty ordinary and quite fairly cheerful. "hallo, wooster, old thing!" "cheero!" "i just looked in to say good-bye." "good-bye?" "yes. i'm off to washington in an hour." he sat down on the bed. "you know, wooster, old top," he went on, "i've been thinking it all over, and really it doesn't seem quite fair to the jolly old guv'nor, my going on the stage and so forth. what do you think?" "i see what you mean." "i mean to say, he sent me over here to broaden my jolly old mind and words to that effect, don't you know, and i can't help thinking it would be a bit of a jar for the old boy if i gave him the bird and went on the stage instead. i don't know if you understand me, but what i mean to say is, it's a sort of question of conscience." "can you leave the show without upsetting everything?" "oh, that's all right. i've explained everything to old blumenfield, and he quite sees my position. of course, he's sorry to lose me--said he didn't see how he could fill my place and all that sort of thing--but, after all, even if it does land him in a bit of a hole, i think i'm right in resigning my part, don't you?" "oh, absolutely." "i thought you'd agree with me. well, i ought to be shifting. awfully glad to have seen something of you, and all that sort of rot. pip-pip!" "toodle-oo!" he sallied forth, having told all those bally lies with the clear, blue, pop-eyed gaze of a young child. i rang for jeeves. you know, ever since last night i had been exercising the old bean to some extent, and a good deal of light had dawned upon me. "jeeves!" "sir?" "did you put that pie-faced infant up to bally-ragging mr. bassington-bassington?" "sir?" "oh, you know what i mean. did you tell him to get mr. bassington-bassington sacked from the 'ask dad' company?" "i would not take such a liberty, sir." he started to put out my clothes. "it is possible that young master blumenfield may have gathered from casual remarks of mine that i did not consider the stage altogether a suitable sphere for mr. bassington-bassington." "i say, jeeves, you know, you're a bit of a marvel." "i endeavour to give satisfaction, sir." "and i'm frightfully obliged, if you know what i mean. aunt agatha would have had sixteen or seventeen fits if you hadn't headed him off." "i fancy there might have been some little friction and unpleasantness, sir. i am laying out the blue suit with the thin red stripe, sir. i fancy the effect will be pleasing." * * * * * it's a rummy thing, but i had finished breakfast and gone out and got as far as the lift before i remembered what it was that i had meant to do to reward jeeves for his really sporting behaviour in this matter of the chump cyril. it cut me to the heart to do it, but i had decided to give him his way and let those purple socks pass out of my life. after all, there are times when a cove must make sacrifices. i was just going to nip back and break the glad news to him, when the lift came up, so i thought i would leave it till i got home. the coloured chappie in charge of the lift looked at me, as i hopped in, with a good deal of quiet devotion and what not. "i wish to thank yo', suh," he said, "for yo' kindness." "eh? what?" "misto' jeeves done give me them purple socks, as you told him. thank yo' very much, suh!" i looked down. the blighter was a blaze of mauve from the ankle-bone southward. i don't know when i've seen anything so dressy. "oh, ah! not at all! right-o! glad you like them!" i said. well, i mean to say, what? absolutely! jeeves in the springtime "'morning, jeeves," i said. "good morning, sir," said jeeves. he put the good old cup of tea softly on the table by my bed, and i took a refreshing sip. just right, as usual. not too hot, not too sweet, not too weak, not too strong, not too much milk, and not a drop spilled in the saucer. a most amazing cove, jeeves. so dashed competent in every respect. i've said it before, and i'll say it again. i mean to say, take just one small instance. every other valet i've ever had used to barge into my room in the morning while i was still asleep, causing much misery; but jeeves seems to know when i'm awake by a sort of telepathy. he always floats in with the cup exactly two minutes after i come to life. makes a deuce of a lot of difference to a fellow's day. "how's the weather, jeeves?" "exceptionally clement, sir." "anything in the papers?" "some slight friction threatening in the balkans, sir. otherwise, nothing." "i say, jeeves, a man i met at the club last night told me to put my shirt on privateer for the two o'clock race this afternoon. how about it?" "i should not advocate it, sir. the stable is not sanguine." that was enough for me. jeeves knows. how, i couldn't say, but he knows. there was a time when i would laugh lightly, and go ahead, and lose my little all against his advice, but not now. "talking of shirts," i said, "have those mauve ones i ordered arrived yet?" "yes, sir. i sent them back." "sent them back?" "yes, sir. they would not have become you." well, i must say i'd thought fairly highly of those shirtings, but i bowed to superior knowledge. weak? i don't know. most fellows, no doubt, are all for having their valets confine their activities to creasing trousers and what not without trying to run the home; but it's different with jeeves. right from the first day he came to me, i have looked on him as a sort of guide, philosopher, and friend. "mr. little rang up on the telephone a few moments ago, sir. i informed him that you were not yet awake." "did he leave a message?" "no, sir. he mentioned that he had a matter of importance to discuss with you, but confided no details." "oh, well, i expect i shall be seeing him at the club." "no doubt, sir." i wasn't what you might call in a fever of impatience. bingo little is a chap i was at school with, and we see a lot of each other still. he's the nephew of old mortimer little, who retired from business recently with a goodish pile. (you've probably heard of little's liniment--it limbers up the legs.) bingo biffs about london on a pretty comfortable allowance given him by his uncle, and leads on the whole a fairly unclouded life. it wasn't likely that anything which he described as a matter of importance would turn out to be really so frightfully important. i took it that he had discovered some new brand of cigarette which he wanted me to try, or something like that, and didn't spoil my breakfast by worrying. after breakfast i lit a cigarette and went to the open window to inspect the day. it certainly was one of the best and brightest. "jeeves," i said. "sir?" said jeeves. he had been clearing away the breakfast things, but at the sound of the young master's voice cheesed it courteously. "you were absolutely right about the weather. it is a juicy morning." "decidedly, sir." "spring and all that." "yes, sir." "in the spring, jeeves, a livelier iris gleams upon the burnished dove." "so i have been informed, sir." "right ho! then bring me my whangee, my yellowest shoes, and the old green homburg. i'm going into the park to do pastoral dances." i don't know if you know that sort of feeling you get on these days round about the end of april and the beginning of may, when the sky's a light blue, with cotton-wool clouds, and there's a bit of a breeze blowing from the west? kind of uplifted feeling. romantic, if you know what i mean. i'm not much of a ladies' man, but on this particular morning it seemed to me that what i really wanted was some charming girl to buzz up and ask me to save her from assassins or something. so that it was a bit of an anti-climax when i merely ran into young bingo little, looking perfectly foul in a crimson satin tie decorated with horseshoes. "hallo, bertie," said bingo. "my god, man!" i gargled. "the cravat! the gent's neckwear! why? for what reason?" "oh, the tie?" he blushed. "i--er--i was given it." he seemed embarrassed, so i dropped the subject. we toddled along a bit, and sat down on a couple of chairs by the serpentine. "jeeves tells me you want to talk to me about something," i said. "eh?" said bingo, with a start. "oh yes, yes. yes." i waited for him to unleash the topic of the day, but he didn't seem to want to get going. conversation languished. he stared straight ahead of him in a glassy sort of manner. "i say, bertie," he said, after a pause of about an hour and a quarter. "hallo!" "do you like the name mabel?" "no." "no?" "no." "you don't think there's a kind of music in the word, like the wind rustling gently through the tree-tops?" "no." he seemed disappointed for a moment; then cheered up. "of course, you wouldn't. you always were a fatheaded worm without any soul, weren't you?" "just as you say. who is she? tell me all." for i realised now that poor old bingo was going through it once again. ever since i have known him--and we were at school together--he has been perpetually falling in love with someone, generally in the spring, which seems to act on him like magic. at school he had the finest collection of actresses' photographs of anyone of his time; and at oxford his romantic nature was a byword. "you'd better come along and meet her at lunch," he said, looking at his watch. "a ripe suggestion," i said. "where are you meeting her? at the ritz?" "near the ritz." he was geographically accurate. about fifty yards east of the ritz there is one of those blighted tea-and-bun shops you see dotted about all over london, and into this, if you'll believe me, young bingo dived like a homing rabbit; and before i had time to say a word we were wedged in at a table, on the brink of a silent pool of coffee left there by an early luncher. i'm bound to say i couldn't quite follow the development of the scenario. bingo, while not absolutely rolling in the stuff, has always had a fair amount of the ready. apart from what he got from his uncle, i knew that he had finished up the jumping season well on the right side of the ledger. why, then, was he lunching the girl at this god-forsaken eatery? it couldn't be because he was hard up. just then the waitress arrived. rather a pretty girl. "aren't we going to wait----?" i started to say to bingo, thinking it somewhat thick that, in addition to asking a girl to lunch with him in a place like this, he should fling himself on the foodstuffs before she turned up, when i caught sight of his face, and stopped. the man was goggling. his entire map was suffused with a rich blush. he looked like the soul's awakening done in pink. "hallo, mabel!" he said, with a sort of gulp. "hallo!" said the girl. "mabel," said bingo, "this is bertie wooster, a pal of mine." "pleased to meet you," she said. "nice morning." "fine," i said. "you see i'm wearing the tie," said bingo. "it suits you beautiful," said the girl. personally, if anyone had told me that a tie like that suited me, i should have risen and struck them on the mazzard, regardless of their age and sex; but poor old bingo simply got all flustered with gratification, and smirked in the most gruesome manner. "well, what's it going to be to-day?" asked the girl, introducing the business touch into the conversation. bingo studied the menu devoutly. "i'll have a cup of cocoa, cold veal and ham pie, slice of fruit cake, and a macaroon. same for you, bertie?" i gazed at the man, revolted. that he could have been a pal of mine all these years and think me capable of insulting the old turn with this sort of stuff cut me to the quick. "or how about a bit of hot steak-pudding, with a sparkling limado to wash it down?" said bingo. you know, the way love can change a fellow is really frightful to contemplate. this chappie before me, who spoke in that absolutely careless way of macaroons and limado, was the man i had seen in happier days telling the head-waiter at claridge's exactly how he wanted the _chef_ to prepare the _sole frite au gourmet aux champignons_, and saying he would jolly well sling it back if it wasn't just right. ghastly! ghastly! a roll and butter and a small coffee seemed the only things on the list that hadn't been specially prepared by the nastier-minded members of the borgia family for people they had a particular grudge against, so i chose them, and mabel hopped it. "well?" said bingo rapturously. i took it that he wanted my opinion of the female poisoner who had just left us. "very nice," i said. he seemed dissatisfied. "you don't think she's the most wonderful girl you ever saw?" he said wistfully. "oh, absolutely!" i said, to appease the blighter. "where did you meet her?" "at a subscription dance at camberwell." "what on earth were you doing at a subscription dance at camberwell?" "your man jeeves asked me if i would buy a couple of tickets. it was in aid of some charity or other." "jeeves? i didn't know he went in for that sort of thing." "well, i suppose he has to relax a bit every now and then. anyway, he was there, swinging a dashed efficient shoe. i hadn't meant to go at first, but i turned up for a lark. oh, bertie, think what i might have missed!" "what might you have missed?" i asked, the old lemon being slightly clouded. "mabel, you chump. if i hadn't gone i shouldn't have met mabel." "oh, ah!" at this point bingo fell into a species of trance, and only came out of it to wrap himself round the pie and macaroon. "bertie," he said, "i want your advice." "carry on." "at least, not your advice, because that wouldn't be much good to anybody. i mean, you're a pretty consummate old ass, aren't you? not that i want to hurt your feelings, of course." "no, no, i see that." "what i wish you would do is to put the whole thing to that fellow jeeves of yours, and see what he suggests. you've often told me that he has helped other pals of yours out of messes. from what you tell me, he's by way of being the brains of the family." "he's never let me down yet." "then put my case to him." "what case?" "my problem." "what problem?" "why, you poor fish, my uncle, of course. what do you think my uncle's going to say to all this? if i sprang it on him cold, he'd tie himself in knots on the hearthrug." "one of these emotional johnnies, eh?" "somehow or other his mind has got to be prepared to receive the news. but how?" "ah!" "that's a lot of help, that 'ah'! you see, i'm pretty well dependent on the old boy. if he cut off my allowance, i should be very much in the soup. so you put the whole binge to jeeves and see if he can't scare up a happy ending somehow. tell him my future is in his hands, and that, if the wedding bells ring out, he can rely on me, even unto half my kingdom. well, call it ten quid. jeeves would exert himself with ten quid on the horizon, what?" "undoubtedly," i said. i wasn't in the least surprised at bingo wanting to lug jeeves into his private affairs like this. it was the first thing i would have thought of doing myself if i had been in any hole of any description. as i have frequently had occasion to observe, he is a bird of the ripest intellect, full of bright ideas. if anybody could fix things for poor old bingo, he could. i stated the case to him that night after dinner. "jeeves." "sir?" "are you busy just now?" "no, sir." "i mean, not doing anything in particular?" "no, sir. it is my practice at this hour to read some improving book; but, if you desire my services, this can easily be postponed, or, indeed, abandoned altogether." "well, i want your advice. it's about mr. little." "young mr. little, sir, or the elder mr. little, his uncle, who lives in pounceby gardens?" jeeves seemed to know everything. most amazing thing. i'd been pally with bingo practically all my life, and yet i didn't remember ever having heard that his uncle lived anywhere in particular. "how did you know he lived in pounceby gardens?" i said. "i am on terms of some intimacy with the elder mr. little's cook, sir. in fact, there is an understanding." i'm bound to say that this gave me a bit of a start. somehow i'd never thought of jeeves going in for that sort of thing. "do you mean you're engaged?" "it may be said to amount to that, sir." "well, well!" "she is a remarkably excellent cook, sir," said jeeves, as though he felt called on to give some explanation. "what was it you wished to ask me about mr. little?" i sprang the details on him. "and that's how the matter stands, jeeves," i said. "i think we ought to rally round a trifle and help poor old bingo put the thing through. tell me about old mr. little. what sort of a chap is he?" "a somewhat curious character, sir. since retiring from business he has become a great recluse, and now devotes himself almost entirely to the pleasures of the table." "greedy hog, you mean?" "i would not, perhaps, take the liberty of describing him in precisely those terms, sir. he is what is usually called a gourmet. very particular about what he eats, and for that reason sets a high value on miss watson's services." "the cook?" "yes, sir." "well, it looks to me as though our best plan would be to shoot young bingo in on him after dinner one night. melting mood, i mean to say, and all that." "the difficulty is, sir, that at the moment mr. little is on a diet, owing to an attack of gout." "things begin to look wobbly." "no, sir, i fancy that the elder mr. little's misfortune may be turned to the younger mr. little's advantage. i was speaking only the other day to mr. little's valet, and he was telling me that it has become his principal duty to read to mr. little in the evenings. if i were in your place, sir, i should send young mr. little to read to his uncle." "nephew's devotion, you mean? old man touched by kindly action, what?" "partly that, sir. but i would rely more on young mr. little's choice of literature." "that's no good. jolly old bingo has a kind face, but when it comes to literature he stops at the _sporting times_." "that difficulty may be overcome. i would be happy to select books for mr. little to read. perhaps i might explain my idea further?" "i can't say i quite grasp it yet." "the method which i advocate is what, i believe, the advertisers call direct suggestion, sir, consisting as it does of driving an idea home by constant repetition. you may have had experience of the system?" "you mean they keep on telling you that some soap or other is the best, and after a bit you come under the influence and charge round the corner and buy a cake?" "exactly, sir. the same method was the basis of all the most valuable propaganda during the recent war. i see no reason why it should not be adopted to bring about the desired result with regard to the subject's views on class distinctions. if young mr. little were to read day after day to his uncle a series of narratives in which marriage with young persons of an inferior social status was held up as both feasible and admirable, i fancy it would prepare the elder mr. little's mind for the reception of the information that his nephew wishes to marry a waitress in a tea-shop." "_are_ there any books of that sort nowadays? the only ones i ever see mentioned in the papers are about married couples who find life grey, and can't stick each other at any price." "yes, sir, there are a great many, neglected by the reviewers but widely read. you have never encountered 'all for love,' by rosie m. banks?" "no." "nor 'a red, red summer rose,' by the same author?" "no." "i have an aunt, sir, who owns an almost complete set of rosie m. banks'. i could easily borrow as many volumes as young mr. little might require. they make very light, attractive reading." "well, it's worth trying." "i should certainly recommend the scheme, sir." "all right, then. toddle round to your aunt's to-morrow and grab a couple of the fruitiest. we can but have a dash at it." "precisely, sir." * * * * * bingo reported three days later that rosie m. banks was the goods and beyond a question the stuff to give the troops. old little had jibbed somewhat at first at the proposed change of literary diet, he not being much of a lad for fiction and having stuck hitherto exclusively to the heavier monthly reviews; but bingo had got chapter one of "all for love" past his guard before he knew what was happening, and after that there was nothing to it. since then they had finished "a red, red summer rose," "madcap myrtle" and "only a factory girl," and were halfway through "the courtship of lord strathmorlick." bingo told me all this in a husky voice over an egg beaten up in sherry. the only blot on the thing from his point of view was that it wasn't doing a bit of good to the old vocal cords, which were beginning to show signs of cracking under the strain. he had been looking his symptoms up in a medical dictionary, and he thought he had got "clergyman's throat." but against this you had to set the fact that he was making an undoubted hit in the right quarter, and also that after the evening's reading he always stayed on to dinner; and, from what he told me, the dinners turned out by old little's cook had to be tasted to be believed. there were tears in the old blighter's eyes as he got on the subject of the clear soup. i suppose to a fellow who for weeks had been tackling macaroons and limado it must have been like heaven. old little wasn't able to give any practical assistance at these banquets, but bingo said that he came to the table and had his whack of arrowroot, and sniffed the dishes, and told stories of _entrã©es_ he had had in the past, and sketched out scenarios of what he was going to do to the bill of fare in the future, when the doctor put him in shape; so i suppose he enjoyed himself, too, in a way. anyhow, things seemed to be buzzing along quite satisfactorily, and bingo said he had got an idea which, he thought, was going to clinch the thing. he wouldn't tell me what it was, but he said it was a pippin. "we make progress, jeeves," i said. "that is very satisfactory, sir." "mr. little tells me that when he came to the big scene in 'only a factory girl,' his uncle gulped like a stricken bull-pup." "indeed, sir?" "where lord claude takes the girl in his arms, you know, and says----" "i am familiar with the passage, sir. it is distinctly moving. it was a great favourite of my aunt's." "i think we're on the right track." "it would seem so, sir." "in fact, this looks like being another of your successes. i've always said, and i always shall say, that for sheer brain, jeeves, you stand alone. all the other great thinkers of the age are simply in the crowd, watching you go by." "thank you very much, sir. i endeavour to give satisfaction." about a week after this, bingo blew in with the news that his uncle's gout had ceased to trouble him, and that on the morrow he would be back at the old stand working away with knife and fork as before. "and, by the way," said bingo, "he wants you to lunch with him tomorrow." "me? why me? he doesn't know i exist." "oh, yes, he does. i've told him about you." "what have you told him?" "oh, various things. anyhow, he wants to meet you. and take my tip, laddie--you go! i should think lunch to-morrow would be something special." i don't know why it was, but even then it struck me that there was something dashed odd--almost sinister, if you know what i mean--about young bingo's manner. the old egg had the air of one who has something up his sleeve. "there is more in this than meets the eye," i said. "why should your uncle ask a fellow to lunch whom he's never seen?" "my dear old fathead, haven't i just said that i've been telling him all about you--that you're my best pal--at school together, and all that sort of thing?" "but even then--and another thing. why are you so dashed keen on my going?" bingo hesitated for a moment. "well, i told you i'd got an idea. this is it. i want you to spring the news on him. i haven't the nerve myself." "what! i'm hanged if i do!" "and you call yourself a pal of mine!" "yes, i know; but there are limits." "bertie," said bingo reproachfully, "i saved your life once." "when?" "didn't i? it must have been some other fellow, then. well, anyway, we were boys together and all that. you can't let me down." "oh, all right," i said. "but, when you say you haven't nerve enough for any dashed thing in the world, you misjudge yourself. a fellow who----" "cheerio!" said young bingo. "one-thirty to-morrow. don't be late." * * * * * i'm bound to say that the more i contemplated the binge, the less i liked it. it was all very well for bingo to say that i was slated for a magnificent lunch; but what good is the best possible lunch to a fellow if he is slung out into the street on his ear during the soup course? however, the word of a wooster is his bond and all that sort of rot, so at one-thirty next day i tottered up the steps of no. 16, pounceby gardens, and punched the bell. and half a minute later i was up in the drawing-room, shaking hands with the fattest man i have ever seen in my life. the motto of the little family was evidently "variety." young bingo is long and thin and hasn't had a superfluous ounce on him since we first met; but the uncle restored the average and a bit over. the hand which grasped mine wrapped it round and enfolded it till i began to wonder if i'd ever get it out without excavating machinery. "mr. wooster, i am gratified--i am proud--i am honoured." it seemed to me that young bingo must have boosted me to some purpose. "oh, ah!" i said. he stepped back a bit, still hanging on to the good right hand. "you are very young to have accomplished so much!" i couldn't follow the train of thought. the family, especially my aunt agatha, who has savaged me incessantly from childhood up, have always rather made a point of the fact that mine is a wasted life, and that, since i won the prize at my first school for the best collection of wild flowers made during the summer holidays, i haven't done a dam' thing to land me on the nation's scroll of fame. i was wondering if he couldn't have got me mixed up with someone else, when the telephone-bell rang outside in the hall, and the maid came in to say that i was wanted. i buzzed down, and found it was young bingo. "hallo!" said young bingo. "so you've got there? good man! i knew i could rely on you. i say, old crumpet, did my uncle seem pleased to see you?" "absolutely all over me. i can't make it out." "oh, that's all right. i just rang up to explain. the fact is, old man, i know you won't mind, but i told him that you were the author of those books i've been reading to him." "what!" "yes, i said that 'rosie m. banks' was your pen-name, and you didn't want it generally known, because you were a modest, retiring sort of chap. he'll listen to you now. absolutely hang on your words. a brightish idea, what? i doubt if jeeves in person could have thought up a better one than that. well, pitch it strong, old lad, and keep steadily before you the fact that i must have my allowance raised. i can't possibly marry on what i've got now. if this film is to end with the slow fade-out on the embrace, at least double is indicated. well, that's that. cheerio!" and he rang off. at that moment the gong sounded, and the genial host came tumbling downstairs like the delivery of a ton of coals. * * * * * i always look back to that lunch with a sort of aching regret. it was the lunch of a lifetime, and i wasn't in a fit state to appreciate it. subconsciously, if you know what i mean, i could see it was pretty special, but i had got the wind up to such a frightful extent over the ghastly situation in which young bingo had landed me that its deeper meaning never really penetrated. most of the time i might have been eating sawdust for all the good it did me. old little struck the literary note right from the start. "my nephew has probably told you that i have been making a close study of your books of late?" he began. "yes. he did mention it. how--er--how did you like the bally things?" he gazed reverently at me. "mr. wooster, i am not ashamed to say that the tears came into my eyes as i listened to them. it amazes me that a man as young as you can have been able to plumb human nature so surely to its depths; to play with so unerring a hand on the quivering heart-strings of your reader; to write novels so true, so human, so moving, so vital!" "oh, it's just a knack," i said. the good old persp. was bedewing my forehead by this time in a pretty lavish manner. i don't know when i've been so rattled. "do you find the room a trifle warm?" "oh, no, no, rather not. just right." "then it's the pepper. if my cook has a fault--which i am not prepared to admit--it is that she is inclined to stress the pepper a trifle in her made dishes. by the way, do you like her cooking?" i was so relieved that we had got off the subject of my literary output that i shouted approval in a ringing baritone. "i am delighted to hear it, mr. wooster. i may be prejudiced, but to my mind that woman is a genius." "absolutely!" i said. "she has been with me seven years, and in all that time i have not known her guilty of a single lapse from the highest standard. except once, in the winter of 1917, when a purist might have condemned a certain mayonnaise of hers as lacking in creaminess. but one must make allowances. there had been several air-raids about that time, and no doubt the poor woman was shaken. but nothing is perfect in this world, mr. wooster, and i have had my cross to bear. for seven years i have lived in constant apprehension lest some evilly-disposed person might lure her from my employment. to my certain knowledge she has received offers, lucrative offers, to accept service elsewhere. you may judge of my dismay, mr. wooster, when only this morning the bolt fell. she gave notice!" "good lord!" "your consternation does credit, if i may say so, to the heart of the author of 'a red, red summer rose.' but i am thankful to say the worst has not happened. the matter has been adjusted. jane is not leaving me." "good egg!" "good egg, indeed--though the expression is not familiar to me. i do not remember having come across it in your books. and, speaking of your books, may i say that what has impressed me about them even more than the moving poignancy of the actual narrative, is your philosophy of life. if there were more men like you, mr. wooster, london would be a better place." this was dead opposite to my aunt agatha's philosophy of life, she having always rather given me to understand that it is the presence in it of chappies like me that makes london more or less of a plague spot; but i let it go. "let me tell you, mr. wooster, that i appreciate your splendid defiance of the outworn fetishes of a purblind social system. i appreciate it! you are big enough to see that rank is but the guinea stamp and that, in the magnificent words of lord bletchmore in 'only a factory girl,' 'be her origin ne'er so humble, a good woman is the equal of the finest lady on earth!'" i sat up. "i say! do you think that?" "i do, mr. wooster. i am ashamed to say that there was a time when i was like other men, a slave to the idiotic convention which we call class distinction. but, since i read your books----" i might have known it. jeeves had done it again. "you think it's all right for a chappie in what you might call a certain social position to marry a girl of what you might describe as the lower classes?" "most assuredly i do, mr. wooster." i took a deep breath, and slipped him the good news. "young bingo--your nephew, you know--wants to marry a waitress," i said. "i honour him for it," said old little. "you don't object?" "on the contrary." i took another deep breath and shifted to the sordid side of the business. "i hope you won't think i'm butting in, don't you know," i said, "but--er--well, how about it?" "i fear i do not quite follow you." "well, i mean to say, his allowance and all that. the money you're good enough to give him. he was rather hoping that you might see your way to jerking up the total a bit." old little shook his head regretfully. "i fear that can hardly be managed. you see, a man in my position is compelled to save every penny. i will gladly continue my nephew's existing allowance, but beyond that i cannot go. it would not be fair to my wife." "what! but you're not married?" "not yet. but i propose to enter upon that holy state almost immediately. the lady who for years has cooked so well for me honoured me by accepting my hand this very morning." a cold gleam of triumph came into his eye. "now let 'em try to get her away from me!" he muttered, defiantly. * * * * * "young mr. little has been trying frequently during the afternoon to reach you on the telephone, sir," said jeeves that night, when i got home. "i'll bet he has," i said. i had sent poor old bingo an outline of the situation by messenger-boy shortly after lunch. "he seemed a trifle agitated." "i don't wonder. jeeves," i said, "so brace up and bite the bullet. i'm afraid i've bad news for you. "that scheme of yours--reading those books to old mr. little and all that--has blown out a fuse." "they did not soften him?" "they did. that's the whole bally trouble. jeeves, i'm sorry to say that _fiancã©e_ of yours--miss watson, you know--the cook, you know--well, the long and the short of it is that she's chosen riches instead of honest worth, if you know what i mean." "sir?" "she's handed you the mitten and gone and got engaged to old mr. little!" "indeed, sir?" "you don't seem much upset." "that fact is, sir, i had anticipated some such outcome." i stared at him. "then what on earth did you suggest the scheme for?" "to tell you the truth, sir, i was not wholly averse from a severance of my relations with miss watson. in fact, i greatly desired it. i respect miss watson exceedingly, but i have seen for a long time that we were not suited. now, the _other_ young person with whom i have an understanding----" "great scott, jeeves! there isn't another?" "yes, sir." "how long has this been going on?" "for some weeks, sir. i was greatly attracted by her when i first met her at a subscription dance at camberwell." "my sainted aunt! not----" jeeves inclined his head gravely. "yes, sir. by an odd coincidence it is the same young person that young mr. little--i have placed the cigarettes on the small table. good night, sir." concealed art if a fellow has lots of money and lots of time and lots of curiosity about other fellows' business, it is astonishing, don't you know, what a lot of strange affairs he can get mixed up in. now, i have money and curiosity and all the time there is. my name's pepper--reggie pepper. my uncle was the colliery-owner chappie, and he left me the dickens of a pile. and ever since the lawyer slipped the stuff into my hand, whispering "it's yours!" life seems to have been one thing after another. for instance, the dashed rummy case of dear old archie. i first ran into old archie when he was studying in paris, and when he came back to london he looked me up, and we celebrated. he always liked me because i didn't mind listening to his theories of art. for archie, you must know, was an artist. not an ordinary artist either, but one of those fellows you read about who are several years ahead of the times, and paint the sort of thing that people will be educated up to by about 1999 or thereabouts. well, one day as i was sitting in the club watching the traffic coming up one way and going down the other, and thinking nothing in particular, in blew the old boy. he was looking rather worried. "reggie, i want your advice." "you shall have it," i said. "state your point, old top." "it's like this--i'm engaged to be married." "my dear old scout, a million con----" "yes, i know. thanks very much, and all that, but listen." "what's the trouble? don't you like her?" a kind of rapt expression came over his face. "like her! why, she's the only----" he gibbered for a spell. when he had calmed down, i said, "well then, what's your trouble?" "reggie," he said, "do you think a man is bound to tell his wife all about his past life?" "oh, well," i said, "of course, i suppose she's prepared to find that a man has--er--sowed his wild oats, don't you know, and all that sort of thing, and----" he seemed quite irritated. "don't be a chump. it's nothing like that. listen. when i came back to london and started to try and make a living by painting, i found that people simply wouldn't buy the sort of work i did at any price. do you know, reggie, i've been at it three years now, and i haven't sold a single picture." i whooped in a sort of amazed way, but i should have been far more startled if he'd told me he _had_ sold a picture. i've seen his pictures, and they are like nothing on earth. so far as i can make out what he says, they aren't supposed to be. there's one in particular, called "the coming of summer," which i sometimes dream about when i've been hitting it up a shade too vigorously. it's all dots and splashes, with a great eye staring out of the middle of the mess. it looks as if summer, just as it was on the way, had stubbed its toe on a bomb. he tells me it's his masterpiece, and that he will never do anything like it again. i should like to have that in writing. "well, artists eat, just the same as other people," he went on, "and personally i like mine often and well cooked. besides which, my sojourn in paris gave me a rather nice taste in light wines. the consequence was that i came to the conclusion, after i had been back a few months, that something had to be done. reggie, do you by any remote chance read a paper called _funny slices_?" "every week." he gazed at me with a kind of wistful admiration. "i envy you, reggie. fancy being able to make a statement like that openly and without fear. then i take it you know the doughnut family?" "i should say i did." his voice sank almost to a whisper, and he looked over his shoulder nervously. "reggie, i do them." "you what?" "i do them--draw them--paint them. i am the creator of the doughnut family." i stared at him, absolutely astounded. i was simply dumb. it was the biggest surprise of my life. why, dash it, the doughnut family was the best thing in its line in london. there is pa doughnut, ma doughnut, aunt bella, cousin joe, and mabel, the daughter, and they have all sorts of slapstick adventures. pa, ma and aunt bella are pure gargoyles; cousin joe is a little more nearly semi-human, and mabel is a perfect darling. i had often wondered who did them, for they were unsigned, and i had often thought what a deuced brainy fellow the chap must be. and all the time it was old archie. i stammered as i tried to congratulate him. he winced. "don't gargle, reggie, there's a good fellow," he said. "my nerves are all on edge. well, as i say, i do the doughnuts. it was that or starvation. i got the idea one night when i had a toothache, and next day i took some specimens round to an editor. he rolled in his chair, and told me to start in and go on till further notice. since then i have done them without a break. well, there's the position. i must go on drawing these infernal things, or i shall be penniless. the question is, am i to tell her?" "tell her? of course you must tell her." "ah, but you don't know her, reggie. have you ever heard of eunice nugent?" "not to my knowledge." "as she doesn't sprint up and down the joyway at the hippodrome, i didn't suppose you would." i thought this rather uncalled-for, seeing that, as a matter of fact, i scarcely know a dozen of the hippodrome chorus, but i made allowances for his state of mind. "she's a poetess," he went on, "and her work has appeared in lots of good magazines. my idea is that she would be utterly horrified if she knew, and could never be quite the same to me again. but i want you to meet her and judge for yourself. it's just possible that i am taking too morbid a view of the matter, and i want an unprejudiced outside opinion. come and lunch with us at the piccadilly tomorrow, will you?" * * * * * he was absolutely right. one glance at miss nugent told me that the poor old boy had got the correct idea. i hardly know how to describe the impression she made on me. on the way to the pic, archie had told me that what first attracted him to her was the fact that she was so utterly unlike mabel doughnut; but that had not prepared me for what she really was. she was kind of intense, if you know what i mean--kind of spiritual. she was perfectly pleasant, and drew me out about golf and all that sort of thing; but all the time i felt that she considered me an earthy worm whose loftier soul-essence had been carelessly left out of his composition at birth. she made me wish that i had never seen a musical comedy or danced on a supper table on new year's eve. and if that was the impression she made on me, you can understand why poor old archie jibbed at the idea of bringing her _funny slices_, and pointing at the doughnuts and saying, "me--i did it!" the notion was absolutely out of the question. the shot wasn't on the board. i told archie so directly we were alone. "old top," i said, "you must keep it dark." "i'm afraid so. but i hate the thought of deceiving her." "you must get used to that now you're going to be a married man," i said. "the trouble is, how am i going to account for the fact that i can do myself pretty well?" "why, tell her you have private means, of course. what's your money invested in?" "practically all of it in b. and o. p. rails. it is a devilish good thing. a pal of mine put me onto it." "tell her that you have a pile of money in b. and o. p., then. she'll take it for granted it's a legacy. a spiritual girl like miss nugent isn't likely to inquire further." "reggie, i believe you're right. it cuts both ways, that spiritual gag. i'll do it." * * * * * they were married quietly. i held the towel for archie, and a spectacled girl with a mouth like a rat-trap, who was something to do with the woman's movement, saw fair play for eunice. and then they went off to scotland for their honeymoon. i wondered how the doughnuts were going to get on in old archie's absence, but it seemed that he had buckled down to it and turned out three months' supply in advance. he told me that long practice had enabled him to doughnut almost without conscious effort. when he came back to london he would give an hour a week to them and do them on his head. pretty soft! it seemed to me that the marriage was going to be a success. one gets out of touch with people when they marry. i am not much on the social-call game, and for nearly six months i don't suppose i saw archie more than twice or three times. when i did, he appeared sound in wind and limb, and reported that married life was all to the velvet, and that he regarded bachelors like myself as so many excrescences on the social system. he compared me, if i remember rightly, to a wart, and advocated drastic treatment. it was perhaps seven months after he had told eunice that he endowed her with all his worldly goods--she not suspecting what the parcel contained--that he came to me unexpectedly one afternoon with a face so long and sick-looking that my finger was on the button and i was ordering brandy and soda before he had time to speak. "reggie," he said, "an awful thing has happened. have you seen the paper today?" "yes. why?" "did you read the stock exchange news? did you see that some lunatic has been jumping around with a club and hammering the stuffing out of b. and o. p.? this afternoon they are worth practically nothing." "by jove! and all your money was in it. what rotten luck!" then i spotted the silver lining. "but, after all, it doesn't matter so very much. what i mean is, bang go your little savings and all that sort of thing; but, after all, you're making quite a good income, so why worry?" "i might have known you would miss the point," he said. "can't you understand the situation? this morning at breakfast eunice got hold of the paper first. 'archie,' she said, 'didn't you tell me all your money was in b. and o. p.?' 'yes,' i said. 'why?' 'then we're ruined.' now do you see? if i had had time to think, i could have said that i had another chunk in something else, but i had committed myself, i have either got to tell her about those infernal doughnuts, or else conceal the fact that i had money coming in." "great scot! what on earth are you going to do?" "i can't think. we can struggle along in a sort of way, for it appears that she has small private means of her own. the idea at present is that we shall live on them. we're selling the car, and trying to get out of the rest of our lease up at the flat, and then we're going to look about for a cheaper place, probably down chelsea way, so as to be near my studio. what was that stuff i've been drinking? ring for another of the same, there's a good fellow. in fact, i think you had better keep your finger permanently on the bell. i shall want all they've got." * * * * * the spectacle of a fellow human being up to his neck in the consommã© is painful, of course, but there's certainly what the advertisements at the top of magazine stories call a "tense human interest" about it, and i'm bound to say that i saw as much as possible of poor old archie from now on. his sad case fascinated me. it was rather thrilling to see him wrestling with new zealand mutton-hash and draught beer down at his chelsea flat, with all the suppressed anguish of a man who has let himself get accustomed to delicate food and vintage wines, and think that a word from him could send him whizzing back to the old life again whenever he wished. but at what a cost, as they say in the novels. that was the catch. he might hate this new order of things, but his lips were sealed. i personally came in for a good deal of quiet esteem for the way in which i stuck to him in his adversity. i don't think eunice had thought much of me before, but now she seemed to feel that i had formed a corner in golden hearts. i took advantage of this to try and pave the way for a confession on poor old archie's part. "i wonder, archie, old top," i said one evening after we had dined on mutton-hash and were sitting round trying to forget it, "i wonder you don't try another line in painting. i've heard that some of these fellows who draw for the comic papers----" mrs. archie nipped me in the bud. "how can you suggest such a thing, mr. pepper? a man with archie's genius! i know the public is not educated up to his work, but it is only a question of time. archie suffers, like all pioneers, from being ahead of his generation. but, thank heaven, he need not sully his genius by stooping----" "no, no," i said. "sorry. i only suggested it." after that i gave more time than ever to trying to think of a solution. sometimes i would lie awake at night, and my manner towards wilberforce, my man, became so distrait that it almost caused a rift. he asked me one morning which suit i would wear that day, and, by jove, i said, "oh, any of them. i don't mind." there was a most frightful silence, and i woke up to find him looking at me with such a dashed wounded expression in his eyes that i had to tip him a couple of quid to bring him round again. well, you can't go on straining your brain like that forever without something breaking loose, and one night, just after i had gone to bed, i got it. yes, by gad, absolutely got it. and i was so excited that i hopped out from under the blankets there and then, and rang up old archie on the phone. "archie, old scout," i said, "can the misses hear what i'm saying? well then, don't say anything to give the show away. keep on saying, 'yes? halloa?' so that you can tell her it was someone on the wrong wire. i've got it, my boy. all you've got to do to solve the whole problem is to tell her you've sold one of your pictures. make the price as big as you like. come and lunch with me tomorrow at the club, and we'll settle the details." there was a pause, and then archie's voice said, "halloa, halloa?" it might have been a bit disappointing, only there was a tremble in it which made me understand how happy i had made the old boy. i went back to bed and slept like a king. * * * * * next day we lunched together, and fixed the thing up. i have never seen anyone so supremely braced. we examined the scheme from every angle and there wasn't a flaw in it. the only difficulty was to hit on a plausible purchaser. archie suggested me, but i couldn't see it. i said it would sound fishy. eventually i had a brain wave, and suggested j. bellingwood brackett, the american millionaire. he lives in london, and you see his name in the papers everyday as having bought some painting or statue or something, so why shouldn't he buy archie's "coming of summer?" and archie said, "exactly--why shouldn't he? and if he had had any sense in his fat head, he would have done it long ago, dash him!" which shows you that dear old archie was bracing up, for i've heard him use much the same language in happier days about a referee. he went off, crammed to the eyebrows with good food and happiness, to tell mrs. archie that all was well, and that the old home was saved, and that canterbury mutton might now be definitely considered as off the bill of fare. he told me on the phone that night that he had made the price two thousand pounds, because he needed the money, and what was two thousand to a man who had been fleecing the widow and the orphan for forty odd years without a break? i thought the price was a bit high, but i agreed that j. bellingwood could afford it. and happiness, you might say, reigned supreme. i don't know when i've had such a nasty jar as i got when wilberforce brought me the paper in bed, and i languidly opened it and this jumped out and bit at me: bellingwood brackett discovers english genius ---- pays stupendous price for young artist's picture ---- hitherto unknown futurist received â£2,000 underneath there was a column, some of it about archie, the rest about the picture; and scattered over the page were two photographs of old archie, looking more like pa doughnut than anything human, and a smudged reproduction of "the coming of summer"; and, believe me, frightful as the original of that weird exhibit looked, the reproduction had it licked to a whisper. it was one of the ghastliest things i have ever seen. well, after the first shock i recovered a bit. after all, it was fame for dear old archie. as soon as i had had lunch i went down to the flat to congratulate him. he was sitting there with mrs. archie. he was looking a bit dazed, but she was simmering with joy. she welcomed me as the faithful friend. "isn't it perfectly splendid, mr. pepper, to think that archie's genius has at last been recognized? how quiet he kept it. i had no idea that mr. brackett was even interested in his work. i wonder how he heard of it?" "oh, these things get about," i said. "you can't keep a good man down." "think of two thousand pounds for one picture--and the first he has ever sold!" "what beats me," i said, "is how the papers got hold of it." "oh, i sent it to the papers," said mrs. archie, in an offhand way. "i wonder who did the writing up," i said. "they would do that in the office, wouldn't they?" said mrs. archie. "i suppose they would," i said. "they are wonders at that sort of thing." i couldn't help wishing that archie would enter into the spirit of the thing a little more and perk up, instead of sitting there looking like a codfish. the thing seemed to have stunned the poor chappie. "after this, archie," i said, "all you have to do is to sit in your studio, while the police see that the waiting line of millionaires doesn't straggle over the pavement. they'll fight----" "what's that?" said archie, starting as if someone had dug a red-hot needle into his calf. it was only a ring at the bell, followed by a voice asking if mr. ferguson was at home. "probably an interviewer," said mrs. archie. "i suppose we shall get no peace for a long time to come." the door opened, and the cook came in with a card. "'renshaw liggett,'" said mrs. archie "i don't know him. do you, archie? it must be an interviewer. ask him to come in, julia." and in he came. my knowledge of chappies in general, after a fairly wide experience, is that some chappies seem to kind of convey an atmosphere of unpleasantness the moment you come into contact with them. renshaw liggett gave me this feeling directly he came in; and when he fixed me with a sinister glance and said, "mr. ferguson?" i felt inclined to say "not guilty." i backed a step or two and jerked my head towards archie, and renshaw turned the searchlight off me and switched it onto him. "you are mr. archibald ferguson, the artist?" archie nodded pallidly, and renshaw nodded, as much as to say that you couldn't deceive him. he produced a sheet of paper. it was the middle page of the _mail_. "you authorized the publication of this?" archie nodded again. "i represent mr. brackett. the publication of this most impudent fiction has caused mr. brackett extreme annoyance, and, as it might also lead to other and more serious consequences, i must insist that a full denial be published without a moment's delay." "what do you mean?" cried mrs. archie. "are you mad?" she had been standing, listening to the conversation in a sort of trance. now she jumped into the fight with a vim that turned renshaw's attention to her in a second. "no, madam, i am not mad. nor, despite the interested assertions of certain parties whom i need not specify by name, is mr. brackett. it may be news to you, mrs. ferguson, that an action is even now pending in new york, whereby certain parties are attempting to show that my client, mr. brackett, is non compos and should be legally restrained from exercising control over his property. their case is extremely weak, for even if we admit their contention that our client did, on the eighteenth of june last, attempt to walk up fifth avenue in his pyjamas, we shall be able to show that his action was the result of an election bet. but as the parties to whom i have alluded will undoubtedly snatch at every straw in their efforts to prove that mr. brackett is mentally infirm, the prejudicial effect of this publication cannot be over-estimated. unless mr. brackett can clear himself of the stigma of having given two thousand pounds for this extraordinary production of an absolutely unknown artist, the strength of his case must be seriously shaken. i may add that my client's lavish patronage of art is already one of the main planks in the platform of the parties already referred to. they adduce his extremely generous expenditure in this direction as evidence that he is incapable of a proper handling of his money. i need scarcely point out with what sinister pleasure, therefore, they must have contemplated--this." and he looked at "the coming of summer" as if it were a black beetle. i must say, much as i disliked the blighter, i couldn't help feeling that he had right on his side. it hadn't occurred to me in quite that light before, but, considering it calmly now, i could see that a man who would disgorge two thousand of the best for archie's futurist masterpiece might very well step straight into the nut factory, and no questions asked. mrs. archie came right back at him, as game as you please. "i am sorry for mr. brackett's domestic troubles, but my husband can prove without difficulty that he did buy the picture. can't you, dear?" archie, extremely white about the gills, looked at the ceiling and at the floor and at me and renshaw liggett. "no," he said finally. "i can't. because he didn't." "exactly," said renshaw, "and i must ask you to publish that statement in tomorrow's papers without fail." he rose, and made for the door. "my client has no objection to young artists advertising themselves, realizing that this is an age of strenuous competition, but he firmly refuses to permit them to do it at his expense. good afternoon." and he legged it, leaving behind him one of the most chunky silences i have ever been mixed up in. for the life of me, i couldn't see who was to make the next remark. i was jolly certain that it wasn't going to be me. eventually mrs. archie opened the proceedings. "what does it mean?" archie turned to me with a sort of frozen calm. "reggie, would you mind stepping into the kitchen and asking julia for this week's _funny slices_? i know she has it." he was right. she unearthed it from a cupboard. i trotted back with it to the sitting room. archie took the paper from me, and held it out to his wife, doughnuts uppermost. "look!" he said. she looked. "i do them. i have done them every week for three years. no, don't speak yet. listen. this is where all my money came from, all the money i lost when b. and o. p. rails went smash. and this is where the money came from to buy 'the coming of summer.' it wasn't brackett who bought it; it was myself." mrs. archie was devouring the doughnuts with wide-open eyes. i caught a glimpse of them myself, and only just managed not to laugh, for it was the set of pictures where pa doughnut tries to fix the electric light, one of the very finest things dear old archie had ever done. "i don't understand," she said. "i draw these things. i have sold my soul." "archie!" he winced, but stuck to it bravely. "yes, i knew how you would feel about it, and that was why i didn't dare to tell you, and why we fixed up this story about old brackett. i couldn't bear to live on you any longer, and to see you roughing it here, when we might be having all the money we wanted." suddenly, like a boiler exploding, she began to laugh. "they're the funniest things i ever saw in my life," she gurgled. "mr. pepper, do look! he's trying to cut the electric wire with the scissors, and everything blazes up. and you've been hiding this from me all that time!" archie goggled dumbly. she dived at a table, and picked up a magazine, pointing to one of the advertisement pages. "read!" she cried. "read it aloud." and in a shaking voice archie read: you think you are perfectly well, don't you? you wake up in the morning and spring out of bed and say to yourself that you have never been better in your life. you're wrong! unless you are avoiding coffee as you would avoid the man who always tells you the smart things his little boy said yesterday, and drinking safety first molassine for breakfast, you cannot be perfectly well. it is a physical impossibility. coffee contains an appreciable quantity of the deadly drug caffeine, and therefore---"i wrote _that_," she said. "and i wrote the advertisement of the spiller baby food on page ninety-four, and the one about the preeminent breakfast sausage on page eighty-six. oh, archie, dear, the torments i have been through, fearing that you would some day find me out and despise me. i couldn't help it. i had no private means, and i didn't make enough out of my poetry to keep me in hats. i learned to write advertisements four years ago at a correspondence school, and i've been doing them ever since. and now i don't mind your knowing, now that you have told me this perfectly splendid news. archie!" she rushed into his arms like someone charging in for a bowl of soup at a railway station buffet. and i drifted out. it seemed to me that this was a scene in which i was not on. i sidled to the door, and slid forth. they didn't notice me. my experience is that nobody ever does--much. the test case well-meaning chappies at the club sometimes amble up to me and tap me on the wishbone, and say "reggie, old top,"--my name's reggie pepper--"you ought to get married, old man." well, what i mean to say is, it's all very well, and i see their point and all that sort of thing; but it takes two to make a marriage, and to date i haven't met a girl who didn't seem to think the contract was too big to be taken on. looking back, it seems to me that i came nearer to getting over the home-plate with ann selby than with most of the others. in fact, but for circumstances over which i had no dashed control, i am inclined to think that we should have brought it off. i'm bound to say that, now that what the poet chappie calls the first fine frenzy has been on the ice for awhile and i am able to consider the thing calmly, i am deuced glad we didn't. she was one of those strong-minded girls, and i hate to think of what she would have done to me. at the time, though, i was frightfully in love, and, for quite a while after she definitely gave me the mitten, i lost my stroke at golf so completely that a child could have given me a stroke a hole and got away with it. i was all broken up, and i contend to this day that i was dashed badly treated. let me give you what they call the data. one day i was lunching with ann, and was just proposing to her as usual, when, instead of simply refusing me, as she generally did, she fixed me with a thoughtful eye and kind of opened her heart. "do you know, reggie, i am in doubt." "give me the benefit of it," i said. which i maintain was pretty good on the spur of the moment, but didn't get a hand. she simply ignored it, and went on. "sometimes," she said, "you seem to me entirely vapid and brainless; at other times you say or do things which suggest that there are possibilities in you; that, properly stimulated and encouraged, you might overcome the handicap of large private means and do something worthwhile. i wonder if that is simply my imagination?" she watched me very closely as she spoke. "rather not. you've absolutely summed me up. with you beside me, stimulating and all that sort of rot, don't you know, i should show a flash of speed which would astonish you." "i wish i could be certain." "take a chance on it." she shook her head. "i must be certain. marriage is such a gamble. i have just been staying with my sister hilda and her husband----" "dear old harold bodkin. i know him well. in fact, i've a standing invitation to go down there and stay as long as i like. harold is one of my best pals. harold is a corker. good old harold is----" "i would rather you didn't eulogize him, reggie. i am extremely angry with harold. he is making hilda perfectly miserable." "what on earth do you mean? harold wouldn't dream of hurting a fly. he's one of those dreamy, sentimental chumps who----" "it is precisely his sentimentality which is at the bottom of the whole trouble. you know, of course, that hilda is not his first wife?" "that's right. his first wife died about five years ago." "he still cherishes her memory." "very sporting of him." "is it! if you were a girl, how would you like to be married to a man who was always making you bear in mind that you were only number two in his affections; a man whose idea of a pleasant conversation was a string of anecdotes illustrating what a dear woman his first wife was. a man who expected you to upset all your plans if they clashed with some anniversary connected with his other marriage?" "that does sound pretty rotten. does harold do all that?" "that's only a small part of what he does. why, if you will believe me, every evening at seven o'clock he goes and shuts himself up in a little room at the top of the house, and meditates." "what on earth does he do that for?" "apparently his first wife died at seven in the evening. there is a portrait of her in the room. i believe he lays flowers in front of it. and hilda is expected to greet him on his return with a happy smile." "why doesn't she kick?" "i have been trying to persuade her to, but she won't. she just pretends she doesn't mind. she has a nervous, sensitive temperament, and the thing is slowly crushing her. don't talk to me of harold." considering that she had started him as a topic, i thought this pretty unjust. i didn't want to talk of harold. i wanted to talk about myself. "well, what has all this got to do with your not wanting to marry me?" i said. "nothing, except that it is an illustration of the risks a woman runs when she marries a man of a certain type." "great scott! you surely don't class me with harold?" "yes, in a way you are very much alike. you have both always had large private means, and have never had the wholesome discipline of work." "but, dash it, harold, on your showing, is an absolute nut. why should you think that i would be anything like that?" "there's always the risk." a hot idea came to me. "look here, ann," i said, "suppose i pull off some stunt which only a deuced brainy chappie could get away with? would you marry me then?" "certainly. what do you propose to do?" "do! what do i propose to do! well, er, to be absolutely frank, at the moment i don't quite know." "you never will know, reggie. you're one of the idle rich, and your brain, if you ever had one, has atrophied." well, that seemed to me to put the lid on it. i didn't mind a heart-to-heart talk, but this was mere abuse. i changed the subject. "what would you like after that fish?" i said coldly. you know how it is when you get an idea. for awhile it sort of simmers inside you, and then suddenly it sizzles up like a rocket, and there you are, right up against it. that's what happened now. i went away from that luncheon, vaguely determined to pull off some stunt which would prove that i was right there with the gray matter, but without any clear notion of what i was going to do. side by side with this in my mind was the case of dear old harold. when i wasn't brooding on the stunt, i was brooding on harold. i was fond of the good old lad, and i hated the idea of his slowly wrecking the home purely by being a chump. and all of a sudden the two things clicked together like a couple of chemicals, and there i was with a corking plan for killing two birds with one stone--putting one across that would startle and impress ann, and at the same time healing the breach between harold and hilda. my idea was that, in a case like this, it's no good trying opposition. what you want is to work it so that the chappie quits of his own accord. you want to egg him on to overdoing the thing till he gets so that he says to himself, "enough! never again!" that was what was going to happen to harold. when you're going to do a thing, there's nothing like making a quick start. i wrote to harold straight away, proposing myself for a visit. and harold wrote back telling me to come right along. harold and hilda lived alone in a large house. i believe they did a good deal of entertaining at times, but on this occasion i was the only guest. the only other person of note in the place was ponsonby, the butler. of course, if harold had been an ordinary sort of chappie, what i had come to do would have been a pretty big order. i don't mind many things, but i do hesitate to dig into my host's intimate private affairs. but harold was such a simple-minded johnnie, so grateful for a little sympathy and advice, that my job wasn't so very difficult. it wasn't as if he minded talking about amelia, which was his first wife's name. the difficulty was to get him to talk of anything else. i began to understand what ann meant by saying it was tough on hilda. i'm bound to say the old boy was clay in my hands. people call me a chump, but harold was a super-chump, and i did what i liked with him. the second morning of my visit, after breakfast, he grabbed me by the arm. "this way, reggie. i'm just going to show old reggie amelia's portrait, dear." there was a little room all by itself on the top floor. he explained to me that it had been his studio. at one time harold used to do a bit of painting in an amateur way. "there!" he said, pointing at the portrait. "i did that myself, reggie. it was away being cleaned when you were here last. it's like dear amelia, isn't it?" i suppose it was, in a way. at any rate, you could recognize the likeness when you were told who it was supposed to be. he sat down in front of it, and gave it the thoughtful once-over. "do you know, reggie, old top, sometimes when i sit here, i feel as if amelia were back again." "it would be a bit awkward for you if she was." "how do you mean?" "well, old lad, you happen to be married to someone else." a look of childlike enthusiasm came over his face. "reggie, i want to tell you how splendid hilda is. lots of other women might object to my still cherishing amelia's memory, but hilda has been so nice about it from the beginning. she understands so thoroughly." i hadn't much breath left after that, but i used what i had to say: "she doesn't object?" "not a bit," said harold. "it makes everything so pleasant." when i had recovered a bit, i said, "what do you mean by everything?" "well," he said, "for instance, i come up here every evening at seven and--er--think for a few minutes." "a few minutes?!" "what do you mean?" "well, a few minutes isn't long." "but i always have my cocktail at a quarter past." "you could postpone it." "and ponsonby likes us to start dinner at seven-thirty." "what on earth has ponsonby to do with it?" "well, he likes to get off by nine, you know. i think he goes off and plays bowls at the madhouse. you see, reggie, old man, we have to study ponsonby a little. he's always on the verge of giving notice--in fact, it was only by coaxing him on one or two occasions that we got him to stay on--and he's such a treasure that i don't know what we should do if we lost him. but, if you think that i ought to stay longer----?" "certainly i do. you ought to do a thing like this properly, or not at all." he sighed. "it's a frightful risk, but in future we'll dine at eight." it seemed to me that there was a suspicion of a cloud on ponsonby's shining morning face, when the news was broken to him that for the future he couldn't unleash himself on the local bowling talent as early as usual, but he made no kick, and the new order of things began. my next offensive movement i attribute to a flash of absolute genius. i was glancing through a photograph album in the drawing-room before lunch, when i came upon a face which i vaguely remembered. it was one of those wide, flabby faces, with bulging eyes, and something about it struck me as familiar. i consulted harold, who came in at that moment. "that?" said harold. "that's percy." he gave a slight shudder. "amelia's brother, you know. an awful fellow. i haven't seen him for years." then i placed percy. i had met him once or twice in the old days, and i had a brainwave. percy was everything that poor old harold disliked most. he was hearty at breakfast, a confirmed back-slapper, and a man who prodded you in the chest when he spoke to you. "you haven't seen him for years!" i said in a shocked voice. "thank heaven!" said harold devoutly. i put down the photograph album, and looked at him in a deuced serious way. "then it's high time you asked him to come here." harold blanched. "reggie, old man, you don't know what you are saying. you can't remember percy. i wish you wouldn't say these things, even in fun." "i'm not saying it in fun. of course, it's none of my business, but you have paid me the compliment of confiding in me about amelia, and i feel justified in speaking. all i can say is that, if you cherish her memory as you say you do, you show it in a very strange way. how you can square your neglect of percy with your alleged devotion to amelia's memory, beats me. it seems to me that you have no choice. you must either drop the whole thing and admit that your love for her is dead, or else you must stop this infernal treatment of her favorite brother. you can't have it both ways." he looked at me like a hunted stag. "but, reggie, old man! percy! he asks riddles at breakfast." "i don't care." "hilda can't stand him." "it doesn't matter. you must invite him. it's not a case of what you like or don't like. it's your duty." he struggled with his feelings for a bit. "very well," he said in a crushed sort of voice. at dinner that night he said to hilda: "i'm going to ask amelia's brother down to spend a few days. it is so long since we have seen him." hilda didn't answer at once. she looked at him in rather a curious sort of way, i thought. "very well, dear," she said. i was deuced sorry for the poor girl, but i felt like a surgeon. she would be glad later on, for i was convinced that in a very short while poor old harold must crack under the strain, especially after i had put across the coup which i was meditating for the very next evening. it was quite simple. simple, that is to say, in its working, but a devilish brainy thing for a chappie to have thought out. if ann had really meant what she had said at lunch that day, and was prepared to stick to her bargain and marry me as soon as i showed a burst of intelligence, she was mine. what it came to was that, if dear old harold enjoyed meditating in front of amelia's portrait, he was jolly well going to have all the meditating he wanted, and a bit over, for my simple scheme was to lurk outside till he had gone into the little room on the top floor, and then, with the aid of one of those jolly little wedges which you use to keep windows from rattling, see to it that the old boy remained there till they sent out search parties. there wasn't a flaw in my reasoning. when harold didn't roll in at the sound of the dinner gong, hilda would take it for granted that he was doing an extra bit of meditating that night, and her pride would stop her sending out a hurry call for him. as for harold, when he found that all was not well with the door, he would probably yell with considerable vim. but it was odds against anyone hearing him. as for me, you might think that i was going to suffer owing to the probable postponement of dinner. not so, but far otherwise, for on the night i had selected for the coup i was dining out at the neighboring inn with my old college chum freddie meadowes. it is true that freddie wasn't going to be within fifty miles of the place on that particular night, but they weren't to know that. did i describe the peculiar isolation of that room on the top floor, where the portrait was? i don't think i did. it was, as a matter of fact, the only room in those parts, for, in the days when he did his amateur painting, old harold was strong on the artistic seclusion business and hated noise, and his studio was the only room in use on that floor. in short, to sum up, the thing was a cinch. punctually at ten minutes to seven, i was in readiness on the scene. there was a recess with a curtain in front of it a few yards from the door, and there i waited, fondling my little wedge, for harold to walk up and allow the proceedings to start. it was almost pitch-dark, and that made the time of waiting seem longer. presently--i seemed to have been there longer than ten minutes--i heard steps approaching. they came past where i stood, and went on into the room. the door closed, and i hopped out and sprinted up to it, and the next moment i had the good old wedge under the wood--as neat a job as you could imagine. and then i strolled downstairs, and toddled off to the inn. i didn't hurry over my dinner, partly because the browsing and sluicing at the inn was really astonishingly good for a roadhouse and partly because i wanted to give harold plenty of time for meditation. i suppose it must have been a couple of hours or more when i finally turned in at the front door. somebody was playing the piano in the drawing room. it could only be hilda who was playing, and i had doubts as to whether she wanted company just then--mine, at any rate. eventually i decided to risk it, for i wanted to hear the latest about dear old harold, so in i went, and it wasn't hilda at all; it was ann selby. "hello," i said. "i didn't know you were coming down here." it seemed so odd, don't you know, as it hadn't been more than ten days or so since her last visit. "good evening, reggie," she said. "what's been happening?" i asked. "how do you know anything has been happening?" "i guessed it." "well, you're quite right, as it happens, reggie. a good deal has been happening." she went to the door, and looked out, listening. then she shut it, and came back. "hilda has revolted!" "revolted?" "yes, put her foot down--made a stand--refused to go on meekly putting up with harold's insane behavior." "i don't understand." she gave me a look of pity. "you always were so dense, reggie. i will tell you the whole thing from the beginning. you remember what i spoke to you about, one day when we were lunching together? well, i don't suppose you have noticed it--i know what you are--but things have been getting steadily worse. for one thing, harold insisted on lengthening his visits to the top room, and naturally ponsonby complained. hilda tells me that she had to plead with him to induce him to stay on. then the climax came. i don't know if you recollect amelia's brother percy? you must have met him when she was alive--a perfectly unspeakable person with a loud voice and overpowering manners. suddenly, out of a blue sky, harold announced his intention of inviting him to stay. it was the last straw. this afternoon i received a telegram from poor hilda, saying that she was leaving harold and coming to stay with me, and a few hours later the poor child arrived at my apartment." you mustn't suppose that i stood listening silently to this speech. every time she seemed to be going to stop for breath i tried to horn in and tell her all these things which had been happening were not mere flukes, as she seemed to think, but parts of a deuced carefully planned scheme of my own. every time i'd try to interrupt, ann would wave me down, and carry on without so much as a semi-colon. but at this point i did manage a word in. "i know, i know, i know! i did it all. it was i who suggested to harold that he should lengthen the meditations, and insisted on his inviting percy to stay." i had hardly got the words out, when i saw that they were not making the hit i had anticipated. she looked at me with an expression of absolute scorn, don't you know. "well, really, reggie," she said at last, "i never have had a very high opinion of your intelligence, as you know, but this is a revelation to me. what motive you can have had, unless you did it in a spirit of pure mischief----" she stopped, and there was a glare of undiluted repulsion in her eyes. "reggie! i can't believe it! of all the things i loathe most, a practical joker is the worst. do you mean to tell me you did all this as a practical joke?" "great scott, no! it was like this----" i paused for a bare second to collect my thoughts, so as to put the thing clearly to her. i might have known what would happen. she dashed right in and collared the conversation. "well, never mind. as it happens, there is no harm done. quite the reverse, in fact. hilda left a note for harold telling him what she had done and where she had gone and why she had gone, and harold found it. the result was that, after hilda had been with me for some time, in he came in a panic and absolutely grovelled before the dear child. it seems incredible but he had apparently had no notion that his absurd behavior had met with anything but approval from hilda. he went on as if he were mad. he was beside himself. he clutched his hair and stamped about the room, and then he jumped at the telephone and called this house and got ponsonby and told him to go straight to the little room on the top floor and take amelia's portrait down. i thought that a little unnecessary myself, but he was in such a whirl of remorse that it was useless to try and get him to be rational. so hilda was consoled, and he calmed down, and we all came down here in the automobile. so you see----" at this moment the door opened, and in came harold. "i say--hello, reggie, old man--i say, it's a funny thing, but we can't find ponsonby anywhere." there are moments in a chappie's life, don't you know, when reason, so to speak, totters, as it were, on its bally throne. this was one of them. the situation seemed somehow to have got out of my grip. i suppose, strictly speaking, i ought, at this juncture, to have cleared my throat and said in an audible tone, "harold, old top, _i_ know where ponsonby is." but somehow i couldn't. something seemed to keep the words back. i just stood there and said nothing. "nobody seems to have seen anything of him," said harold. "i wonder where he can have got to." hilda came in, looking so happy i hardly recognized her. i remember feeling how strange it was that anybody could be happy just then. "_i_ know," she said. "of course! doesn't he always go off to the inn and play bowls at this time?" "why, of course," said harold. "so he does." and he asked ann to play something on the piano. and pretty soon we had settled down to a regular jolly musical evening. ann must have played a matter of two or three thousand tunes, when harold got up. "by the way," he said. "i suppose he did what i told him about the picture before he went out. let's go and see." "oh, harold, what does it matter?" asked hilda. "don't be silly, harold," said ann. i would have said the same thing, only i couldn't say anything. harold wasn't to be stopped. he led the way out of the room and upstairs, and we all trailed after him. we had just reached the top floor, when hilda stopped, and said "hark!" it was a voice. "hi!" it said. "hi!" harold legged it to the door of the studio. "ponsonby?" from within came the voice again, and i have never heard anything to touch the combined pathos, dignity and indignation it managed to condense into two words. "yes, sir?" "what on earth are you doing in there?" "i came here, sir, in accordance with your instructions on the telephone, and----" harold rattled the door. "the darned thing's stuck." "yes, sir." "how on earth did that happen?" "i could not say, sir." "how _can_ the door have stuck like this?" said ann. somebody--i suppose it was me, though the voice didn't sound familiar--spoke. "perhaps there's a wedge under it," said this chappie. "a wedge? what do you mean?" "one of those little wedges you use to keep windows from rattling, don't you know." "but why----? you're absolutely right, reggie, old man, there is!" he yanked it out, and flung the door open, and out came ponsonby, looking like lady macbeth. "i wish to give notice, sir," he said, "and i should esteem it a favor if i might go to the pantry and procure some food, as i am extremely hungry." and he passed from our midst, with hilda after him, saying: "but, ponsonby! be reasonable, ponsonby!" ann selby turned on me with a swish. "reggie," she said, "did _you_ shut ponsonby in there?" "well, yes, as a matter of fact, i did." "but why?" asked harold. "well, to be absolutely frank, old top, i thought it was you." "you thought it was me? but why--what did you want to lock me in for?" i hesitated. it was a delicate business telling him the idea. and while i was hesitating, ann jumped in. "i can tell you why, harold. it was because reggie belongs to that sub-species of humanity known as practical jokers. this sort of thing is his idea of humor." "humor! losing us a priceless butler," said harold. "if that's your idea of----" hilda came back, pale and anxious. "harold, dear, do come and help me reason with ponsonby. he is in the pantry gnawing a cold chicken, and he only stops to say 'i give notice.'" "yes," said ann. "go, both of you. i wish to speak to reggie alone." that's how i came to lose ann. at intervals during her remarks i tried to put my side of the case, but it was no good. she wouldn't listen. and presently something seemed to tell me that now was the time to go to my room and pack. half an hour later i slid silently into the night. wasn't it shakespeare or somebody who said that the road to hell--or words to that effect--was paved with good intentions? if it was shakespeare, it just goes to prove what they are always saying about him--that he knew a bit. take it from one who knows, the old boy was absolutely right. my man jeeves by p. g. wodehouse 1919 contents leave it to jeeves jeeves and the unbidden guest jeeves and the hard-boiled egg absent treatment helping freddie rallying round old george doing clarence a bit of good the aunt and the sluggard leave it to jeeves jeeves--my man, you know--is really a most extraordinary chap. so capable. honestly, i shouldn't know what to do without him. on broader lines he's like those chappies who sit peering sadly over the marble battlements at the pennsylvania station in the place marked "inquiries." you know the johnnies i mean. you go up to them and say: "when's the next train for melonsquashville, tennessee?" and they reply, without stopping to think, "two-forty-three, track ten, change at san francisco." and they're right every time. well, jeeves gives you just the same impression of omniscience. as an instance of what i mean, i remember meeting monty byng in bond street one morning, looking the last word in a grey check suit, and i felt i should never be happy till i had one like it. i dug the address of the tailors out of him, and had them working on the thing inside the hour. "jeeves," i said that evening. "i'm getting a check suit like that one of mr. byng's." "injudicious, sir," he said firmly. "it will not become you." "what absolute rot! it's the soundest thing i've struck for years." "unsuitable for you, sir." well, the long and the short of it was that the confounded thing came home, and i put it on, and when i caught sight of myself in the glass i nearly swooned. jeeves was perfectly right. i looked a cross between a music-hall comedian and a cheap bookie. yet monty had looked fine in absolutely the same stuff. these things are just life's mysteries, and that's all there is to it. but it isn't only that jeeves's judgment about clothes is infallible, though, of course, that's really the main thing. the man knows everything. there was the matter of that tip on the "lincolnshire." i forget now how i got it, but it had the aspect of being the real, red-hot tabasco. "jeeves," i said, for i'm fond of the man, and like to do him a good turn when i can, "if you want to make a bit of money have something on wonderchild for the 'lincolnshire.'" he shook his head. "i'd rather not, sir." "but it's the straight goods. i'm going to put my shirt on him." "i do not recommend it, sir. the animal is not intended to win. second place is what the stable is after." perfect piffle, i thought, of course. how the deuce could jeeves know anything about it? still, you know what happened. wonderchild led till he was breathing on the wire, and then banana fritter came along and nosed him out. i went straight home and rang for jeeves. "after this," i said, "not another step for me without your advice. from now on consider yourself the brains of the establishment." "very good, sir. i shall endeavour to give satisfaction." and he has, by jove! i'm a bit short on brain myself; the old bean would appear to have been constructed more for ornament than for use, don't you know; but give me five minutes to talk the thing over with jeeves, and i'm game to advise any one about anything. and that's why, when bruce corcoran came to me with his troubles, my first act was to ring the bell and put it up to the lad with the bulging forehead. "leave it to jeeves," i said. i first got to know corky when i came to new york. he was a pal of my cousin gussie, who was in with a lot of people down washington square way. i don't know if i ever told you about it, but the reason why i left england was because i was sent over by my aunt agatha to try to stop young gussie marrying a girl on the vaudeville stage, and i got the whole thing so mixed up that i decided that it would be a sound scheme for me to stop on in america for a bit instead of going back and having long cosy chats about the thing with aunt. so i sent jeeves out to find a decent apartment, and settled down for a bit of exile. i'm bound to say that new york's a topping place to be exiled in. everybody was awfully good to me, and there seemed to be plenty of things going on, and i'm a wealthy bird, so everything was fine. chappies introduced me to other chappies, and so on and so forth, and it wasn't long before i knew squads of the right sort, some who rolled in dollars in houses up by the park, and others who lived with the gas turned down mostly around washington square--artists and writers and so forth. brainy coves. corky was one of the artists. a portrait-painter, he called himself, but he hadn't painted any portraits. he was sitting on the side-lines with a blanket over his shoulders, waiting for a chance to get into the game. you see, the catch about portrait-painting--i've looked into the thing a bit--is that you can't start painting portraits till people come along and ask you to, and they won't come and ask you to until you've painted a lot first. this makes it kind of difficult for a chappie. corky managed to get along by drawing an occasional picture for the comic papers--he had rather a gift for funny stuff when he got a good idea--and doing bedsteads and chairs and things for the advertisements. his principal source of income, however, was derived from biting the ear of a rich uncle--one alexander worple, who was in the jute business. i'm a bit foggy as to what jute is, but it's apparently something the populace is pretty keen on, for mr. worple had made quite an indecently large stack out of it. now, a great many fellows think that having a rich uncle is a pretty soft snap: but, according to corky, such is not the case. corky's uncle was a robust sort of cove, who looked like living for ever. he was fifty-one, and it seemed as if he might go to par. it was not this, however, that distressed poor old corky, for he was not bigoted and had no objection to the man going on living. what corky kicked at was the way the above worple used to harry him. corky's uncle, you see, didn't want him to be an artist. he didn't think he had any talent in that direction. he was always urging him to chuck art and go into the jute business and start at the bottom and work his way up. jute had apparently become a sort of obsession with him. he seemed to attach almost a spiritual importance to it. and what corky said was that, while he didn't know what they did at the bottom of the jute business, instinct told him that it was something too beastly for words. corky, moreover, believed in his future as an artist. some day, he said, he was going to make a hit. meanwhile, by using the utmost tact and persuasiveness, he was inducing his uncle to cough up very grudgingly a small quarterly allowance. he wouldn't have got this if his uncle hadn't had a hobby. mr. worple was peculiar in this respect. as a rule, from what i've observed, the american captain of industry doesn't do anything out of business hours. when he has put the cat out and locked up the office for the night, he just relapses into a state of coma from which he emerges only to start being a captain of industry again. but mr. worple in his spare time was what is known as an ornithologist. he had written a book called _american birds_, and was writing another, to be called _more american birds_. when he had finished that, the presumption was that he would begin a third, and keep on till the supply of american birds gave out. corky used to go to him about once every three months and let him talk about american birds. apparently you could do what you liked with old worple if you gave him his head first on his pet subject, so these little chats used to make corky's allowance all right for the time being. but it was pretty rotten for the poor chap. there was the frightful suspense, you see, and, apart from that, birds, except when broiled and in the society of a cold bottle, bored him stiff. to complete the character-study of mr. worple, he was a man of extremely uncertain temper, and his general tendency was to think that corky was a poor chump and that whatever step he took in any direction on his own account, was just another proof of his innate idiocy. i should imagine jeeves feels very much the same about me. so when corky trickled into my apartment one afternoon, shooing a girl in front of him, and said, "bertie, i want you to meet my fiancée, miss singer," the aspect of the matter which hit me first was precisely the one which he had come to consult me about. the very first words i spoke were, "corky, how about your uncle?" the poor chap gave one of those mirthless laughs. he was looking anxious and worried, like a man who has done the murder all right but can't think what the deuce to do with the body. "we're so scared, mr. wooster," said the girl. "we were hoping that you might suggest a way of breaking it to him." muriel singer was one of those very quiet, appealing girls who have a way of looking at you with their big eyes as if they thought you were the greatest thing on earth and wondered that you hadn't got on to it yet yourself. she sat there in a sort of shrinking way, looking at me as if she were saying to herself, "oh, i do hope this great strong man isn't going to hurt me." she gave a fellow a protective kind of feeling, made him want to stroke her hand and say, "there, there, little one!" or words to that effect. she made me feel that there was nothing i wouldn't do for her. she was rather like one of those innocent-tasting american drinks which creep imperceptibly into your system so that, before you know what you're doing, you're starting out to reform the world by force if necessary and pausing on your way to tell the large man in the corner that, if he looks at you like that, you will knock his head off. what i mean is, she made me feel alert and dashing, like a jolly old knight-errant or something of that kind. i felt that i was with her in this thing to the limit. "i don't see why your uncle shouldn't be most awfully bucked," i said to corky. "he will think miss singer the ideal wife for you." corky declined to cheer up. "you don't know him. even if he did like muriel he wouldn't admit it. that's the sort of pig-headed guy he is. it would be a matter of principle with him to kick. all he would consider would be that i had gone and taken an important step without asking his advice, and he would raise cain automatically. he's always done it." i strained the old bean to meet this emergency. "you want to work it so that he makes miss singer's acquaintance without knowing that you know her. then you come along----" "but how can i work it that way?" i saw his point. that was the catch. "there's only one thing to do," i said. "what's that?" "leave it to jeeves." and i rang the bell. "sir?" said jeeves, kind of manifesting himself. one of the rummy things about jeeves is that, unless you watch like a hawk, you very seldom see him come into a room. he's like one of those weird chappies in india who dissolve themselves into thin air and nip through space in a sort of disembodied way and assemble the parts again just where they want them. i've got a cousin who's what they call a theosophist, and he says he's often nearly worked the thing himself, but couldn't quite bring it off, probably owing to having fed in his boyhood on the flesh of animals slain in anger and pie. the moment i saw the man standing there, registering respectful attention, a weight seemed to roll off my mind. i felt like a lost child who spots his father in the offing. there was something about him that gave me confidence. jeeves is a tallish man, with one of those dark, shrewd faces. his eye gleams with the light of pure intelligence. "jeeves, we want your advice." "very good, sir." i boiled down corky's painful case into a few well-chosen words. "so you see what it amount to, jeeves. we want you to suggest some way by which mr. worple can make miss singer's acquaintance without getting on to the fact that mr. corcoran already knows her. understand?" "perfectly, sir." "well, try to think of something." "i have thought of something already, sir." "you have!" "the scheme i would suggest cannot fail of success, but it has what may seem to you a drawback, sir, in that it requires a certain financial outlay." "he means," i translated to corky, "that he has got a pippin of an idea, but it's going to cost a bit." naturally the poor chap's face dropped, for this seemed to dish the whole thing. but i was still under the influence of the girl's melting gaze, and i saw that this was where i started in as a knight-errant. "you can count on me for all that sort of thing, corky," i said. "only too glad. carry on, jeeves." "i would suggest, sir, that mr. corcoran take advantage of mr. worple's attachment to ornithology." "how on earth did you know that he was fond of birds?" "it is the way these new york apartments are constructed, sir. quite unlike our london houses. the partitions between the rooms are of the flimsiest nature. with no wish to overhear, i have sometimes heard mr. corcoran expressing himself with a generous strength on the subject i have mentioned." "oh! well?" "why should not the young lady write a small volume, to be entitled--let us say--_the children's book of american birds_, and dedicate it to mr. worple! a limited edition could be published at your expense, sir, and a great deal of the book would, of course, be given over to eulogistic remarks concerning mr. worple's own larger treatise on the same subject. i should recommend the dispatching of a presentation copy to mr. worple, immediately on publication, accompanied by a letter in which the young lady asks to be allowed to make the acquaintance of one to whom she owes so much. this would, i fancy, produce the desired result, but as i say, the expense involved would be considerable." i felt like the proprietor of a performing dog on the vaudeville stage when the tyke has just pulled off his trick without a hitch. i had betted on jeeves all along, and i had known that he wouldn't let me down. it beats me sometimes why a man with his genius is satisfied to hang around pressing my clothes and what-not. if i had half jeeves's brain, i should have a stab at being prime minister or something. "jeeves," i said, "that is absolutely ripping! one of your very best efforts." "thank you, sir." the girl made an objection. "but i'm sure i couldn't write a book about anything. i can't even write good letters." "muriel's talents," said corky, with a little cough "lie more in the direction of the drama, bertie. i didn't mention it before, but one of our reasons for being a trifle nervous as to how uncle alexander will receive the news is that muriel is in the chorus of that show _choose your exit_ at the manhattan. it's absurdly unreasonable, but we both feel that that fact might increase uncle alexander's natural tendency to kick like a steer." i saw what he meant. goodness knows there was fuss enough in our family when i tried to marry into musical comedy a few years ago. and the recollection of my aunt agatha's attitude in the matter of gussie and the vaudeville girl was still fresh in my mind. i don't know why it is--one of these psychology sharps could explain it, i suppose--but uncles and aunts, as a class, are always dead against the drama, legitimate or otherwise. they don't seem able to stick it at any price. but jeeves had a solution, of course. "i fancy it would be a simple matter, sir, to find some impecunious author who would be glad to do the actual composition of the volume for a small fee. it is only necessary that the young lady's name should appear on the title page." "that's true," said corky. "sam patterson would do it for a hundred dollars. he writes a novelette, three short stories, and ten thousand words of a serial for one of the all-fiction magazines under different names every month. a little thing like this would be nothing to him. i'll get after him right away." "fine!" "will that be all, sir?" said jeeves. "very good, sir. thank you, sir." i always used to think that publishers had to be devilish intelligent fellows, loaded down with the grey matter; but i've got their number now. all a publisher has to do is to write cheques at intervals, while a lot of deserving and industrious chappies rally round and do the real work. i know, because i've been one myself. i simply sat tight in the old apartment with a fountain-pen, and in due season a topping, shiny book came along. i happened to be down at corky's place when the first copies of _the children's book of american birds_ bobbed up. muriel singer was there, and we were talking of things in general when there was a bang at the door and the parcel was delivered. it was certainly some book. it had a red cover with a fowl of some species on it, and underneath the girl's name in gold letters. i opened a copy at random. "often of a spring morning," it said at the top of page twenty-one, "as you wander through the fields, you will hear the sweet-toned, carelessly flowing warble of the purple finch linnet. when you are older you must read all about him in mr. alexander worple's wonderful book--_american birds_." you see. a boost for the uncle right away. and only a few pages later there he was in the limelight again in connection with the yellow-billed cuckoo. it was great stuff. the more i read, the more i admired the chap who had written it and jeeves's genius in putting us on to the wheeze. i didn't see how the uncle could fail to drop. you can't call a chap the world's greatest authority on the yellow-billed cuckoo without rousing a certain disposition towards chumminess in him. "it's a cert!" i said. "an absolute cinch!" said corky. and a day or two later he meandered up the avenue to my apartment to tell me that all was well. the uncle had written muriel a letter so dripping with the milk of human kindness that if he hadn't known mr. worple's handwriting corky would have refused to believe him the author of it. any time it suited miss singer to call, said the uncle, he would be delighted to make her acquaintance. shortly after this i had to go out of town. divers sound sportsmen had invited me to pay visits to their country places, and it wasn't for several months that i settled down in the city again. i had been wondering a lot, of course, about corky, whether it all turned out right, and so forth, and my first evening in new york, happening to pop into a quiet sort of little restaurant which i go to when i don't feel inclined for the bright lights, i found muriel singer there, sitting by herself at a table near the door. corky, i took it, was out telephoning. i went up and passed the time of day. "well, well, well, what?" i said. "why, mr. wooster! how do you do?" "corky around?" "i beg your pardon?" "you're waiting for corky, aren't you?" "oh, i didn't understand. no, i'm not waiting for him." it seemed to me that there was a sort of something in her voice, a kind of thingummy, you know. "i say, you haven't had a row with corky, have you?" "a row?" "a spat, don't you know--little misunderstanding--faults on both sides--er--and all that sort of thing." "why, whatever makes you think that?" "oh, well, as it were, what? what i mean is--i thought you usually dined with him before you went to the theatre." "i've left the stage now." suddenly the whole thing dawned on me. i had forgotten what a long time i had been away. "why, of course, i see now! you're married!" "yes." "how perfectly topping! i wish you all kinds of happiness." "thank you, so much. oh alexander," she said, looking past me, "this is a friend of mine--mr. wooster." i spun round. a chappie with a lot of stiff grey hair and a red sort of healthy face was standing there. rather a formidable johnnie, he looked, though quite peaceful at the moment. "i want you to meet my husband, mr. wooster. mr. wooster is a friend of bruce's, alexander." the old boy grasped my hand warmly, and that was all that kept me from hitting the floor in a heap. the place was rocking. absolutely. "so you know my nephew, mr. wooster," i heard him say. "i wish you would try to knock a little sense into him and make him quit this playing at painting. but i have an idea that he is steadying down. i noticed it first that night he came to dinner with us, my dear, to be introduced to you. he seemed altogether quieter and more serious. something seemed to have sobered him. perhaps you will give us the pleasure of your company at dinner to-night, mr. wooster? or have you dined?" i said i had. what i needed then was air, not dinner. i felt that i wanted to get into the open and think this thing out. when i reached my apartment i heard jeeves moving about in his lair. i called him. "jeeves," i said, "now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of the party. a stiff b.-and-s. first of all, and then i've a bit of news for you." he came back with a tray and a long glass. "better have one yourself, jeeves. you'll need it." "later on, perhaps, thank you, sir." "all right. please yourself. but you're going to get a shock. you remember my friend, mr. corcoran?" "yes, sir." "and the girl who was to slide gracefully into his uncle's esteem by writing the book on birds?" "perfectly, sir." "well, she's slid. she's married the uncle." he took it without blinking. you can't rattle jeeves. "that was always a development to be feared, sir." "you don't mean to tell me that you were expecting it?" "it crossed my mind as a possibility." "did it, by jove! well, i think, you might have warned us!" "i hardly liked to take the liberty, sir." of course, as i saw after i had had a bite to eat and was in a calmer frame of mind, what had happened wasn't my fault, if you come down to it. i couldn't be expected to foresee that the scheme, in itself a cracker-jack, would skid into the ditch as it had done; but all the same i'm bound to admit that i didn't relish the idea of meeting corky again until time, the great healer, had been able to get in a bit of soothing work. i cut washington square out absolutely for the next few months. i gave it the complete miss-in-baulk. and then, just when i was beginning to think i might safely pop down in that direction and gather up the dropped threads, so to speak, time, instead of working the healing wheeze, went and pulled the most awful bone and put the lid on it. opening the paper one morning, i read that mrs. alexander worple had presented her husband with a son and heir. i was so darned sorry for poor old corky that i hadn't the heart to touch my breakfast. i told jeeves to drink it himself. i was bowled over. absolutely. it was the limit. i hardly knew what to do. i wanted, of course, to rush down to washington square and grip the poor blighter silently by the hand; and then, thinking it over, i hadn't the nerve. absent treatment seemed the touch. i gave it him in waves. but after a month or so i began to hesitate again. it struck me that it was playing it a bit low-down on the poor chap, avoiding him like this just when he probably wanted his pals to surge round him most. i pictured him sitting in his lonely studio with no company but his bitter thoughts, and the pathos of it got me to such an extent that i bounded straight into a taxi and told the driver to go all out for the studio. i rushed in, and there was corky, hunched up at the easel, painting away, while on the model throne sat a severe-looking female of middle age, holding a baby. a fellow has to be ready for that sort of thing. "oh, ah!" i said, and started to back out. corky looked over his shoulder. "halloa, bertie. don't go. we're just finishing for the day. that will be all this afternoon," he said to the nurse, who got up with the baby and decanted it into a perambulator which was standing in the fairway. "at the same hour to-morrow, mr. corcoran?" "yes, please." "good afternoon." "good afternoon." corky stood there, looking at the door, and then he turned to me and began to get it off his chest. fortunately, he seemed to take it for granted that i knew all about what had happened, so it wasn't as awkward as it might have been. "it's my uncle's idea," he said. "muriel doesn't know about it yet. the portrait's to be a surprise for her on her birthday. the nurse takes the kid out ostensibly to get a breather, and they beat it down here. if you want an instance of the irony of fate, bertie, get acquainted with this. here's the first commission i have ever had to paint a portrait, and the sitter is that human poached egg that has butted in and bounced me out of my inheritance. can you beat it! i call it rubbing the thing in to expect me to spend my afternoons gazing into the ugly face of a little brat who to all intents and purposes has hit me behind the ear with a blackjack and swiped all i possess. i can't refuse to paint the portrait because if i did my uncle would stop my allowance; yet every time i look up and catch that kid's vacant eye, i suffer agonies. i tell you, bertie, sometimes when he gives me a patronizing glance and then turns away and is sick, as if it revolted him to look at me, i come within an ace of occupying the entire front page of the evening papers as the latest murder sensation. there are moments when i can almost see the headlines: 'promising young artist beans baby with axe.'" i patted his shoulder silently. my sympathy for the poor old scout was too deep for words. i kept away from the studio for some time after that, because it didn't seem right to me to intrude on the poor chappie's sorrow. besides, i'm bound to say that nurse intimidated me. she reminded me so infernally of aunt agatha. she was the same gimlet-eyed type. but one afternoon corky called me on the 'phone. "bertie." "halloa?" "are you doing anything this afternoon?" "nothing special." "you couldn't come down here, could you?" "what's the trouble? anything up?" "i've finished the portrait." "good boy! stout work!" "yes." his voice sounded rather doubtful. "the fact is, bertie, it doesn't look quite right to me. there's something about it--my uncle's coming in half an hour to inspect it, and--i don't know why it is, but i kind of feel i'd like your moral support!" i began to see that i was letting myself in for something. the sympathetic co-operation of jeeves seemed to me to be indicated. "you think he'll cut up rough?" "he may." i threw my mind back to the red-faced chappie i had met at the restaurant, and tried to picture him cutting up rough. it was only too easy. i spoke to corky firmly on the telephone. "i'll come," i said. "good!" "but only if i may bring jeeves!" "why jeeves? what's jeeves got to do with it? who wants jeeves? jeeves is the fool who suggested the scheme that has led----" "listen, corky, old top! if you think i am going to face that uncle of yours without jeeves's support, you're mistaken. i'd sooner go into a den of wild beasts and bite a lion on the back of the neck." "oh, all right," said corky. not cordially, but he said it; so i rang for jeeves, and explained the situation. "very good, sir," said jeeves. that's the sort of chap he is. you can't rattle him. we found corky near the door, looking at the picture, with one hand up in a defensive sort of way, as if he thought it might swing on him. "stand right where you are, bertie," he said, without moving. "now, tell me honestly, how does it strike you?" the light from the big window fell right on the picture. i took a good look at it. then i shifted a bit nearer and took another look. then i went back to where i had been at first, because it hadn't seemed quite so bad from there. "well?" said corky, anxiously. i hesitated a bit. "of course, old man, i only saw the kid once, and then only for a moment, but--but it _was_ an ugly sort of kid, wasn't it, if i remember rightly?" "as ugly as that?" i looked again, and honesty compelled me to be frank. "i don't see how it could have been, old chap." poor old corky ran his fingers through his hair in a temperamental sort of way. he groaned. "you're right quite, bertie. something's gone wrong with the darned thing. my private impression is that, without knowing it, i've worked that stunt that sargent and those fellows pull--painting the soul of the sitter. i've got through the mere outward appearance, and have put the child's soul on canvas." "but could a child of that age have a soul like that? i don't see how he could have managed it in the time. what do you think, jeeves?" "i doubt it, sir." "it--it sorts of leers at you, doesn't it?" "you've noticed that, too?" said corky. "i don't see how one could help noticing." "all i tried to do was to give the little brute a cheerful expression. but, as it worked out, he looks positively dissipated." "just what i was going to suggest, old man. he looks as if he were in the middle of a colossal spree, and enjoying every minute of it. don't you think so, jeeves?" "he has a decidedly inebriated air, sir." corky was starting to say something when the door opened, and the uncle came in. for about three seconds all was joy, jollity, and goodwill. the old boy shook hands with me, slapped corky on the back, said that he didn't think he had ever seen such a fine day, and whacked his leg with his stick. jeeves had projected himself into the background, and he didn't notice him. "well, bruce, my boy; so the portrait is really finished, is it--really finished? well, bring it out. let's have a look at it. this will be a wonderful surprise for your aunt. where is it? let's----" and then he got it--suddenly, when he wasn't set for the punch; and he rocked back on his heels. "oosh!" he exclaimed. and for perhaps a minute there was one of the scaliest silences i've ever run up against. "is this a practical joke?" he said at last, in a way that set about sixteen draughts cutting through the room at once. i thought it was up to me to rally round old corky. "you want to stand a bit farther away from it," i said. "you're perfectly right!" he snorted. "i do! i want to stand so far away from it that i can't see the thing with a telescope!" he turned on corky like an untamed tiger of the jungle who has just located a chunk of meat. "and this--this--is what you have been wasting your time and my money for all these years! a painter! i wouldn't let you paint a house of mine! i gave you this commission, thinking that you were a competent worker, and this--this--this extract from a comic coloured supplement is the result!" he swung towards the door, lashing his tail and growling to himself. "this ends it! if you wish to continue this foolery of pretending to be an artist because you want an excuse for idleness, please yourself. but let me tell you this. unless you report at my office on monday morning, prepared to abandon all this idiocy and start in at the bottom of the business to work your way up, as you should have done half a dozen years ago, not another cent--not another cent--not another--boosh!" then the door closed, and he was no longer with us. and i crawled out of the bombproof shelter. "corky, old top!" i whispered faintly. corky was standing staring at the picture. his face was set. there was a hunted look in his eye. "well, that finishes it!" he muttered brokenly. "what are you going to do?" "do? what can i do? i can't stick on here if he cuts off supplies. you heard what he said. i shall have to go to the office on monday." i couldn't think of a thing to say. i knew exactly how he felt about the office. i don't know when i've been so infernally uncomfortable. it was like hanging round trying to make conversation to a pal who's just been sentenced to twenty years in quod. and then a soothing voice broke the silence. "if i might make a suggestion, sir!" it was jeeves. he had slid from the shadows and was gazing gravely at the picture. upon my word, i can't give you a better idea of the shattering effect of corky's uncle alexander when in action than by saying that he had absolutely made me forget for the moment that jeeves was there. "i wonder if i have ever happened to mention to you, sir, a mr. digby thistleton, with whom i was once in service? perhaps you have met him? he was a financier. he is now lord bridgnorth. it was a favourite saying of his that there is always a way. the first time i heard him use the expression was after the failure of a patent depilatory which he promoted." "jeeves," i said, "what on earth are you talking about?" "i mentioned mr. thistleton, sir, because his was in some respects a parallel case to the present one. his depilatory failed, but he did not despair. he put it on the market again under the name of hair-o, guaranteed to produce a full crop of hair in a few months. it was advertised, if you remember, sir, by a humorous picture of a billiard-ball, before and after taking, and made such a substantial fortune that mr. thistleton was soon afterwards elevated to the peerage for services to his party. it seems to me that, if mr. corcoran looks into the matter, he will find, like mr. thistleton, that there is always a way. mr. worple himself suggested the solution of the difficulty. in the heat of the moment he compared the portrait to an extract from a coloured comic supplement. i consider the suggestion a very valuable one, sir. mr. corcoran's portrait may not have pleased mr. worple as a likeness of his only child, but i have no doubt that editors would gladly consider it as a foundation for a series of humorous drawings. if mr. corcoran will allow me to make the suggestion, his talent has always been for the humorous. there is something about this picture--something bold and vigorous, which arrests the attention. i feel sure it would be highly popular." corky was glaring at the picture, and making a sort of dry, sucking noise with his mouth. he seemed completely overwrought. and then suddenly he began to laugh in a wild way. "corky, old man!" i said, massaging him tenderly. i feared the poor blighter was hysterical. he began to stagger about all over the floor. "he's right! the man's absolutely right! jeeves, you're a life-saver! you've hit on the greatest idea of the age! report at the office on monday! start at the bottom of the business! i'll buy the business if i feel like it. i know the man who runs the comic section of the _sunday star_. he'll eat this thing. he was telling me only the other day how hard it was to get a good new series. he'll give me anything i ask for a real winner like this. i've got a gold-mine. where's my hat? i've got an income for life! where's that confounded hat? lend me a fiver, bertie. i want to take a taxi down to park row!" jeeves smiled paternally. or, rather, he had a kind of paternal muscular spasm about the mouth, which is the nearest he ever gets to smiling. "if i might make the suggestion, mr. corcoran--for a title of the series which you have in mind--'the adventures of baby blobbs.'" corky and i looked at the picture, then at each other in an awed way. jeeves was right. there could be no other title. "jeeves," i said. it was a few weeks later, and i had just finished looking at the comic section of the _sunday star_. "i'm an optimist. i always have been. the older i get, the more i agree with shakespeare and those poet johnnies about it always being darkest before the dawn and there's a silver lining and what you lose on the swings you make up on the roundabouts. look at mr. corcoran, for instance. there was a fellow, one would have said, clear up to the eyebrows in the soup. to all appearances he had got it right in the neck. yet look at him now. have you seen these pictures?" "i took the liberty of glancing at them before bringing them to you, sir. extremely diverting." "they have made a big hit, you know." "i anticipated it, sir." i leaned back against the pillows. "you know, jeeves, you're a genius. you ought to be drawing a commission on these things." "i have nothing to complain of in that respect, sir. mr. corcoran has been most generous. i am putting out the brown suit, sir." "no, i think i'll wear the blue with the faint red stripe." "not the blue with the faint red stripe, sir." "but i rather fancy myself in it." "not the blue with the faint red stripe, sir." "oh, all right, have it your own way." "very good, sir. thank you, sir." of course, i know it's as bad as being henpecked; but then jeeves is always right. you've got to consider that, you know. what? jeeves and the unbidden guest i'm not absolutely certain of my facts, but i rather fancy it's shakespeare--or, if not, it's some equally brainy lad--who says that it's always just when a chappie is feeling particularly top-hole, and more than usually braced with things in general that fate sneaks up behind him with a bit of lead piping. there's no doubt the man's right. it's absolutely that way with me. take, for instance, the fairly rummy matter of lady malvern and her son wilmot. a moment before they turned up, i was just thinking how thoroughly all right everything was. it was one of those topping mornings, and i had just climbed out from under the cold shower, feeling like a two-year-old. as a matter of fact, i was especially bucked just then because the day before i had asserted myself with jeeves--absolutely asserted myself, don't you know. you see, the way things had been going on i was rapidly becoming a dashed serf. the man had jolly well oppressed me. i didn't so much mind when he made me give up one of my new suits, because, jeeves's judgment about suits is sound. but i as near as a toucher rebelled when he wouldn't let me wear a pair of cloth-topped boots which i loved like a couple of brothers. and when he tried to tread on me like a worm in the matter of a hat, i jolly well put my foot down and showed him who was who. it's a long story, and i haven't time to tell you now, but the point is that he wanted me to wear the longacre--as worn by john drew--when i had set my heart on the country gentleman--as worn by another famous actor chappie--and the end of the matter was that, after a rather painful scene, i bought the country gentleman. so that's how things stood on this particular morning, and i was feeling kind of manly and independent. well, i was in the bathroom, wondering what there was going to be for breakfast while i massaged the good old spine with a rough towel and sang slightly, when there was a tap at the door. i stopped singing and opened the door an inch. "what ho without there!" "lady malvern wishes to see you, sir," said jeeves. "eh?" "lady malvern, sir. she is waiting in the sitting-room." "pull yourself together, jeeves, my man," i said, rather severely, for i bar practical jokes before breakfast. "you know perfectly well there's no one waiting for me in the sitting-room. how could there be when it's barely ten o'clock yet?" "i gathered from her ladyship, sir, that she had landed from an ocean liner at an early hour this morning." this made the thing a bit more plausible. i remembered that when i had arrived in america about a year before, the proceedings had begun at some ghastly hour like six, and that i had been shot out on to a foreign shore considerably before eight. "who the deuce is lady malvern, jeeves?" "her ladyship did not confide in me, sir." "is she alone?" "her ladyship is accompanied by a lord pershore, sir. i fancy that his lordship would be her ladyship's son." "oh, well, put out rich raiment of sorts, and i'll be dressing." "our heather-mixture lounge is in readiness, sir." "then lead me to it." while i was dressing i kept trying to think who on earth lady malvern could be. it wasn't till i had climbed through the top of my shirt and was reaching out for the studs that i remembered. "i've placed her, jeeves. she's a pal of my aunt agatha." "indeed, sir?" "yes. i met her at lunch one sunday before i left london. a very vicious specimen. writes books. she wrote a book on social conditions in india when she came back from the durbar." "yes, sir? pardon me, sir, but not that tie!" "eh?" "not that tie with the heather-mixture lounge, sir!" it was a shock to me. i thought i had quelled the fellow. it was rather a solemn moment. what i mean is, if i weakened now, all my good work the night before would be thrown away. i braced myself. "what's wrong with this tie? i've seen you give it a nasty look before. speak out like a man! what's the matter with it?" "too ornate, sir." "nonsense! a cheerful pink. nothing more." "unsuitable, sir." "jeeves, this is the tie i wear!" "very good, sir." dashed unpleasant. i could see that the man was wounded. but i was firm. i tied the tie, got into the coat and waistcoat, and went into the sitting-room. "halloa! halloa! halloa!" i said. "what?" "ah! how do you do, mr. wooster? you have never met my son, wilmot, i think? motty, darling, this is mr. wooster." lady malvern was a hearty, happy, healthy, overpowering sort of dashed female, not so very tall but making up for it by measuring about six feet from the o.p. to the prompt side. she fitted into my biggest arm-chair as if it had been built round her by someone who knew they were wearing arm-chairs tight about the hips that season. she had bright, bulging eyes and a lot of yellow hair, and when she spoke she showed about fifty-seven front teeth. she was one of those women who kind of numb a fellow's faculties. she made me feel as if i were ten years old and had been brought into the drawing-room in my sunday clothes to say how-d'you-do. altogether by no means the sort of thing a chappie would wish to find in his sitting-room before breakfast. motty, the son, was about twenty-three, tall and thin and meek-looking. he had the same yellow hair as his mother, but he wore it plastered down and parted in the middle. his eyes bulged, too, but they weren't bright. they were a dull grey with pink rims. his chin gave up the struggle about half-way down, and he didn't appear to have any eyelashes. a mild, furtive, sheepish sort of blighter, in short. "awfully glad to see you," i said. "so you've popped over, eh? making a long stay in america?" "about a month. your aunt gave me your address and told me to be sure and call on you." i was glad to hear this, as it showed that aunt agatha was beginning to come round a bit. there had been some unpleasantness a year before, when she had sent me over to new york to disentangle my cousin gussie from the clutches of a girl on the music-hall stage. when i tell you that by the time i had finished my operations, gussie had not only married the girl but had gone on the stage himself, and was doing well, you'll understand that aunt agatha was upset to no small extent. i simply hadn't dared go back and face her, and it was a relief to find that time had healed the wound and all that sort of thing enough to make her tell her pals to look me up. what i mean is, much as i liked america, i didn't want to have england barred to me for the rest of my natural; and, believe me, england is a jolly sight too small for anyone to live in with aunt agatha, if she's really on the warpath. so i braced on hearing these kind words and smiled genially on the assemblage. "your aunt said that you would do anything that was in your power to be of assistance to us." "rather? oh, rather! absolutely!" "thank you so much. i want you to put dear motty up for a little while." i didn't get this for a moment. "put him up? for my clubs?" "no, no! darling motty is essentially a home bird. aren't you, motty darling?" motty, who was sucking the knob of his stick, uncorked himself. "yes, mother," he said, and corked himself up again. "i should not like him to belong to clubs. i mean put him up here. have him to live with you while i am away." these frightful words trickled out of her like honey. the woman simply didn't seem to understand the ghastly nature of her proposal. i gave motty the swift east-to-west. he was sitting with his mouth nuzzling the stick, blinking at the wall. the thought of having this planted on me for an indefinite period appalled me. absolutely appalled me, don't you know. i was just starting to say that the shot wasn't on the board at any price, and that the first sign motty gave of trying to nestle into my little home i would yell for the police, when she went on, rolling placidly over me, as it were. there was something about this woman that sapped a chappie's will-power. "i am leaving new york by the midday train, as i have to pay a visit to sing-sing prison. i am extremely interested in prison conditions in america. after that i work my way gradually across to the coast, visiting the points of interest on the journey. you see, mr. wooster, i am in america principally on business. no doubt you read my book, _india and the indians_? my publishers are anxious for me to write a companion volume on the united states. i shall not be able to spend more than a month in the country, as i have to get back for the season, but a month should be ample. i was less than a month in india, and my dear friend sir roger cremorne wrote his _america from within_ after a stay of only two weeks. i should love to take dear motty with me, but the poor boy gets so sick when he travels by train. i shall have to pick him up on my return." from where i sat i could see jeeves in the dining-room, laying the breakfast-table. i wished i could have had a minute with him alone. i felt certain that he would have been able to think of some way of putting a stop to this woman. "it will be such a relief to know that motty is safe with you, mr. wooster. i know what the temptations of a great city are. hitherto dear motty has been sheltered from them. he has lived quietly with me in the country. i know that you will look after him carefully, mr. wooster. he will give very little trouble." she talked about the poor blighter as if he wasn't there. not that motty seemed to mind. he had stopped chewing his walking-stick and was sitting there with his mouth open. "he is a vegetarian and a teetotaller and is devoted to reading. give him a nice book and he will be quite contented." she got up. "thank you so much, mr. wooster! i don't know what i should have done without your help. come, motty! we have just time to see a few of the sights before my train goes. but i shall have to rely on you for most of my information about new york, darling. be sure to keep your eyes open and take notes of your impressions! it will be such a help. good-bye, mr. wooster. i will send motty back early in the afternoon." they went out, and i howled for jeeves. "jeeves! what about it?" "sir?" "what's to be done? you heard it all, didn't you? you were in the dining-room most of the time. that pill is coming to stay here." "pill, sir?" "the excrescence." "i beg your pardon, sir?" i looked at jeeves sharply. this sort of thing wasn't like him. it was as if he were deliberately trying to give me the pip. then i understood. the man was really upset about that tie. he was trying to get his own back. "lord pershore will be staying here from to-night, jeeves," i said coldly. "very good, sir. breakfast is ready, sir." i could have sobbed into the bacon and eggs. that there wasn't any sympathy to be got out of jeeves was what put the lid on it. for a moment i almost weakened and told him to destroy the hat and tie if he didn't like them, but i pulled myself together again. i was dashed if i was going to let jeeves treat me like a bally one-man chain-gang! but, what with brooding on jeeves and brooding on motty, i was in a pretty reduced sort of state. the more i examined the situation, the more blighted it became. there was nothing i could do. if i slung motty out, he would report to his mother, and she would pass it on to aunt agatha, and i didn't like to think what would happen then. sooner or later, i should be wanting to go back to england, and i didn't want to get there and find aunt agatha waiting on the quay for me with a stuffed eelskin. there was absolutely nothing for it but to put the fellow up and make the best of it. about midday motty's luggage arrived, and soon afterward a large parcel of what i took to be nice books. i brightened up a little when i saw it. it was one of those massive parcels and looked as if it had enough in it to keep the chappie busy for a year. i felt a trifle more cheerful, and i got my country gentleman hat and stuck it on my head, and gave the pink tie a twist, and reeled out to take a bite of lunch with one or two of the lads at a neighbouring hostelry; and what with excellent browsing and sluicing and cheery conversation and what-not, the afternoon passed quite happily. by dinner-time i had almost forgotten blighted motty's existence. i dined at the club and looked in at a show afterward, and it wasn't till fairly late that i got back to the flat. there were no signs of motty, and i took it that he had gone to bed. it seemed rummy to me, though, that the parcel of nice books was still there with the string and paper on it. it looked as if motty, after seeing mother off at the station, had decided to call it a day. jeeves came in with the nightly whisky-and-soda. i could tell by the chappie's manner that he was still upset. "lord pershore gone to bed, jeeves?" i asked, with reserved hauteur and what-not. "no, sir. his lordship has not yet returned." "not returned? what do you mean?" "his lordship came in shortly after six-thirty, and, having dressed, went out again." at this moment there was a noise outside the front door, a sort of scrabbling noise, as if somebody were trying to paw his way through the woodwork. then a sort of thud. "better go and see what that is, jeeves." "very good, sir." he went out and came back again. "if you would not mind stepping this way, sir, i think we might be able to carry him in." "carry him in?" "his lordship is lying on the mat, sir." i went to the front door. the man was right. there was motty huddled up outside on the floor. he was moaning a bit. "he's had some sort of dashed fit," i said. i took another look. "jeeves! someone's been feeding him meat!" "sir?" "he's a vegetarian, you know. he must have been digging into a steak or something. call up a doctor!" "i hardly think it will be necessary, sir. if you would take his lordship's legs, while i----" "great scot, jeeves! you don't think--he can't be----" "i am inclined to think so, sir." and, by jove, he was right! once on the right track, you couldn't mistake it. motty was under the surface. it was the deuce of a shock. "you never can tell, jeeves!" "very seldom, sir." "remove the eye of authority and where are you?" "precisely, sir." "where is my wandering boy to-night and all that sort of thing, what?" "it would seem so, sir." "well, we had better bring him in, eh?" "yes, sir." so we lugged him in, and jeeves put him to bed, and i lit a cigarette and sat down to think the thing over. i had a kind of foreboding. it seemed to me that i had let myself in for something pretty rocky. next morning, after i had sucked down a thoughtful cup of tea, i went into motty's room to investigate. i expected to find the fellow a wreck, but there he was, sitting up in bed, quite chirpy, reading gingery stories. "what ho!" i said. "what ho!" said motty. "what ho! what ho!" "what ho! what ho! what ho!" after that it seemed rather difficult to go on with the conversation. "how are you feeling this morning?" i asked. "topping!" replied motty, blithely and with abandon. "i say, you know, that fellow of yours--jeeves, you know--is a corker. i had a most frightful headache when i woke up, and he brought me a sort of rummy dark drink, and it put me right again at once. said it was his own invention. i must see more of that lad. he seems to me distinctly one of the ones!" i couldn't believe that this was the same blighter who had sat and sucked his stick the day before. "you ate something that disagreed with you last night, didn't you?" i said, by way of giving him a chance to slide out of it if he wanted to. but he wouldn't have it, at any price. "no!" he replied firmly. "i didn't do anything of the kind. i drank too much! much too much. lots and lots too much! and, what's more, i'm going to do it again! i'm going to do it every night. if ever you see me sober, old top," he said, with a kind of holy exaltation, "tap me on the shoulder and say, 'tut! tut!' and i'll apologize and remedy the defect." "but i say, you know, what about me?" "what about you?" "well, i'm so to speak, as it were, kind of responsible for you. what i mean to say is, if you go doing this sort of thing i'm apt to get in the soup somewhat." "i can't help your troubles," said motty firmly. "listen to me, old thing: this is the first time in my life that i've had a real chance to yield to the temptations of a great city. what's the use of a great city having temptations if fellows don't yield to them? makes it so bally discouraging for a great city. besides, mother told me to keep my eyes open and collect impressions." i sat on the edge of the bed. i felt dizzy. "i know just how you feel, old dear," said motty consolingly. "and, if my principles would permit it, i would simmer down for your sake. but duty first! this is the first time i've been let out alone, and i mean to make the most of it. we're only young once. why interfere with life's morning? young man, rejoice in thy youth! tra-la! what ho!" put like that, it did seem reasonable. "all my bally life, dear boy," motty went on, "i've been cooped up in the ancestral home at much middlefold, in shropshire, and till you've been cooped up in much middlefold you don't know what cooping is! the only time we get any excitement is when one of the choir-boys is caught sucking chocolate during the sermon. when that happens, we talk about it for days. i've got about a month of new york, and i mean to store up a few happy memories for the long winter evenings. this is my only chance to collect a past, and i'm going to do it. now tell me, old sport, as man to man, how does one get in touch with that very decent chappie jeeves? does one ring a bell or shout a bit? i should like to discuss the subject of a good stiff b.-and-s. with him!" * * * * * i had had a sort of vague idea, don't you know, that if i stuck close to motty and went about the place with him, i might act as a bit of a damper on the gaiety. what i mean is, i thought that if, when he was being the life and soul of the party, he were to catch my reproving eye he might ease up a trifle on the revelry. so the next night i took him along to supper with me. it was the last time. i'm a quiet, peaceful sort of chappie who has lived all his life in london, and i can't stand the pace these swift sportsmen from the rural districts set. what i mean to say is this, i'm all for rational enjoyment and so forth, but i think a chappie makes himself conspicuous when he throws soft-boiled eggs at the electric fan. and decent mirth and all that sort of thing are all right, but i do bar dancing on tables and having to dash all over the place dodging waiters, managers, and chuckers-out, just when you want to sit still and digest. directly i managed to tear myself away that night and get home, i made up my mind that this was jolly well the last time that i went about with motty. the only time i met him late at night after that was once when i passed the door of a fairly low-down sort of restaurant and had to step aside to dodge him as he sailed through the air _en route_ for the opposite pavement, with a muscular sort of looking chappie peering out after him with a kind of gloomy satisfaction. in a way, i couldn't help sympathizing with the fellow. he had about four weeks to have the good time that ought to have been spread over about ten years, and i didn't wonder at his wanting to be pretty busy. i should have been just the same in his place. still, there was no denying that it was a bit thick. if it hadn't been for the thought of lady malvern and aunt agatha in the background, i should have regarded motty's rapid work with an indulgent smile. but i couldn't get rid of the feeling that, sooner or later, i was the lad who was scheduled to get it behind the ear. and what with brooding on this prospect, and sitting up in the old flat waiting for the familiar footstep, and putting it to bed when it got there, and stealing into the sick-chamber next morning to contemplate the wreckage, i was beginning to lose weight. absolutely becoming the good old shadow, i give you my honest word. starting at sudden noises and what-not. and no sympathy from jeeves. that was what cut me to the quick. the man was still thoroughly pipped about the hat and tie, and simply wouldn't rally round. one morning i wanted comforting so much that i sank the pride of the woosters and appealed to the fellow direct. "jeeves," i said, "this is getting a bit thick!" "sir?" business and cold respectfulness. "you know what i mean. this lad seems to have chucked all the principles of a well-spent boyhood. he has got it up his nose!" "yes, sir." "well, i shall get blamed, don't you know. you know what my aunt agatha is!" "yes, sir." "very well, then." i waited a moment, but he wouldn't unbend. "jeeves," i said, "haven't you any scheme up your sleeve for coping with this blighter?" "no, sir." and he shimmered off to his lair. obstinate devil! so dashed absurd, don't you know. it wasn't as if there was anything wrong with that country gentleman hat. it was a remarkably priceless effort, and much admired by the lads. but, just because he preferred the longacre, he left me flat. it was shortly after this that young motty got the idea of bringing pals back in the small hours to continue the gay revels in the home. this was where i began to crack under the strain. you see, the part of town where i was living wasn't the right place for that sort of thing. i knew lots of chappies down washington square way who started the evening at about 2 a.m.--artists and writers and what-not, who frolicked considerably till checked by the arrival of the morning milk. that was all right. they like that sort of thing down there. the neighbours can't get to sleep unless there's someone dancing hawaiian dances over their heads. but on fifty-seventh street the atmosphere wasn't right, and when motty turned up at three in the morning with a collection of hearty lads, who only stopped singing their college song when they started singing "the old oaken bucket," there was a marked peevishness among the old settlers in the flats. the management was extremely terse over the telephone at breakfast-time, and took a lot of soothing. the next night i came home early, after a lonely dinner at a place which i'd chosen because there didn't seem any chance of meeting motty there. the sitting-room was quite dark, and i was just moving to switch on the light, when there was a sort of explosion and something collared hold of my trouser-leg. living with motty had reduced me to such an extent that i was simply unable to cope with this thing. i jumped backward with a loud yell of anguish, and tumbled out into the hall just as jeeves came out of his den to see what the matter was. "did you call, sir?" "jeeves! there's something in there that grabs you by the leg!" "that would be rollo, sir." "eh?" "i would have warned you of his presence, but i did not hear you come in. his temper is a little uncertain at present, as he has not yet settled down." "who the deuce is rollo?" "his lordship's bull-terrier, sir. his lordship won him in a raffle, and tied him to the leg of the table. if you will allow me, sir, i will go in and switch on the light." there really is nobody like jeeves. he walked straight into the sitting-room, the biggest feat since daniel and the lions' den, without a quiver. what's more, his magnetism or whatever they call it was such that the dashed animal, instead of pinning him by the leg, calmed down as if he had had a bromide, and rolled over on his back with all his paws in the air. if jeeves had been his rich uncle he couldn't have been more chummy. yet directly he caught sight of me again, he got all worked up and seemed to have only one idea in life--to start chewing me where he had left off. "rollo is not used to you yet, sir," said jeeves, regarding the bally quadruped in an admiring sort of way. "he is an excellent watchdog." "i don't want a watchdog to keep me out of my rooms." "no, sir." "well, what am i to do?" "no doubt in time the animal will learn to discriminate, sir. he will learn to distinguish your peculiar scent." "what do you mean--my peculiar scent? correct the impression that i intend to hang about in the hall while life slips by, in the hope that one of these days that dashed animal will decide that i smell all right." i thought for a bit. "jeeves!" "sir?" "i'm going away--to-morrow morning by the first train. i shall go and stop with mr. todd in the country." "do you wish me to accompany you, sir?" "no." "very good, sir." "i don't know when i shall be back. forward my letters." "yes, sir." * * * * * as a matter of fact, i was back within the week. rocky todd, the pal i went to stay with, is a rummy sort of a chap who lives all alone in the wilds of long island, and likes it; but a little of that sort of thing goes a long way with me. dear old rocky is one of the best, but after a few days in his cottage in the woods, miles away from anywhere, new york, even with motty on the premises, began to look pretty good to me. the days down on long island have forty-eight hours in them; you can't get to sleep at night because of the bellowing of the crickets; and you have to walk two miles for a drink and six for an evening paper. i thanked rocky for his kind hospitality, and caught the only train they have down in those parts. it landed me in new york about dinner-time. i went straight to the old flat. jeeves came out of his lair. i looked round cautiously for rollo. "where's that dog, jeeves? have you got him tied up?" "the animal is no longer here, sir. his lordship gave him to the porter, who sold him. his lordship took a prejudice against the animal on account of being bitten by him in the calf of the leg." i don't think i've ever been so bucked by a bit of news. i felt i had misjudged rollo. evidently, when you got to know him better, he had a lot of intelligence in him. "ripping!" i said. "is lord pershore in, jeeves?" "no, sir." "do you expect him back to dinner?" "no, sir." "where is he?" "in prison, sir." have you ever trodden on a rake and had the handle jump up and hit you? that's how i felt then. "in prison!" "yes, sir." "you don't mean--in prison?" "yes, sir." i lowered myself into a chair. "why?" i said. "he assaulted a constable, sir." "lord pershore assaulted a constable!" "yes, sir." i digested this. "but, jeeves, i say! this is frightful!" "sir?" "what will lady malvern say when she finds out?" "i do not fancy that her ladyship will find out, sir." "but she'll come back and want to know where he is." "i rather fancy, sir, that his lordship's bit of time will have run out by then." "but supposing it hasn't?" "in that event, sir, it may be judicious to prevaricate a little." "how?" "if i might make the suggestion, sir, i should inform her ladyship that his lordship has left for a short visit to boston." "why boston?" "very interesting and respectable centre, sir." "jeeves, i believe you've hit it." "i fancy so, sir." "why, this is really the best thing that could have happened. if this hadn't turned up to prevent him, young motty would have been in a sanatorium by the time lady malvern got back." "exactly, sir." the more i looked at it in that way, the sounder this prison wheeze seemed to me. there was no doubt in the world that prison was just what the doctor ordered for motty. it was the only thing that could have pulled him up. i was sorry for the poor blighter, but, after all, i reflected, a chappie who had lived all his life with lady malvern, in a small village in the interior of shropshire, wouldn't have much to kick at in a prison. altogether, i began to feel absolutely braced again. life became like what the poet johnnie says--one grand, sweet song. things went on so comfortably and peacefully for a couple of weeks that i give you my word that i'd almost forgotten such a person as motty existed. the only flaw in the scheme of things was that jeeves was still pained and distant. it wasn't anything he said or did, mind you, but there was a rummy something about him all the time. once when i was tying the pink tie i caught sight of him in the looking-glass. there was a kind of grieved look in his eye. and then lady malvern came back, a good bit ahead of schedule. i hadn't been expecting her for days. i'd forgotten how time had been slipping along. she turned up one morning while i was still in bed sipping tea and thinking of this and that. jeeves flowed in with the announcement that he had just loosed her into the sitting-room. i draped a few garments round me and went in. there she was, sitting in the same arm-chair, looking as massive as ever. the only difference was that she didn't uncover the teeth, as she had done the first time. "good morning," i said. "so you've got back, what?" "i have got back." there was something sort of bleak about her tone, rather as if she had swallowed an east wind. this i took to be due to the fact that she probably hadn't breakfasted. it's only after a bit of breakfast that i'm able to regard the world with that sunny cheeriness which makes a fellow the universal favourite. i'm never much of a lad till i've engulfed an egg or two and a beaker of coffee. "i suppose you haven't breakfasted?" "i have not yet breakfasted." "won't you have an egg or something? or a sausage or something? or something?" "no, thank you." she spoke as if she belonged to an anti-sausage society or a league for the suppression of eggs. there was a bit of a silence. "i called on you last night," she said, "but you were out." "awfully sorry! had a pleasant trip?" "extremely, thank you." "see everything? niag'ra falls, yellowstone park, and the jolly old grand canyon, and what-not?" "i saw a great deal." there was another slightly _frappé_ silence. jeeves floated silently into the dining-room and began to lay the breakfast-table. "i hope wilmot was not in your way, mr. wooster?" i had been wondering when she was going to mention motty. "rather not! great pals! hit it off splendidly." "you were his constant companion, then?" "absolutely! we were always together. saw all the sights, don't you know. we'd take in the museum of art in the morning, and have a bit of lunch at some good vegetarian place, and then toddle along to a sacred concert in the afternoon, and home to an early dinner. we usually played dominoes after dinner. and then the early bed and the refreshing sleep. we had a great time. i was awfully sorry when he went away to boston." "oh! wilmot is in boston?" "yes. i ought to have let you know, but of course we didn't know where you were. you were dodging all over the place like a snipe--i mean, don't you know, dodging all over the place, and we couldn't get at you. yes, motty went off to boston." "you're sure he went to boston?" "oh, absolutely." i called out to jeeves, who was now messing about in the next room with forks and so forth: "jeeves, lord pershore didn't change his mind about going to boston, did he?" "no, sir." "i thought i was right. yes, motty went to boston." "then how do you account, mr. wooster, for the fact that when i went yesterday afternoon to blackwell's island prison, to secure material for my book, i saw poor, dear wilmot there, dressed in a striped suit, seated beside a pile of stones with a hammer in his hands?" i tried to think of something to say, but nothing came. a chappie has to be a lot broader about the forehead than i am to handle a jolt like this. i strained the old bean till it creaked, but between the collar and the hair parting nothing stirred. i was dumb. which was lucky, because i wouldn't have had a chance to get any persiflage out of my system. lady malvern collared the conversation. she had been bottling it up, and now it came out with a rush: "so this is how you have looked after my poor, dear boy, mr. wooster! so this is how you have abused my trust! i left him in your charge, thinking that i could rely on you to shield him from evil. he came to you innocent, unversed in the ways of the world, confiding, unused to the temptations of a large city, and you led him astray!" i hadn't any remarks to make. all i could think of was the picture of aunt agatha drinking all this in and reaching out to sharpen the hatchet against my return. "you deliberately----" far away in the misty distance a soft voice spoke: "if i might explain, your ladyship." jeeves had projected himself in from the dining-room and materialized on the rug. lady malvern tried to freeze him with a look, but you can't do that sort of thing to jeeves. he is look-proof. "i fancy, your ladyship, that you have misunderstood mr. wooster, and that he may have given you the impression that he was in new york when his lordship--was removed. when mr. wooster informed your ladyship that his lordship had gone to boston, he was relying on the version i had given him of his lordship's movements. mr. wooster was away, visiting a friend in the country, at the time, and knew nothing of the matter till your ladyship informed him." lady malvern gave a kind of grunt. it didn't rattle jeeves. "i feared mr. wooster might be disturbed if he knew the truth, as he is so attached to his lordship and has taken such pains to look after him, so i took the liberty of telling him that his lordship had gone away for a visit. it might have been hard for mr. wooster to believe that his lordship had gone to prison voluntarily and from the best motives, but your ladyship, knowing him better, will readily understand." "what!" lady malvern goggled at him. "did you say that lord pershore went to prison voluntarily?" "if i might explain, your ladyship. i think that your ladyship's parting words made a deep impression on his lordship. i have frequently heard him speak to mr. wooster of his desire to do something to follow your ladyship's instructions and collect material for your ladyship's book on america. mr. wooster will bear me out when i say that his lordship was frequently extremely depressed at the thought that he was doing so little to help." "absolutely, by jove! quite pipped about it!" i said. "the idea of making a personal examination into the prison system of the country--from within--occurred to his lordship very suddenly one night. he embraced it eagerly. there was no restraining him." lady malvern looked at jeeves, then at me, then at jeeves again. i could see her struggling with the thing. "surely, your ladyship," said jeeves, "it is more reasonable to suppose that a gentleman of his lordship's character went to prison of his own volition than that he committed some breach of the law which necessitated his arrest?" lady malvern blinked. then she got up. "mr. wooster," she said, "i apologize. i have done you an injustice. i should have known wilmot better. i should have had more faith in his pure, fine spirit." "absolutely!" i said. "your breakfast is ready, sir," said jeeves. i sat down and dallied in a dazed sort of way with a poached egg. "jeeves," i said, "you are certainly a life-saver!" "thank you, sir." "nothing would have convinced my aunt agatha that i hadn't lured that blighter into riotous living." "i fancy you are right, sir." i champed my egg for a bit. i was most awfully moved, don't you know, by the way jeeves had rallied round. something seemed to tell me that this was an occasion that called for rich rewards. for a moment i hesitated. then i made up my mind. "jeeves!" "sir?" "that pink tie!" "yes, sir?" "burn it!" "thank you, sir." "and, jeeves!" "yes, sir?" "take a taxi and get me that longacre hat, as worn by john drew!" "thank you very much, sir." i felt most awfully braced. i felt as if the clouds had rolled away and all was as it used to be. i felt like one of those chappies in the novels who calls off the fight with his wife in the last chapter and decides to forget and forgive. i felt i wanted to do all sorts of other things to show jeeves that i appreciated him. "jeeves," i said, "it isn't enough. is there anything else you would like?" "yes, sir. if i may make the suggestion--fifty dollars." "fifty dollars?" "it will enable me to pay a debt of honour, sir. i owe it to his lordship." "you owe lord pershore fifty dollars?" "yes, sir. i happened to meet him in the street the night his lordship was arrested. i had been thinking a good deal about the most suitable method of inducing him to abandon his mode of living, sir. his lordship was a little over-excited at the time and i fancy that he mistook me for a friend of his. at any rate when i took the liberty of wagering him fifty dollars that he would not punch a passing policeman in the eye, he accepted the bet very cordially and won it." i produced my pocket-book and counted out a hundred. "take this, jeeves," i said; "fifty isn't enough. do you know, jeeves, you're--well, you absolutely stand alone!" "i endeavour to give satisfaction, sir," said jeeves. jeeves and the hard-boiled egg sometimes of a morning, as i've sat in bed sucking down the early cup of tea and watched my man jeeves flitting about the room and putting out the raiment for the day, i've wondered what the deuce i should do if the fellow ever took it into his head to leave me. it's not so bad now i'm in new york, but in london the anxiety was frightful. there used to be all sorts of attempts on the part of low blighters to sneak him away from me. young reggie foljambe to my certain knowledge offered him double what i was giving him, and alistair bingham-reeves, who's got a valet who had been known to press his trousers sideways, used to look at him, when he came to see me, with a kind of glittering hungry eye which disturbed me deucedly. bally pirates! the thing, you see, is that jeeves is so dashed competent. you can spot it even in the way he shoves studs into a shirt. i rely on him absolutely in every crisis, and he never lets me down. and, what's more, he can always be counted on to extend himself on behalf of any pal of mine who happens to be to all appearances knee-deep in the bouillon. take the rather rummy case, for instance, of dear old bicky and his uncle, the hard-boiled egg. it happened after i had been in america for a few months. i got back to the flat latish one night, and when jeeves brought me the final drink he said: "mr. bickersteth called to see you this evening, sir, while you were out." "oh?" i said. "twice, sir. he appeared a trifle agitated." "what, pipped?" "he gave that impression, sir." i sipped the whisky. i was sorry if bicky was in trouble, but, as a matter of fact, i was rather glad to have something i could discuss freely with jeeves just then, because things had been a bit strained between us for some time, and it had been rather difficult to hit on anything to talk about that wasn't apt to take a personal turn. you see, i had decided--rightly or wrongly--to grow a moustache and this had cut jeeves to the quick. he couldn't stick the thing at any price, and i had been living ever since in an atmosphere of bally disapproval till i was getting jolly well fed up with it. what i mean is, while there's no doubt that in certain matters of dress jeeves's judgment is absolutely sound and should be followed, it seemed to me that it was getting a bit too thick if he was going to edit my face as well as my costume. no one can call me an unreasonable chappie, and many's the time i've given in like a lamb when jeeves has voted against one of my pet suits or ties; but when it comes to a valet's staking out a claim on your upper lip you've simply got to have a bit of the good old bulldog pluck and defy the blighter. "he said that he would call again later, sir." "something must be up, jeeves." "yes, sir." i gave the moustache a thoughtful twirl. it seemed to hurt jeeves a good deal, so i chucked it. "i see by the paper, sir, that mr. bickersteth's uncle is arriving on the _carmantic_." "yes?" "his grace the duke of chiswick, sir." this was news to me, that bicky's uncle was a duke. rum, how little one knows about one's pals! i had met bicky for the first time at a species of beano or jamboree down in washington square, not long after my arrival in new york. i suppose i was a bit homesick at the time, and i rather took to bicky when i found that he was an englishman and had, in fact, been up at oxford with me. besides, he was a frightful chump, so we naturally drifted together; and while we were taking a quiet snort in a corner that wasn't all cluttered up with artists and sculptors and what-not, he furthermore endeared himself to me by a most extraordinarily gifted imitation of a bull-terrier chasing a cat up a tree. but, though we had subsequently become extremely pally, all i really knew about him was that he was generally hard up, and had an uncle who relieved the strain a bit from time to time by sending him monthly remittances. "if the duke of chiswick is his uncle," i said, "why hasn't he a title? why isn't he lord what-not?" "mr. bickersteth is the son of his grace's late sister, sir, who married captain rollo bickersteth of the coldstream guards." jeeves knows everything. "is mr. bickersteth's father dead, too?" "yes, sir." "leave any money?" "no, sir." i began to understand why poor old bicky was always more or less on the rocks. to the casual and irreflective observer, if you know what i mean, it may sound a pretty good wheeze having a duke for an uncle, but the trouble about old chiswick was that, though an extremely wealthy old buster, owning half london and about five counties up north, he was notoriously the most prudent spender in england. he was what american chappies would call a hard-boiled egg. if bicky's people hadn't left him anything and he depended on what he could prise out of the old duke, he was in a pretty bad way. not that that explained why he was hunting me like this, because he was a chap who never borrowed money. he said he wanted to keep his pals, so never bit any one's ear on principle. at this juncture the door bell rang. jeeves floated out to answer it. "yes, sir. mr. wooster has just returned," i heard him say. and bicky came trickling in, looking pretty sorry for himself. "halloa, bicky!" i said. "jeeves told me you had been trying to get me. jeeves, bring another glass, and let the revels commence. what's the trouble, bicky?" "i'm in a hole, bertie. i want your advice." "say on, old lad!" "my uncle's turning up to-morrow, bertie." "so jeeves told me." "the duke of chiswick, you know." "so jeeves told me." bicky seemed a bit surprised. "jeeves seems to know everything." "rather rummily, that's exactly what i was thinking just now myself." "well, i wish," said bicky gloomily, "that he knew a way to get me out of the hole i'm in." jeeves shimmered in with the glass, and stuck it competently on the table. "mr. bickersteth is in a bit of a hole, jeeves," i said, "and wants you to rally round." "very good, sir." bicky looked a bit doubtful. "well, of course, you know, bertie, this thing is by way of being a bit private and all that." "i shouldn't worry about that, old top. i bet jeeves knows all about it already. don't you, jeeves?" "yes, sir." "eh!" said bicky, rattled. "i am open to correction, sir, but is not your dilemma due to the fact that you are at a loss to explain to his grace why you are in new york instead of in colorado?" bicky rocked like a jelly in a high wind. "how the deuce do you know anything about it?" "i chanced to meet his grace's butler before we left england. he informed me that he happened to overhear his grace speaking to you on the matter, sir, as he passed the library door." bicky gave a hollow sort of laugh. "well, as everybody seems to know all about it, there's no need to try to keep it dark. the old boy turfed me out, bertie, because he said i was a brainless nincompoop. the idea was that he would give me a remittance on condition that i dashed out to some blighted locality of the name of colorado and learned farming or ranching, or whatever they call it, at some bally ranch or farm or whatever it's called. i didn't fancy the idea a bit. i should have had to ride horses and pursue cows, and so forth. i hate horses. they bite at you. i was all against the scheme. at the same time, don't you know, i had to have that remittance." "i get you absolutely, dear boy." "well, when i got to new york it looked a decent sort of place to me, so i thought it would be a pretty sound notion to stop here. so i cabled to my uncle telling him that i had dropped into a good business wheeze in the city and wanted to chuck the ranch idea. he wrote back that it was all right, and here i've been ever since. he thinks i'm doing well at something or other over here. i never dreamed, don't you know, that he would ever come out here. what on earth am i to do?" "jeeves," i said, "what on earth is mr. bickersteth to do?" "you see," said bicky, "i had a wireless from him to say that he was coming to stay with me--to save hotel bills, i suppose. i've always given him the impression that i was living in pretty good style. i can't have him to stay at my boarding-house." "thought of anything, jeeves?" i said. "to what extent, sir, if the question is not a delicate one, are you prepared to assist mr. bickersteth?" "i'll do anything i can for you, of course, bicky, old man." "then, if i might make the suggestion, sir, you might lend mr. bickersteth----" "no, by jove!" said bicky firmly. "i never have touched you, bertie, and i'm not going to start now. i may be a chump, but it's my boast that i don't owe a penny to a single soul--not counting tradesmen, of course." "i was about to suggest, sir, that you might lend mr. bickersteth this flat. mr. bickersteth could give his grace the impression that he was the owner of it. with your permission i could convey the notion that i was in mr. bickersteth's employment, and not in yours. you would be residing here temporarily as mr. bickersteth's guest. his grace would occupy the second spare bedroom. i fancy that you would find this answer satisfactorily, sir." bicky had stopped rocking himself and was staring at jeeves in an awed sort of way. "i would advocate the dispatching of a wireless message to his grace on board the vessel, notifying him of the change of address. mr. bickersteth could meet his grace at the dock and proceed directly here. will that meet the situation, sir?" "absolutely." "thank you, sir." bicky followed him with his eye till the door closed. "how does he do it, bertie?" he said. "i'll tell you what i think it is. i believe it's something to do with the shape of his head. have you ever noticed his head, bertie, old man? it sort of sticks out at the back!" * * * * * i hopped out of bed early next morning, so as to be among those present when the old boy should arrive. i knew from experience that these ocean liners fetch up at the dock at a deucedly ungodly hour. it wasn't much after nine by the time i'd dressed and had my morning tea and was leaning out of the window, watching the street for bicky and his uncle. it was one of those jolly, peaceful mornings that make a chappie wish he'd got a soul or something, and i was just brooding on life in general when i became aware of the dickens of a spate in progress down below. a taxi had driven up, and an old boy in a top hat had got out and was kicking up a frightful row about the fare. as far as i could make out, he was trying to get the cab chappie to switch from new york to london prices, and the cab chappie had apparently never heard of london before, and didn't seem to think a lot of it now. the old boy said that in london the trip would have set him back eightpence; and the cabby said he should worry. i called to jeeves. "the duke has arrived, jeeves." "yes, sir?" "that'll be him at the door now." jeeves made a long arm and opened the front door, and the old boy crawled in, looking licked to a splinter. "how do you do, sir?" i said, bustling up and being the ray of sunshine. "your nephew went down to the dock to meet you, but you must have missed him. my name's wooster, don't you know. great pal of bicky's, and all that sort of thing. i'm staying with him, you know. would you like a cup of tea? jeeves, bring a cup of tea." old chiswick had sunk into an arm-chair and was looking about the room. "does this luxurious flat belong to my nephew francis?" "absolutely." "it must be terribly expensive." "pretty well, of course. everything costs a lot over here, you know." he moaned. jeeves filtered in with the tea. old chiswick took a stab at it to restore his tissues, and nodded. "a terrible country, mr. wooster! a terrible country! nearly eight shillings for a short cab-drive! iniquitous!" he took another look round the room. it seemed to fascinate him. "have you any idea how much my nephew pays for this flat, mr. wooster?" "about two hundred dollars a month, i believe." "what! forty pounds a month!" i began to see that, unless i made the thing a bit more plausible, the scheme might turn out a frost. i could guess what the old boy was thinking. he was trying to square all this prosperity with what he knew of poor old bicky. and one had to admit that it took a lot of squaring, for dear old bicky, though a stout fellow and absolutely unrivalled as an imitator of bull-terriers and cats, was in many ways one of the most pronounced fatheads that ever pulled on a suit of gent's underwear. "i suppose it seems rummy to you," i said, "but the fact is new york often bucks chappies up and makes them show a flash of speed that you wouldn't have imagined them capable of. it sort of develops them. something in the air, don't you know. i imagine that bicky in the past, when you knew him, may have been something of a chump, but it's quite different now. devilish efficient sort of chappie, and looked on in commercial circles as quite the nib!" "i am amazed! what is the nature of my nephew's business, mr. wooster?" "oh, just business, don't you know. the same sort of thing carnegie and rockefeller and all these coves do, you know." i slid for the door. "awfully sorry to leave you, but i've got to meet some of the lads elsewhere." coming out of the lift i met bicky bustling in from the street. "halloa, bertie! i missed him. has he turned up?" "he's upstairs now, having some tea." "what does he think of it all?" "he's absolutely rattled." "ripping! i'll be toddling up, then. toodle-oo, bertie, old man. see you later." "pip-pip, bicky, dear boy." he trotted off, full of merriment and good cheer, and i went off to the club to sit in the window and watch the traffic coming up one way and going down the other. it was latish in the evening when i looked in at the flat to dress for dinner. "where's everybody, jeeves?" i said, finding no little feet pattering about the place. "gone out?" "his grace desired to see some of the sights of the city, sir. mr. bickersteth is acting as his escort. i fancy their immediate objective was grant's tomb." "i suppose mr. bickersteth is a bit braced at the way things are going--what?" "sir?" "i say, i take it that mr. bickersteth is tolerably full of beans." "not altogether, sir." "what's his trouble now?" "the scheme which i took the liberty of suggesting to mr. bickersteth and yourself has, unfortunately, not answered entirely satisfactorily, sir." "surely the duke believes that mr. bickersteth is doing well in business, and all that sort of thing?" "exactly, sir. with the result that he has decided to cancel mr. bickersteth's monthly allowance, on the ground that, as mr. bickersteth is doing so well on his own account, he no longer requires pecuniary assistance." "great scot, jeeves! this is awful." "somewhat disturbing, sir." "i never expected anything like this!" "i confess i scarcely anticipated the contingency myself, sir." "i suppose it bowled the poor blighter over absolutely?" "mr. bickersteth appeared somewhat taken aback, sir." my heart bled for bicky. "we must do something, jeeves." "yes, sir." "can you think of anything?" "not at the moment, sir." "there must be something we can do." "it was a maxim of one of my former employers, sir--as i believe i mentioned to you once before--the present lord bridgnorth, that there is always a way. i remember his lordship using the expression on the occasion--he was then a business gentleman and had not yet received his title--when a patent hair-restorer which he chanced to be promoting failed to attract the public. he put it on the market under another name as a depilatory, and amassed a substantial fortune. i have generally found his lordship's aphorism based on sound foundations. no doubt we shall be able to discover some solution of mr. bickersteth's difficulty, sir." "well, have a stab at it, jeeves!" "i will spare no pains, sir." i went and dressed sadly. it will show you pretty well how pipped i was when i tell you that i near as a toucher put on a white tie with a dinner-jacket. i sallied out for a bit of food more to pass the time than because i wanted it. it seemed brutal to be wading into the bill of fare with poor old bicky headed for the breadline. when i got back old chiswick had gone to bed, but bicky was there, hunched up in an arm-chair, brooding pretty tensely, with a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth and a more or less glassy stare in his eyes. he had the aspect of one who had been soaked with what the newspaper chappies call "some blunt instrument." "this is a bit thick, old thing--what!" i said. he picked up his glass and drained it feverishly, overlooking the fact that it hadn't anything in it. "i'm done, bertie!" he said. he had another go at the glass. it didn't seem to do him any good. "if only this had happened a week later, bertie! my next month's money was due to roll in on saturday. i could have worked a wheeze i've been reading about in the magazine advertisements. it seems that you can make a dashed amount of money if you can only collect a few dollars and start a chicken-farm. jolly sound scheme, bertie! say you buy a hen--call it one hen for the sake of argument. it lays an egg every day of the week. you sell the eggs seven for twenty-five cents. keep of hen costs nothing. profit practically twenty-five cents on every seven eggs. or look at it another way: suppose you have a dozen eggs. each of the hens has a dozen chickens. the chickens grow up and have more chickens. why, in no time you'd have the place covered knee-deep in hens, all laying eggs, at twenty-five cents for every seven. you'd make a fortune. jolly life, too, keeping hens!" he had begun to get quite worked up at the thought of it, but he slopped back in his chair at this juncture with a good deal of gloom. "but, of course, it's no good," he said, "because i haven't the cash." "you've only to say the word, you know, bicky, old top." "thanks awfully, bertie, but i'm not going to sponge on you." that's always the way in this world. the chappies you'd like to lend money to won't let you, whereas the chappies you don't want to lend it to will do everything except actually stand you on your head and lift the specie out of your pockets. as a lad who has always rolled tolerably free in the right stuff, i've had lots of experience of the second class. many's the time, back in london, i've hurried along piccadilly and felt the hot breath of the toucher on the back of my neck and heard his sharp, excited yapping as he closed in on me. i've simply spent my life scattering largesse to blighters i didn't care a hang for; yet here was i now, dripping doubloons and pieces of eight and longing to hand them over, and bicky, poor fish, absolutely on his uppers, not taking any at any price. "well, there's only one hope, then." "what's that?" "jeeves." "sir?" there was jeeves, standing behind me, full of zeal. in this matter of shimmering into rooms the chappie is rummy to a degree. you're sitting in the old arm-chair, thinking of this and that, and then suddenly you look up, and there he is. he moves from point to point with as little uproar as a jelly fish. the thing startled poor old bicky considerably. he rose from his seat like a rocketing pheasant. i'm used to jeeves now, but often in the days when he first came to me i've bitten my tongue freely on finding him unexpectedly in my midst. "did you call, sir?" "oh, there you are, jeeves!" "precisely, sir." "jeeves, mr. bickersteth is still up the pole. any ideas?" "why, yes, sir. since we had our recent conversation i fancy i have found what may prove a solution. i do not wish to appear to be taking a liberty, sir, but i think that we have overlooked his grace's potentialities as a source of revenue." bicky laughed, what i have sometimes seen described as a hollow, mocking laugh, a sort of bitter cackle from the back of the throat, rather like a gargle. "i do not allude, sir," explained jeeves, "to the possibility of inducing his grace to part with money. i am taking the liberty of regarding his grace in the light of an at present--if i may say so--useless property, which is capable of being developed." bicky looked at me in a helpless kind of way. i'm bound to say i didn't get it myself. "couldn't you make it a bit easier, jeeves!" "in a nutshell, sir, what i mean is this: his grace is, in a sense, a prominent personage. the inhabitants of this country, as no doubt you are aware, sir, are peculiarly addicted to shaking hands with prominent personages. it occurred to me that mr. bickersteth or yourself might know of persons who would be willing to pay a small fee--let us say two dollars or three--for the privilege of an introduction, including handshake, to his grace." bicky didn't seem to think much of it. "do you mean to say that anyone would be mug enough to part with solid cash just to shake hands with my uncle?" "i have an aunt, sir, who paid five shillings to a young fellow for bringing a moving-picture actor to tea at her house one sunday. it gave her social standing among the neighbours." bicky wavered. "if you think it could be done----" "i feel convinced of it, sir." "what do you think, bertie?" "i'm for it, old boy, absolutely. a very brainy wheeze." "thank you, sir. will there be anything further? good night, sir." and he floated out, leaving us to discuss details. until we started this business of floating old chiswick as a money-making proposition i had never realized what a perfectly foul time those stock exchange chappies must have when the public isn't biting freely. nowadays i read that bit they put in the financial reports about "the market opened quietly" with a sympathetic eye, for, by jove, it certainly opened quietly for us! you'd hardly believe how difficult it was to interest the public and make them take a flutter on the old boy. by the end of the week the only name we had on our list was a delicatessen-store keeper down in bicky's part of the town, and as he wanted us to take it out in sliced ham instead of cash that didn't help much. there was a gleam of light when the brother of bicky's pawnbroker offered ten dollars, money down, for an introduction to old chiswick, but the deal fell through, owing to its turning out that the chap was an anarchist and intended to kick the old boy instead of shaking hands with him. at that, it took me the deuce of a time to persuade bicky not to grab the cash and let things take their course. he seemed to regard the pawnbroker's brother rather as a sportsman and benefactor of his species than otherwise. the whole thing, i'm inclined to think, would have been off if it hadn't been for jeeves. there is no doubt that jeeves is in a class of his own. in the matter of brain and resource i don't think i have ever met a chappie so supremely like mother made. he trickled into my room one morning with a good old cup of tea, and intimated that there was something doing. "might i speak to you with regard to that matter of his grace, sir?" "it's all off. we've decided to chuck it." "sir?" "it won't work. we can't get anybody to come." "i fancy i can arrange that aspect of the matter, sir." "do you mean to say you've managed to get anybody?" "yes, sir. eighty-seven gentlemen from birdsburg, sir." i sat up in bed and spilt the tea. "birdsburg?" "birdsburg, missouri, sir." "how did you get them?" "i happened last night, sir, as you had intimated that you would be absent from home, to attend a theatrical performance, and entered into conversation between the acts with the occupant of the adjoining seat. i had observed that he was wearing a somewhat ornate decoration in his buttonhole, sir--a large blue button with the words 'boost for birdsburg' upon it in red letters, scarcely a judicious addition to a gentleman's evening costume. to my surprise i noticed that the auditorium was full of persons similarly decorated. i ventured to inquire the explanation, and was informed that these gentlemen, forming a party of eighty-seven, are a convention from a town of the name if birdsburg, in the state of missouri. their visit, i gathered, was purely of a social and pleasurable nature, and my informant spoke at some length of the entertainments arranged for their stay in the city. it was when he related with a considerable amount of satisfaction and pride, that a deputation of their number had been introduced to and had shaken hands with a well-known prizefighter, that it occurred to me to broach the subject of his grace. to make a long story short, sir, i have arranged, subject to your approval, that the entire convention shall be presented to his grace to-morrow afternoon." i was amazed. this chappie was a napoleon. "eighty-seven, jeeves. at how much a head?" "i was obliged to agree to a reduction for quantity, sir. the terms finally arrived at were one hundred and fifty dollars for the party." i thought a bit. "payable in advance?" "no, sir. i endeavoured to obtain payment in advance, but was not successful." "well, any way, when we get it i'll make it up to five hundred. bicky'll never know. do you suspect mr. bickersteth would suspect anything, jeeves, if i made it up to five hundred?" "i fancy not, sir. mr. bickersteth is an agreeable gentleman, but not bright." "all right, then. after breakfast run down to the bank and get me some money." "yes, sir." "you know, you're a bit of a marvel, jeeves." "thank you, sir." "right-o!" "very good, sir." when i took dear old bicky aside in the course of the morning and told him what had happened he nearly broke down. he tottered into the sitting-room and buttonholed old chiswick, who was reading the comic section of the morning paper with a kind of grim resolution. "uncle," he said, "are you doing anything special to-morrow afternoon? i mean to say, i've asked a few of my pals in to meet you, don't you know." the old boy cocked a speculative eye at him. "there will be no reporters among them?" "reporters? rather not! why?" "i refuse to be badgered by reporters. there were a number of adhesive young men who endeavoured to elicit from me my views on america while the boat was approaching the dock. i will not be subjected to this persecution again." "that'll be absolutely all right, uncle. there won't be a newspaper-man in the place." "in that case i shall be glad to make the acquaintance of your friends." "you'll shake hands with them and so forth?" "i shall naturally order my behaviour according to the accepted rules of civilized intercourse." bicky thanked him heartily and came off to lunch with me at the club, where he babbled freely of hens, incubators, and other rotten things. after mature consideration we had decided to unleash the birdsburg contingent on the old boy ten at a time. jeeves brought his theatre pal round to see us, and we arranged the whole thing with him. a very decent chappie, but rather inclined to collar the conversation and turn it in the direction of his home-town's new water-supply system. we settled that, as an hour was about all he would be likely to stand, each gang should consider itself entitled to seven minutes of the duke's society by jeeves's stop-watch, and that when their time was up jeeves should slide into the room and cough meaningly. then we parted with what i believe are called mutual expressions of goodwill, the birdsburg chappie extending a cordial invitation to us all to pop out some day and take a look at the new water-supply system, for which we thanked him. next day the deputation rolled in. the first shift consisted of the cove we had met and nine others almost exactly like him in every respect. they all looked deuced keen and businesslike, as if from youth up they had been working in the office and catching the boss's eye and what-not. they shook hands with the old boy with a good deal of apparent satisfaction--all except one chappie, who seemed to be brooding about something--and then they stood off and became chatty. "what message have you for birdsburg, duke?" asked our pal. the old boy seemed a bit rattled. "i have never been to birdsburg." the chappie seemed pained. "you should pay it a visit," he said. "the most rapidly-growing city in the country. boost for birdsburg!" "boost for birdsburg!" said the other chappies reverently. the chappie who had been brooding suddenly gave tongue. "say!" he was a stout sort of well-fed cove with one of those determined chins and a cold eye. the assemblage looked at him. "as a matter of business," said the chappie--"mind you, i'm not questioning anybody's good faith, but, as a matter of strict business--i think this gentleman here ought to put himself on record before witnesses as stating that he really is a duke." "what do you mean, sir?" cried the old boy, getting purple. "no offence, simply business. i'm not saying anything, mind you, but there's one thing that seems kind of funny to me. this gentleman here says his name's mr. bickersteth, as i understand it. well, if you're the duke of chiswick, why isn't he lord percy something? i've read english novels, and i know all about it." "this is monstrous!" "now don't get hot under the collar. i'm only asking. i've a right to know. you're going to take our money, so it's only fair that we should see that we get our money's worth." the water-supply cove chipped in: "you're quite right, simms. i overlooked that when making the agreement. you see, gentlemen, as business men we've a right to reasonable guarantees of good faith. we are paying mr. bickersteth here a hundred and fifty dollars for this reception, and we naturally want to know----" old chiswick gave bicky a searching look; then he turned to the water-supply chappie. he was frightfully calm. "i can assure you that i know nothing of this," he said, quite politely. "i should be grateful if you would explain." "well, we arranged with mr. bickersteth that eighty-seven citizens of birdsburg should have the privilege of meeting and shaking hands with you for a financial consideration mutually arranged, and what my friend simms here means--and i'm with him--is that we have only mr. bickersteth's word for it--and he is a stranger to us--that you are the duke of chiswick at all." old chiswick gulped. "allow me to assure you, sir," he said, in a rummy kind of voice, "that i am the duke of chiswick." "then that's all right," said the chappie heartily. "that was all we wanted to know. let the thing go on." "i am sorry to say," said old chiswick, "that it cannot go on. i am feeling a little tired. i fear i must ask to be excused." "but there are seventy-seven of the boys waiting round the corner at this moment, duke, to be introduced to you." "i fear i must disappoint them." "but in that case the deal would have to be off." "that is a matter for you and my nephew to discuss." the chappie seemed troubled. "you really won't meet the rest of them?" "no!" "well, then, i guess we'll be going." they went out, and there was a pretty solid silence. then old chiswick turned to bicky: "well?" bicky didn't seem to have anything to say. "was it true what that man said?" "yes, uncle." "what do you mean by playing this trick?" bicky seemed pretty well knocked out, so i put in a word. "i think you'd better explain the whole thing, bicky, old top." bicky's adam's-apple jumped about a bit; then he started: "you see, you had cut off my allowance, uncle, and i wanted a bit of money to start a chicken farm. i mean to say it's an absolute cert if you once get a bit of capital. you buy a hen, and it lays an egg every day of the week, and you sell the eggs, say, seven for twenty-five cents. "keep of hens cost nothing. profit practically----" "what is all this nonsense about hens? you led me to suppose you were a substantial business man." "old bicky rather exaggerated, sir," i said, helping the chappie out. "the fact is, the poor old lad is absolutely dependent on that remittance of yours, and when you cut it off, don't you know, he was pretty solidly in the soup, and had to think of some way of closing in on a bit of the ready pretty quick. that's why we thought of this handshaking scheme." old chiswick foamed at the mouth. "so you have lied to me! you have deliberately deceived me as to your financial status!" "poor old bicky didn't want to go to that ranch," i explained. "he doesn't like cows and horses, but he rather thinks he would be hot stuff among the hens. all he wants is a bit of capital. don't you think it would be rather a wheeze if you were to----" "after what has happened? after this--this deceit and foolery? not a penny!" "but----" "not a penny!" there was a respectful cough in the background. "if i might make a suggestion, sir?" jeeves was standing on the horizon, looking devilish brainy. "go ahead, jeeves!" i said. "i would merely suggest, sir, that if mr. bickersteth is in need of a little ready money, and is at a loss to obtain it elsewhere, he might secure the sum he requires by describing the occurrences of this afternoon for the sunday issue of one of the more spirited and enterprising newspapers." "by jove!" i said. "by george!" said bicky. "great heavens!" said old chiswick. "very good, sir," said jeeves. bicky turned to old chiswick with a gleaming eye. "jeeves is right. i'll do it! the _chronicle_ would jump at it. they eat that sort of stuff." old chiswick gave a kind of moaning howl. "i absolutely forbid you, francis, to do this thing!" "that's all very well," said bicky, wonderfully braced, "but if i can't get the money any other way----" "wait! er--wait, my boy! you are so impetuous! we might arrange something." "i won't go to that bally ranch." "no, no! no, no, my boy! i would not suggest it. i would not for a moment suggest it. i--i think----" he seemed to have a bit of a struggle with himself. "i--i think that, on the whole, it would be best if you returned with me to england. i--i might--in fact, i think i see my way to doing--to--i might be able to utilize your services in some secretarial position." "i shouldn't mind that." "i should not be able to offer you a salary, but, as you know, in english political life the unpaid secretary is a recognized figure----" "the only figure i'll recognize," said bicky firmly, "is five hundred quid a year, paid quarterly." "my dear boy!" "absolutely!" "but your recompense, my dear francis, would consist in the unrivalled opportunities you would have, as my secretary, to gain experience, to accustom yourself to the intricacies of political life, to--in fact, you would be in an exceedingly advantageous position." "five hundred a year!" said bicky, rolling it round his tongue. "why, that would be nothing to what i could make if i started a chicken farm. it stands to reason. suppose you have a dozen hens. each of the hens has a dozen chickens. after a bit the chickens grow up and have a dozen chickens each themselves, and then they all start laying eggs! there's a fortune in it. you can get anything you like for eggs in america. chappies keep them on ice for years and years, and don't sell them till they fetch about a dollar a whirl. you don't think i'm going to chuck a future like this for anything under five hundred o' goblins a year--what?" a look of anguish passed over old chiswick's face, then he seemed to be resigned to it. "very well, my boy," he said. "what-o!" said bicky. "all right, then." "jeeves," i said. bicky had taken the old boy off to dinner to celebrate, and we were alone. "jeeves, this has been one of your best efforts." "thank you, sir." "it beats me how you do it." "yes, sir." "the only trouble is you haven't got much out of it--what!" "i fancy mr. bickersteth intends--i judge from his remarks--to signify his appreciation of anything i have been fortunate enough to do to assist him, at some later date when he is in a more favourable position to do so." "it isn't enough, jeeves!" "sir?" it was a wrench, but i felt it was the only possible thing to be done. "bring my shaving things." a gleam of hope shone in the chappie's eye, mixed with doubt. "you mean, sir?" "and shave off my moustache." there was a moment's silence. i could see the fellow was deeply moved. "thank you very much indeed, sir," he said, in a low voice, and popped off. absent treatment i want to tell you all about dear old bobbie cardew. it's a most interesting story. i can't put in any literary style and all that; but i don't have to, don't you know, because it goes on its moral lesson. if you're a man you mustn't miss it, because it'll be a warning to you; and if you're a woman you won't want to, because it's all about how a girl made a man feel pretty well fed up with things. if you're a recent acquaintance of bobbie's, you'll probably be surprised to hear that there was a time when he was more remarkable for the weakness of his memory than anything else. dozens of fellows, who have only met bobbie since the change took place, have been surprised when i told them that. yet it's true. believe _me_. in the days when i first knew him bobbie cardew was about the most pronounced young rotter inside the four-mile radius. people have called me a silly ass, but i was never in the same class with bobbie. when it came to being a silly ass, he was a plus-four man, while my handicap was about six. why, if i wanted him to dine with me, i used to post him a letter at the beginning of the week, and then the day before send him a telegram and a phone-call on the day itself, and--half an hour before the time we'd fixed--a messenger in a taxi, whose business it was to see that he got in and that the chauffeur had the address all correct. by doing this i generally managed to get him, unless he had left town before my messenger arrived. the funny thing was that he wasn't altogether a fool in other ways. deep down in him there was a kind of stratum of sense. i had known him, once or twice, show an almost human intelligence. but to reach that stratum, mind you, you needed dynamite. at least, that's what i thought. but there was another way which hadn't occurred to me. marriage, i mean. marriage, the dynamite of the soul; that was what hit bobbie. he married. have you ever seen a bull-pup chasing a bee? the pup sees the bee. it looks good to him. but he still doesn't know what's at the end of it till he gets there. it was like that with bobbie. he fell in love, got married--with a sort of whoop, as if it were the greatest fun in the world--and then began to find out things. she wasn't the sort of girl you would have expected bobbie to rave about. and yet, i don't know. what i mean is, she worked for her living; and to a fellow who has never done a hand's turn in his life there's undoubtedly a sort of fascination, a kind of romance, about a girl who works for her living. her name was anthony. mary anthony. she was about five feet six; she had a ton and a half of red-gold hair, grey eyes, and one of those determined chins. she was a hospital nurse. when bobbie smashed himself up at polo, she was told off by the authorities to smooth his brow and rally round with cooling unguents and all that; and the old boy hadn't been up and about again for more than a week before they popped off to the registrar's and fixed it up. quite the romance. bobbie broke the news to me at the club one evening, and next day he introduced me to her. i admired her. i've never worked myself--my name's pepper, by the way. almost forgot to mention it. reggie pepper. my uncle edward was pepper, wells, and co., the colliery people. he left me a sizable chunk of bullion--i say i've never worked myself, but i admire any one who earns a living under difficulties, especially a girl. and this girl had had a rather unusually tough time of it, being an orphan and all that, and having had to do everything off her own bat for years. mary and i got along together splendidly. we don't now, but we'll come to that later. i'm speaking of the past. she seemed to think bobbie the greatest thing on earth, judging by the way she looked at him when she thought i wasn't noticing. and bobbie seemed to think the same about her. so that i came to the conclusion that, if only dear old bobbie didn't forget to go to the wedding, they had a sporting chance of being quite happy. well, let's brisk up a bit here, and jump a year. the story doesn't really start till then. they took a flat and settled down. i was in and out of the place quite a good deal. i kept my eyes open, and everything seemed to me to be running along as smoothly as you could want. if this was marriage, i thought, i couldn't see why fellows were so frightened of it. there were a lot of worse things that could happen to a man. but we now come to the incident of the quiet dinner, and it's just here that love's young dream hits a snag, and things begin to occur. i happened to meet bobbie in piccadilly, and he asked me to come back to dinner at the flat. and, like a fool, instead of bolting and putting myself under police protection, i went. when we got to the flat, there was mrs. bobbie looking--well, i tell you, it staggered me. her gold hair was all piled up in waves and crinkles and things, with a what-d'-you-call-it of diamonds in it. and she was wearing the most perfectly ripping dress. i couldn't begin to describe it. i can only say it was the limit. it struck me that if this was how she was in the habit of looking every night when they were dining quietly at home together, it was no wonder that bobbie liked domesticity. "here's old reggie, dear," said bobbie. "i've brought him home to have a bit of dinner. i'll phone down to the kitchen and ask them to send it up now--what?" she stared at him as if she had never seen him before. then she turned scarlet. then she turned as white as a sheet. then she gave a little laugh. it was most interesting to watch. made me wish i was up a tree about eight hundred miles away. then she recovered herself. "i am so glad you were able to come, mr. pepper," she said, smiling at me. and after that she was all right. at least, you would have said so. she talked a lot at dinner, and chaffed bobbie, and played us ragtime on the piano afterwards, as if she hadn't a care in the world. quite a jolly little party it was--not. i'm no lynx-eyed sleuth, and all that sort of thing, but i had seen her face at the beginning, and i knew that she was working the whole time and working hard, to keep herself in hand, and that she would have given that diamond what's-its-name in her hair and everything else she possessed to have one good scream--just one. i've sat through some pretty thick evenings in my time, but that one had the rest beaten in a canter. at the very earliest moment i grabbed my hat and got away. having seen what i did, i wasn't particularly surprised to meet bobbie at the club next day looking about as merry and bright as a lonely gum-drop at an eskimo tea-party. he started in straightway. he seemed glad to have someone to talk to about it. "do you know how long i've been married?" he said. i didn't exactly. "about a year, isn't it?" "not _about_ a year," he said sadly. "exactly a year--yesterday!" then i understood. i saw light--a regular flash of light. "yesterday was----?" "the anniversary of the wedding. i'd arranged to take mary to the savoy, and on to covent garden. she particularly wanted to hear caruso. i had the ticket for the box in my pocket. do you know, all through dinner i had a kind of rummy idea that there was something i'd forgotten, but i couldn't think what?" "till your wife mentioned it?" he nodded---"she--mentioned it," he said thoughtfully. i didn't ask for details. women with hair and chins like mary's may be angels most of the time, but, when they take off their wings for a bit, they aren't half-hearted about it. "to be absolutely frank, old top," said poor old bobbie, in a broken sort of way, "my stock's pretty low at home." there didn't seem much to be done. i just lit a cigarette and sat there. he didn't want to talk. presently he went out. i stood at the window of our upper smoking-room, which looks out on to piccadilly, and watched him. he walked slowly along for a few yards, stopped, then walked on again, and finally turned into a jeweller's. which was an instance of what i meant when i said that deep down in him there was a certain stratum of sense. * * * * * it was from now on that i began to be really interested in this problem of bobbie's married life. of course, one's always mildly interested in one's friends' marriages, hoping they'll turn out well and all that; but this was different. the average man isn't like bobbie, and the average girl isn't like mary. it was that old business of the immovable mass and the irresistible force. there was bobbie, ambling gently through life, a dear old chap in a hundred ways, but undoubtedly a chump of the first water. and there was mary, determined that he shouldn't be a chump. and nature, mind you, on bobbie's side. when nature makes a chump like dear old bobbie, she's proud of him, and doesn't want her handiwork disturbed. she gives him a sort of natural armour to protect him against outside interference. and that armour is shortness of memory. shortness of memory keeps a man a chump, when, but for it, he might cease to be one. take my case, for instance. i'm a chump. well, if i had remembered half the things people have tried to teach me during my life, my size in hats would be about number nine. but i didn't. i forgot them. and it was just the same with bobbie. for about a week, perhaps a bit more, the recollection of that quiet little domestic evening bucked him up like a tonic. elephants, i read somewhere, are champions at the memory business, but they were fools to bobbie during that week. but, bless you, the shock wasn't nearly big enough. it had dinted the armour, but it hadn't made a hole in it. pretty soon he was back at the old game. it was pathetic, don't you know. the poor girl loved him, and she was frightened. it was the thin edge of the wedge, you see, and she knew it. a man who forgets what day he was married, when he's been married one year, will forget, at about the end of the fourth, that he's married at all. if she meant to get him in hand at all, she had got to do it now, before he began to drift away. i saw that clearly enough, and i tried to make bobbie see it, when he was by way of pouring out his troubles to me one afternoon. i can't remember what it was that he had forgotten the day before, but it was something she had asked him to bring home for her--it may have been a book. "it's such a little thing to make a fuss about," said bobbie. "and she knows that it's simply because i've got such an infernal memory about everything. i can't remember anything. never could." he talked on for a while, and, just as he was going, he pulled out a couple of sovereigns. "oh, by the way," he said. "what's this for?" i asked, though i knew. "i owe it you." "how's that?" i said. "why, that bet on tuesday. in the billiard-room. murray and brown were playing a hundred up, and i gave you two to one that brown would win, and murray beat him by twenty odd." "so you do remember some things?" i said. he got quite excited. said that if i thought he was the sort of rotter who forgot to pay when he lost a bet, it was pretty rotten of me after knowing him all these years, and a lot more like that. "subside, laddie," i said. then i spoke to him like a father. "what you've got to do, my old college chum," i said, "is to pull yourself together, and jolly quick, too. as things are shaping, you're due for a nasty knock before you know what's hit you. you've got to make an effort. don't say you can't. this two quid business shows that, even if your memory is rocky, you can remember some things. what you've got to do is to see that wedding anniversaries and so on are included in the list. it may be a brainstrain, but you can't get out of it." "i suppose you're right," said bobbie. "but it beats me why she thinks such a lot of these rotten little dates. what's it matter if i forgot what day we were married on or what day she was born on or what day the cat had the measles? she knows i love her just as much as if i were a memorizing freak at the halls." "that's not enough for a woman," i said. "they want to be shown. bear that in mind, and you're all right. forget it, and there'll be trouble." he chewed the knob of his stick. "women are frightfully rummy," he said gloomily. "you should have thought of that before you married one," i said. * * * * * i don't see that i could have done any more. i had put the whole thing in a nutshell for him. you would have thought he'd have seen the point, and that it would have made him brace up and get a hold on himself. but no. off he went again in the same old way. i gave up arguing with him. i had a good deal of time on my hands, but not enough to amount to anything when it was a question of reforming dear old bobbie by argument. if you see a man asking for trouble, and insisting on getting it, the only thing to do is to stand by and wait till it comes to him. after that you may get a chance. but till then there's nothing to be done. but i thought a lot about him. bobbie didn't get into the soup all at once. weeks went by, and months, and still nothing happened. now and then he'd come into the club with a kind of cloud on his shining morning face, and i'd know that there had been doings in the home; but it wasn't till well on in the spring that he got the thunderbolt just where he had been asking for it--in the thorax. i was smoking a quiet cigarette one morning in the window looking out over piccadilly, and watching the buses and motors going up one way and down the other--most interesting it is; i often do it--when in rushed bobbie, with his eyes bulging and his face the colour of an oyster, waving a piece of paper in his hand. "reggie," he said. "reggie, old top, she's gone!" "gone!" i said. "who?" "mary, of course! gone! left me! gone!" "where?" i said. silly question? perhaps you're right. anyhow, dear old bobbie nearly foamed at the mouth. "where? how should i know where? here, read this." he pushed the paper into my hand. it was a letter. "go on," said bobbie. "read it." so i did. it certainly was quite a letter. there was not much of it, but it was all to the point. this is what it said: "my dear bobbie,--i am going away. when you care enough about me to remember to wish me many happy returns on my birthday, i will come back. my address will be box 341, _london morning news_." i read it twice, then i said, "well, why don't you?" "why don't i what?" "why don't you wish her many happy returns? it doesn't seem much to ask." "but she says on her birthday." "well, when is her birthday?" "can't you understand?" said bobbie. "i've forgotten." "forgotten!" i said. "yes," said bobbie. "forgotten." "how do you mean, forgotten?" i said. "forgotten whether it's the twentieth or the twenty-first, or what? how near do you get to it?" "i know it came somewhere between the first of january and the thirty-first of december. that's how near i get to it." "think." "think? what's the use of saying 'think'? think i haven't thought? i've been knocking sparks out of my brain ever since i opened that letter." "and you can't remember?" "no." i rang the bell and ordered restoratives. "well, bobbie," i said, "it's a pretty hard case to spring on an untrained amateur like me. suppose someone had come to sherlock holmes and said, 'mr. holmes, here's a case for you. when is my wife's birthday?' wouldn't that have given sherlock a jolt? however, i know enough about the game to understand that a fellow can't shoot off his deductive theories unless you start him with a clue, so rouse yourself out of that pop-eyed trance and come across with two or three. for instance, can't you remember the last time she had a birthday? what sort of weather was it? that might fix the month." bobbie shook his head. "it was just ordinary weather, as near as i can recollect." "warm?" "warmish." "or cold?" "well, fairly cold, perhaps. i can't remember." i ordered two more of the same. they seemed indicated in the young detective's manual. "you're a great help, bobbie," i said. "an invaluable assistant. one of those indispensable adjuncts without which no home is complete." bobbie seemed to be thinking. "i've got it," he said suddenly. "look here. i gave her a present on her last birthday. all we have to do is to go to the shop, hunt up the date when it was bought, and the thing's done." "absolutely. what did you give her?" he sagged. "i can't remember," he said. getting ideas is like golf. some days you're right off, others it's as easy as falling off a log. i don't suppose dear old bobbie had ever had two ideas in the same morning before in his life; but now he did it without an effort. he just loosed another dry martini into the undergrowth, and before you could turn round it had flushed quite a brain-wave. do you know those little books called _when were you born_? there's one for each month. they tell you your character, your talents, your strong points, and your weak points at fourpence halfpenny a go. bobbie's idea was to buy the whole twelve, and go through them till we found out which month hit off mary's character. that would give us the month, and narrow it down a whole lot. a pretty hot idea for a non-thinker like dear old bobbie. we sallied out at once. he took half and i took half, and we settled down to work. as i say, it sounded good. but when we came to go into the thing, we saw that there was a flaw. there was plenty of information all right, but there wasn't a single month that didn't have something that exactly hit off mary. for instance, in the december book it said, "december people are apt to keep their own secrets. they are extensive travellers." well, mary had certainly kept her secret, and she had travelled quite extensively enough for bobbie's needs. then, october people were "born with original ideas" and "loved moving." you couldn't have summed up mary's little jaunt more neatly. february people had "wonderful memories"--mary's speciality. we took a bit of a rest, then had another go at the thing. bobbie was all for may, because the book said that women born in that month were "inclined to be capricious, which is always a barrier to a happy married life"; but i plumped for february, because february women "are unusually determined to have their own way, are very earnest, and expect a full return in their companion or mates." which he owned was about as like mary as anything could be. in the end he tore the books up, stamped on them, burnt them, and went home. it was wonderful what a change the next few days made in dear old bobbie. have you ever seen that picture, "the soul's awakening"? it represents a flapper of sorts gazing in a startled sort of way into the middle distance with a look in her eyes that seems to say, "surely that is george's step i hear on the mat! can this be love?" well, bobbie had a soul's awakening too. i don't suppose he had ever troubled to think in his life before--not really _think_. but now he was wearing his brain to the bone. it was painful in a way, of course, to see a fellow human being so thoroughly in the soup, but i felt strongly that it was all for the best. i could see as plainly as possible that all these brainstorms were improving bobbie out of knowledge. when it was all over he might possibly become a rotter again of a sort, but it would only be a pale reflection of the rotter he had been. it bore out the idea i had always had that what he needed was a real good jolt. i saw a great deal of him these days. i was his best friend, and he came to me for sympathy. i gave it him, too, with both hands, but i never failed to hand him the moral lesson when i had him weak. one day he came to me as i was sitting in the club, and i could see that he had had an idea. he looked happier than he had done in weeks. "reggie," he said, "i'm on the trail. this time i'm convinced that i shall pull it off. i've remembered something of vital importance." "yes?" i said. "i remember distinctly," he said, "that on mary's last birthday we went together to the coliseum. how does that hit you?" "it's a fine bit of memorizing," i said; "but how does it help?" "why, they change the programme every week there." "ah!" i said. "now you are talking." "and the week we went one of the turns was professor some one's terpsichorean cats. i recollect them distinctly. now, are we narrowing it down, or aren't we? reggie, i'm going round to the coliseum this minute, and i'm going to dig the date of those terpsichorean cats out of them, if i have to use a crowbar." so that got him within six days; for the management treated us like brothers; brought out the archives, and ran agile fingers over the pages till they treed the cats in the middle of may. "i told you it was may," said bobbie. "maybe you'll listen to me another time." "if you've any sense," i said, "there won't be another time." and bobbie said that there wouldn't. once you get your memory on the run, it parts as if it enjoyed doing it. i had just got off to sleep that night when my telephone-bell rang. it was bobbie, of course. he didn't apologize. "reggie," he said, "i've got it now for certain. it's just come to me. we saw those terpsichorean cats at a matinee, old man." "yes?" i said. "well, don't you see that that brings it down to two days? it must have been either wednesday the seventh or saturday the tenth." "yes," i said, "if they didn't have daily matinees at the coliseum." i heard him give a sort of howl. "bobbie," i said. my feet were freezing, but i was fond of him. "well?" "i've remembered something too. it's this. the day you went to the coliseum i lunched with you both at the ritz. you had forgotten to bring any money with you, so you wrote a cheque." "but i'm always writing cheques." "you are. but this was for a tenner, and made out to the hotel. hunt up your cheque-book and see how many cheques for ten pounds payable to the ritz hotel you wrote out between may the fifth and may the tenth." he gave a kind of gulp. "reggie," he said, "you're a genius. i've always said so. i believe you've got it. hold the line." presently he came back again. "halloa!" he said. "i'm here," i said. "it was the eighth. reggie, old man, i----" "topping," i said. "good night." it was working along into the small hours now, but i thought i might as well make a night of it and finish the thing up, so i rang up an hotel near the strand. "put me through to mrs. cardew," i said. "it's late," said the man at the other end. "and getting later every minute," i said. "buck along, laddie." i waited patiently. i had missed my beauty-sleep, and my feet had frozen hard, but i was past regrets. "what is the matter?" said mary's voice. "my feet are cold," i said. "but i didn't call you up to tell you that particularly. i've just been chatting with bobbie, mrs. cardew." "oh! is that mr. pepper?" "yes. he's remembered it, mrs. cardew." she gave a sort of scream. i've often thought how interesting it must be to be one of those exchange girls. the things they must hear, don't you know. bobbie's howl and gulp and mrs. bobbie's scream and all about my feet and all that. most interesting it must be. "he's remembered it!" she gasped. "did you tell him?" "no." well, i hadn't. "mr. pepper." "yes?" "was he--has he been--was he very worried?" i chuckled. this was where i was billed to be the life and soul of the party. "worried! he was about the most worried man between here and edinburgh. he has been worrying as if he was paid to do it by the nation. he has started out to worry after breakfast, and----" oh, well, you can never tell with women. my idea was that we should pass the rest of the night slapping each other on the back across the wire, and telling each other what bally brainy conspirators we were, don't you know, and all that. but i'd got just as far as this, when she bit at me. absolutely! i heard the snap. and then she said "oh!" in that choked kind of way. and when a woman says "oh!" like that, it means all the bad words she'd love to say if she only knew them. and then she began. "what brutes men are! what horrid brutes! how you could stand by and see poor dear bobbie worrying himself into a fever, when a word from you would have put everything right, i can't----" "but----" "and you call yourself his friend! his friend!" (metallic laugh, most unpleasant.) "it shows how one can be deceived. i used to think you a kind-hearted man." "but, i say, when i suggested the thing, you thought it perfectly----" "i thought it hateful, abominable." "but you said it was absolutely top----" "i said nothing of the kind. and if i did, i didn't mean it. i don't wish to be unjust, mr. pepper, but i must say that to me there seems to be something positively fiendish in a man who can go out of his way to separate a husband from his wife, simply in order to amuse himself by gloating over his agony----" "but----!" "when one single word would have----" "but you made me promise not to----" i bleated. "and if i did, do you suppose i didn't expect you to have the sense to break your promise?" i had finished. i had no further observations to make. i hung up the receiver, and crawled into bed. * * * * * i still see bobbie when he comes to the club, but i do not visit the old homestead. he is friendly, but he stops short of issuing invitations. i ran across mary at the academy last week, and her eyes went through me like a couple of bullets through a pat of butter. and as they came out the other side, and i limped off to piece myself together again, there occurred to me the simple epitaph which, when i am no more, i intend to have inscribed on my tombstone. it was this: "he was a man who acted from the best motives. there is one born every minute." helping freddie i don't want to bore you, don't you know, and all that sort of rot, but i must tell you about dear old freddie meadowes. i'm not a flier at literary style, and all that, but i'll get some writer chappie to give the thing a wash and brush up when i've finished, so that'll be all right. dear old freddie, don't you know, has been a dear old pal of mine for years and years; so when i went into the club one morning and found him sitting alone in a dark corner, staring glassily at nothing, and generally looking like the last rose of summer, you can understand i was quite disturbed about it. as a rule, the old rotter is the life and soul of our set. quite the little lump of fun, and all that sort of thing. jimmy pinkerton was with me at the time. jimmy's a fellow who writes plays--a deuced brainy sort of fellow--and between us we set to work to question the poor pop-eyed chappie, until finally we got at what the matter was. as we might have guessed, it was a girl. he had had a quarrel with angela west, the girl he was engaged to, and she had broken off the engagement. what the row had been about he didn't say, but apparently she was pretty well fed up. she wouldn't let him come near her, refused to talk on the phone, and sent back his letters unopened. i was sorry for poor old freddie. i knew what it felt like. i was once in love myself with a girl called elizabeth shoolbred, and the fact that she couldn't stand me at any price will be recorded in my autobiography. i knew the thing for freddie. "change of scene is what you want, old scout," i said. "come with me to marvis bay. i've taken a cottage there. jimmy's coming down on the twenty-fourth. we'll be a cosy party." "he's absolutely right," said jimmy. "change of scene's the thing. i knew a man. girl refused him. man went abroad. two months later girl wired him, 'come back. muriel.' man started to write out a reply; suddenly found that he couldn't remember girl's surname; so never answered at all." but freddie wouldn't be comforted. he just went on looking as if he had swallowed his last sixpence. however, i got him to promise to come to marvis bay with me. he said he might as well be there as anywhere. do you know marvis bay? it's in dorsetshire. it isn't what you'd call a fiercely exciting spot, but it has its good points. you spend the day there bathing and sitting on the sands, and in the evening you stroll out on the shore with the gnats. at nine o'clock you rub ointment on the wounds and go to bed. it seemed to suit poor old freddie. once the moon was up and the breeze sighing in the trees, you couldn't drag him from that beach with a rope. he became quite a popular pet with the gnats. they'd hang round waiting for him to come out, and would give perfectly good strollers the miss-in-baulk just so as to be in good condition for him. yes, it was a peaceful sort of life, but by the end of the first week i began to wish that jimmy pinkerton had arranged to come down earlier: for as a companion freddie, poor old chap, wasn't anything to write home to mother about. when he wasn't chewing a pipe and scowling at the carpet, he was sitting at the piano, playing "the rosary" with one finger. he couldn't play anything except "the rosary," and he couldn't play much of that. somewhere round about the third bar a fuse would blow out, and he'd have to start all over again. he was playing it as usual one morning when i came in from bathing. "reggie," he said, in a hollow voice, looking up, "i've seen her." "seen her?" i said. "what, miss west?" "i was down at the post office, getting the letters, and we met in the doorway. she cut me!" he started "the rosary" again, and side-slipped in the second bar. "reggie," he said, "you ought never to have brought me here. i must go away." "go away?" i said. "don't talk such rot. this is the best thing that could have happened. this is where you come out strong." "she cut me." "never mind. be a sportsman. have another dash at her." "she looked clean through me!" "of course she did. but don't mind that. put this thing in my hands. i'll see you through. now, what you want," i said, "is to place her under some obligation to you. what you want is to get her timidly thanking you. what you want----" "but what's she going to thank me timidly for?" i thought for a moment. "look out for a chance and save her from drowning," i said. "i can't swim," said freddie. that was freddie all over, don't you know. a dear old chap in a thousand ways, but no help to a fellow, if you know what i mean. he cranked up the piano once more and i sprinted for the open. i strolled out on to the sands and began to think this thing over. there was no doubt that the brain-work had got to be done by me. dear old freddie had his strong qualities. he was top-hole at polo, and in happier days i've heard him give an imitation of cats fighting in a backyard that would have surprised you. but apart from that he wasn't a man of enterprise. well, don't you know, i was rounding some rocks, with my brain whirring like a dynamo, when i caught sight of a blue dress, and, by jove, it was the girl. i had never met her, but freddie had sixteen photographs of her sprinkled round his bedroom, and i knew i couldn't be mistaken. she was sitting on the sand, helping a small, fat child build a castle. on a chair close by was an elderly lady reading a novel. i heard the girl call her "aunt." so, doing the sherlock holmes business, i deduced that the fat child was her cousin. it struck me that if freddie had been there he would probably have tried to work up some sentiment about the kid on the strength of it. personally i couldn't manage it. i don't think i ever saw a child who made me feel less sentimental. he was one of those round, bulging kids. after he had finished the castle he seemed to get bored with life, and began to whimper. the girl took him off to where a fellow was selling sweets at a stall. and i walked on. now, fellows, if you ask them, will tell you that i'm a chump. well, i don't mind. i admit it. i _am_ a chump. all the peppers have been chumps. but what i do say is that every now and then, when you'd least expect it, i get a pretty hot brain-wave; and that's what happened now. i doubt if the idea that came to me then would have occurred to a single one of any dozen of the brainiest chappies you care to name. it came to me on my return journey. i was walking back along the shore, when i saw the fat kid meditatively smacking a jelly-fish with a spade. the girl wasn't with him. in fact, there didn't seem to be any one in sight. i was just going to pass on when i got the brain-wave. i thought the whole thing out in a flash, don't you know. from what i had seen of the two, the girl was evidently fond of this kid, and, anyhow, he was her cousin, so what i said to myself was this: if i kidnap this young heavy-weight for the moment, and if, when the girl has got frightfully anxious about where he can have got to, dear old freddie suddenly appears leading the infant by the hand and telling a story to the effect that he has found him wandering at large about the country and practically saved his life, why, the girl's gratitude is bound to make her chuck hostilities and be friends again. so i gathered in the kid and made off with him. all the way home i pictured that scene of reconciliation. i could see it so vividly, don't you know, that, by george, it gave me quite a choky feeling in my throat. freddie, dear old chap, was rather slow at getting on to the fine points of the idea. when i appeared, carrying the kid, and dumped him down in our sitting-room, he didn't absolutely effervesce with joy, if you know what i mean. the kid had started to bellow by this time, and poor old freddie seemed to find it rather trying. "stop it!" he said. "do you think nobody's got any troubles except you? what the deuce is all this, reggie?" the kid came back at him with a yell that made the window rattle. i raced to the kitchen and fetched a jar of honey. it was the right stuff. the kid stopped bellowing and began to smear his face with the stuff. "well?" said freddie, when silence had set in. i explained the idea. after a while it began to strike him. "you're not such a fool as you look, sometimes, reggie," he said handsomely. "i'm bound to say this seems pretty good." and he disentangled the kid from the honey-jar and took him out, to scour the beach for angela. i don't know when i've felt so happy. i was so fond of dear old freddie that to know that he was soon going to be his old bright self again made me feel as if somebody had left me about a million pounds. i was leaning back in a chair on the veranda, smoking peacefully, when down the road i saw the old boy returning, and, by george, the kid was still with him. and freddie looked as if he hadn't a friend in the world. "hello!" i said. "couldn't you find her?" "yes, i found her," he replied, with one of those bitter, hollow laughs. "well, then----?" freddie sank into a chair and groaned. "this isn't her cousin, you idiot!" he said. "he's no relation at all. he's just a kid she happened to meet on the beach. she had never seen him before in her life." "what! who is he, then?" "i don't know. oh, lord, i've had a time! thank goodness you'll probably spend the next few years of your life in dartmoor for kidnapping. that's my only consolation. i'll come and jeer at you through the bars." "tell me all, old boy," i said. it took him a good long time to tell the story, for he broke off in the middle of nearly every sentence to call me names, but i gathered gradually what had happened. she had listened like an iceberg while he told the story he had prepared, and then--well, she didn't actually call him a liar, but she gave him to understand in a general sort of way that if he and dr. cook ever happened to meet, and started swapping stories, it would be about the biggest duel on record. and then he had crawled away with the kid, licked to a splinter. "and mind, this is your affair," he concluded. "i'm not mixed up in it at all. if you want to escape your sentence, you'd better go and find the kid's parents and return him before the police come for you." * * * * * by jove, you know, till i started to tramp the place with this infernal kid, i never had a notion it would have been so deuced difficult to restore a child to its anxious parents. it's a mystery to me how kidnappers ever get caught. i searched marvis bay like a bloodhound, but nobody came forward to claim the infant. you'd have thought, from the lack of interest in him, that he was stopping there all by himself in a cottage of his own. it wasn't till, by an inspiration, i thought to ask the sweet-stall man that i found out that his name was medwin, and that his parents lived at a place called ocean rest, in beach road. i shot off there like an arrow and knocked at the door. nobody answered. i knocked again. i could hear movements inside, but nobody came. i was just going to get to work on that knocker in such a way that the idea would filter through into these people's heads that i wasn't standing there just for the fun of the thing, when a voice from somewhere above shouted, "hi!" i looked up and saw a round, pink face, with grey whiskers east and west of it, staring down from an upper window. "hi!" it shouted again. "what the deuce do you mean by 'hi'?" i said. "you can't come in," said the face. "hello, is that tootles?" "my name is not tootles, and i don't want to come in," i said. "are you mr. medwin? i've brought back your son." "i see him. peep-bo, tootles! dadda can see 'oo!" the face disappeared with a jerk. i could hear voices. the face reappeared. "hi!" i churned the gravel madly. "do you live here?" said the face. "i'm staying here for a few weeks." "what's your name?" "pepper. but----" "pepper? any relation to edward pepper, the colliery owner?" "my uncle. but----" "i used to know him well. dear old edward pepper! i wish i was with him now." "i wish you were," i said. he beamed down at me. "this is most fortunate," he said. "we were wondering what we were to do with tootles. you see, we have the mumps here. my daughter bootles has just developed mumps. tootles must not be exposed to the risk of infection. we could not think what we were to do with him. it was most fortunate your finding him. he strayed from his nurse. i would hesitate to trust him to the care of a stranger, but you are different. any nephew of edward pepper's has my implicit confidence. you must take tootles to your house. it will be an ideal arrangement. i have written to my brother in london to come and fetch him. he may be here in a few days." "may!" "he is a busy man, of course; but he should certainly be here within a week. till then tootles can stop with you. it is an excellent plan. very much obliged to you. your wife will like tootles." "i haven't got a wife," i yelled; but the window had closed with a bang, as if the man with the whiskers had found a germ trying to escape, don't you know, and had headed it off just in time. i breathed a deep breath and wiped my forehead. the window flew up again. "hi!" a package weighing about a ton hit me on the head and burst like a bomb. "did you catch it?" said the face, reappearing. "dear me, you missed it! never mind. you can get it at the grocer's. ask for bailey's granulated breakfast chips. tootles takes them for breakfast with a little milk. be certain to get bailey's." my spirit was broken, if you know what i mean. i accepted the situation. taking tootles by the hand, i walked slowly away. napoleon's retreat from moscow was a picnic by the side of it. as we turned up the road we met freddie's angela. the sight of her had a marked effect on the kid tootles. he pointed at her and said, "wah!" the girl stopped and smiled. i loosed the kid, and he ran to her. "well, baby?" she said, bending down to him. "so father found you again, did he? your little son and i made friends on the beach this morning," she said to me. this was the limit. coming on top of that interview with the whiskered lunatic it so utterly unnerved me, don't you know, that she had nodded good-bye and was half-way down the road before i caught up with my breath enough to deny the charge of being the infant's father. i hadn't expected dear old freddie to sing with joy when he found out what had happened, but i did think he might have shown a little more manly fortitude. he leaped up, glared at the kid, and clutched his head. he didn't speak for a long time, but, on the other hand, when he began he did not leave off for a long time. he was quite emotional, dear old boy. it beat me where he could have picked up such expressions. "well," he said, when he had finished, "say something! heavens! man, why don't you say something?" "you don't give me a chance, old top," i said soothingly. "what are you going to do about it?" "what can we do about it?" "we can't spend our time acting as nurses to this--this exhibit." he got up. "i'm going back to london," he said. "freddie!" i cried. "freddie, old man!" my voice shook. "would you desert a pal at a time like this?" "i would. this is your business, and you've got to manage it." "freddie," i said, "you've got to stand by me. you must. do you realize that this child has to be undressed, and bathed, and dressed again? you wouldn't leave me to do all that single-handed? freddie, old scout, we were at school together. your mother likes me. you owe me a tenner." he sat down again. "oh, well," he said resignedly. "besides, old top," i said, "i did it all for your sake, don't you know?" he looked at me in a curious way. "reggie," he said, in a strained voice, "one moment. i'll stand a good deal, but i won't stand for being expected to be grateful." looking back at it, i see that what saved me from colney hatch in that crisis was my bright idea of buying up most of the contents of the local sweet-shop. by serving out sweets to the kid practically incessantly we managed to get through the rest of that day pretty satisfactorily. at eight o'clock he fell asleep in a chair, and, having undressed him by unbuttoning every button in sight and, where there were no buttons, pulling till something gave, we carried him up to bed. freddie stood looking at the pile of clothes on the floor and i knew what he was thinking. to get the kid undressed had been simple--a mere matter of muscle. but how were we to get him into his clothes again? i stirred the pile with my foot. there was a long linen arrangement which might have been anything. also a strip of pink flannel which was like nothing on earth. we looked at each other and smiled wanly. but in the morning i remembered that there were children at the next bungalow but one. we went there before breakfast and borrowed their nurse. women are wonderful, by george they are! she had that kid dressed and looking fit for anything in about eight minutes. i showered wealth on her, and she promised to come in morning and evening. i sat down to breakfast almost cheerful again. it was the first bit of silver lining there had been to the cloud up to date. "and after all," i said, "there's lots to be said for having a child about the house, if you know what i mean. kind of cosy and domestic--what!" just then the kid upset the milk over freddie's trousers, and when he had come back after changing his clothes he began to talk about what a much-maligned man king herod was. the more he saw of tootles, he said, the less he wondered at those impulsive views of his on infanticide. two days later jimmy pinkerton came down. jimmy took one look at the kid, who happened to be howling at the moment, and picked up his portmanteau. "for me," he said, "the hotel. i can't write dialogue with that sort of thing going on. whose work is this? which of you adopted this little treasure?" i told him about mr. medwin and the mumps. jimmy seemed interested. "i might work this up for the stage," he said. "it wouldn't make a bad situation for act two of a farce." "farce!" snarled poor old freddie. "rather. curtain of act one on hero, a well-meaning, half-baked sort of idiot just like--that is to say, a well-meaning, half-baked sort of idiot, kidnapping the child. second act, his adventures with it. i'll rough it out to-night. come along and show me the hotel, reggie." as we went i told him the rest of the story--the angela part. he laid down his portmanteau and looked at me like an owl through his glasses. "what!" he said. "why, hang it, this is a play, ready-made. it's the old 'tiny hand' business. always safe stuff. parted lovers. lisping child. reconciliation over the little cradle. it's big. child, centre. girl l.c.; freddie, up stage, by the piano. can freddie play the piano?" "he can play a little of 'the rosary' with one finger." jimmy shook his head. "no; we shall have to cut out the soft music. but the rest's all right. look here." he squatted in the sand. "this stone is the girl. this bit of seaweed's the child. this nutshell is freddie. dialogue leading up to child's line. child speaks like, 'boofer lady, does 'oo love dadda?' business of outstretched hands. hold picture for a moment. freddie crosses l., takes girl's hand. business of swallowing lump in throat. then big speech. 'ah, marie,' or whatever her name is--jane--agnes--angela? very well. 'ah, angela, has not this gone on too long? a little child rebukes us! angela!' and so on. freddie must work up his own part. i'm just giving you the general outline. and we must get a good line for the child. 'boofer lady, does 'oo love dadda?' isn't definite enough. we want something more--ah! 'kiss freddie,' that's it. short, crisp, and has the punch." "but, jimmy, old top," i said, "the only objection is, don't you know, that there's no way of getting the girl to the cottage. she cuts freddie. she wouldn't come within a mile of him." jimmy frowned. "that's awkward," he said. "well, we shall have to make it an exterior set instead of an interior. we can easily corner her on the beach somewhere, when we're ready. meanwhile, we must get the kid letter-perfect. first rehearsal for lines and business eleven sharp to-morrow." poor old freddie was in such a gloomy state of mind that we decided not to tell him the idea till we had finished coaching the kid. he wasn't in the mood to have a thing like that hanging over him. so we concentrated on tootles. and pretty early in the proceedings we saw that the only way to get tootles worked up to the spirit of the thing was to introduce sweets of some sort as a sub-motive, so to speak. "the chief difficulty," said jimmy pinkerton at the end of the first rehearsal, "is to establish a connection in the kid's mind between his line and the sweets. once he has grasped the basic fact that those two words, clearly spoken, result automatically in acid-drops, we have got a success." i've often thought, don't you know, how interesting it must be to be one of those animal-trainer johnnies: to stimulate the dawning intelligence, and that sort of thing. well, this was every bit as exciting. some days success seemed to be staring us in the eye, and the kid got the line out as if he'd been an old professional. and then he'd go all to pieces again. and time was flying. "we must hurry up, jimmy," i said. "the kid's uncle may arrive any day now and take him away." "and we haven't an understudy," said jimmy. "there's something in that. we must work! my goodness, that kid's a bad study. i've known deaf-mutes who would have learned the part quicker." i will say this for the kid, though: he was a trier. failure didn't discourage him. whenever there was any kind of sweet near he had a dash at his line, and kept on saying something till he got what he was after. his only fault was his uncertainty. personally, i would have been prepared to risk it, and start the performance at the first opportunity, but jimmy said no. "we're not nearly ready," said jimmy. "to-day, for instance, he said 'kick freddie.' that's not going to win any girl's heart. and she might do it, too. no; we must postpone production awhile yet." but, by george, we didn't. the curtain went up the very next afternoon. it was nobody's fault--certainly not mine. it was just fate. freddie had settled down at the piano, and i was leading the kid out of the house to exercise it, when, just as we'd got out to the veranda, along came the girl angela on her way to the beach. the kid set up his usual yell at the sight of her, and she stopped at the foot of the steps. "hello, baby!" she said. "good morning," she said to me. "may i come up?" she didn't wait for an answer. she just came. she seemed to be that sort of girl. she came up on the veranda and started fussing over the kid. and six feet away, mind you, freddie smiting the piano in the sitting-room. it was a dash disturbing situation, don't you know. at any minute freddie might take it into his head to come out on to the veranda, and we hadn't even begun to rehearse him in his part. i tried to break up the scene. "we were just going down to the beach," i said. "yes?" said the girl. she listened for a moment. "so you're having your piano tuned?" she said. "my aunt has been trying to find a tuner for ours. do you mind if i go in and tell this man to come on to us when he's finished here?" "er--not yet!" i said. "not yet, if you don't mind. he can't bear to be disturbed when he's working. it's the artistic temperament. i'll tell him later." "very well," she said, getting up to go. "ask him to call at pine bungalow. west is the name. oh, he seems to have stopped. i suppose he will be out in a minute now. i'll wait." "don't you think--shouldn't we be going on to the beach?" i said. she had started talking to the kid and didn't hear. she was feeling in her pocket for something. "the beach," i babbled. "see what i've brought for you, baby," she said. and, by george, don't you know, she held up in front of the kid's bulging eyes a chunk of toffee about the size of the automobile club. that finished it. we had just been having a long rehearsal, and the kid was all worked up in his part. he got it right first time. "kiss fweddie!" he shouted. and the front door opened, and freddie came out on to the veranda, for all the world as if he had been taking a cue. he looked at the girl, and the girl looked at him. i looked at the ground, and the kid looked at the toffee. "kiss fweddie!" he yelled. "kiss fweddie!" the girl was still holding up the toffee, and the kid did what jimmy pinkerton would have called "business of outstretched hands" towards it. "kiss fweddie!" he shrieked. "what does this mean?" said the girl, turning to me. "you'd better give it to him, don't you know," i said. "he'll go on till you do." she gave the kid his toffee, and he subsided. poor old freddie still stood there gaping, without a word. "what does it mean?" said the girl again. her face was pink, and her eyes were sparkling in the sort of way, don't you know, that makes a fellow feel as if he hadn't any bones in him, if you know what i mean. did you ever tread on your partner's dress at a dance and tear it, and see her smile at you like an angel and say: "_please_ don't apologize. it's nothing," and then suddenly meet her clear blue eyes and feel as if you had stepped on the teeth of a rake and had the handle jump up and hit you in the face? well, that's how freddie's angela looked. "_well?_" she said, and her teeth gave a little click. i gulped. then i said it was nothing. then i said it was nothing much. then i said, "oh, well, it was this way." and, after a few brief remarks about jimmy pinkerton, i told her all about it. and all the while idiot freddie stood there gaping, without a word. and the girl didn't speak, either. she just stood listening. and then she began to laugh. i never heard a girl laugh so much. she leaned against the side of the veranda and shrieked. and all the while freddie, the world's champion chump, stood there, saying nothing. well i sidled towards the steps. i had said all i had to say, and it seemed to me that about here the stage-direction "exit" was written in my part. i gave poor old freddie up in despair. if only he had said a word, it might have been all right. but there he stood, speechless. what can a fellow do with a fellow like that? just out of sight of the house i met jimmy pinkerton. "hello, reggie!" he said. "i was just coming to you. where's the kid? we must have a big rehearsal to-day." "no good," i said sadly. "it's all over. the thing's finished. poor dear old freddie has made an ass of himself and killed the whole show." "tell me," said jimmy. i told him. "fluffed in his lines, did he?" said jimmy, nodding thoughtfully. "it's always the way with these amateurs. we must go back at once. things look bad, but it may not be too late," he said as we started. "even now a few well-chosen words from a man of the world, and----" "great scot!" i cried. "look!" in front of the cottage stood six children, a nurse, and the fellow from the grocer's staring. from the windows of the houses opposite projected about four hundred heads of both sexes, staring. down the road came galloping five more children, a dog, three men, and a boy, about to stare. and on our porch, as unconscious of the spectators as if they had been alone in the sahara, stood freddie and angela, clasped in each other's arms. * * * * * dear old freddie may have been fluffy in his lines, but, by george, his business had certainly gone with a bang! rallying round old george i think one of the rummiest affairs i was ever mixed up with, in the course of a lifetime devoted to butting into other people's business, was that affair of george lattaker at monte carlo. i wouldn't bore you, don't you know, for the world, but i think you ought to hear about it. we had come to monte carlo on the yacht _circe_, belonging to an old sportsman of the name of marshall. among those present were myself, my man voules, a mrs. vanderley, her daughter stella, mrs. vanderley's maid pilbeam and george. george was a dear old pal of mine. in fact, it was i who had worked him into the party. you see, george was due to meet his uncle augustus, who was scheduled, george having just reached his twenty-fifth birthday, to hand over to him a legacy left by one of george's aunts, for which he had been trustee. the aunt had died when george was quite a kid. it was a date that george had been looking forward to; for, though he had a sort of income--an income, after-all, is only an income, whereas a chunk of o' goblins is a pile. george's uncle was in monte carlo, and had written george that he would come to london and unbelt; but it struck me that a far better plan was for george to go to his uncle at monte carlo instead. kill two birds with one stone, don't you know. fix up his affairs and have a pleasant holiday simultaneously. so george had tagged along, and at the time when the trouble started we were anchored in monaco harbour, and uncle augustus was due next day. * * * * * looking back, i may say that, so far as i was mixed up in it, the thing began at seven o'clock in the morning, when i was aroused from a dreamless sleep by the dickens of a scrap in progress outside my state-room door. the chief ingredients were a female voice that sobbed and said: "oh, harold!" and a male voice "raised in anger," as they say, which after considerable difficulty, i identified as voules's. i hardly recognized it. in his official capacity voules talks exactly like you'd expect a statue to talk, if it could. in private, however, he evidently relaxed to some extent, and to have that sort of thing going on in my midst at that hour was too much for me. "voules!" i yelled. spion kop ceased with a jerk. there was silence, then sobs diminishing in the distance, and finally a tap at the door. voules entered with that impressive, my-lord-the-carriage-waits look which is what i pay him for. you wouldn't have believed he had a drop of any sort of emotion in him. "voules," i said, "are you under the delusion that i'm going to be queen of the may? you've called me early all right. it's only just seven." "i understood you to summon me, sir." "i summoned you to find out why you were making that infernal noise outside." "i owe you an apology, sir. i am afraid that in the heat of the moment i raised my voice." "it's a wonder you didn't raise the roof. who was that with you?" "miss pilbeam, sir; mrs. vanderley's maid." "what was all the trouble about?" "i was breaking our engagement, sir." i couldn't help gaping. somehow one didn't associate voules with engagements. then it struck me that i'd no right to butt in on his secret sorrows, so i switched the conversation. "i think i'll get up," i said. "yes, sir." "i can't wait to breakfast with the rest. can you get me some right away?" "yes, sir." so i had a solitary breakfast and went up on deck to smoke. it was a lovely morning. blue sea, gleaming casino, cloudless sky, and all the rest of the hippodrome. presently the others began to trickle up. stella vanderley was one of the first. i thought she looked a bit pale and tired. she said she hadn't slept well. that accounted for it. unless you get your eight hours, where are you? "seen george?" i asked. i couldn't help thinking the name seemed to freeze her a bit. which was queer, because all the voyage she and george had been particularly close pals. in fact, at any moment i expected george to come to me and slip his little hand in mine, and whisper: "i've done it, old scout; she loves muh!" "i have not seen mr. lattaker," she said. i didn't pursue the subject. george's stock was apparently low that a.m. the next item in the day's programme occurred a few minutes later when the morning papers arrived. mrs. vanderley opened hers and gave a scream. "the poor, dear prince!" she said. "what a shocking thing!" said old marshall. "i knew him in vienna," said mrs. vanderley. "he waltzed divinely." then i got at mine and saw what they were talking about. the paper was full of it. it seemed that late the night before his serene highness the prince of saxburg-leignitz (i always wonder why they call these chaps "serene") had been murderously assaulted in a dark street on his way back from the casino to his yacht. apparently he had developed the habit of going about without an escort, and some rough-neck, taking advantage of this, had laid for him and slugged him with considerable vim. the prince had been found lying pretty well beaten up and insensible in the street by a passing pedestrian, and had been taken back to his yacht, where he still lay unconscious. "this is going to do somebody no good," i said. "what do you get for slugging a serene highness? i wonder if they'll catch the fellow?" "'later,'" read old marshall, "'the pedestrian who discovered his serene highness proves to have been mr. denman sturgis, the eminent private investigator. mr. sturgis has offered his services to the police, and is understood to be in possession of a most important clue.' that's the fellow who had charge of that kidnapping case in chicago. if anyone can catch the man, he can." about five minutes later, just as the rest of them were going to move off to breakfast, a boat hailed us and came alongside. a tall, thin man came up the gangway. he looked round the group, and fixed on old marshall as the probable owner of the yacht. "good morning," he said. "i believe you have a mr. lattaker on board--mr. george lattaker?" "yes," said marshall. "he's down below. want to see him? whom shall i say?" "he would not know my name. i should like to see him for a moment on somewhat urgent business." "take a seat. he'll be up in a moment. reggie, my boy, go and hurry him up." i went down to george's state-room. "george, old man!" i shouted. no answer. i opened the door and went in. the room was empty. what's more, the bunk hadn't been slept in. i don't know when i've been more surprised. i went on deck. "he isn't there," i said. "not there!" said old marshall. "where is he, then? perhaps he's gone for a stroll ashore. but he'll be back soon for breakfast. you'd better wait for him. have you breakfasted? no? then will you join us?" the man said he would, and just then the gong went and they trooped down, leaving me alone on deck. i sat smoking and thinking, and then smoking a bit more, when i thought i heard somebody call my name in a sort of hoarse whisper. i looked over my shoulder, and, by jove, there at the top of the gangway in evening dress, dusty to the eyebrows and without a hat, was dear old george. "great scot!" i cried. "'sh!" he whispered. "anyone about?" "they're all down at breakfast." he gave a sigh of relief, sank into my chair, and closed his eyes. i regarded him with pity. the poor old boy looked a wreck. "i say!" i said, touching him on the shoulder. he leaped out of the chair with a smothered yell. "did you do that? what did you do it for? what's the sense of it? how do you suppose you can ever make yourself popular if you go about touching people on the shoulder? my nerves are sticking a yard out of my body this morning, reggie!" "yes, old boy?" "i did a murder last night." "what?" "it's the sort of thing that might happen to anybody. directly stella vanderley broke off our engagement i----" "broke off your engagement? how long were you engaged?" "about two minutes. it may have been less. i hadn't a stop-watch. i proposed to her at ten last night in the saloon. she accepted me. i was just going to kiss her when we heard someone coming. i went out. coming along the corridor was that infernal what's-her-name--mrs. vanderley's maid--pilbeam. have you ever been accepted by the girl you love, reggie?" "never. i've been refused dozens----" "then you won't understand how i felt. i was off my head with joy. i hardly knew what i was doing. i just felt i had to kiss the nearest thing handy. i couldn't wait. it might have been the ship's cat. it wasn't. it was pilbeam." "you kissed her?" "i kissed her. and just at that moment the door of the saloon opened and out came stella." "great scott!" "exactly what i said. it flashed across me that to stella, dear girl, not knowing the circumstances, the thing might seem a little odd. it did. she broke off the engagement, and i got out the dinghy and rowed off. i was mad. i didn't care what became of me. i simply wanted to forget. i went ashore. i--it's just on the cards that i may have drowned my sorrows a bit. anyhow, i don't remember a thing, except that i can recollect having the deuce of a scrap with somebody in a dark street and somebody falling, and myself falling, and myself legging it for all i was worth. i woke up this morning in the casino gardens. i've lost my hat." i dived for the paper. "read," i said. "it's all there." he read. "good heavens!" he said. "you didn't do a thing to his serene nibs, did you?" "reggie, this is awful." "cheer up. they say he'll recover." "that doesn't matter." "it does to him." he read the paper again. "it says they've a clue." "they always say that." "but--my hat!" "eh?" "my hat. i must have dropped it during the scrap. this man, denman sturgis, must have found it. it had my name in it!" "george," i said, "you mustn't waste time. oh!" he jumped a foot in the air. "don't do it!" he said, irritably. "don't bark like that. what's the matter?" "the man!" "what man?" "a tall, thin man with an eye like a gimlet. he arrived just before you did. he's down in the saloon now, having breakfast. he said he wanted to see you on business, and wouldn't give his name. i didn't like the look of him from the first. it's this fellow sturgis. it must be." "no!" "i feel it. i'm sure of it." "had he a hat?" "of course he had a hat." "fool! i mean mine. was he carrying a hat?" "by jove, he _was_ carrying a parcel. george, old scout, you must get a move on. you must light out if you want to spend the rest of your life out of prison. slugging a serene highness is _lèse-majesté_. it's worse than hitting a policeman. you haven't got a moment to waste." "but i haven't any money. reggie, old man, lend me a tenner or something. i must get over the frontier into italy at once. i'll wire my uncle to meet me in----" "look out," i cried; "there's someone coming!" he dived out of sight just as voules came up the companion-way, carrying a letter on a tray. "what's the matter!" i said. "what do you want?" "i beg your pardon, sir. i thought i heard mr. lattaker's voice. a letter has arrived for him." "he isn't here." "no, sir. shall i remove the letter?" "no; give it to me. i'll give it to him when he comes." "very good, sir." "oh, voules! are they all still at breakfast? the gentleman who came to see mr. lattaker? still hard at it?" "he is at present occupied with a kippered herring, sir." "ah! that's all, voules." "thank you, sir." he retired. i called to george, and he came out. "who was it?" "only voules. he brought a letter for you. they're all at breakfast still. the sleuth's eating kippers." "that'll hold him for a bit. full of bones." he began to read his letter. he gave a kind of grunt of surprise at the first paragraph. "well, i'm hanged!" he said, as he finished. "reggie, this is a queer thing." "what's that?" he handed me the letter, and directly i started in on it i saw why he had grunted. this is how it ran: "my dear george--i shall be seeing you to-morrow, i hope; but i think it is better, before we meet, to prepare you for a curious situation that has arisen in connection with the legacy which your father inherited from your aunt emily, and which you are expecting me, as trustee, to hand over to you, now that you have reached your twenty-fifth birthday. you have doubtless heard your father speak of your twin-brother alfred, who was lost or kidnapped--which, was never ascertained--when you were both babies. when no news was received of him for so many years, it was supposed that he was dead. yesterday, however, i received a letter purporting that he had been living all this time in buenos ayres as the adopted son of a wealthy south american, and has only recently discovered his identity. he states that he is on his way to meet me, and will arrive any day now. of course, like other claimants, he may prove to be an impostor, but meanwhile his intervention will, i fear, cause a certain delay before i can hand over your money to you. it will be necessary to go into a thorough examination of credentials, etc., and this will take some time. but i will go fully into the matter with you when we meet.--your affectionate uncle, "augustus arbutt." i read it through twice, and the second time i had one of those ideas i do sometimes get, though admittedly a chump of the premier class. i have seldom had such a thoroughly corking brain-wave. "why, old top," i said, "this lets you out." "lets me out of half the darned money, if that's what you mean. if this chap's not an imposter--and there's no earthly reason to suppose he is, though i've never heard my father say a word about him--we shall have to split the money. aunt emily's will left the money to my father, or, failing him, his 'offspring.' i thought that meant me, but apparently there are a crowd of us. i call it rotten work, springing unexpected offspring on a fellow at the eleventh hour like this." "why, you chump," i said, "it's going to save you. this lets you out of your spectacular dash across the frontier. all you've got to do is to stay here and be your brother alfred. it came to me in a flash." he looked at me in a kind of dazed way. "you ought to be in some sort of a home, reggie." "ass!" i cried. "don't you understand? have you ever heard of twin-brothers who weren't exactly alike? who's to say you aren't alfred if you swear you are? your uncle will be there to back you up that you have a brother alfred." "and alfred will be there to call me a liar." "he won't. it's not as if you had to keep it up for the rest of your life. it's only for an hour or two, till we can get this detective off the yacht. we sail for england to-morrow morning." at last the thing seemed to sink into him. his face brightened. "why, i really do believe it would work," he said. "of course it would work. if they want proof, show them your mole. i'll swear george hadn't one." "and as alfred i should get a chance of talking to stella and making things all right for george. reggie, old top, you're a genius." "no, no." "you _are_." "well, it's only sometimes. i can't keep it up." and just then there was a gentle cough behind us. we spun round. "what the devil are you doing here, voules," i said. "i beg your pardon, sir. i have heard all." i looked at george. george looked at me. "voules is all right," i said. "decent voules! voules wouldn't give us away, would you, voules?" "yes, sir." "you would?" "yes, sir." "but, voules, old man," i said, "be sensible. what would you gain by it?" "financially, sir, nothing." "whereas, by keeping quiet"--i tapped him on the chest--"by holding your tongue, voules, by saying nothing about it to anybody, voules, old fellow, you might gain a considerable sum." "am i to understand, sir, that, because you are rich and i am poor, you think that you can buy my self-respect?" "oh, come!" i said. "how much?" said voules. so we switched to terms. you wouldn't believe the way the man haggled. you'd have thought a decent, faithful servant would have been delighted to oblige one in a little matter like that for a fiver. but not voules. by no means. it was a hundred down, and the promise of another hundred when we had got safely away, before he was satisfied. but we fixed it up at last, and poor old george got down to his state-room and changed his clothes. he'd hardly gone when the breakfast-party came on deck. "did you meet him?" i asked. "meet whom?" said old marshall. "george's twin-brother alfred." "i didn't know george had a brother." "nor did he till yesterday. it's a long story. he was kidnapped in infancy, and everyone thought he was dead. george had a letter from his uncle about him yesterday. i shouldn't wonder if that's where george has gone, to see his uncle and find out about it. in the meantime, alfred has arrived. he's down in george's state-room now, having a brush-up. it'll amaze you, the likeness between them. you'll think it _is_ george at first. look! here he comes." and up came george, brushed and clean, in an ordinary yachting suit. they were rattled. there was no doubt about that. they stood looking at him, as if they thought there was a catch somewhere, but weren't quite certain where it was. i introduced him, and still they looked doubtful. "mr. pepper tells me my brother is not on board," said george. "it's an amazing likeness," said old marshall. "is my brother like me?" asked george amiably. "no one could tell you apart," i said. "i suppose twins always are alike," said george. "but if it ever came to a question of identification, there would be one way of distinguishing us. do you know george well, mr. pepper?" "he's a dear old pal of mine." "you've been swimming with him perhaps?" "every day last august." "well, then, you would have noticed it if he had had a mole like this on the back of his neck, wouldn't you?" he turned his back and stooped and showed the mole. his collar hid it at ordinary times. i had seen it often when we were bathing together. "has george a mole like that?" he asked. "no," i said. "oh, no." "you would have noticed it if he had?" "yes," i said. "oh, yes." "i'm glad of that," said george. "it would be a nuisance not to be able to prove one's own identity." that seemed to satisfy them all. they couldn't get away from it. it seemed to me that from now on the thing was a walk-over. and i think george felt the same, for, when old marshall asked him if he had had breakfast, he said he had not, went below, and pitched in as if he hadn't a care in the world. everything went right till lunch-time. george sat in the shade on the foredeck talking to stella most of the time. when the gong went and the rest had started to go below, he drew me back. he was beaming. "it's all right," he said. "what did i tell you?" "what did you tell me?" "why, about stella. didn't i say that alfred would fix things for george? i told her she looked worried, and got her to tell me what the trouble was. and then----" "you must have shown a flash of speed if you got her to confide in you after knowing you for about two hours." "perhaps i did," said george modestly, "i had no notion, till i became him, what a persuasive sort of chap my brother alfred was. anyway, she told me all about it, and i started in to show her that george was a pretty good sort of fellow on the whole, who oughtn't to be turned down for what was evidently merely temporary insanity. she saw my point." "and it's all right?" "absolutely, if only we can produce george. how much longer does that infernal sleuth intend to stay here? he seems to have taken root." "i fancy he thinks that you're bound to come back sooner or later, and is waiting for you." "he's an absolute nuisance," said george. we were moving towards the companion way, to go below for lunch, when a boat hailed us. we went to the side and looked over. "it's my uncle," said george. a stout man came up the gangway. "halloa, george!" he said. "get my letter?" "i think you are mistaking me for my brother," said george. "my name is alfred lattaker." "what's that?" "i am george's brother alfred. are you my uncle augustus?" the stout man stared at him. "you're very like george," he said. "so everyone tells me." "and you're really alfred?" "i am." "i'd like to talk business with you for a moment." he cocked his eye at me. i sidled off and went below. at the foot of the companion-steps i met voules. "i beg your pardon, sir," said voules. "if it would be convenient i should be glad to have the afternoon off." i'm bound to say i rather liked his manner. absolutely normal. not a trace of the fellow-conspirator about it. i gave him the afternoon off. i had lunch--george didn't show up--and as i was going out i was waylaid by the girl pilbeam. she had been crying. "i beg your pardon, sir, but did mr. voules ask you for the afternoon?" i didn't see what business if was of hers, but she seemed all worked up about it, so i told her. "yes, i have given him the afternoon off." she broke down--absolutely collapsed. devilish unpleasant it was. i'm hopeless in a situation like this. after i'd said, "there, there!" which didn't seem to help much, i hadn't any remarks to make. "he s-said he was going to the tables to gamble away all his savings and then shoot himself, because he had nothing left to live for." i suddenly remembered the scrap in the small hours outside my state-room door. i hate mysteries. i meant to get to the bottom of this. i couldn't have a really first-class valet like voules going about the place shooting himself up. evidently the girl pilbeam was at the bottom of the thing. i questioned her. she sobbed. i questioned her more. i was firm. and eventually she yielded up the facts. voules had seen george kiss her the night before; that was the trouble. things began to piece themselves together. i went up to interview george. there was going to be another job for persuasive alfred. voules's mind had got to be eased as stella's had been. i couldn't afford to lose a fellow with his genius for preserving a trouser-crease. i found george on the foredeck. what is it shakespeare or somebody says about some fellow's face being sicklied o'er with the pale cast of care? george's was like that. he looked green. "finished with your uncle?" i said. he grinned a ghostly grin. "there isn't any uncle," he said. "there isn't any alfred. and there isn't any money." "explain yourself, old top," i said. "it won't take long. the old crook has spent every penny of the trust money. he's been at it for years, ever since i was a kid. when the time came to cough up, and i was due to see that he did it, he went to the tables in the hope of a run of luck, and lost the last remnant of the stuff. he had to find a way of holding me for a while and postponing the squaring of accounts while he got away, and he invented this twin-brother business. he knew i should find out sooner or later, but meanwhile he would be able to get off to south america, which he has done. he's on his way now." "you let him go?" "what could i do? i can't afford to make a fuss with that man sturgis around. i can't prove there's no alfred when my only chance of avoiding prison is to be alfred." "well, you've made things right for yourself with stella vanderley, anyway," i said, to cheer him up. "what's the good of that now? i've hardly any money and no prospects. how can i marry her?" i pondered. "it looks to me, old top," i said at last, "as if things were in a bit of a mess." "you've guessed it," said poor old george. i spent the afternoon musing on life. if you come to think of it, what a queer thing life is! so unlike anything else, don't you know, if you see what i mean. at any moment you may be strolling peacefully along, and all the time life's waiting around the corner to fetch you one. you can't tell when you may be going to get it. it's all dashed puzzling. here was poor old george, as well-meaning a fellow as ever stepped, getting swatted all over the ring by the hand of fate. why? that's what i asked myself. just life, don't you know. that's all there was about it. it was close on six o'clock when our third visitor of the day arrived. we were sitting on the afterdeck in the cool of the evening--old marshall, denman sturgis, mrs. vanderley, stella, george, and i--when he came up. we had been talking of george, and old marshall was suggesting the advisability of sending out search-parties. he was worried. so was stella vanderley. so, for that matter, were george and i, only not for the same reason. we were just arguing the thing out when the visitor appeared. he was a well-built, stiff sort of fellow. he spoke with a german accent. "mr. marshall?" he said. "i am count fritz von cöslin, equerry to his serene highness"--he clicked his heels together and saluted--"the prince of saxburg-leignitz." mrs. vanderley jumped up. "why, count," she said, "what ages since we met in vienna! you remember?" "could i ever forget? and the charming miss stella, she is well, i suppose not?" "stella, you remember count fritz?" stella shook hands with him. "and how is the poor, dear prince?" asked mrs. vanderley. "what a terrible thing to have happened!" "i rejoice to say that my high-born master is better. he has regained consciousness and is sitting up and taking nourishment." "that's good," said old marshall. "in a spoon only," sighed the count. "mr. marshall, with your permission i should like a word with mr. sturgis." "mr. who?" the gimlet-eyed sportsman came forward. "i am denman sturgis, at your service." "the deuce you are! what are you doing here?" "mr. sturgis," explained the count, "graciously volunteered his services----" "i know. but what's he doing here?" "i am waiting for mr. george lattaker, mr. marshall." "eh?" "you have not found him?" asked the count anxiously. "not yet, count; but i hope to do so shortly. i know what he looks like now. this gentleman is his twin-brother. they are doubles." "you are sure this gentleman is not mr. george lattaker?" george put his foot down firmly on the suggestion. "don't go mixing me up with my brother," he said. "i am alfred. you can tell me by my mole." he exhibited the mole. he was taking no risks. the count clicked his tongue regretfully. "i am sorry," he said. george didn't offer to console him, "don't worry," said sturgis. "he won't escape me. i shall find him." "do, mr. sturgis, do. and quickly. find swiftly that noble young man." "what?" shouted george. "that noble young man, george lattaker, who, at the risk of his life, saved my high-born master from the assassin." george sat down suddenly. "i don't understand," he said feebly. "we were wrong, mr. sturgis," went on the count. "we leaped to the conclusion--was it not so?--that the owner of the hat you found was also the assailant of my high-born master. we were wrong. i have heard the story from his serene highness's own lips. he was passing down a dark street when a ruffian in a mask sprang out upon him. doubtless he had been followed from the casino, where he had been winning heavily. my high-born master was taken by surprise. he was felled. but before he lost consciousness he perceived a young man in evening dress, wearing the hat you found, running swiftly towards him. the hero engaged the assassin in combat, and my high-born master remembers no more. his serene highness asks repeatedly, 'where is my brave preserver?' his gratitude is princely. he seeks for this young man to reward him. ah, you should be proud of your brother, sir!" "thanks," said george limply. "and you, mr. sturgis, you must redouble your efforts. you must search the land; you must scour the sea to find george lattaker." "he needn't take all that trouble," said a voice from the gangway. it was voules. his face was flushed, his hat was on the back of his head, and he was smoking a fat cigar. "i'll tell you where to find george lattaker!" he shouted. he glared at george, who was staring at him. "yes, look at me," he yelled. "look at me. you won't be the first this afternoon who's stared at the mysterious stranger who won for two hours without a break. i'll be even with you now, mr. blooming lattaker. i'll learn you to break a poor man's heart. mr. marshall and gents, this morning i was on deck, and i over'eard 'im plotting to put up a game on you. they'd spotted that gent there as a detective, and they arranged that blooming lattaker was to pass himself off as his own twin-brother. and if you wanted proof, blooming pepper tells him to show them his mole and he'd swear george hadn't one. those were his very words. that man there is george lattaker, hesquire, and let him deny it if he can." george got up. "i haven't the least desire to deny it, voules." "mr. voules, if _you_ please." "it's true," said george, turning to the count. "the fact is, i had rather a foggy recollection of what happened last night. i only remembered knocking some one down, and, like you, i jumped to the conclusion that i must have assaulted his serene highness." "then you are really george lattaker?" asked the count. "i am." "'ere, what does all this mean?" demanded voules. "merely that i saved the life of his serene highness the prince of saxburg-leignitz, mr. voules." "it's a swindle!" began voules, when there was a sudden rush and the girl pilbeam cannoned into the crowd, sending me into old marshall's chair, and flung herself into the arms of voules. "oh, harold!" she cried. "i thought you were dead. i thought you'd shot yourself." he sort of braced himself together to fling her off, and then he seemed to think better of it and fell into the clinch. it was all dashed romantic, don't you know, but there _are_ limits. "voules, you're sacked," i said. "who cares?" he said. "think i was going to stop on now i'm a gentleman of property? come along, emma, my dear. give a month's notice and get your 'at, and i'll take you to dinner at ciro's." "and you, mr. lattaker," said the count, "may i conduct you to the presence of my high-born master? he wishes to show his gratitude to his preserver." "you may," said george. "may i have my hat, mr. sturgis?" there's just one bit more. after dinner that night i came up for a smoke, and, strolling on to the foredeck, almost bumped into george and stella. they seemed to be having an argument. "i'm not sure," she was saying, "that i believe that a man can be so happy that he wants to kiss the nearest thing in sight, as you put it." "don't you?" said george. "well, as it happens, i'm feeling just that way now." i coughed and he turned round. "halloa, reggie!" he said. "halloa, george!" i said. "lovely night." "beautiful," said stella. "the moon," i said. "ripping," said george. "lovely," said stella. "and look at the reflection of the stars on the----" george caught my eye. "pop off," he said. i popped. doing clarence a bit of good have you ever thought about--and, when i say thought about, i mean really carefully considered the question of--the coolness, the cheek, or, if you prefer it, the gall with which woman, as a sex, fairly bursts? _i_ have, by jove! but then i've had it thrust on my notice, by george, in a way i should imagine has happened to pretty few fellows. and the limit was reached by that business of the yeardsley "venus." to make you understand the full what-d'you-call-it of the situation, i shall have to explain just how matters stood between mrs. yeardsley and myself. when i first knew her she was elizabeth shoolbred. old worcestershire family; pots of money; pretty as a picture. her brother bill was at oxford with me. i loved elizabeth shoolbred. i loved her, don't you know. and there was a time, for about a week, when we were engaged to be married. but just as i was beginning to take a serious view of life and study furniture catalogues and feel pretty solemn when the restaurant orchestra played "the wedding glide," i'm hanged if she didn't break it off, and a month later she was married to a fellow of the name of yeardsley--clarence yeardsley, an artist. what with golf, and billiards, and a bit of racing, and fellows at the club rallying round and kind of taking me out of myself, as it were, i got over it, and came to look on the affair as a closed page in the book of my life, if you know what i mean. it didn't seem likely to me that we should meet again, as she and clarence had settled down in the country somewhere and never came to london, and i'm bound to own that, by the time i got her letter, the wound had pretty well healed, and i was to a certain extent sitting up and taking nourishment. in fact, to be absolutely honest, i was jolly thankful the thing had ended as it had done. this letter i'm telling you about arrived one morning out of a blue sky, as it were. it ran like this: "my dear old reggie,--what ages it seems since i saw anything of you. how are you? we have settled down here in the most perfect old house, with a lovely garden, in the middle of delightful country. couldn't you run down here for a few days? clarence and i would be so glad to see you. bill is here, and is most anxious to meet you again. he was speaking of you only this morning. _do_ come. wire your train, and i will send the car to meet you. --yours most sincerely, elizabeth yeardsley. "p.s.--we can give you new milk and fresh eggs. think of that! "p.p.s.--bill says our billiard-table is one of the best he has ever played on. "p.p.s.s.--we are only half a mile from a golf course. bill says it is better than st. andrews. "p.p.s.s.s.--you _must_ come!" well, a fellow comes down to breakfast one morning, with a bit of a head on, and finds a letter like that from a girl who might quite easily have blighted his life! it rattled me rather, i must confess. however, that bit about the golf settled me. i knew bill knew what he was talking about, and, if he said the course was so topping, it must be something special. so i went. old bill met me at the station with the car. i hadn't come across him for some months, and i was glad to see him again. and he apparently was glad to see me. "thank goodness you've come," he said, as we drove off. "i was just about at my last grip." "what's the trouble, old scout?" i asked. "if i had the artistic what's-its-name," he went on, "if the mere mention of pictures didn't give me the pip, i dare say it wouldn't be so bad. as it is, it's rotten!" "pictures?" "pictures. nothing else is mentioned in this household. clarence is an artist. so is his father. and you know yourself what elizabeth is like when one gives her her head?" i remembered then--it hadn't come back to me before--that most of my time with elizabeth had been spent in picture-galleries. during the period when i had let her do just what she wanted to do with me, i had had to follow her like a dog through gallery after gallery, though pictures are poison to me, just as they are to old bill. somehow it had never struck me that she would still be going on in this way after marrying an artist. i should have thought that by this time the mere sight of a picture would have fed her up. not so, however, according to old bill. "they talk pictures at every meal," he said. "i tell you, it makes a chap feel out of it. how long are you down for?" "a few days." "take my tip, and let me send you a wire from london. i go there to-morrow. i promised to play against the scottish. the idea was that i was to come back after the match. but you couldn't get me back with a lasso." i tried to point out the silver lining. "but, bill, old scout, your sister says there's a most corking links near here." he turned and stared at me, and nearly ran us into the bank. "you don't mean honestly she said that?" "she said you said it was better than st. andrews." "so i did. was that all she said i said?" "well, wasn't it enough?" "she didn't happen to mention that i added the words, 'i don't think'?" "no, she forgot to tell me that." "it's the worst course in great britain." i felt rather stunned, don't you know. whether it's a bad habit to have got into or not, i can't say, but i simply can't do without my daily allowance of golf when i'm not in london. i took another whirl at the silver lining. "we'll have to take it out in billiards," i said. "i'm glad the table's good." "it depends what you call good. it's half-size, and there's a seven-inch cut just out of baulk where clarence's cue slipped. elizabeth has mended it with pink silk. very smart and dressy it looks, but it doesn't improve the thing as a billiard-table." "but she said you said----" "must have been pulling your leg." we turned in at the drive gates of a good-sized house standing well back from the road. it looked black and sinister in the dusk, and i couldn't help feeling, you know, like one of those johnnies you read about in stories who are lured to lonely houses for rummy purposes and hear a shriek just as they get there. elizabeth knew me well enough to know that a specially good golf course was a safe draw to me. and she had deliberately played on her knowledge. what was the game? that was what i wanted to know. and then a sudden thought struck me which brought me out in a cold perspiration. she had some girl down here and was going to have a stab at marrying me off. i've often heard that young married women are all over that sort of thing. certainly she had said there was nobody at the house but clarence and herself and bill and clarence's father, but a woman who could take the name of st. andrews in vain as she had done wouldn't be likely to stick at a trifle. "bill, old scout," i said, "there aren't any frightful girls or any rot of that sort stopping here, are there?" "wish there were," he said. "no such luck." as we pulled up at the front door, it opened, and a woman's figure appeared. "have you got him, bill?" she said, which in my present frame of mind struck me as a jolly creepy way of putting it. the sort of thing lady macbeth might have said to macbeth, don't you know. "do you mean me?" i said. she came down into the light. it was elizabeth, looking just the same as in the old days. "is that you, reggie? i'm so glad you were able to come. i was afraid you might have forgotten all about it. you know what you are. come along in and have some tea." * * * * * have you ever been turned down by a girl who afterwards married and then been introduced to her husband? if so you'll understand how i felt when clarence burst on me. you know the feeling. first of all, when you hear about the marriage, you say to yourself, "i wonder what he's like." then you meet him, and think, "there must be some mistake. she can't have preferred _this_ to me!" that's what i thought, when i set eyes on clarence. he was a little thin, nervous-looking chappie of about thirty-five. his hair was getting grey at the temples and straggly on top. he wore pince-nez, and he had a drooping moustache. i'm no bombardier wells myself, but in front of clarence i felt quite a nut. and elizabeth, mind you, is one of those tall, splendid girls who look like princesses. honestly, i believe women do it out of pure cussedness. "how do you do, mr. pepper? hark! can you hear a mewing cat?" said clarence. all in one breath, don't you know. "eh?" i said. "a mewing cat. i feel sure i hear a mewing cat. listen!" while we were listening the door opened, and a white-haired old gentleman came in. he was built on the same lines as clarence, but was an earlier model. i took him correctly, to be mr. yeardsley, senior. elizabeth introduced us. "father," said clarence, "did you meet a mewing cat outside? i feel positive i heard a cat mewing." "no," said the father, shaking his head; "no mewing cat." "i can't bear mewing cats," said clarence. "a mewing cat gets on my nerves!" "a mewing cat is so trying," said elizabeth. "_i_ dislike mewing cats," said old mr. yeardsley. that was all about mewing cats for the moment. they seemed to think they had covered the ground satisfactorily, and they went back to pictures. we talked pictures steadily till it was time to dress for dinner. at least, they did. i just sort of sat around. presently the subject of picture-robberies came up. somebody mentioned the "monna lisa," and then i happened to remember seeing something in the evening paper, as i was coming down in the train, about some fellow somewhere having had a valuable painting pinched by burglars the night before. it was the first time i had had a chance of breaking into the conversation with any effect, and i meant to make the most of it. the paper was in the pocket of my overcoat in the hall. i went and fetched it. "here it is," i said. "a romney belonging to sir bellamy palmer----" they all shouted "what!" exactly at the same time, like a chorus. elizabeth grabbed the paper. "let me look! yes. 'late last night burglars entered the residence of sir bellamy palmer, dryden park, midford, hants----'" "why, that's near here," i said. "i passed through midford----" "dryden park is only two miles from this house," said elizabeth. i noticed her eyes were sparkling. "only two miles!" she said. "it might have been us! it might have been the 'venus'!" old mr. yeardsley bounded in his chair. "the 'venus'!" he cried. they all seemed wonderfully excited. my little contribution to the evening's chat had made quite a hit. why i didn't notice it before i don't know, but it was not till elizabeth showed it to me after dinner that i had my first look at the yeardsley "venus." when she led me up to it, and switched on the light, it seemed impossible that i could have sat right through dinner without noticing it. but then, at meals, my attention is pretty well riveted on the foodstuffs. anyway, it was not till elizabeth showed it to me that i was aware of its existence. she and i were alone in the drawing-room after dinner. old yeardsley was writing letters in the morning-room, while bill and clarence were rollicking on the half-size billiard table with the pink silk tapestry effects. all, in fact, was joy, jollity, and song, so to speak, when elizabeth, who had been sitting wrapped in thought for a bit, bent towards me and said, "reggie." and the moment she said it i knew something was going to happen. you know that pre-what-d'you-call-it you get sometimes? well, i got it then. "what-o?" i said nervously. "reggie," she said, "i want to ask a great favour of you." "yes?" she stooped down and put a log on the fire, and went on, with her back to me: "do you remember, reggie, once saying you would do anything in the world for me?" there! that's what i meant when i said that about the cheek of woman as a sex. what i mean is, after what had happened, you'd have thought she would have preferred to let the dead past bury its dead, and all that sort of thing, what? mind you, i _had_ said i would do anything in the world for her. i admit that. but it was a distinctly pre-clarence remark. he hadn't appeared on the scene then, and it stands to reason that a fellow who may have been a perfect knight-errant to a girl when he was engaged to her, doesn't feel nearly so keen on spreading himself in that direction when she has given him the miss-in-baulk, and gone and married a man who reason and instinct both tell him is a decided blighter. i couldn't think of anything to say but "oh, yes." "there's something you can do for me now, which will make me everlastingly grateful." "yes," i said. "do you know, reggie," she said suddenly, "that only a few months ago clarence was very fond of cats?" "eh! well, he still seems--er--_interested_ in them, what?" "now they get on his nerves. everything gets on his nerves." "some fellows swear by that stuff you see advertised all over the----" "no, that wouldn't help him. he doesn't need to take anything. he wants to get rid of something." "i don't quite follow. get rid of something?" "the 'venus,'" said elizabeth. she looked up and caught my bulging eye. "you saw the 'venus,'" she said. "not that i remember." "well, come into the dining-room." we went into the dining-room, and she switched on the lights. "there," she said. on the wall close to the door--that may have been why i hadn't noticed it before; i had sat with my back to it--was a large oil-painting. it was what you'd call a classical picture, i suppose. what i mean is--well, you know what i mean. all i can say is that it's funny i _hadn't_ noticed it. "is that the 'venus'?" i said. she nodded. "how would you like to have to look at that every time you sat down to a meal?" "well, i don't know. i don't think it would affect me much. i'd worry through all right." she jerked her head impatiently. "but you're not an artist," she said. "clarence is." and then i began to see daylight. what exactly was the trouble i didn't understand, but it was evidently something to do with the good old artistic temperament, and i could believe anything about that. it explains everything. it's like the unwritten law, don't you know, which you plead in america if you've done anything they want to send you to chokey for and you don't want to go. what i mean is, if you're absolutely off your rocker, but don't find it convenient to be scooped into the luny-bin, you simply explain that, when you said you were a teapot, it was just your artistic temperament, and they apologize and go away. so i stood by to hear just how the a.t. had affected clarence, the cat's friend, ready for anything. and, believe me, it had hit clarence badly. it was this way. it seemed that old yeardsley was an amateur artist and that this "venus" was his masterpiece. he said so, and he ought to have known. well, when clarence married, he had given it to him, as a wedding present, and had hung it where it stood with his own hands. all right so far, what? but mark the sequel. temperamental clarence, being a professional artist and consequently some streets ahead of the dad at the game, saw flaws in the "venus." he couldn't stand it at any price. he didn't like the drawing. he didn't like the expression of the face. he didn't like the colouring. in fact, it made him feel quite ill to look at it. yet, being devoted to his father and wanting to do anything rather than give him pain, he had not been able to bring himself to store the thing in the cellar, and the strain of confronting the picture three times a day had begun to tell on him to such an extent that elizabeth felt something had to be done. "now you see," she said. "in a way," i said. "but don't you think it's making rather heavy weather over a trifle?" "oh, can't you understand? look!" her voice dropped as if she was in church, and she switched on another light. it shone on the picture next to old yeardsley's. "there!" she said. "clarence painted that!" she looked at me expectantly, as if she were waiting for me to swoon, or yell, or something. i took a steady look at clarence's effort. it was another classical picture. it seemed to me very much like the other one. some sort of art criticism was evidently expected of me, so i made a dash at it. "er--'venus'?" i said. mark you, sherlock holmes would have made the same mistake. on the evidence, i mean. "no. 'jocund spring,'" she snapped. she switched off the light. "i see you don't understand even now. you never had any taste about pictures. when we used to go to the galleries together, you would far rather have been at your club." this was so absolutely true, that i had no remark to make. she came up to me, and put her hand on my arm. "i'm sorry, reggie. i didn't mean to be cross. only i do want to make you understand that clarence is _suffering_. suppose--suppose--well, let us take the case of a great musician. suppose a great musician had to sit and listen to a cheap vulgar tune--the same tune--day after day, day after day, wouldn't you expect his nerves to break! well, it's just like that with clarence. now you see?" "yes, but----" "but what? surely i've put it plainly enough?" "yes. but what i mean is, where do i come in? what do you want me to do?" "i want you to steal the 'venus.'" i looked at her. "you want me to----?" "steal it. reggie!" her eyes were shining with excitement. "don't you see? it's providence. when i asked you to come here, i had just got the idea. i knew i could rely on you. and then by a miracle this robbery of the romney takes place at a house not two miles away. it removes the last chance of the poor old man suspecting anything and having his feelings hurt. why, it's the most wonderful compliment to him. think! one night thieves steal a splendid romney; the next the same gang take his 'venus.' it will be the proudest moment of his life. do it to-night, reggie. i'll give you a sharp knife. you simply cut the canvas out of the frame, and it's done." "but one moment," i said. "i'd be delighted to be of any use to you, but in a purely family affair like this, wouldn't it be better--in fact, how about tackling old bill on the subject?" "i have asked bill already. yesterday. he refused." "but if i'm caught?" "you can't be. all you have to do is to take the picture, open one of the windows, leave it open, and go back to your room." it sounded simple enough. "and as to the picture itself--when i've got it?" "burn it. i'll see that you have a good fire in your room." "but----" she looked at me. she always did have the most wonderful eyes. "reggie," she said; nothing more. just "reggie." she looked at me. "well, after all, if you see what i mean--the days that are no more, don't you know. auld lang syne, and all that sort of thing. you follow me?" "all right," i said. "i'll do it." i don't know if you happen to be one of those johnnies who are steeped in crime, and so forth, and think nothing of pinching diamond necklaces. if you're not, you'll understand that i felt a lot less keen on the job i'd taken on when i sat in my room, waiting to get busy, than i had done when i promised to tackle it in the dining-room. on paper it all seemed easy enough, but i couldn't help feeling there was a catch somewhere, and i've never known time pass slower. the kick-off was scheduled for one o'clock in the morning, when the household might be expected to be pretty sound asleep, but at a quarter to i couldn't stand it any longer. i lit the lantern i had taken from bill's bicycle, took a grip of my knife, and slunk downstairs. the first thing i did on getting to the dining-room was to open the window. i had half a mind to smash it, so as to give an extra bit of local colour to the affair, but decided not to on account of the noise. i had put my lantern on the table, and was just reaching out for it, when something happened. what it was for the moment i couldn't have said. it might have been an explosion of some sort or an earthquake. some solid object caught me a frightful whack on the chin. sparks and things occurred inside my head and the next thing i remember is feeling something wet and cold splash into my face, and hearing a voice that sounded like old bill's say, "feeling better now?" i sat up. the lights were on, and i was on the floor, with old bill kneeling beside me with a soda siphon. "what happened?" i said. "i'm awfully sorry, old man," he said. "i hadn't a notion it was you. i came in here, and saw a lantern on the table, and the window open and a chap with a knife in his hand, so i didn't stop to make inquiries. i just let go at his jaw for all i was worth. what on earth do you think you're doing? were you walking in your sleep?" "it was elizabeth," i said. "why, you know all about it. she said she had told you." "you don't mean----" "the picture. you refused to take it on, so she asked me." "reggie, old man," he said. "i'll never believe what they say about repentance again. it's a fool's trick and upsets everything. if i hadn't repented, and thought it was rather rough on elizabeth not to do a little thing like that for her, and come down here to do it after all, you wouldn't have stopped that sleep-producer with your chin. i'm sorry." "me, too," i said, giving my head another shake to make certain it was still on. "are you feeling better now?" "better than i was. but that's not saying much." "would you like some more soda-water? no? well, how about getting this job finished and going to bed? and let's be quick about it too. you made a noise like a ton of bricks when you went down just now, and it's on the cards some of the servants may have heard. toss you who carves." "heads." "tails it is," he said, uncovering the coin. "up you get. i'll hold the light. don't spike yourself on that sword of yours." it was as easy a job as elizabeth had said. just four quick cuts, and the thing came out of its frame like an oyster. i rolled it up. old bill had put the lantern on the floor and was at the sideboard, collecting whisky, soda, and glasses. "we've got a long evening before us," he said. "you can't burn a picture of that size in one chunk. you'd set the chimney on fire. let's do the thing comfortably. clarence can't grudge us the stuff. we've done him a bit of good this trip. to-morrow'll be the maddest, merriest day of clarence's glad new year. on we go." we went up to my room, and sat smoking and yarning away and sipping our drinks, and every now and then cutting a slice off the picture and shoving it in the fire till it was all gone. and what with the cosiness of it and the cheerful blaze, and the comfortable feeling of doing good by stealth, i don't know when i've had a jollier time since the days when we used to brew in my study at school. we had just put the last slice on when bill sat up suddenly, and gripped my arm. "i heard something," he said. i listened, and, by jove, i heard something, too. my room was just over the dining-room, and the sound came up to us quite distinctly. stealthy footsteps, by george! and then a chair falling over. "there's somebody in the dining-room," i whispered. there's a certain type of chap who takes a pleasure in positively chivvying trouble. old bill's like that. if i had been alone, it would have taken me about three seconds to persuade myself that i hadn't really heard anything after all. i'm a peaceful sort of cove, and believe in living and letting live, and so forth. to old bill, however, a visit from burglars was pure jam. he was out of his chair in one jump. "come on," he said. "bring the poker." i brought the tongs as well. i felt like it. old bill collared the knife. we crept downstairs. "we'll fling the door open and make a rush," said bill. "supposing they shoot, old scout?" "burglars never shoot," said bill. which was comforting provided the burglars knew it. old bill took a grip of the handle, turned it quickly, and in he went. and then we pulled up sharp, staring. the room was in darkness except for a feeble splash of light at the near end. standing on a chair in front of clarence's "jocund spring," holding a candle in one hand and reaching up with a knife in the other, was old mr. yeardsley, in bedroom slippers and a grey dressing-gown. he had made a final cut just as we rushed in. turning at the sound, he stopped, and he and the chair and the candle and the picture came down in a heap together. the candle went out. "what on earth?" said bill. i felt the same. i picked up the candle and lit it, and then a most fearful thing happened. the old man picked himself up, and suddenly collapsed into a chair and began to cry like a child. of course, i could see it was only the artistic temperament, but still, believe me, it was devilish unpleasant. i looked at old bill. old bill looked at me. we shut the door quick, and after that we didn't know what to do. i saw bill look at the sideboard, and i knew what he was looking for. but we had taken the siphon upstairs, and his ideas of first-aid stopped short at squirting soda-water. we just waited, and presently old yeardsley switched off, sat up, and began talking with a rush. "clarence, my boy, i was tempted. it was that burglary at dryden park. it tempted me. it made it all so simple. i knew you would put it down to the same gang, clarence, my boy. i----" it seemed to dawn upon him at this point that clarence was not among those present. "clarence?" he said hesitatingly. "he's in bed," i said. "in bed! then he doesn't know? even now--young men, i throw myself on your mercy. don't be hard on me. listen." he grabbed at bill, who sidestepped. "i can explain everything--everything." he gave a gulp. "you are not artists, you two young men, but i will try to make you understand, make you realise what this picture means to me. i was two years painting it. it is my child. i watched it grow. i loved it. it was part of my life. nothing would have induced me to sell it. and then clarence married, and in a mad moment i gave my treasure to him. you cannot understand, you two young men, what agonies i suffered. the thing was done. it was irrevocable. i saw how clarence valued the picture. i knew that i could never bring myself to ask him for it back. and yet i was lost without it. what could i do? till this evening i could see no hope. then came this story of the theft of the romney from a house quite close to this, and i saw my way. clarence would never suspect. he would put the robbery down to the same band of criminals who stole the romney. once the idea had come, i could not drive it out. i fought against it, but to no avail. at last i yielded, and crept down here to carry out my plan. you found me." he grabbed again, at me this time, and got me by the arm. he had a grip like a lobster. "young man," he said, "you would not betray me? you would not tell clarence?" i was feeling most frightfully sorry for the poor old chap by this time, don't you know, but i thought it would be kindest to give it him straight instead of breaking it by degrees. "i won't say a word to clarence, mr. yeardsley," i said. "i quite understand your feelings. the artistic temperament, and all that sort of thing. i mean--what? _i_ know. but i'm afraid--well, look!" i went to the door and switched on the electric light, and there, staring him in the face, were the two empty frames. he stood goggling at them in silence. then he gave a sort of wheezy grunt. "the gang! the burglars! they _have_ been here, and they have taken clarence's picture!" he paused. "it might have been mine! my venus!" he whispered it was getting most fearfully painful, you know, but he had to know the truth. "i'm awfully sorry, you know," i said. "but it _was_." he started, poor old chap. "eh? what do you mean?" "they _did_ take your venus." "but i have it here." i shook my head. "that's clarence's 'jocund spring,'" i said. he jumped at it and straightened it out. "what! what are you talking about? do you think i don't know my own picture--my child--my venus. see! my own signature in the corner. can you read, boy? look: 'matthew yeardsley.' this is _my_ picture!" and--well, by jove, it _was_, don't you know! * * * * * well, we got him off to bed, him and his infernal venus, and we settled down to take a steady look at the position of affairs. bill said it was my fault for getting hold of the wrong picture, and i said it was bill's fault for fetching me such a crack on the jaw that i couldn't be expected to see what i was getting hold of, and then there was a pretty massive silence for a bit. "reggie," said bill at last, "how exactly do you feel about facing clarence and elizabeth at breakfast?" "old scout," i said. "i was thinking much the same myself." "reggie," said bill, "i happen to know there's a milk-train leaving midford at three-fifteen. it isn't what you'd call a flier. it gets to london at about half-past nine. well--er--in the circumstances, how about it?" the aunt and the sluggard now that it's all over, i may as well admit that there was a time during the rather funny affair of rockmetteller todd when i thought that jeeves was going to let me down. the man had the appearance of being baffled. jeeves is my man, you know. officially he pulls in his weekly wages for pressing my clothes and all that sort of thing; but actually he's more like what the poet johnnie called some bird of his acquaintance who was apt to rally round him in times of need--a guide, don't you know; philosopher, if i remember rightly, and--i rather fancy--friend. i rely on him at every turn. so naturally, when rocky todd told me about his aunt, i didn't hesitate. jeeves was in on the thing from the start. the affair of rocky todd broke loose early one morning of spring. i was in bed, restoring the good old tissues with about nine hours of the dreamless, when the door flew open and somebody prodded me in the lower ribs and began to shake the bedclothes. after blinking a bit and generally pulling myself together, i located rocky, and my first impression was that it was some horrid dream. rocky, you see, lived down on long island somewhere, miles away from new york; and not only that, but he had told me himself more than once that he never got up before twelve, and seldom earlier than one. constitutionally the laziest young devil in america, he had hit on a walk in life which enabled him to go the limit in that direction. he was a poet. at least, he wrote poems when he did anything; but most of his time, as far as i could make out, he spent in a sort of trance. he told me once that he could sit on a fence, watching a worm and wondering what on earth it was up to, for hours at a stretch. he had his scheme of life worked out to a fine point. about once a month he would take three days writing a few poems; the other three hundred and twenty-nine days of the year he rested. i didn't know there was enough money in poetry to support a chappie, even in the way in which rocky lived; but it seems that, if you stick to exhortations to young men to lead the strenuous life and don't shove in any rhymes, american editors fight for the stuff. rocky showed me one of his things once. it began: be! be! the past is dead. to-morrow is not born. be to-day! to-day! be with every nerve, with every muscle, with every drop of your red blood! be! it was printed opposite the frontispiece of a magazine with a sort of scroll round it, and a picture in the middle of a fairly-nude chappie, with bulging muscles, giving the rising sun the glad eye. rocky said they gave him a hundred dollars for it, and he stayed in bed till four in the afternoon for over a month. as regarded the future he was pretty solid, owing to the fact that he had a moneyed aunt tucked away somewhere in illinois; and, as he had been named rockmetteller after her, and was her only nephew, his position was pretty sound. he told me that when he did come into the money he meant to do no work at all, except perhaps an occasional poem recommending the young man with life opening out before him, with all its splendid possibilities, to light a pipe and shove his feet upon the mantelpiece. and this was the man who was prodding me in the ribs in the grey dawn! "read this, bertie!" i could just see that he was waving a letter or something equally foul in my face. "wake up and read this!" i can't read before i've had my morning tea and a cigarette. i groped for the bell. jeeves came in looking as fresh as a dewy violet. it's a mystery to me how he does it. "tea, jeeves." "very good, sir." he flowed silently out of the room--he always gives you the impression of being some liquid substance when he moves; and i found that rocky was surging round with his beastly letter again. "what is it?" i said. "what on earth's the matter?" "read it!" "i can't. i haven't had my tea." "well, listen then." "who's it from?" "my aunt." at this point i fell asleep again. i woke to hear him saying: "so what on earth am i to do?" jeeves trickled in with the tray, like some silent stream meandering over its mossy bed; and i saw daylight. "read it again, rocky, old top," i said. "i want jeeves to hear it. mr. todd's aunt has written him a rather rummy letter, jeeves, and we want your advice." "very good, sir." he stood in the middle of the room, registering devotion to the cause, and rocky started again: "my dear rockmetteller.--i have been thinking things over for a long while, and i have come to the conclusion that i have been very thoughtless to wait so long before doing what i have made up my mind to do now." "what do you make of that, jeeves?" "it seems a little obscure at present, sir, but no doubt it becomes cleared at a later point in the communication." "it becomes as clear as mud!" said rocky. "proceed, old scout," i said, champing my bread and butter. "you know how all my life i have longed to visit new york and see for myself the wonderful gay life of which i have read so much. i fear that now it will be impossible for me to fulfil my dream. i am old and worn out. i seem to have no strength left in me." "sad, jeeves, what?" "extremely, sir." "sad nothing!" said rocky. "it's sheer laziness. i went to see her last christmas and she was bursting with health. her doctor told me himself that there was nothing wrong with her whatever. but she will insist that she's a hopeless invalid, so he has to agree with her. she's got a fixed idea that the trip to new york would kill her; so, though it's been her ambition all her life to come here, she stays where she is." "rather like the chappie whose heart was 'in the highlands a-chasing of the deer,' jeeves?" "the cases are in some respects parallel, sir." "carry on, rocky, dear boy." "so i have decided that, if i cannot enjoy all the marvels of the city myself, i can at least enjoy them through you. i suddenly thought of this yesterday after reading a beautiful poem in the sunday paper about a young man who had longed all his life for a certain thing and won it in the end only when he was too old to enjoy it. it was very sad, and it touched me." "a thing," interpolated rocky bitterly, "that i've not been able to do in ten years." "as you know, you will have my money when i am gone; but until now i have never been able to see my way to giving you an allowance. i have now decided to do so--on one condition. i have written to a firm of lawyers in new york, giving them instructions to pay you quite a substantial sum each month. my one condition is that you live in new york and enjoy yourself as i have always wished to do. i want you to be my representative, to spend this money for me as i should do myself. i want you to plunge into the gay, prismatic life of new york. i want you to be the life and soul of brilliant supper parties. "above all, i want you--indeed, i insist on this--to write me letters at least once a week giving me a full description of all you are doing and all that is going on in the city, so that i may enjoy at second-hand what my wretched health prevents my enjoying for myself. remember that i shall expect full details, and that no detail is too trivial to interest.--your affectionate aunt, "isabel rockmetteller." "what about it?" said rocky. "what about it?" i said. "yes. what on earth am i going to do?" it was only then that i really got on to the extremely rummy attitude of the chappie, in view of the fact that a quite unexpected mess of the right stuff had suddenly descended on him from a blue sky. to my mind it was an occasion for the beaming smile and the joyous whoop; yet here the man was, looking and talking as if fate had swung on his solar plexus. it amazed me. "aren't you bucked?" i said. "bucked!" "if i were in your place i should be frightfully braced. i consider this pretty soft for you." he gave a kind of yelp, stared at me for a moment, and then began to talk of new york in a way that reminded me of jimmy mundy, the reformer chappie. jimmy had just come to new york on a hit-the-trail campaign, and i had popped in at the garden a couple of days before, for half an hour or so, to hear him. he had certainly told new york some pretty straight things about itself, having apparently taken a dislike to the place, but, by jove, you know, dear old rocky made him look like a publicity agent for the old metrop.! "pretty soft!" he cried. "to have to come and live in new york! to have to leave my little cottage and take a stuffy, smelly, over-heated hole of an apartment in this heaven-forsaken, festering gehenna. to have to mix night after night with a mob who think that life is a sort of st. vitus's dance, and imagine that they're having a good time because they're making enough noise for six and drinking too much for ten. i loathe new york, bertie. i wouldn't come near the place if i hadn't got to see editors occasionally. there's a blight on it. it's got moral delirium tremens. it's the limit. the very thought of staying more than a day in it makes me sick. and you call this thing pretty soft for me!" i felt rather like lot's friends must have done when they dropped in for a quiet chat and their genial host began to criticise the cities of the plain. i had no idea old rocky could be so eloquent. "it would kill me to have to live in new york," he went on. "to have to share the air with six million people! to have to wear stiff collars and decent clothes all the time! to----" he started. "good lord! i suppose i should have to dress for dinner in the evenings. what a ghastly notion!" i was shocked, absolutely shocked. "my dear chap!" i said reproachfully. "do you dress for dinner every night, bertie?" "jeeves," i said coldly. the man was still standing like a statue by the door. "how many suits of evening clothes have i?" "we have three suits full of evening dress, sir; two dinner jackets----" "three." "for practical purposes two only, sir. if you remember we cannot wear the third. we have also seven white waistcoats." "and shirts?" "four dozen, sir." "and white ties?" "the first two shallow shelves in the chest of drawers are completely filled with our white ties, sir." i turned to rocky. "you see?" the chappie writhed like an electric fan. "i won't do it! i can't do it! i'll be hanged if i'll do it! how on earth can i dress up like that? do you realize that most days i don't get out of my pyjamas till five in the afternoon, and then i just put on an old sweater?" i saw jeeves wince, poor chap! this sort of revelation shocked his finest feelings. "then, what are you going to do about it?" i said. "that's what i want to know." "you might write and explain to your aunt." "i might--if i wanted her to get round to her lawyer's in two rapid leaps and cut me out of her will." i saw his point. "what do you suggest, jeeves?" i said. jeeves cleared his throat respectfully. "the crux of the matter would appear to be, sir, that mr. todd is obliged by the conditions under which the money is delivered into his possession to write miss rockmetteller long and detailed letters relating to his movements, and the only method by which this can be accomplished, if mr. todd adheres to his expressed intention of remaining in the country, is for mr. todd to induce some second party to gather the actual experiences which miss rockmetteller wishes reported to her, and to convey these to him in the shape of a careful report, on which it would be possible for him, with the aid of his imagination, to base the suggested correspondence." having got which off the old diaphragm, jeeves was silent. rocky looked at me in a helpless sort of way. he hasn't been brought up on jeeves as i have, and he isn't on to his curves. "could he put it a little clearer, bertie?" he said. "i thought at the start it was going to make sense, but it kind of flickered. what's the idea?" "my dear old man, perfectly simple. i knew we could stand on jeeves. all you've got to do is to get somebody to go round the town for you and take a few notes, and then you work the notes up into letters. that's it, isn't it, jeeves?" "precisely, sir." the light of hope gleamed in rocky's eyes. he looked at jeeves in a startled way, dazed by the man's vast intellect. "but who would do it?" he said. "it would have to be a pretty smart sort of man, a man who would notice things." "jeeves!" i said. "let jeeves do it." "but would he?" "you would do it, wouldn't you, jeeves?" for the first time in our long connection i observed jeeves almost smile. the corner of his mouth curved quite a quarter of an inch, and for a moment his eye ceased to look like a meditative fish's. "i should be delighted to oblige, sir. as a matter of fact, i have already visited some of new york's places of interest on my evening out, and it would be most enjoyable to make a practice of the pursuit." "fine! i know exactly what your aunt wants to hear about, rocky. she wants an earful of cabaret stuff. the place you ought to go to first, jeeves, is reigelheimer's. it's on forty-second street. anybody will show you the way." jeeves shook his head. "pardon me, sir. people are no longer going to reigelheimer's. the place at the moment is frolics on the roof." "you see?" i said to rocky. "leave it to jeeves. he knows." it isn't often that you find an entire group of your fellow-humans happy in this world; but our little circle was certainly an example of the fact that it can be done. we were all full of beans. everything went absolutely right from the start. jeeves was happy, partly because he loves to exercise his giant brain, and partly because he was having a corking time among the bright lights. i saw him one night at the midnight revels. he was sitting at a table on the edge of the dancing floor, doing himself remarkably well with a fat cigar and a bottle of the best. i'd never imagined he could look so nearly human. his face wore an expression of austere benevolence, and he was making notes in a small book. as for the rest of us, i was feeling pretty good, because i was fond of old rocky and glad to be able to do him a good turn. rocky was perfectly contented, because he was still able to sit on fences in his pyjamas and watch worms. and, as for the aunt, she seemed tickled to death. she was getting broadway at pretty long range, but it seemed to be hitting her just right. i read one of her letters to rocky, and it was full of life. but then rocky's letters, based on jeeves's notes, were enough to buck anybody up. it was rummy when you came to think of it. there was i, loving the life, while the mere mention of it gave rocky a tired feeling; yet here is a letter i wrote to a pal of mine in london: "dear freddie,--well, here i am in new york. it's not a bad place. i'm not having a bad time. everything's pretty all right. the cabarets aren't bad. don't know when i shall be back. how's everybody? cheer-o!--yours, "bertie. "ps.--seen old ted lately?" not that i cared about ted; but if i hadn't dragged him in i couldn't have got the confounded thing on to the second page. now here's old rocky on exactly the same subject: "dearest aunt isabel,--how can i ever thank you enough for giving me the opportunity to live in this astounding city! new york seems more wonderful every day. "fifth avenue is at its best, of course, just now. the dresses are magnificent!" wads of stuff about the dresses. i didn't know jeeves was such an authority. "i was out with some of the crowd at the midnight revels the other night. we took in a show first, after a little dinner at a new place on forty-third street. we were quite a gay party. georgie cohan looked in about midnight and got off a good one about willie collier. fred stone could only stay a minute, but doug. fairbanks did all sorts of stunts and made us roar. diamond jim brady was there, as usual, and laurette taylor showed up with a party. the show at the revels is quite good. i am enclosing a programme. "last night a few of us went round to frolics on the roof----" and so on and so forth, yards of it. i suppose it's the artistic temperament or something. what i mean is, it's easier for a chappie who's used to writing poems and that sort of tosh to put a bit of a punch into a letter than it is for a chappie like me. anyway, there's no doubt that rocky's correspondence was hot stuff. i called jeeves in and congratulated him. "jeeves, you're a wonder!" "thank you, sir." "how you notice everything at these places beats me. i couldn't tell you a thing about them, except that i've had a good time." "it's just a knack, sir." "well, mr. todd's letters ought to brace miss rockmetteller all right, what?" "undoubtedly, sir," agreed jeeves. and, by jove, they did! they certainly did, by george! what i mean to say is, i was sitting in the apartment one afternoon, about a month after the thing had started, smoking a cigarette and resting the old bean, when the door opened and the voice of jeeves burst the silence like a bomb. it wasn't that he spoke loud. he has one of those soft, soothing voices that slide through the atmosphere like the note of a far-off sheep. it was what he said made me leap like a young gazelle. "miss rockmetteller!" and in came a large, solid female. the situation floored me. i'm not denying it. hamlet must have felt much as i did when his father's ghost bobbed up in the fairway. i'd come to look on rocky's aunt as such a permanency at her own home that it didn't seem possible that she could really be here in new york. i stared at her. then i looked at jeeves. he was standing there in an attitude of dignified detachment, the chump, when, if ever he should have been rallying round the young master, it was now. rocky's aunt looked less like an invalid than any one i've ever seen, except my aunt agatha. she had a good deal of aunt agatha about her, as a matter of fact. she looked as if she might be deucedly dangerous if put upon; and something seemed to tell me that she would certainly regard herself as put upon if she ever found out the game which poor old rocky had been pulling on her. "good afternoon," i managed to say. "how do you do?" she said. "mr. cohan?" "er--no." "mr. fred stone?" "not absolutely. as a matter of fact, my name's wooster--bertie wooster." she seemed disappointed. the fine old name of wooster appeared to mean nothing in her life. "isn't rockmetteller home?" she said. "where is he?" she had me with the first shot. i couldn't think of anything to say. i couldn't tell her that rocky was down in the country, watching worms. there was the faintest flutter of sound in the background. it was the respectful cough with which jeeves announces that he is about to speak without having been spoken to. "if you remember, sir, mr. todd went out in the automobile with a party in the afternoon." "so he did, jeeves; so he did," i said, looking at my watch. "did he say when he would be back?" "he gave me to understand, sir, that he would be somewhat late in returning." he vanished; and the aunt took the chair which i'd forgotten to offer her. she looked at me in rather a rummy way. it was a nasty look. it made me feel as if i were something the dog had brought in and intended to bury later on, when he had time. my own aunt agatha, back in england, has looked at me in exactly the same way many a time, and it never fails to make my spine curl. "you seem very much at home here, young man. are you a great friend of rockmetteller's?" "oh, yes, rather!" she frowned as if she had expected better things of old rocky. "well, you need to be," she said, "the way you treat his flat as your own!" i give you my word, this quite unforeseen slam simply robbed me of the power of speech. i'd been looking on myself in the light of the dashing host, and suddenly to be treated as an intruder jarred me. it wasn't, mark you, as if she had spoken in a way to suggest that she considered my presence in the place as an ordinary social call. she obviously looked on me as a cross between a burglar and the plumber's man come to fix the leak in the bathroom. it hurt her--my being there. at this juncture, with the conversation showing every sign of being about to die in awful agonies, an idea came to me. tea--the good old stand-by. "would you care for a cup of tea?" i said. "tea?" she spoke as if she had never heard of the stuff. "nothing like a cup after a journey," i said. "bucks you up! puts a bit of zip into you. what i mean is, restores you, and so on, don't you know. i'll go and tell jeeves." i tottered down the passage to jeeves's lair. the man was reading the evening paper as if he hadn't a care in the world. "jeeves," i said, "we want some tea." "very good, sir." "i say, jeeves, this is a bit thick, what?" i wanted sympathy, don't you know--sympathy and kindness. the old nerve centres had had the deuce of a shock. "she's got the idea this place belongs to mr. todd. what on earth put that into her head?" jeeves filled the kettle with a restrained dignity. "no doubt because of mr. todd's letters, sir," he said. "it was my suggestion, sir, if you remember, that they should be addressed from this apartment in order that mr. todd should appear to possess a good central residence in the city." i remembered. we had thought it a brainy scheme at the time. "well, it's bally awkward, you know, jeeves. she looks on me as an intruder. by jove! i suppose she thinks i'm someone who hangs about here, touching mr. todd for free meals and borrowing his shirts." "yes, sir." "it's pretty rotten, you know." "most disturbing, sir." "and there's another thing: what are we to do about mr. todd? we've got to get him up here as soon as ever we can. when you have brought the tea you had better go out and send him a telegram, telling him to come up by the next train." "i have already done so, sir. i took the liberty of writing the message and dispatching it by the lift attendant." "by jove, you think of everything, jeeves!" "thank you, sir. a little buttered toast with the tea? just so, sir. thank you." i went back to the sitting-room. she hadn't moved an inch. she was still bolt upright on the edge of her chair, gripping her umbrella like a hammer-thrower. she gave me another of those looks as i came in. there was no doubt about it; for some reason she had taken a dislike to me. i suppose because i wasn't george m. cohan. it was a bit hard on a chap. "this is a surprise, what?" i said, after about five minutes' restful silence, trying to crank the conversation up again. "what is a surprise?" "your coming here, don't you know, and so on." she raised her eyebrows and drank me in a bit more through her glasses. "why is it surprising that i should visit my only nephew?" she said. put like that, of course, it did seem reasonable. "oh, rather," i said. "of course! certainly. what i mean is----" jeeves projected himself into the room with the tea. i was jolly glad to see him. there's nothing like having a bit of business arranged for one when one isn't certain of one's lines. with the teapot to fool about with i felt happier. "tea, tea, tea--what? what?" i said. it wasn't what i had meant to say. my idea had been to be a good deal more formal, and so on. still, it covered the situation. i poured her out a cup. she sipped it and put the cup down with a shudder. "do you mean to say, young man," she said frostily, "that you expect me to drink this stuff?" "rather! bucks you up, you know." "what do you mean by the expression 'bucks you up'?" "well, makes you full of beans, you know. makes you fizz." "i don't understand a word you say. you're english, aren't you?" i admitted it. she didn't say a word. and somehow she did it in a way that made it worse than if she had spoken for hours. somehow it was brought home to me that she didn't like englishmen, and that if she had had to meet an englishman, i was the one she'd have chosen last. conversation languished again after that. then i tried again. i was becoming more convinced every moment that you can't make a real lively _salon_ with a couple of people, especially if one of them lets it go a word at a time. "are you comfortable at your hotel?" i said. "at which hotel?" "the hotel you're staying at." "i am not staying at an hotel." "stopping with friends--what?" "i am naturally stopping with my nephew." i didn't get it for the moment; then it hit me. "what! here?" i gurgled. "certainly! where else should i go?" the full horror of the situation rolled over me like a wave. i couldn't see what on earth i was to do. i couldn't explain that this wasn't rocky's flat without giving the poor old chap away hopelessly, because she would then ask me where he did live, and then he would be right in the soup. i was trying to induce the old bean to recover from the shock and produce some results when she spoke again. "will you kindly tell my nephew's man-servant to prepare my room? i wish to lie down." "your nephew's man-servant?" "the man you call jeeves. if rockmetteller has gone for an automobile ride, there is no need for you to wait for him. he will naturally wish to be alone with me when he returns." i found myself tottering out of the room. the thing was too much for me. i crept into jeeves's den. "jeeves!" i whispered. "sir?" "mix me a b.-and-s., jeeves. i feel weak." "very good, sir." "this is getting thicker every minute, jeeves." "sir?" "she thinks you're mr. todd's man. she thinks the whole place is his, and everything in it. i don't see what you're to do, except stay on and keep it up. we can't say anything or she'll get on to the whole thing, and i don't want to let mr. todd down. by the way, jeeves, she wants you to prepare her bed." he looked wounded. "it is hardly my place, sir----" "i know--i know. but do it as a personal favour to me. if you come to that, it's hardly my place to be flung out of the flat like this and have to go to an hotel, what?" "is it your intention to go to an hotel, sir? what will you do for clothes?" "good lord! i hadn't thought of that. can you put a few things in a bag when she isn't looking, and sneak them down to me at the st. aurea?" "i will endeavour to do so, sir." "well, i don't think there's anything more, is there? tell mr. todd where i am when he gets here." "very good, sir." i looked round the place. the moment of parting had come. i felt sad. the whole thing reminded me of one of those melodramas where they drive chappies out of the old homestead into the snow. "good-bye, jeeves," i said. "good-bye, sir." and i staggered out. * * * * * you know, i rather think i agree with those poet-and-philosopher johnnies who insist that a fellow ought to be devilish pleased if he has a bit of trouble. all that stuff about being refined by suffering, you know. suffering does give a chap a sort of broader and more sympathetic outlook. it helps you to understand other people's misfortunes if you've been through the same thing yourself. as i stood in my lonely bedroom at the hotel, trying to tie my white tie myself, it struck me for the first time that there must be whole squads of chappies in the world who had to get along without a man to look after them. i'd always thought of jeeves as a kind of natural phenomenon; but, by jove! of course, when you come to think of it, there must be quite a lot of fellows who have to press their own clothes themselves and haven't got anybody to bring them tea in the morning, and so on. it was rather a solemn thought, don't you know. i mean to say, ever since then i've been able to appreciate the frightful privations the poor have to stick. i got dressed somehow. jeeves hadn't forgotten a thing in his packing. everything was there, down to the final stud. i'm not sure this didn't make me feel worse. it kind of deepened the pathos. it was like what somebody or other wrote about the touch of a vanished hand. i had a bit of dinner somewhere and went to a show of some kind; but nothing seemed to make any difference. i simply hadn't the heart to go on to supper anywhere. i just sucked down a whisky-and-soda in the hotel smoking-room and went straight up to bed. i don't know when i've felt so rotten. somehow i found myself moving about the room softly, as if there had been a death in the family. if i had anybody to talk to i should have talked in a whisper; in fact, when the telephone-bell rang i answered in such a sad, hushed voice that the fellow at the other end of the wire said "halloa!" five times, thinking he hadn't got me. it was rocky. the poor old scout was deeply agitated. "bertie! is that you, bertie! oh, gosh? i'm having a time!" "where are you speaking from?" "the midnight revels. we've been here an hour, and i think we're a fixture for the night. i've told aunt isabel i've gone out to call up a friend to join us. she's glued to a chair, with this-is-the-life written all over her, taking it in through the pores. she loves it, and i'm nearly crazy." "tell me all, old top," i said. "a little more of this," he said, "and i shall sneak quietly off to the river and end it all. do you mean to say you go through this sort of thing every night, bertie, and enjoy it? it's simply infernal! i was just snatching a wink of sleep behind the bill of fare just now when about a million yelling girls swooped down, with toy balloons. there are two orchestras here, each trying to see if it can't play louder than the other. i'm a mental and physical wreck. when your telegram arrived i was just lying down for a quiet pipe, with a sense of absolute peace stealing over me. i had to get dressed and sprint two miles to catch the train. it nearly gave me heart-failure; and on top of that i almost got brain fever inventing lies to tell aunt isabel. and then i had to cram myself into these confounded evening clothes of yours." i gave a sharp wail of agony. it hadn't struck me till then that rocky was depending on my wardrobe to see him through. "you'll ruin them!" "i hope so," said rocky, in the most unpleasant way. his troubles seemed to have had the worst effect on his character. "i should like to get back at them somehow; they've given me a bad enough time. they're about three sizes too small, and something's apt to give at any moment. i wish to goodness it would, and give me a chance to breathe. i haven't breathed since half-past seven. thank heaven, jeeves managed to get out and buy me a collar that fitted, or i should be a strangled corpse by now! it was touch and go till the stud broke. bertie, this is pure hades! aunt isabel keeps on urging me to dance. how on earth can i dance when i don't know a soul to dance with? and how the deuce could i, even if i knew every girl in the place? it's taking big chances even to move in these trousers. i had to tell her i've hurt my ankle. she keeps asking me when cohan and stone are going to turn up; and it's simply a question of time before she discovers that stone is sitting two tables away. something's got to be done, bertie! you've got to think up some way of getting me out of this mess. it was you who got me into it." "me! what do you mean?" "well, jeeves, then. it's all the same. it was you who suggested leaving it to jeeves. it was those letters i wrote from his notes that did the mischief. i made them too good! my aunt's just been telling me about it. she says she had resigned herself to ending her life where she was, and then my letters began to arrive, describing the joys of new york; and they stimulated her to such an extent that she pulled herself together and made the trip. she seems to think she's had some miraculous kind of faith cure. i tell you i can't stand it, bertie! it's got to end!" "can't jeeves think of anything?" "no. he just hangs round saying: 'most disturbing, sir!' a fat lot of help that is!" "well, old lad," i said, "after all, it's far worse for me than it is for you. you've got a comfortable home and jeeves. and you're saving a lot of money." "saving money? what do you mean--saving money?" "why, the allowance your aunt was giving you. i suppose she's paying all the expenses now, isn't she?" "certainly she is; but she's stopped the allowance. she wrote the lawyers to-night. she says that, now she's in new york, there is no necessity for it to go on, as we shall always be together, and it's simpler for her to look after that end of it. i tell you, bertie, i've examined the darned cloud with a microscope, and if it's got a silver lining it's some little dissembler!" "but, rocky, old top, it's too bally awful! you've no notion of what i'm going through in this beastly hotel, without jeeves. i must get back to the flat." "don't come near the flat." "but it's my own flat." "i can't help that. aunt isabel doesn't like you. she asked me what you did for a living. and when i told her you didn't do anything she said she thought as much, and that you were a typical specimen of a useless and decaying aristocracy. so if you think you have made a hit, forget it. now i must be going back, or she'll be coming out here after me. good-bye." * * * * * next morning jeeves came round. it was all so home-like when he floated noiselessly into the room that i nearly broke down. "good morning, sir," he said. "i have brought a few more of your personal belongings." he began to unstrap the suit-case he was carrying. "did you have any trouble sneaking them away?" "it was not easy, sir. i had to watch my chance. miss rockmetteller is a remarkably alert lady." "you know, jeeves, say what you like--this is a bit thick, isn't it?" "the situation is certainly one that has never before come under my notice, sir. i have brought the heather-mixture suit, as the climatic conditions are congenial. to-morrow, if not prevented, i will endeavour to add the brown lounge with the faint green twill." "it can't go on--this sort of thing--jeeves." "we must hope for the best, sir." "can't you think of anything to do?" "i have been giving the matter considerable thought, sir, but so far without success. i am placing three silk shirts--the dove-coloured, the light blue, and the mauve--in the first long drawer, sir." "you don't mean to say you can't think of anything, jeeves?" "for the moment, sir, no. you will find a dozen handkerchiefs and the tan socks in the upper drawer on the left." he strapped the suit-case and put it on a chair. "a curious lady, miss rockmetteller, sir." "you understate it, jeeves." he gazed meditatively out of the window. "in many ways, sir, miss rockmetteller reminds me of an aunt of mine who resides in the south-east portion of london. their temperaments are much alike. my aunt has the same taste for the pleasures of the great city. it is a passion with her to ride in hansom cabs, sir. whenever the family take their eyes off her she escapes from the house and spends the day riding about in cabs. on several occasions she has broken into the children's savings bank to secure the means to enable her to gratify this desire." "i love to have these little chats with you about your female relatives, jeeves," i said coldly, for i felt that the man had let me down, and i was fed up with him. "but i don't see what all this has got to do with my trouble." "i beg your pardon, sir. i am leaving a small assortment of neckties on the mantelpiece, sir, for you to select according to your preference. i should recommend the blue with the red domino pattern, sir." then he streamed imperceptibly toward the door and flowed silently out. * * * * * i've often heard that chappies, after some great shock or loss, have a habit, after they've been on the floor for a while wondering what hit them, of picking themselves up and piecing themselves together, and sort of taking a whirl at beginning a new life. time, the great healer, and nature, adjusting itself, and so on and so forth. there's a lot in it. i know, because in my own case, after a day or two of what you might call prostration, i began to recover. the frightful loss of jeeves made any thought of pleasure more or less a mockery, but at least i found that i was able to have a dash at enjoying life again. what i mean is, i was braced up to the extent of going round the cabarets once more, so as to try to forget, if only for the moment. new york's a small place when it comes to the part of it that wakes up just as the rest is going to bed, and it wasn't long before my tracks began to cross old rocky's. i saw him once at peale's, and again at frolics on the roof. there wasn't anybody with him either time except the aunt, and, though he was trying to look as if he had struck the ideal life, it wasn't difficult for me, knowing the circumstances, to see that beneath the mask the poor chap was suffering. my heart bled for the fellow. at least, what there was of it that wasn't bleeding for myself bled for him. he had the air of one who was about to crack under the strain. it seemed to me that the aunt was looking slightly upset also. i took it that she was beginning to wonder when the celebrities were going to surge round, and what had suddenly become of all those wild, careless spirits rocky used to mix with in his letters. i didn't blame her. i had only read a couple of his letters, but they certainly gave the impression that poor old rocky was by way of being the hub of new york night life, and that, if by any chance he failed to show up at a cabaret, the management said: "what's the use?" and put up the shutters. the next two nights i didn't come across them, but the night after that i was sitting by myself at the maison pierre when somebody tapped me on the shoulder-blade, and i found rocky standing beside me, with a sort of mixed expression of wistfulness and apoplexy on his face. how the chappie had contrived to wear my evening clothes so many times without disaster was a mystery to me. he confided later that early in the proceedings he had slit the waistcoat up the back and that that had helped a bit. for a moment i had the idea that he had managed to get away from his aunt for the evening; but, looking past him, i saw that she was in again. she was at a table over by the wall, looking at me as if i were something the management ought to be complained to about. "bertie, old scout," said rocky, in a quiet, sort of crushed voice, "we've always been pals, haven't we? i mean, you know i'd do you a good turn if you asked me?" "my dear old lad," i said. the man had moved me. "then, for heaven's sake, come over and sit at our table for the rest of the evening." well, you know, there are limits to the sacred claims of friendship. "my dear chap," i said, "you know i'd do anything in reason; but----" "you must come, bertie. you've got to. something's got to be done to divert her mind. she's brooding about something. she's been like that for the last two days. i think she's beginning to suspect. she can't understand why we never seem to meet anyone i know at these joints. a few nights ago i happened to run into two newspaper men i used to know fairly well. that kept me going for a while. i introduced them to aunt isabel as david belasco and jim corbett, and it went well. but the effect has worn off now, and she's beginning to wonder again. something's got to be done, or she will find out everything, and if she does i'd take a nickel for my chance of getting a cent from her later on. so, for the love of mike, come across to our table and help things along." i went along. one has to rally round a pal in distress. aunt isabel was sitting bolt upright, as usual. it certainly did seem as if she had lost a bit of the zest with which she had started out to explore broadway. she looked as if she had been thinking a good deal about rather unpleasant things. "you've met bertie wooster, aunt isabel?" said rocky. "i have." there was something in her eye that seemed to say: "out of a city of six million people, why did you pick on me?" "take a seat, bertie. what'll you have?" said rocky. and so the merry party began. it was one of those jolly, happy, bread-crumbling parties where you cough twice before you speak, and then decide not to say it after all. after we had had an hour of this wild dissipation, aunt isabel said she wanted to go home. in the light of what rocky had been telling me, this struck me as sinister. i had gathered that at the beginning of her visit she had had to be dragged home with ropes. it must have hit rocky the same way, for he gave me a pleading look. "you'll come along, won't you, bertie, and have a drink at the flat?" i had a feeling that this wasn't in the contract, but there wasn't anything to be done. it seemed brutal to leave the poor chap alone with the woman, so i went along. right from the start, from the moment we stepped into the taxi, the feeling began to grow that something was about to break loose. a massive silence prevailed in the corner where the aunt sat, and, though rocky, balancing himself on the little seat in front, did his best to supply dialogue, we weren't a chatty party. i had a glimpse of jeeves as we went into the flat, sitting in his lair, and i wished i could have called to him to rally round. something told me that i was about to need him. the stuff was on the table in the sitting-room. rocky took up the decanter. "say when, bertie." "stop!" barked the aunt, and he dropped it. i caught rocky's eye as he stooped to pick up the ruins. it was the eye of one who sees it coming. "leave it there, rockmetteller!" said aunt isabel; and rocky left it there. "the time has come to speak," she said. "i cannot stand idly by and see a young man going to perdition!" poor old rocky gave a sort of gurgle, a kind of sound rather like the whisky had made running out of the decanter on to my carpet. "eh?" he said, blinking. the aunt proceeded. "the fault," she said, "was mine. i had not then seen the light. but now my eyes are open. i see the hideous mistake i have made. i shudder at the thought of the wrong i did you, rockmetteller, by urging you into contact with this wicked city." i saw rocky grope feebly for the table. his fingers touched it, and a look of relief came into the poor chappie's face. i understood his feelings. "but when i wrote you that letter, rockmetteller, instructing you to go to the city and live its life, i had not had the privilege of hearing mr. mundy speak on the subject of new york." "jimmy mundy!" i cried. you know how it is sometimes when everything seems all mixed up and you suddenly get a clue. when she mentioned jimmy mundy i began to understand more or less what had happened. i'd seen it happen before. i remember, back in england, the man i had before jeeves sneaked off to a meeting on his evening out and came back and denounced me in front of a crowd of chappies i was giving a bit of supper to as a moral leper. the aunt gave me a withering up and down. "yes; jimmy mundy!" she said. "i am surprised at a man of your stamp having heard of him. there is no music, there are no drunken, dancing men, no shameless, flaunting women at his meetings; so for you they would have no attraction. but for others, less dead in sin, he has his message. he has come to save new york from itself; to force it--in his picturesque phrase--to hit the trail. it was three days ago, rockmetteller, that i first heard him. it was an accident that took me to his meeting. how often in this life a mere accident may shape our whole future! "you had been called away by that telephone message from mr. belasco; so you could not take me to the hippodrome, as we had arranged. i asked your man-servant, jeeves, to take me there. the man has very little intelligence. he seems to have misunderstood me. i am thankful that he did. he took me to what i subsequently learned was madison square garden, where mr. mundy is holding his meetings. he escorted me to a seat and then left me. and it was not till the meeting had begun that i discovered the mistake which had been made. my seat was in the middle of a row. i could not leave without inconveniencing a great many people, so i remained." she gulped. "rockmetteller, i have never been so thankful for anything else. mr. mundy was wonderful! he was like some prophet of old, scourging the sins of the people. he leaped about in a frenzy of inspiration till i feared he would do himself an injury. sometimes he expressed himself in a somewhat odd manner, but every word carried conviction. he showed me new york in its true colours. he showed me the vanity and wickedness of sitting in gilded haunts of vice, eating lobster when decent people should be in bed. "he said that the tango and the fox-trot were devices of the devil to drag people down into the bottomless pit. he said that there was more sin in ten minutes with a negro banjo orchestra than in all the ancient revels of nineveh and babylon. and when he stood on one leg and pointed right at where i was sitting and shouted, 'this means you!' i could have sunk through the floor. i came away a changed woman. surely you must have noticed the change in me, rockmetteller? you must have seen that i was no longer the careless, thoughtless person who had urged you to dance in those places of wickedness?" rocky was holding on to the table as if it was his only friend. "y-yes," he stammered; "i--i thought something was wrong." "wrong? something was right! everything was right! rockmetteller, it is not too late for you to be saved. you have only sipped of the evil cup. you have not drained it. it will be hard at first, but you will find that you can do it if you fight with a stout heart against the glamour and fascination of this dreadful city. won't you, for my sake, try, rockmetteller? won't you go back to the country to-morrow and begin the struggle? little by little, if you use your will----" i can't help thinking it must have been that word "will" that roused dear old rocky like a trumpet call. it must have brought home to him the realisation that a miracle had come off and saved him from being cut out of aunt isabel's. at any rate, as she said it he perked up, let go of the table, and faced her with gleaming eyes. "do you want me to go back to the country, aunt isabel?" "yes." "not to live in the country?" "yes, rockmetteller." "stay in the country all the time, do you mean? never come to new york?" "yes, rockmetteller; i mean just that. it is the only way. only there can you be safe from temptation. will you do it, rockmetteller? will you--for my sake?" rocky grabbed the table again. he seemed to draw a lot of encouragement from that table. "i will!" he said. * * * * * "jeeves," i said. it was next day, and i was back in the old flat, lying in the old arm-chair, with my feet upon the good old table. i had just come from seeing dear old rocky off to his country cottage, and an hour before he had seen his aunt off to whatever hamlet it was that she was the curse of; so we were alone at last. "jeeves, there's no place like home--what?" "very true, sir." "the jolly old roof-tree, and all that sort of thing--what?" "precisely, sir." i lit another cigarette. "jeeves." "sir?" "do you know, at one point in the business i really thought you were baffled." "indeed, sir?" "when did you get the idea of taking miss rockmetteller to the meeting? it was pure genius!" "thank you, sir. it came to me a little suddenly, one morning when i was thinking of my aunt, sir." "your aunt? the hansom cab one?" "yes, sir. i recollected that, whenever we observed one of her attacks coming on, we used to send for the clergyman of the parish. we always found that if he talked to her a while of higher things it diverted her mind from hansom cabs. it occurred to me that the same treatment might prove efficacious in the case of miss rockmetteller." i was stunned by the man's resource. "it's brain," i said; "pure brain! what do you do to get like that, jeeves? i believe you must eat a lot of fish, or something. do you eat a lot of fish, jeeves?" "no, sir." "oh, well, then, it's just a gift, i take it; and if you aren't born that way there's no use worrying." "precisely, sir," said jeeves. "if i might make the suggestion, sir, i should not continue to wear your present tie. the green shade gives you a slightly bilious air. i should strongly advocate the blue with the red domino pattern instead, sir." "all right, jeeves." i said humbly. "you know!" the end proofreading team buried alive a tale of these days by arnold bennett to john frederick farrar m.r.c.s., l.r.c.p. my collaborator in this and many other books a grateful expression of old-established regard contents i. the puce dressing-gown ii. a pail iii. the photograph iv. a scoop v. alice on hotels vi. a putney morning vii. the confession viii. an invasion ix. a glossy male x. the secret xi. an escape xii. alice's performances chapter i _the puce dressing-gown_ the peculiar angle of the earth's axis to the plane of the ecliptic-that angle which is chiefly responsible for our geography and therefore for our history--had caused the phenomenon known in london as summer. the whizzing globe happened to have turned its most civilized face away from the sun, thus producing night in selwood terrace, south kensington. in no. 91 selwood terrace two lights, on the ground-floor and on the first-floor, were silently proving that man's ingenuity can outwit nature's. no. 91 was one of about ten thousand similar houses between south kensington station and north end road. with its grimy stucco front, its cellar kitchen, its hundred stairs and steps, its perfect inconvenience, and its conscience heavy with the doing to death of sundry general servants, it uplifted tin chimney-cowls to heaven and gloomily awaited the day of judgment for london houses, sublimely ignoring the axial and orbital velocities of the earth and even the reckless flight of the whole solar system through space. you felt that no. 91 was unhappy, and that it could only be rendered happy by a 'to let' standard in its front patch and a 'no bottles' card in its cellar-windows. it possessed neither of these specifics. though of late generally empty, it was never untenanted. in the entire course of its genteel and commodious career it had never once been to let. go inside, and breathe its atmosphere of a bored house that is generally empty yet never untenanted. all its twelve rooms dark and forlorn, save two; its cellar kitchen dark and forlorn; just these two rooms, one on the top of the other like boxes, pitifully struggling against the inveterate gloom of the remaining ten! stand in the dark hall and get this atmosphere into your lungs. the principal, the startling thing in the illuminated room on the ground-floor was a dressing-gown, of the colour, between heliotrope and purple, known to a previous generation as puce; a quilted garment stuffed with swansdown, light as hydrogen--nearly, and warm as the smile of a kind heart; old, perhaps, possibly worn in its outlying regions and allowing fluffs of feathery white to escape through its satin pores; but a dressing-gown to dream of. it dominated the unkempt, naked apartment, its voluptuous folds glittering crudely under the sun-replacing oil lamp which was set on a cigar-box on the stained deal table. the oil lamp had a glass reservoir, a chipped chimney, and a cardboard shade, and had probably cost less than a florin; five florins would have purchased the table; and all the rest of the furniture, including the arm-chair in which the dressing-gown reclined, a stool, an easel, three packets of cigarettes and a trouser-stretcher, might have been replaced for another ten florins. up in the corners of the ceiling, obscure in the eclipse of the cardboard shade, was a complicated system of cobwebs to match the dust on the bare floor. within the dressing-gown there was a man. this man had reached the interesting age. i mean the age when you think you have shed all the illusions of infancy, when you think you understand life, and when you are often occupied in speculating upon the delicious surprises which existence may hold for you; the age, in sum, that is the most romantic and tender of all ages--for a male. i mean the age of fifty. an age absurdly misunderstood by all those who have not reached it! a thrilling age! appearances are tragically deceptive. the inhabitant of the puce dressing-gown had a short greying beard and moustache; his plenteous hair was passing from pepper into salt; there were many minute wrinkles in the hollows between his eyes and the fresh crimson of his cheeks; and the eyes were sad; they were very sad. had he stood erect and looked perpendicularly down, he would have perceived, not his slippers, but a protuberant button of the dressing-gown. understand me: i conceal nothing; i admit the figures written in the measurement-book of his tailor. he was fifty. yet, like most men of fifty, he was still very young, and, like most bachelors of fifty, he was rather helpless. he was quite sure that he had not had the best of luck. if he had excavated his soul he would have discovered somewhere in its deeps a wistful, appealing desire to be taken care of, to be sheltered from the inconveniences and harshness of the world. but he would not have admitted the discovery. a bachelor of fifty cannot be expected to admit that he resembles a girl of nineteen. nevertheless it is a strange fact that the resemblance between the heart of an experienced, adventurous bachelor of fifty and the simple heart of a girl of nineteen is stronger than girls of nineteen imagine; especially when the bachelor of fifty is sitting solitary and unfriended at two o'clock in the night, in the forlorn atmosphere of a house that has outlived its hopes. bachelors of fifty alone will comprehend me. it has never been decided what young girls do meditate upon when they meditate; young girls themselves cannot decide. as a rule the lonely fancies of middle-aged bachelors are scarcely less amenable to definition. but the case of the inhabitant of the puce dressing-gown was an exception to the rule. he knew, and he could have said, precisely what he was thinking about. in that sad hour and place, his melancholy thoughts were centred upon the resplendent, unique success in life of a gifted and glorious being known to nations and newspapers as priam farll. _riches and renown_ in the days when the new gallery was new, a picture, signed by the unknown name of priam farll, was exhibited there, and aroused such terrific interest that for several months no conversation among cultured persons was regarded as complete without some reference to it. that the artist was a very great painter indeed was admitted by every one; the only question which cultured persons felt it their duty to settle was whether he was the greatest painter that ever lived or merely the greatest painter since velasquez. cultured persons might have continued to discuss that nice point to the present hour, had it not leaked out that the picture had been refused by the royal academy. the culture of london then at once healed up its strife and combined to fall on the royal academy as an institution which had no right to exist. the affair even got into parliament and occupied three minutes of the imperial legislature. useless for the royal academy to argue that it had overlooked the canvas, for its dimensions were seven feet by five; it represented a policeman, a simple policeman, life-size, and it was not merely the most striking portrait imaginable, but the first appearance of the policeman in great art; criminals, one heard, instinctively fled before it. no! the royal academy really could not argue that the work had been overlooked. and in truth the royal academy did not argue accidental negligence. it did not argue about its own right to exist. it did not argue at all. it blandly went on existing, and taking about a hundred and fifty pounds a day in shillings at its polished turnstiles. no details were obtainable concerning priam farll, whose address was poste restante, st. martin's-le-grand. various collectors, animated by deep faith in their own judgment and a sincere desire to encourage british art, were anxious to purchase the picture for a few pounds, and these enthusiasts were astonished and pained to learn that priam farll had marked a figure of £1,000--the price of a rare postage stamp. in consequence the picture was not sold; and after an enterprising journal had unsuccessfully offered a reward for the identification of the portrayed policeman, the matter went gently to sleep while the public employed its annual holiday as usual in discussing the big gooseberry of matrimonial relations. every one naturally expected that in the following year the mysterious priam farll would, in accordance with the universal rule for a successful career in british art, contribute another portrait of another policeman to the new gallery--and so on for about twenty years, at the end of which period england would have learnt to recognize him as its favourite painter of policemen. but priam farll contributed nothing to the new gallery. he had apparently forgotten the new gallery: which was considered to be ungracious, if not ungrateful, on his part. instead, he adorned the paris salon with a large seascape showing penguins in the foreground. now these penguins became the penguins of the continental year; they made penguins the fashionable bird in paris, and also (twelve months later) in london. the french government offered to buy the picture on behalf of the republic at its customary price of five hundred francs, but priam farll sold it to the american connoisseur whitney c. whitt for five thousand dollars. shortly afterwards he sold the policeman, whom he had kept by him, to the same connoisseur for ten thousand dollars. whitney c. whitt was the expert who had paid two hundred thousand dollars for a madonna and st. joseph, with donor, of raphael. the enterprising journal before mentioned calculated that, counting the space actually occupied on the canvas by the policeman, the daring connoisseur had expended two guineas per square inch on the policeman. at which stage the vast newspaper public suddenly woke up and demanded with one voice: "who is this priam farll?" though the query remained unanswered, priam farll's reputation was henceforward absolutely assured, and this in spite of the fact that he omitted to comply with the regulations ordained by english society for the conduct of successful painters. he ought, first, to have taken the elementary precaution of being born in the united states. he ought, after having refused all interviews for months, to have ultimately granted a special one to a newspaper with the largest circulation. he ought to have returned to england, grown a mane and a tufted tail, and become the king of beasts; or at least to have made a speech at a banquet about the noble and purifying mission of art. assuredly he ought to have painted the portrait of his father or grandfather as an artisan, to prove that he was not a snob. but no! not content with making each of his pictures utterly different from all the others, he neglected all the above formalities--and yet managed to pile triumph on triumph. there are some men of whom it may be said that, like a punter on a good day, they can't do wrong. priam farll was one such. in a few years he had become a legend, a standing side-dish of a riddle. no one knew him; no one saw him; no one married him. constantly abroad, he was ever the subject of conflicting rumours. parfitts themselves, his london agents, knew naught of him but his handwriting--on the backs of cheques in four figures. they sold an average of five large and five small pictures for him every year. these pictures arrived out of the unknown and the cheques went into the unknown. young artists, mute in admiration before the masterpieces from his brush which enriched all the national galleries of europe (save, of course, that in trafalgar square), dreamt of him, worshipped him, and quarrelled fiercely about him, as the very symbol of glory, luxury and flawless accomplishment, never conceiving him as a man like themselves, with boots to lace up, a palette to clean, a beating heart, and an instinctive fear of solitude. finally there came to him the paramount distinction, the last proof that he was appreciated. the press actually fell into the habit of mentioning his name without explanatory comment. exactly as it does not write "mr. a.j. balfour, the eminent statesman," or "sarah bernhardt, the renowned actress," or "charles peace, the historic murderer," but simply "mr. a.j. balfour," "sarah bernhardt" or "charles peace"; so it wrote simply "mr. priam farll." and no occupant of a smoker in a morning train ever took his pipe out of his mouth to ask, "what is the johnny?" greater honour in england hath no man. priam farll was the first english painter to enjoy this supreme social reward. and now he was inhabiting the puce dressing-gown. _the dreadful secret_ a bell startled the forlorn house; its loud old-fashioned jangle came echoingly up the basement stairs and struck the ear of priam farll, who half rose and then sat down again. he knew that it was an urgent summons to the front door, and that none but he could answer it; and yet he hesitated. leaving priam farll, the great and wealthy artist, we return to that far more interesting person, priam farll the private human creature; and come at once to the dreadful secret of his character, the trait in him which explained the peculiar circumstances of his life. as a private human creature, he happened to be shy. he was quite different from you or me. we never feel secret qualms at the prospect of meeting strangers, or of taking quarters at a grand hotel, or of entering a large house for the first time, or of walking across a room full of seated people, or of dismissing a servant, or of arguing with a haughty female aristocrat behind a post-office counter, or of passing a shop where we owe money. as for blushing or hanging back, or even looking awkward, when faced with any such simple, everyday acts, the idea of conduct so childish would not occur to us. we behave naturally under all circumstances--for why should a sane man behave otherwise? priam farll was different. to call the world's attention visually to the fact of his own existence was anguish to him. but in a letter he could be absolutely brazen. give him a pen and he was fearless. now he knew that he would have to go and open the front door. both humanity and self-interest urged him to go instantly. for the visitant was assuredly the doctor, come at last to see the sick man lying upstairs. the sick man was henry leek, and henry leek was priam farll's bad habit. while somewhat of a rascal (as his master guessed), leek was a very perfect valet. like you and me, he was never shy. he always did the natural thing naturally. he had become, little by little, indispensable to priam farll, the sole means of living communication between priam farll and the universe of men. the master's shyness, resembling a deer's, kept the pair almost entirely out of england, and, on their continuous travels, the servant invariably stood between that sensitive diffidence and the world. leek saw every one who had to be seen, and did everything that involved personal contacts. and, being a bad habit, he had, of course, grown on priam farll, and thus, year after year, for a quarter of a century, farll's shyness, with his riches and his glory, had increased. happily leek was never ill. that is to say, he never had been ill, until this day of their sudden incognito arrival in london for a brief sojourn. he could hardly have chosen a more inconvenient moment; for in london of all places, in that inherited house in selwood terrace which he so seldom used, priam farll could not carry on daily life without him. it really was unpleasant and disturbing in the highest degree, this illness of leek's. the fellow had apparently caught cold on the night-boat. he had fought the approaches of insidious disease for several hours, going forth to make purchases and incidentally consulting a doctor; and then, without warning, in the very act of making up farll's couch, he had abandoned the struggle, and, since his own bed was not ready, he had taken to his master's. he always did the natural thing naturally. and farll had been forced to help him to undress! from this point onwards priam farll, opulent though he was and illustrious, had sunk to a tragic impotence. he could do nothing for himself; and he could do nothing for leek, because leek refused both brandy and sandwiches, and the larder consisted solely of brandy and sandwiches. the man lay upstairs there, comatose, still, silent, waiting for the doctor who had promised to pay an evening visit. and the summer day had darkened into the summer night. the notion of issuing out into the world and personally obtaining food for himself or aid for leek, did genuinely seem to priam farll an impossible notion; he had never done such things. for him a shop was an impregnable fort garrisoned by ogres. besides, it would have been necessary to 'ask,' and 'asking' was the torture of tortures. so he had wandered, solicitous and helpless, up and down the stairs, until at length leek, ceasing to be a valet and deteriorating into a mere human organism, had feebly yet curtly requested to be just let alone, asserting that he was right enough. whereupon the envied of all painters, the symbol of artistic glory and triumph, had assumed the valet's notorious puce dressing-gown and established himself in a hard chair for a night of discomfort. the bell rang once more, and there was a sharp impressive knock that reverberated through the forlorn house in a most portentous and terrifying manner. it might have been death knocking. it engendered the horrible suspicion, "suppose he's _seriously_ ill?" priam farll sprang up nervously, braced to meet ringers and knockers. _cure for shyness_ on the other side of the door, dressed in frock coat and silk hat, there stood hesitating a tall, thin, weary man who had been afoot for exactly twenty hours, in pursuit of his usual business of curing imaginary ailments by means of medicine and suggestion, and leaving real ailments to nature aided by coloured water. his attitude towards the medical profession was somewhat sardonic, partly because he was convinced that only the gluttony of south kensington provided him with a livelihood, but more because his wife and two fully-developed daughters spent too much on their frocks. for years, losing sight of the fact that he was an immortal soul, they had been treating him as a breakfast-in-the-slot machine: they put a breakfast in the slot, pushed a button of his waistcoat, and drew out banknotes. for this, he had neither partner, nor assistant, nor carriage, nor holiday: his wife and daughters could not afford him these luxuries. he was able, conscientious, chronically tired, bald and fifty. he was also, strange as it may seem, shy; though indeed he had grown used to it, as a man gets used to a hollow tooth or an eel to skinning. no qualities of the young girl's heart about the heart of dr. cashmore! he really did know human nature, and he never dreamt of anything more paradisaical than a sunday pullman escapade to brighton. priam farll opened the door which divided these two hesitating men, and they saw each other by the light of the gas lamp (for the hall was in darkness). "this mr. farll's?" asked dr. cashmore, with the unintentional asperity of shyness. as for priam, the revelation of his name by leek shocked him almost into a sweat. surely the number of the house should have sufficed. "yes," he admitted, half shy and half vexed. "are you the doctor?" "yes." dr. cashmore stepped into the obscurity of the hall. "how's the invalid going on?" "i can scarcely tell you," said priam. "he's in bed, very quiet." "that's right," said the doctor. "when he came to my surgery this morning i advised him to go to bed." then followed a brief awkward pause, during which priam farll coughed and the doctor rubbed his hands and hummed a fragment of melody. "by jove!" the thought flashed through the mind of farll. "this chap's shy, i do believe!" and through the mind of the doctor, "here's another of 'em, all nerves!" they both instantly, from sheer good-natured condescension the one to the other, became at ease. it was as if a spring had been loosed. priam shut the door and shut out the ray of the street lamp. "i'm afraid there's no light here," said he. "i'll strike a match," said the doctor. "thanks very much," said priam. the flare of a wax vesta illumined the splendours of the puce dressing-gown. but dr. cashmore did not blench. he could flatter himself that in the matter of dressing-gowns he had nothing to learn. "by the way, what's wrong with him, do you think?" priam farll inquired in his most boyish voice. "don't know. chill! he had a loud cardiac murmur. might be anything. that's why i said i'd call anyhow to-night. couldn't come any sooner. been on my feet since six o'clock this morning. you know what it is--g.p.'s day." he smiled grimly in his fatigue. "it's very good of you to come," said priam farll with warm, vivacious sympathy. he had an astonishing gift for imaginatively putting himself in the place of other people. "not at all!" the doctor muttered. he was quite touched. to hide the fact that he was touched he struck a second match. "shall we go upstairs?" in the bedroom a candle was burning on a dusty and empty dressing-table. dr. cashmore moved it to the vicinity of the bed, which was like an oasis of decent arrangement in the desert of comfortless chamber; then he stooped to examine the sick valet. "he's shivering!" exclaimed the doctor softly. henry leek's skin was indeed bluish, though, besides blankets, there was a considerable apparatus of rugs on the bed, and the night was warm. his ageing face (for he was the third man of fifty in that room) had an anxious look. but he made no movement, uttered no word, at sight of the doctor; just stared, dully. his own difficult breathing alone seemed to interest him. "any women up?" the doctor turned suddenly and fiercely on priam farll, who started. "there's only ourselves in the house," he replied. a person less experienced than dr. cashmore in the secret strangenesses of genteel life in london might have been astonished by this information. but dr. cashmore no more blenched now than he had blenched at the puce garment. "well, hurry up and get some hot water," said he, in a tone dictatorial and savage. "quick, now! and brandy! and more blankets! now don't stand there, please! here! i'll go with you to the kitchen. show me!" he snatched up the candle, and the expression of his features said, "i can see you're no good in a crisis." "it's all up with me, doctor," came a faint whisper from the bed. "so it is, my boy!" said the doctor under his breath as he tumbled downstairs in the wake of priam farll. "unless i get something hot into you!" _master and servant_ "will there have to be an inquest?" priam farll asked at 6 a.m. he had collapsed in the hard chair on the ground-floor. the indispensable henry leek was lost to him for ever. he could not imagine what would happen to his existence in the future. he could not conceive himself without leek. and, still worse, the immediate prospect of unknown horrors of publicity in connection with the death of leek overwhelmed him. "no!" said the doctor, cheerfully. "oh no! i was present. acute double pneumonia! sometimes happens like that! i can give a certificate. but of course you will have to go to the registrar's and register the death." even without an inquest, he saw that the affair would be unthinkably distressing. he felt that it would kill him, and he put his hand to his face. "where are mr. farll's relatives to be found?" the doctor asked. "mr. farll's relatives?" priam farll repeated without comprehending. then he understood. dr. cashmore thought that henry leek's name was farll! and all the sensitive timidity in priam farll's character seized swiftly at the mad chance of escape from any kind of public appearance as priam farll. why should he not let it be supposed that he, and not henry leek, had expired suddenly in selwood terrace at 5 a.m. he would be free, utterly free! "yes," said the doctor. "they must be informed, naturally." priam's mind ran rapidly over the catalogue of his family. he could think of no one nearer than a certain duncan farll, a second cousin. "i don't think he had any," he replied in a voice that trembled with excitement at the capricious rashness of what he was doing. "perhaps there were distant cousins. but mr. farll never talked of them." which was true. he could scarcely articulate the words 'mr farll.' but when they were out of his mouth he felt that the deed was somehow definitely done. the doctor gazed at priam's hands, the rough, coarsened hands of a painter who is always messing in oils and dust. "pardon me," said the doctor. "i presume you are his valet--or--" "yes," said priam farll. that set the seal. "what was your master's full name?" the doctor demanded. and priam farll shivered. "priam farll," said he weakly. "not _the_--?" loudly exclaimed the doctor, whom the hazards of life in london had at last staggered. priam nodded. "well, well!" the doctor gave vent to his feelings. the truth was that this particular hazard of life in london pleased him, flattered him, made him feel important in the world, and caused him to forget his fatigue and his wrongs. he saw that the puce dressing-gown contained a man who was at the end of his tether, and with that good nature of his which no hardships had been able to destroy, he offered to attend to the preliminary formalities. then he went. _a month's wages_ priam farll had no intention of falling asleep; his desire was to consider the position which he had so rashly created for himself; but he did fall asleep--and in the hard chair! he was awakened by a tremendous clatter, as if the house was being bombarded and there were bricks falling about his ears. when he regained all his senses this bombardment resolved itself into nothing but a loud and continued assault on the front door. he rose, and saw a frowsy, dishevelled, puce-coloured figure in the dirty mirror over the fireplace. and then, with stiff limbs, he directed his sleepy feet towards the door. dr. cashmore was at the door, and still another man of fifty, a stern-set, blue-chinned, stoutish person in deep and perfect mourning, including black gloves. this person gazed coldly at priam farll. "ah!" ejaculated the mourner. and stepped in, followed by dr. cashmore. in achieving the inner mat the mourner perceived a white square on the floor. he picked it up and carefully examined it, and then handed it to priam farll. "i suppose this is for you," said he. priam, accepting the envelope, saw that it was addressed to "henry leek, esq., 91 selwood terrace, s.w.," in a woman's hand. "it _is_ for you, isn't it?" pursued the mourner in an inflexible voice. "yes," said priam. "i am mr. duncan farll, a solicitor, a cousin of your late employer," the metallic voice continued, coming through a set of large, fine, white teeth. "what arrangements have you made during the day?" priam stammered: "none. i've been asleep." "you aren't very respectful," said duncan farll. so this was his second cousin, whom he had met, once only, as a boy! never would he have recognized duncan. evidently it did not occur to duncan to recognize him. people are apt to grow unrecognizable in the course of forty years. duncan farll strode about the ground-floor of the house, and on the threshold of each room ejaculated "ah!" or "ha!" then he and the doctor went upstairs. priam remained inert, and excessively disturbed, in the hall. at length duncan farll descended. "come in here, leek," said duncan. and priam meekly stepped after him into the room where the hard chair was. duncan farll took the hard chair. "what are your wages?" priam sought to remember how much he had paid henry leek. "a hundred a year," said he. "ah! a good wage. when were you last paid?" priam remembered that he had paid leek two days ago. "the day before yesterday," said he. "i must say again you are not very respectful," duncan observed, drawing forth his pocket-book. "however, here is £8 7_s_., a month's wages in lieu of notice. put your things together, and go. i shall have no further use for you. i will make no observations of any kind. but be good enough to _dress_--it is three o'clock--and leave the house at once. let me see your box or boxes before you go." when, an hour later, in the gloaming, priam farll stood on the wrong side of his own door, with henry leek's heavy kit-bag and henry leek's tin trunk flanking him on either hand, he saw that events in his career were moving with immense rapidity. he had wanted to be free, and free he was. quite free! but it appeared to him very remarkable that so much could happen, in so short a time, as the result of a mere momentary impulsive prevarication. * * * * * chapter ii _a pail_ sticking out of the pocket of leek's light overcoat was a folded copy of the _daily telegraph_. priam farll was something of a dandy, and like all right-thinking dandies and all tailors, he objected to the suave line of a garment being spoilt by a free utilization of pockets. the overcoat itself, and the suit beneath, were quite good; for, though they were the property of the late henry leek, they perfectly fitted priam farll and had recently belonged to him, leek having been accustomed to clothe himself entirely from his master's wardrobe. the dandy absently drew forth the _telegraph_, and the first thing that caught his eye was this: "a beautiful private hotel of the highest class. luxuriously furnished. visitor's comfort studied. finest position in london. cuisine a speciality. quiet. suitable for persons of superior rank. bathroom. electric light. separate tables. no irritating extras. single rooms from 2-1/2 guineas, double from 4 guineas weekly. 250 queen's gate." and below this he saw another piece of news: "not a boarding-house. a magnificent mansion. forty bedrooms by waring. superb public saloons by maple. parisian chef. separate tables. four bathrooms. card-room, billiard-room, vast lounge. young, cheerful, musical society. bridge (small). special sanitation. finest position in london. no irritating extras. single rooms from 2-1/2 guineas, double from 4 guineas weekly. phone 10,073 western. trefusis mansion, w." at that moment a hansom cab came ambling down selwood terrace. impulsively he hailed it. "'ere, guv'nor," said the cabman, seeing with an expert eye that priam farll was unaccustomed to the manipulation of luggage. "give this 'ere hackenschmidt a copper to lend ye a hand. you're only a light weight." a small and emaciated boy, with the historic remains of a cigarette in his mouth, sprang like a monkey up the steps, and, not waiting to be asked, snatched the trunk from priam's hands. priam gave him one of leek's sixpences for his feats of strength, and the boy spat generously on the coin, at the same time, by a strange skill, clinging to the cigarette with his lower lip. then the driver lifted the reins with a noble gesture, and priam had to be decisive and get into the cab. "250 queen's gate," said he. as, keeping his head to one side to avoid the reins, he gave the direction across the roof of the cab to the attentive cocked ear of the cabman, he felt suddenly that he had regained his nationality, that he was utterly english, in an atmosphere utterly english. the hansom was like home after the wilderness. he had chosen 250 queen's gate because it appeared the abode of tranquillity and discretion. he felt that he might sink into 250 queen's gate as into a feather bed. the other palace intimidated him. it recalled the terrors of a continental hotel. in his wanderings he had suffered much from the young, cheerful and musical society of bright hotels, and bridge (small) had no attraction for him. as the cab tinkled through canyons of familiar stucco, he looked further at the _telegraph_. he was rather surprised to find more than a column of enticing palaces, each in the finest position in london; london, in fact, seemed to be one unique, glorious position. and it was so welcome, so receptive, so wishful to make a speciality of your comfort, your food, your bath, your sanitation! he remembered the old boarding-houses of the eighties. now all was changed, for the better. the _telegraph_ was full of the better, crammed and packed with tight columns of it. the better burst aspiringly from the tops of columns on the first page and outsoared the very title of the paper. he saw there, for instance, to the left of the title, a new, refined tea-house in piccadilly circus, owned and managed by gentlewomen, where you had real tea and real bread-and butter and real cakes in a real drawing-room. it was astounding. the cab stopped. "is this it?" he asked the driver. "this is 250, sir." and it was. but it did not resemble even a private hotel. it exactly resembled a private house, narrow and tall and squeezed in between its sister and its brother. priam farll was puzzled, till the solution occurred to him. "of course," he said to himself. "this is the quietude, the discretion. i shall like this." he jumped down. "i'll keep you," he threw to the cabman, in the proper phrase (which he was proud to recall from his youth), as though the cabman had been something which he had ordered on approval. there were two bell-knobs. he pulled one, and waited for the portals to open on discreet vistas of luxurious furniture. no response! just as he was consulting the _telegraph_ to make sure of the number, the door silently swung back, and disclosed the figure of a middle-aged woman in black silk, who regarded him with a stern astonishment. "is this----?" he began, nervous and abashed by her formidable stare. "were you wanting rooms?" she asked. "yes," said he. "i was. if i could just see----" "will you come in?" she said. and her morose face, under stringent commands from her brain, began an imitation of a smile which, as an imitation, was wonderful. it made you wonder how she had ever taught her face to do it. priam farll found himself blushing on a turkey carpet, and a sort of cathedral gloom around him. he was disconcerted, but the turkey carpet assured him somewhat. as his eyes grew habituated to the light he saw that the cathedral was very narrow, and that instead of the choir was a staircase, also clothed in turkey carpet. on the lowest step reposed an object whose nature he could not at first determine. "would it be for long?" the lips opposite him muttered cautiously. his reply--the reply of an impulsive, shy nature--was to rush out of the palace. he had identified the object on the stairs. it was a slop-pail with a wrung cloth on its head. he felt profoundly discouraged and pessimistic. all his energy had left him. london had become hard, hostile, cruel, impossible. he longed for leek with a great longing. _tea_ an hour later, having at the kind suggestion of the cabman deposited leek's goods at the cloak-room of south kensington station, he was wandering on foot out of old london into the central ring of new london, where people never do anything except take the air in parks, lounge in club-windows, roll to and fro in peculiar vehicles that have ventured out without horses and are making the best of it, buy flowers and egyptian cigarettes, look at pictures, and eat and drink. nearly all the buildings were higher than they used to be, and the street wider; and at intervals of a hundred yards or so cranes that rent the clouds and defied the law of gravity were continually swinging bricks and marble into the upper layers of the air. violets were on sale at every corner, and the atmosphere was impregnated with an intoxicating perfume of methylated spirits. presently he arrived at an immense arched façade bearing principally the legend 'tea,' and he saw within hundreds of persons sipping tea; and next to that was another arched façade bearing principally the word 'tea,' and he saw within more hundreds sipping tea; and then another; and then another; and then suddenly he came to an open circular place that seemed vaguely familiar. "by jove!" he said. "this is piccadilly circus!" and just at that moment, over a narrow doorway, he perceived the image of a green tree, and the words, 'the elm tree.' it was the entrance to the elm tree tea rooms, so well spoken of in the _telegraph_. in certain ways he was a man of advanced and humane ideas, and the thought of delicately nurtured needy gentlewomen bravely battling with the world instead of starving as they used to starve in the past, appealed to his chivalry. he determined to assist them by taking tea in the advertised drawing-room. gathering together his courage, he penetrated into a corridor lighted by pink electricity, and then up pink stairs. a pink door stopped him at last. it might have hid mysterious and questionable things, but it said laconically 'push,' and he courageously pushed... he was in a kind of boudoir thickly populated with tables and chairs. the swift transmigration from the blatant street to a drawing-room had a startling effect on him: it caused him to whip off his hat as though his hat had been red hot. except for two tall elegant creatures who stood together at the other end of the boudoir, the chairs and tables had the place to themselves. he was about to stammer an excuse and fly, when one of the gentlewomen turned her eye on him for a moment, and so he sat down. the gentlewomen then resumed their conversation. he glanced cautiously about him. elm-trees, firmly rooted in a border of indian matting, grew round all the walls in exotic profusion, and their topmost branches splashed over on to the ceiling. a card on the trunk of a tree, announcing curtly, "dogs not allowed," seemed to enhearten him. after a pause one of the gentlewomen swam haughtily towards him and looked him between the eyes. she spoke no word, but her firm, austere glance said: "now, out with it, and see you behave yourself!" he had been ready to smile chivalrously. but the smile was put to sudden death. "some tea, please," he said faintly, and his intimidated tone said, "if it isn't troubling you too much." "what do you want with it?" asked the gentlewoman abruptly, and as he was plainly at a loss she added, "crumpets or tea-cake?" "tea-cake," he replied, though he hated tea-cake. but he was afraid. "you've escaped this time," said the drapery of her muslins as she swam from his sight. "but no nonsense while i'm away!" when she sternly and mutely thrust the refection before him, he found that everything on the table except the tea-cakes and the spoon was growing elm-trees. after one cup and one slice, when the tea had become stewed and undrinkable, and the tea-cake a material suitable for the manufacture of shooting boots, he resumed, at any rate partially, his presence of mind, and remembered that he had done nothing positively criminal in entering the boudoir or drawing-room and requesting food in return for money. besides, the gentlewomen were now pretending to each other that he did not exist, and no other rash persons had been driven by hunger into the virgin forest of elm-trees. he began to meditate, and his meditations taking--for him--an unusual turn, caused him surreptitiously to examine henry leek's pocket-book (previously only known to him by sight). he had not for many years troubled himself concerning money, but the discovery that, when he had paid for the deposit of luggage at the cloak-room, a solitary sovereign rested in the pocket of leek's trousers, had suggested to him that it would be advisable sooner or later to consider the financial aspect of existence. there were two banknotes for ten pounds each in leek's pocket-book; also five french banknotes of a thousand francs each, and a number of italian banknotes of small denominations: the equivalent of two hundred and thirty pounds altogether, not counting a folded inch-rule, some postage stamps, and a photograph of a pleasant-faced woman of forty or so. this sum seemed neither vast nor insignificant to priam farll. it seemed to him merely a tangible something which would enable him to banish the fiscal question from his mind for an indefinite period. he scarcely even troubled to wonder what leek was doing with over two years of leek's income in his pocket-book. he knew, or at least he with certainty guessed, that leek had been a rascal. still, he had had a sort of grim, cynical affection for leek. and the thought that leek would never again shave him, nor tell him in accents that brooked no delay that his hair must be cut, nor register his luggage and secure his seat on long-distance expresses, filled him with very real melancholy. he did not feel sorry for leek, nor say to himself "poor leek!" nobody who had had the advantage of leek's acquaintance would have said "poor leek!" for leek's greatest speciality had always been the speciality of looking after leek, and wherever leek might be it was a surety that leek's interests would not suffer. therefore priam farll's pity was mainly self-centred. and though his dignity had been considerably damaged during the final moments at selwood terrace, there was matter for congratulation. the doctor, for instance, had shaken hands with him at parting; had shaken hands openly, in the presence of duncan farll: a flattering tribute to his personality. but the chief of priam farll's satisfactions in that desolate hour was that he had suppressed himself, that for the world he existed no more. i shall admit frankly that this satisfaction nearly outweighed his grief. he sighed--and it was a sigh of tremendous relief. for now, by a miracle, he would be free from the menace of lady sophia entwistle. looking back in calmness at the still recent entwistle episode in paris--the real originating cause of his sudden flight to london--he was staggered by his latent capacity for downright, impulsive foolishness. like all shy people he had fits of amazing audacity--and his recklessness usually took the form of making himself agreeable to women whom he encountered in travel (he was much less shy with women than with men). but to propose marriage to a weather-beaten haunter of hotels like lady sophia entwistle, and to reveal his identity to her, and to allow her to accept his proposal--the thing had been unimaginably inept! and now he was free, for he was dead. he was conscious of a chill in the spine as he dwelt on the awful fate which he had escaped. he, a man of fifty, a man of set habits, a man habituated to the liberty of the wild stag, to bow his proud neck under the solid footwear of lady sophia entwistle! yes, there was most decidedly a silver lining to the dark cloud of leek's translation to another sphere of activity. in replacing the pocket-book his hand encountered the letter which had arrived for leek in the morning. arguing with himself whether he ought to open it, he opened it. it ran: "dear mr. leek, i am so glad to have your letter, and i think the photograph is most gentlemanly. but i do wish you would not write with a typewriter. you don't know how this affects a woman, or you wouldn't do it. however, i shall be so glad to meet you now, as you suggest. suppose we go to maskelyne and cook's together to-morrow afternoon (saturday). you know it isn't the egyptian hall any more. it is in st. george's hall, i think. but you will see it in the _telegraph_; also the time. i will be there when the doors open. you will recognize me from my photograph; but i shall wear red roses in my hat. so _au revoir_ for the present. yours sincerely, alice challice. p.s.--there are always a lot of dark parts at maskelyne and cook's. i must ask you to behave as a gentleman should. excuse me. i merely mention it in case.--a. c." infamous leek! here was at any rate one explanation of a mysterious little typewriter which the valet had always carried, but which priam had left at selwood terrace. priam glanced at the photograph in the pocket-book; and also, strange to say, at the _telegraph_. a lady with three children burst into the drawing-room, and instantly occupied the whole of it; the children cried "mathaw!" "mathah!" "mathaw!" in shrill tones of varied joy. as one of the gentlewomen passed near him, he asked modestly-"how much, please?" she dropped a flake of paper on to his table without arresting her course, and said warningly: "you pay at the desk." when he hit on the desk, which was hidden behind a screen of elm-trees, he had to face a true aristocrat--and not in muslins, either. if the others were the daughters of earls, this was the authentic countess in a tea-gown. he put down leek's sovereign. "haven't you anything smaller?" snapped the countess. "i'm sorry i haven't," he replied. she picked up the sovereign scornfully, and turned it over. "it's very awkward," she muttered. then she unlocked two drawers, and unwillingly gave him eighteen and sixpence in silver and copper, without another word and without looking at him. "thank you," said he, pocketing it nervously. and, amid reiterated cries of "mathah!" "mathaw!" "mathah!" he hurried away, unregarded, unregretted, splendidly repudiated by these delicate refined creatures who were struggling for a livelihood in a great city. _alice challice_ "i suppose you are mr. leek, aren't you?" a woman greeted him as he stood vaguely hesitant outside st. george's hall, watching the afternoon audience emerge. he started back, as though the woman with her trace of cockney accent had presented a revolver at his head. he was very much afraid. it may reasonably be asked what he was doing up at st. george's hall. the answer to this most natural question touches the deepest springs of human conduct. there were two men in priam farll. one was the shy man, who had long ago persuaded himself that he actually preferred not to mix with his kind, and had made a virtue of his cowardice. the other was a doggish, devil-may-care fellow who loved dashing adventures and had a perfect passion for free intercourse with the entire human race. no. 2 would often lead no. 1 unsuspectingly forward to a difficult situation from which no. 1, though angry and uncomfortable, could not retire. thus it was no. 2 who with the most casual air had wandered up regent street, drawn by the slender chance of meeting a woman with red roses in her hat; and it was no. 1 who had to pay the penalty. nobody could have been more astonished than no. 2 at the fulfillment of no. 2's secret yearning for novelty. but the innocent sincerity of no. 2's astonishment gave no aid to no. 1. farll raised his hat, and at the same moment perceived the roses. he might have denied the name of leek and fled, but he did not. though his left leg was ready to run, his right leg would not stir. then he was shaking hands with her. but how had she identified him? "i didn't really expect you," said the lady, always with a slight cockney accent. "but i thought how silly it would be for me to miss the vanishing trick just because you couldn't come. so in i went, by myself." "why didn't you expect me?" he asked diffidently. "well," she said, "mr. farll being dead, i knew you'd have a lot to do, besides being upset like." "oh yes," he said quickly, feeling that he must be more careful; for he had quite forgotten that mr. farll was dead. "how did you know?" "how did i know!" she cried. "well, i like that! look anywhere! it's all over london, has been these six hours." she pointed to a ragged man who was wearing an orange-coloured placard by way of apron. on the placard was printed in large black letters: "sudden death of priam farll in london. special memoir." other ragged men, also wearing aprons, but of different colours, similarly proclaimed by their attire that priam farll was dead. and people crowding out of st. george's hall were continually buying newspapers from these middlemen of tidings. he blushed. it was singular that he could have walked even half-an-hour in central london without noticing that his own name flew in the summer breeze of every street. but so it had been. he was that sort of man. now he understood how duncan farll had descended upon selwood terrace. "you don't mean to say you didn't _see_ those posters?" she demanded. "i didn't," he said simply. "that shows how you must have been thinking!" said she. "was he a good master?" "yes, very good," said priam farll with conviction. "i see you're not in mourning." "no. that is----" "i don't hold with mourning myself," she proceeded. "they say it's to show respect. but it seems to me that if you can't show your respect without a pair of black gloves that the dye's always coming off... i don't know what you think, but i never did hold with mourning. it's grumbling against providence, too! not but what i think there's a good deal too much talk about providence. i don't know what you think, but----" "i quite agree with you," he said, with a warm generous smile which sometimes rushed up and transformed his face before he was aware of the occurrence. and she smiled also, gazing at him half confidentially. she was a little woman, stoutish--indeed, stout; puffy red cheeks; a too remarkable white cotton blouse; and a crimson skirt that hung unevenly; grey cotton gloves; a green sunshade; on the top of all this the black hat with red roses. the photograph in leek's pocket-book must have been taken in the past. she looked quite forty-five, whereas the photograph indicated thirty-nine and a fraction. he gazed down at her protectively, with a good-natured appreciative condescension. "i suppose you'll have to be going back again soon, to arrange things like," she said. it was always she who kept the conversation afloat. "no," he said. "i've finished there. they've dismissed me." "who have?" "the relatives." "why?" he shook his head. "i hope you made them pay you your month," said she firmly. he was glad to be able to give a satisfactory answer. after a pause she resumed bravely: "so mr. farll was one of these artists? at least so i see according to the paper." he nodded. "it's a very funny business," she said. "but i suppose there's some of them make quite a nice income out of it. _you_ ought to know about that, being in it, as it were." never in his life had he conversed on such terms with such a person as mrs. alice challice. she was in every way a novelty for him--in clothes, manners, accent, deportment, outlook on the world and on paint. he had heard and read of such beings as mrs. alice challice, and now he was in direct contact with one of them. the whole affair struck him as excessively odd, as a mad escapade on his part. wisdom in him deemed it ridiculous to prolong the encounter, but shy folly could not break loose. moreover she possessed the charm of her novelty; and there was that in her which challenged the male in him. "well," she said, "i suppose we can't stand here for ever!" the crowd had frittered itself away, and an attendant was closing and locking the doors of st. george's hall. he coughed. "it's a pity it's saturday and all the shops closed. but anyhow suppose we walk along oxford street all the same? shall we?" this from her. "by all means." "now there's one thing i should like to say," she murmured with a calm smile as they moved off. "you've no occasion to be shy with me. there's no call for it. i'm just as you see me." "shy!" he exclaimed, genuinely surprised. "do i seem shy to you?" he thought he had been magnificently doggish. "oh, well," she said. "that's all right, then, if you _aren't._ i should take it as a poor compliment, being shy with me. where do you think we can have a good talk? i'm free for the evening. i don't know about you." her eyes questioned his. _no gratuities_ at a late hour, they were entering, side by side, a glittering establishment whose interior seemed to be walled chiefly in bevelled glass, so that everywhere the curious observer saw himself and twisted fractions of himself. the glass was relieved at frequent intervals by elaborate enamelled signs which repeated, 'no gratuities.' it seemed that the directors of the establishment wished to make perfectly clear to visitors that, whatever else they might find, they must on no account expect gratuities. "i've always wanted to come here," said mrs. alice challice vivaciously, glancing up at priam farll's modest, middle-aged face. then, after they had successfully passed through a preliminary pair of bevelled portals, a huge man dressed like a policeman, and achieving a very successful imitation of a policeman, stretched out his hand, and stopped them. "in line, please," he said. "i thought it was a restaurant, not a theatre," priam whispered to mrs. challice. "so it is a restaurant," said his companion. "but i hear they're obliged to do like this because there's always such a crowd. it's very 'andsome, isn't it?" he agreed that it was. he felt that london had got a long way in front of him and that he would have to hurry a great deal before he could catch it up. at length another imitation of a policeman opened more doors and, with other sinners, they were released from purgatory into a clattering paradise, which again offered everything save gratuities. they were conducted to a small table full of dirty plates and empty glasses in a corner of the vast and lofty saloon. a man in evening dress whose eye said, "now mind, no insulting gratuities!" rushed past the table and in one deft amazing gesture swept off the whole of its contents and was gone with them. it was an astounding feat, and when priam recovered from his amazement he fell into another amazement on discovering that by some magic means the man in evening dress had insinuated a gold-charactered menu into his hands. this menu was exceedingly long--it comprised everything except gratuities--and, evidently knowing from experience that it was not a document to be perused and exhausted in five minutes, the man in evening dress took care not to interrupt the studies of priam farll and alice challice during a full quarter of an hour. then he returned like a bolt, put them through an examination in the menu, and fled, and when he was gone they saw that the table was set with a clean cloth and instruments and empty glasses. a band thereupon burst into gay strains, like the band at a music-hall after something very difficult on the horizontal bar. and it played louder and louder; and as it played louder, so the people talked louder. and the crash of cymbals mingled with the crash of plates, and the altercations of knives and forks with the shrill accents of chatterers determined to be heard. and men in evening dress (a costume which seemed to be forbidden to sitters at tables) flitted to and fro with inconceivable rapidity, austere, preoccupied conjurers. and from every marble wall, bevelled mirror, and doric column, there spoke silently but insistently the haunting legend, 'no gratuities.' thus priam farll began his first public meal in modern london. he knew the hotels; he knew the restaurants, of half-a-dozen countries, but he had never been so overwhelmed as he was here. remembering london as a city of wooden chop-houses, he could scarcely eat for the thoughts that surged through his brain. "isn't it amusing?" said mrs. challice benignantly, over a glass of lager. "i'm so glad you brought me here. i've always wanted to come." and then, a few minutes afterwards, she was saying, against the immense din-"you know, i've been thinking for years of getting married again. and if you really _are_ thinking of getting married, what are you to do? you may sit in a chair and wait till eggs are sixpence a dozen, and you'll be no nearer. you must do something. and what is there except a matrimonial agency? i say--what's the matter with a matrimonial agency, anyhow? if you want to get married, you want to get married, and it's no use pretending you don't. i do hate pretending, i do. no shame in wanting to get married, is there? i think a matrimonial agency is a very good, useful thing. they say you're swindled. well, those that are deserve to be. you can be swindled without a matrimonial agency, seems to me. not that i've ever been. plain common-sense people never are. no, if you ask me, matrimonial agencies are the most sensible things--after dress-shields--that's ever been invented. and i'm sure if anything comes of this, i shall pay the fees with the greatest pleasure. now don't you agree with me?" the whole mystery stood explained. "absolutely!" he said. and felt the skin creeping in the small of his back. * * * * * chapter iii _the photograph_ from the moment of mrs. challice's remarks in favour of matrimonial agencies priam farll's existence became a torture to him. she was what he had always been accustomed to think of as "a very decent woman"; but really...! the sentence is not finished because priam never finished it in his own mind. fifty times he conducted the sentence as far as 'really,' and there it dissolved into an uncomfortable cloud. "i suppose we shall have to be going," said she, when her ice had been eaten and his had melted. "yes," said he, and added to himself, "but where?" however, it would be a relief to get out of the restaurant, and he called for the bill. while they were waiting for the bill the situation grew more strained. priam was aware of a desire to fling down sovereigns on the table and rush wildly away. even mrs. challice, vaguely feeling this, had a difficulty in conversing. "you _are_ like your photograph!" she remarked, glancing at his face which--it should be said--had very much changed within half-an-hour. he had a face capable of a hundred expressions per day. his present expression was one of his anxious expressions, medium in degree. it can be figured in the mask of a person who is locked up in an iron strongroom, and, feeling ill at ease, notices that the walls are getting red-hot at the corners. "like my photograph?" he exclaimed, astonished that he should resemble leek's photograph. "yes," she asseverated stoutly. "i knew you at once. especially by the nose." "have you got it here?" he asked, interested to see what portrait of leek had a nose like his own. and she pulled out of her handbag a photograph, not of leek, but of priam farll. it was an unmounted print of a negative which he and leek had taken together for the purposes of a pose in a picture, and it had decidedly a distinguished appearance. but why should leek dispatch photographs of his master to strange ladies introduced through a matrimonial agency? priam farll could not imagine--unless it was from sheer unscrupulous, careless bounce. she gazed at the portrait with obvious joy. "now, candidly, don't _you_ think it's very, very good?" she demanded. "i suppose it is," he agreed. he would probably have given two hundred pounds for the courage to explain to her in a few well-chosen words that there had been a vast mistake, a huge impulsive indiscretion. but two hundred thousand pounds would not have bought that courage. "i love it," she ejaculated fervently--with heat, and yet so nicely! and she returned the photograph to her little bag. she lowered her voice. "you haven't told me whether you were ever married. i've been waiting for that." he blushed. she was disconcertingly personal. "no," he said. "and you've always lived like that, alone like; no home; travelling about; no one to look after you, properly?" there was distress in her voice. he nodded. "one gets accustomed to it." "oh yes," she said. "i can understand that." "no responsibilities," he added. "no. i can understand all that." then she hesitated. "but i do feel so sorry for you... all these years!" and her eyes were moist, and her tone was so sincere that priam farll found it quite remarkably affecting. of course she was talking about henry leek, the humble valet, and not about leek's illustrious master. but priam saw no difference between his lot and that of leek. he felt that there was no essential difference, and that, despite leek's multiple perfections as a valet, he never had been looked after--properly. her voice made him feel just as sorry for himself as she was sorry for him; it made him feel that she had a kind heart, and that a kind heart was the only thing on earth that really mattered. ah! if lady sophia entwistle had spoken to him in such accents...! the bill came. it was so small that he was ashamed to pay it. the suppression of gratuities enabled the monarch of this bevelled palace to offer a complete dinner for about the same price as a thimbleful of tea and ten drachms of cake a few yards away. happily the monarch, foreseeing his shame, had arranged a peculiar method of payment through a little hole, where the receiver could see nothing but his blushing hands. as for the conjurers in evening dress, they apparently never soiled themselves by contact with specie. outside on the pavement, he was at a loss what to do. you see, he was entirely unfamiliar with mrs. challice's code of etiquette. "would you care to go to the alhambra or somewhere?" he suggested, having a notion that this was the correct thing to say to a lady whose presence near you was directly due to her desire for marriage. "it's very good of you," said she. "but i'm sure you only say it out of kindness--because you're a gentleman. it wouldn't be quite nice for you to go to a music-hall to-night. i know i said i was free for the evening, but i wasn't thinking. it wasn't a hint--no, truly! i think i shall go home--and perhaps some other----" "i shall see you home," said he quickly. impulsive, again! "would you really like to? can you?" in the bluish glare of an electricity that made the street whiter than day, she blushed. yes, she blushed like a girl. she led him up a side-street where was a kind of railway station unfamiliar to priam farll's experience, tiled like a butcher's shop and as clean as holland. under her direction he took tickets for a station whose name he had never heard of, and then they passed through steel railings which clacked behind them into a sort of safe deposit, from which the only emergence was a long dim tunnel. painted hands, pointing to the mysterious word 'lifts,' waved you onwards down this tunnel. "hurry up, please," came a voice out of the spectral gloom. mrs. challice thereupon ran. now up the tunnel, opposing all human progress there blew a steady trade-wind of tremendous force. immediately priam began to run the trade-wind removed his hat, which sailed buoyantly back towards the street. he was after it like a youth of twenty, and he recaptured it. but when he reached the extremity of the tunnel his amazed eyes saw nothing but a great cage of human animals pressed tightly together behind bars. there was a click, and the whole cage sank from his sight into the earth. he felt that there was more than he had dreamt of in the city of miracles. in a couple of minutes another cage rose into the tunnel at a different point, vomited its captives and descended swiftly again with priam and many others, and threw him and the rest out into a white mine consisting of numberless galleries. he ran about these interminable galleries underneath london, at the bidding of painted hands, for a considerable time, and occasionally magic trains without engines swept across his vision. but he could not find even the spirit of mrs. alice challice in this nether world. _the nest_ on letter-paper headed "grand babylon hotel, london," he was writing in a disguised backward hand a note to the following effect: "duncan farll, esq. sir,--if any letters or telegrams arrive for me at selwood terrace, be good enough to have them forwarded to me at once to the above address.--yours truly, h. leek." it cost him something to sign the name of the dead man; but he instinctively guessed that duncan farll might be a sieve which (owing to its legal-mindedness) would easily get clogged up even by a slight suspicion. hence, in order to be sure of receiving a possible letter or telegram from mrs. challice, he must openly label himself as henry leek. he had lost mrs. challice; there was no address on her letter; he only knew that she lived at or near putney, and the sole hope of finding her again lay in the fact that she had the selwood terrace address. he wanted to find her again; he desired that ardently, if merely to explain to her that their separation was due to a sudden caprice of his hat, and that he had searched for her everywhere in the mine, anxiously, desperately. she would surely not imagine that he had slipped away from her on purpose? no! and yet, if incapable of such an enormity, why had she not waited for him on one of the platforms? however, he hoped for the best. the best was a telegram; the second-best a letter. on receipt of which he would fly to her to explain.... and besides, he wanted to see her--simply. her answer to his suggestion of a music-hall, and the tone of it, had impressed him. and her remark, "i do feel so sorry for you all these years," had--well, somewhat changed his whole outlook on life. yes, he wanted to see her in order to satisfy himself that he had her respect. a woman impossible socially, a woman with strange habits and tricks of manner (no doubt there were millions such); but a woman whose respect one would not forfeit without a struggle! he had been pushed to an extremity, forced to act with swiftness, upon losing her. and he had done the thing that comes most naturally to a life-long traveller. he had driven to the best hotel in the town. (he had seen in a flash that the idea of inhabiting any private hotel whatever was a silly idea.) and now he was in a large bedroom over-looking the thames--a chamber with a writing-desk, a sofa, five electric lights, two easy-chairs, a telephone, electric bells, and a massive oak door with a lock and a key in the lock; in short, his castle! an enterprise of some daring to storm the castle: but he had stormed it. he had registered under the name of leek, a name sufficiently common not to excite remark, and the floor-valet had proved to be an admirable young man. he trusted to the floor-valet and to the telephone for avoiding any rough contact with the world. he felt comparatively safe now; the entire enormous hotel was a nest for his shyness, a conspiracy to keep him in cotton-wool. he was an autocratic number, absolute ruler over room 331, and with the right to command the almost limitless resources of the grand babylon for his own private ends. as he sealed the envelope he touched a bell. the valet entered. "you've got the evening papers?" asked priam farll. "yes, sir." the valet put a pile of papers respectfully on the desk. "all of them?" "yes, sir." "thanks. well, it's not too late to have a messenger, is it?" "oh _no_, sir." ("'too late' in the grand babylon, oh czar!" said the valet's shocked tone.) "then please get a messenger to take this letter, at once." "in a cab, sir?" "yes, in a cab. i don't know whether there will be an answer. he will see. then let him call at the cloak-room at south kensington station and get my luggage. here's the ticket." "thank you, sir." "i can rely on you to see that he goes at once?" "you can, sir," said the valet, in such accents as carry absolute conviction. "thank you. that will do, i think." the man retired, and the door was closed by an expert in closing doors, one who had devoted his life to the perfection of detail in valetry. _fame_ he lay on the sofa at the foot of the bed, with all illumination extinguished save one crimson-shaded light immediately above him. the evening papers--white, green, rose, cream, and yellow--shared his couch. he was about to glance at the obituaries; to glance at them in a careless, condescending way, just to see the _sort_ of thing that journalists had written of him. he knew the value of obituaries; he had often smiled at them. he knew also the exceeding fatuity of art criticism, which did not cause him even to smile, being simply a bore. he recollected, further, that he was not the first man to read his own obituary; the adventure had happened to others; and he could recall how, on his having heard that owing to an error it had happened to the great so-and-so, he, in his quality of philosopher, had instantly decided what frame of mind the great so-and-so ought to have assumed for the perusal of his biography. he carefully and deliberately adopted that frame of mind now. he thought of marcus aurelius on the futility of fame; he remembered his life-long attitude of gentle, tired scorn for the press; he reflected with wise modesty that in art nothing counts but the work itself, and that no quantity of inept chatter could possibly affect, for good or evil, his value, such as it might be, to the world. then he began to open the papers. the first glimpse of their contents made him jump. in fact, the physical result of it was quite extraordinary. his temperature increased. his heart became audible. his pulse quickened. and there was a tingling as far off as his toes. he had felt, in a dim, unacknowledged way, that he must be a pretty great painter. of course his prices were notorious. and he had guessed, though vaguely, that he was the object of widespread curiosity. but he had never compared himself with titanic figures on the planet. it had always seemed to him that _his_ renown was different from other renowns, less--somehow unreal and make-believe. he had never imaginatively grasped, despite prices and public inquisitiveness, that he too was one of the titanic figures. he grasped it now. the aspect of the papers brought it home to him with tremendous force. special large type! titles stretching across two columns! black borders round the pages! "death of england's greatest painter." "sudden death of priam farll." "sad death of a great genius." "puzzling career prematurely closed." "europe in mourning." "irreparable loss to the world's art." "it is with the most profound regret." "our readers will be shocked." "the news will come as a personal blow to every lover of great painting." so the papers went on, outvying each other in enthusiastic grief. he ceased to be careless and condescending to them. the skin crept along his spine. there he lay, solitary, under the crimson glow, locked in his castle, human, with the outward semblance of a man like other men, and yet the cities of europe were weeping for him. he heard them weeping. every lover of great painting was under a sense of personal bereavement. the very voice of the world was hushed. after all, it was something to have done your best; after all, good stuff _was_ appreciated by the mass of the race. the phenomena presented by the evening papers was certainly prodigious, and prodigiously affecting. mankind was unpleasantly stunned by the report of his decease. he forgot that mrs. challice, for instance, had perfectly succeeded in hiding her grief for the irreparable loss, and that her questions about priam farll had been almost perfunctory. he forgot that he had witnessed absolutely no sign of overwhelming sorrow, or of any degree of sorrow, in the thoroughfares of the teeming capital, and that the hotels did not resound to sobbing. he knew only that all europe was in mourning! "i suppose i was rather wonderful--_am_, i mean"--he said to himself, dazed and happy. yes, happy. "the fact is, i've got so used to my own work that perhaps i don't think enough of it." he said this as modestly as he could. there was no question now of casually glancing at the obituaries. he could not miss a single line, a single word. he even regretted that the details of his life were so few and unimportant. it seemed to him that it was the business of the journalists to have known more, to have displayed more enterprise in acquiring information. still, the tone was right. the fellows meant well, at any rate. his eyes encountered nothing but praise. indeed the press of london had yielded itself up to an encomiastic orgy. his modesty tried to say that this was slightly overdone; but his impartiality asked, "really, what _could_ they say against me?" as a rule unmitigated praise was nauseous but here they were undoubtedly genuine, the fellows; their sentences rang true! never in his life had he been so satisfied with the scheme of the universe! he was nearly consoled for the dissolution of leek. when, after continued reading, he came across a phrase which discreetly insinuated, apropos of the policeman and the penguins, that capriciousness in the choice of subject was perhaps a pose with him, the accusation hurt. "pose!" he inwardly exclaimed. "what a lie! the man's an ass!" and he resented the following remark which concluded a 'special memoir' extremely laudatory in matter and manner, by an expert whose books he had always respected: "however, contemporary judgments are in the large majority of cases notoriously wrong, and it behooves us to remember this in choosing a niche for our idol. time alone can settle the ultimate position of priam farll." useless for his modesty to whisper to him that contemporary judgments _were_ notoriously wrong. he did not like it. it disturbed him. there were exceptions to every rule. and if the connoisseur meant anything at all, he was simply stultifying the rest of the article. time be d----d! he had come nearly to the last line of the last obituary before he was finally ruffled. most of the sheets, in excusing the paucity of biographical detail, had remarked that priam farll was utterly unknown to london society, of a retiring disposition, hating publicity, a recluse, etc. the word "recluse" grated on his sensitiveness a little; but when the least important of the evening papers roundly asserted it to be notorious that he was of extremely eccentric habits, he grew secretly furious. neither his modesty nor his philosophy was influential enough to restore him to complete calm. eccentric! he! what next? eccentric, indeed! now, what conceivable justification------? _the ruling classes_ between a quarter-past and half-past eleven he was seated alone at a small table in the restaurant of the grand babylon. he had had no news of mrs. challice; she had not instantly telegraphed to selwood terrace, as he had wildly hoped. but in the boxes of henry leek, safely retrieved by the messenger from south kensington station, he had discovered one of his old dress-suits, not too old, and this dress-suit he had donned. the desire to move about unknown in the well-clad world, the world of the frequenters of costly hotels, the world to which he was accustomed, had overtaken him. moreover, he felt hungry. hence he had descended to the famous restaurant, whose wide windows were flung open to the illuminated majesty of the thames embankment. the pale cream room was nearly full of expensive women, and expending men, and silver-chained waiters whose skilled, noiseless, inhuman attentions were remunerated at the rate of about four-pence a minute. music, the midnight food of love, floated scarce heard through the tinted atmosphere. it was the best imitation of roman luxury that london could offer, and after selwood terrace and the rackety palace of no gratuities, priam farll enjoyed it as one enjoys home after strange climes. next to his table was an empty table, set for two, to which were presently conducted, with due state, a young man, and a magnificent woman whose youth was slipping off her polished shoulders like a cloak. priam farll then overheard the following conversation:-_man_: well, what are you going to have? _woman_: but look here, little charlie, you can't possibly afford to pay for this! _man_: never said i could. it's the paper that pays. so go ahead. _woman_: is lord nasing so keen as all that? _man_: it isn't lord nasing. it's our brand new editor specially imported from chicago. _woman_: will he last? _man_: he'll last a hundred nights, say as long as the run of your piece. then he'll get six months' screw and the boot. _woman_: how much is six months' screw? _man_: three thousand. _woman_: well, i can hardly earn that myself. _man_: neither can i. but then you see we weren't born in chicago. _woman_: i've been offered a thousand dollars a week to go there, anyhow. _man_: why didn't you tell me that for the interview? i've spent two entire entr'actes in trying to get something interesting out of you, and there you go and keep a thing like that up your sleeve. it's not fair to an old and faithful admirer. i shall stick it in. poulet chasseur? _woman_: oh no! couldn't dream of it. didn't you know i was dieting? nothing saucy. no sugar. no bread. no tea. thanks to that i've lost nearly a stone in six months. you know i _was_ getting enormous. _man_: let me put _that_ in, eh? _woman_: just try, and see what happens to you! _man_: well, shall we say a lettuce salad, and a perrier and soda? i'm dieting, too. _waiter_: lettuce salad, and a perrier and soda? yes, sir. _woman_: you aren't very gay. _man_: gay! you don't know all the yearnings of my soul. don't imagine that because i'm a special of the _record_ i haven't got a soul. _woman_: i suppose you've been reading that book, omar khayyam, that every one's talking about. isn't that what it's called? _man_: has omar khayyam reached the theatrical world? well, there's no doubt the earth does move, after all. _woman_: a little more soda, please. and just a trifle less impudence. what book ought one to be reading, then? _man_: socialism's the thing just now. read wells on socialism. it'll be all over the theatrical world in a few years' time. _woman_: no fear! i can't bear wells. he's always stirring up the dregs. i don't mind froth, but i do draw the line at dregs. what's the band playing? what have you been doing to-day? _is_ this lettuce? no, no! no bread. didn't you hear me tell you? _man_: i've been busy with the priam farll affair. _woman_: priam farll? _man_: yes. painter. _you_ know. _woman_: oh yes. _him_! i saw it on the posters. he's dead, it seems. anything mysterious? _man_: you bet! very odd! frightfully rich, you know! yet he died in a wretched hovel of a place down off the fulham road. and his valet's disappeared. we had the first news of the death, through our arrangement with all the registrars' clerks in london. by the bye, don't give that away--it's our speciality. nasing sent me off at once to write up the story. _woman_: story? _man_: the particulars. we always call it a story in fleet street. _woman_: what a good name! well, did you find out anything interesting? _man_: not very much. i saw his cousin, duncan farll, a money-lending lawyer in clement's lane--he only heard of it because we telephoned to him. but the fellow would scarcely tell me anything at all. _woman_: really! i do hope there's something terrible. _man_: why? _woman_: so that i can go to the inquest or the police court or whatever it is. that's why i always keep friendly with magistrates. it's so frightfully thrilling, sitting on the bench with them. _man_: there won't be any inquest. but there's something queer in it. you see, priam farll was never in england. always abroad; at those foreign hotels, wandering up and down. _woman (after a pause)_: i know. _man_: what do you know? _woman_: will you promise not to chatter? _man_: yes. _woman_: i met him once at an hotel at ostend. he--well, he wanted most tremendously to paint my portrait. but i wouldn't let him. _man_: why not? _woman_: if you knew what sort of man he was you wouldn't ask. _man_: oh! but look here, i say! you must let me use that in my story. tell me all about it. _woman_: not for worlds. _man_: he--he made up to you? _woman_: rather! _priam farll (to himself)_: what a barefaced lie! never was at ostend in my life. _man_: can't i use it if i don't print your name--just say a distinguished actress. _woman_: oh yes, you can do _that_. you might say, of the musical comedy stage. _man_: i will. i'll run something together. trust me. thanks awfully. at this point a young and emaciated priest passed up the room. _woman_: oh! father luke, is that you? do come and sit here and be nice. this is father luke widgery--mr. docksey, of the _record_. _man_: delighted. _priest_: delighted. _woman_: now, father luke, i've just _got_ to come to your sermon to-morrow. what's it about? _priest_: modern vice. _woman_: how charming! i read the last one--it was lovely. _priest_: unless you have a ticket you'll never be able to get in. _woman_: but i must get in. i'll come to the vestry door, if there is a vestry door at st. bede's. _priest_: it's impossible. you've no idea of the crush. and i've no favourites. _woman_: oh yes, you have! you have me. _priest_: in my church, fashionable women must take their chance with the rest. _woman_: how horrid you are. _priest_: perhaps. i may tell you, miss cohenson, that i've seen two duchesses standing at the back of the aisle of st. bede's, and glad to be. _woman_: but _i_ shan't flatter you by standing at the back of your aisle, and you needn't think it. haven't i given you a box before now? _priest_: i only accepted the box as a matter of duty; it is part of my duty to go everywhere. _man_: come with me, miss cohenson. i've got two tickets for the _record_. _woman_: oh, so you do send seats to the press? _priest_: the press is different. waiter, bring me half a bottle of heidsieck. _waiter_: half a bottle of heidsieck? yes, sir. _woman_: heidsieck. well, i like that. _we're_ dieting. _priest: i_ don't like heidsieck. but i'm dieting too. it's my doctor's orders. every night before retiring. it appears that my system needs it. maria lady rowndell insists on giving me a hundred a year to pay for it. it is her own beautiful way of helping the good cause. ice, please, waiter. i've just been seeing her to-night. she's staying here for the season. saves her a lot of trouble. she's very much cut up about the death of priam farll, poor thing! so artistic, you know! the late lord rowndell had what is supposed to be the finest lot of farlls in england. _man_: did you ever meet priam farll, father luke? _priest_: never. i understand he was most eccentric. i hate eccentricity. i once wrote to him to ask him if he would paint a holy family for st. bede's. _man_: and what did he reply? _priest_: he didn't reply. considering that he wasn't even an r.a., i don't think that it was quite nice of him. however, maria lady rowndell insists that he must be buried in westminster abbey. she asked me what i could do. _woman_: buried in westminster abbey! i'd no idea he was so big as all that! gracious! _priest_: i have the greatest confidence in maria lady rowndell's taste, and certainly i bear no grudge. i may be able to arrange something. my uncle the dean---_man_: pardon me. i always understood that since you left the church---_priest_: since i joined the church, you mean. there is but one. _man_: church of england, i meant. _priest_: ah! _man_: since you left the church of england, there had been a breach between the dean and yourself. _priest_: merely religious. besides my sister is the dean's favourite niece. and i am her favourite brother. my sister takes much interest in art. she has just painted a really exquisite tea-cosy for me. of course the dean ultimately settles these questions of national funerals, hence... at this point the invisible orchestra began to play "god save the king." _woman_: oh! what a bore! then nearly all the lights were extinguished. _waiter_: please, gentlemen! gentlemen, please! _priest_: you quite understand, mr. docksey, that i merely gave these family details in order to substantiate my statement that i may be able to arrange something. by the way, if you would care to have a typescript of my sermon to-morrow for the _record_, you can have one by applying at the vestry. _waiter_: please, gentlemen! _man_: so good of you. as regards the burial in westminster abbey, i think that the _record_ will support the project. i say i _think_. _priest_: maria lady rowndell will be grateful. five-sixths of the remaining lights went out, and the entire company followed them. in the foyer there was a prodigious crush of opera cloaks, silk hats, and cigars, all jostling together. news arrived from the strand that the weather had turned to rain, and all the intellect of the grand babylon was centred upon the british climate, exactly as if the british climate had been the latest discovery of science. as the doors swung to and fro, the stridency of whistles, the throbbing of motor-cars, and the hoarse cries of inhabitants of box seats mingled strangely with the delicate babble of the interior. then, lo! as by magic, the foyer was empty save for the denizens of the hotel who could produce evidence of identity. it had been proved to demonstration, for the sixth time that week, that in the metropolis of the greatest of empires there is not one law for the rich and another for the poor. deeply affected by what he had overheard, priam farll rose in a lift and sought his bed. he perceived clearly that he had been among the governing classes of the realm. * * * * * chapter iv _a scoop_ within less than twelve hours after that conversation between members of the governing classes at the grand babylon hotel, priam farll heard the first deep-throated echoes of the voice of england on the question of his funeral. the voice of england issued on this occasion through the mouth of the _sunday news_, a newspaper which belonged to lord nasing, the proprietor of the _daily record_. there was a column in the _sunday news_, partly concerning the meeting of priam farll and a celebrated star of the musical comedy stage at ostend. there was also a leading article, in which it was made perfectly clear that england would stand ashamed among the nations, if she did not inter her greatest painter in westminster abbey. only the article, instead of saying westminster abbey, said national valhalla. it seemed to make a point of not mentioning westminster abbey by name, as though westminster abbey had been something not quite mentionable, such as a pair of trousers. the article ended with the word 'basilica,' and by the time you had reached this majestic substantive, you felt indeed, with the _sunday news_, that a national valhalla without the remains of a priam farll inside it, would be shocking, if not inconceivable. priam farll was extremely disturbed. on monday morning the _daily record_ came nobly to the support of the _sunday news_. it had evidently spent its sunday in collecting the opinions of a number of famous men--including three m.p.'s, a banker, a colonial premier, a k.c., a cricketer, and the president of the royal academy--as to whether the national valhalla was or was not a suitable place for the repose of the remains of priam farll; and the unanimous reply was in the affirmative. other newspapers expressed the same view. but there were opponents of the scheme. some organs coldly inquired what priam farll had _done_ for england, and particularly for the higher life of england. he had not been a moral painter like hogarth or sir noel paton, nor a worshipper of classic legend and beauty like the unique leighton. he had openly scorned england. he had never lived in england. he had avoided the royal academy, honouring every country save his own. and was he such a great painter, after all? was he anything but a clever dauber whose work had been forced into general admiration by the efforts of a small clique of eccentric admirers? far be it from them, the organs, to decry a dead man, but the national valhalla was the national valhalla.... and so on. the penny evening papers were pro-farll, one of them furiously so. you gathered that if priam farll was not buried in westminster abbey the penny evening papers would, from mere disgust, wipe their boots on dover cliffs and quit england eternally for some land where art was understood. you gathered, by nightfall, that fleet street must be a scene of carnage, full of enthusiasts cutting each other's throats for the sake of the honour of art. however, no abnormal phenomenon was superficially observable in fleet street; nor was martial law proclaimed at the arts club in dover street. london was impassioned by the question of farll's funeral; a few hours would decide if england was to be shamed among the nations: and yet the town seemed to pursue its jog-trot way exactly as usual. the gaiety theatre performed its celebrated nightly musical comedy, "house full"; and at queen's hall quite a large audience was collected to listen to a violinist aged twelve, who played like a man, though a little one, and whose services had been bought for seven years by a limited company. the next morning the controversy was settled by one of the _daily record's_ characteristic 'scoops.' in the nature of the case, such controversies, if they are not settled quickly, settle themselves quickly; they cannot be prolonged. but it was the _daily record_ that settled this one. the _daily record_ came out with a copy of the will of priam farll, in which, after leaving a pound a week for life to his valet, henry leek, priam farll bequeathed the remainder of his fortune to the nation for the building and up-keep of a gallery of great masters. priam farll's own collection of great masters, gradually made by him in that inexpensive manner which is possible only to the finest connoisseurs, was to form the nucleus of the gallery. it comprised, said the _record_, several rembrandts, a velasquez, six vermeers, a giorgione, a turner, a charles, two cromes, a holbein. (after charles the _record_ put a note of interrogation, itself being uncertain of the name.) the pictures were in paris--had been for many years. the leading idea of the gallery was that nothing not absolutely first-class should be admitted to it. the testator attached two conditions to the bequest. one was that his own name should be inscribed nowhere in the building, and the other was that none of his own pictures should be admitted to the gallery. was not this sublime? was not this true british pride? was not this magnificently unlike the ordinary benefactor of his country? the _record_ was in a position to assert that priam farll's estate would amount to about a hundred and forty thousand pounds, in addition to the value of the pictures. after that, was anybody going to argue that he ought not to be buried in the national valhalla, a philanthropist so royal and so proudly meek? the opposition gave up. priam farll grew more and more disturbed in his fortress at the grand babylon hotel. he perfectly remembered making the will. he had made it about seventeen years before, after some champagne in venice, in an hour of anger against some english criticisms of his work. yes, english criticisms! it was his vanity that had prompted him to reply in that manner. moreover, he was quite young then. he remembered the youthful glee with which he had appointed his next-of-kin, whoever they might be, executors and trustees of the will. he remembered his cruel joy in picturing their disgust at being compelled to carry out the terms of such a will. often, since, he had meant to destroy the will; but carelessly he had always omitted to do so. and his collection and his fortune had continued to increase regularly and mightily, and now--well, there the thing was! duncan farll had found the will. and duncan farll would be the executor and trustee of that melodramatic testament. he could not help smiling, serious as the situation was. during that day the thing was settled; the authorities spoke; the word went forth. priam farll was to be buried in westminster abbey on the thursday. the dignity of england among artistic nations had been saved, partly by the heroic efforts of the _daily record_, and partly by the will, which proved that after all priam farll had had the highest interests of his country at heart. _cowardice_ on the night between tuesday and wednesday priam farll had not a moment of sleep. whether it was the deep-throated voice of england that had spoken, or merely the voice of the dean's favourite niece--so skilled in painting tea-cosies--the affair was excessively serious. for the nation was preparing to inter in the national valhalla the remains of just henry leek! priam's mind had often a sardonic turn; he was assuredly capable of strange caprices: but even he could not permit an error so gigantic to continue. the matter must be rectified, and instantly! and he alone could rectify it. the strain on his shyness would be awful, would be scarcely endurable. nevertheless he must act. quite apart from other considerations, there was the consideration of that hundred and forty thousand pounds, which was his, and which he had not the slightest desire to leave to the british nation. and as for giving his beloved pictures to the race which adored landseer, edwin long, and leighton-the idea nauseated him. he must go and see duncan farll! and explain! yes, explain that he was not dead. then he had a vision of duncan farll's hard, stupid face, and impenetrable steel head; and of himself being kicked out of the house, or delivered over to a policeman, or in some subtler way unimaginably insulted. could he confront duncan farll? was a hundred and forty thousand pounds and the dignity of the british nation worth the bearding of duncan farll? no! his distaste for duncan farll amounted to more than a hundred and forty millions of pounds and the dignity of whole planets. he felt that he could never bring himself to meet duncan farll. why, duncan might shove him into a lunatic asylum, might...! still he must act. then it was that occurred to him the brilliant notion of making a clean breast of it to the dean. he had not the pleasure of the dean's personal acquaintance. the dean was an abstraction; certainly much more abstract than priam farll. he thought he could meet the dean. a terrific enterprise, but he must accomplish it! after all, a dean--what was it? nothing but a man with a funny hat! and was not he himself priam farll, the authentic priam farll, vastly greater than any dean? he told the valet to buy black gloves, and a silk hat, sized seven and a quarter, and to bring up a copy of _who's who_. he hoped the valet would be dilatory in executing these commands. but the valet seemed to fulfill them by magic. time flew so fast that (in a way of speaking) you could hardly see the fingers as they whirled round the clock. and almost before he knew where he was, two commissionaires were helping him into an auto-cab, and the terrific enterprise had begun. the auto-cab would easily have won the race for the gordon bennett cup. it was of about two hundred h.p., and it arrived in dean's yard in less time than a fluent speaker would take to say jack robinson. the rapidity of the flight was simply incredible. "i'll keep you," priam farll was going to say, as he descended, but he thought it would be more final to dismiss the machine; so he dismissed it. he rang the bell with frantic haste, lest he should run away ere he had rung it. and then his heart went thumping, and the perspiration damped the lovely lining of his new hat; and his legs trembled, literally! he was in hell on the dean's doorstep. the door was opened by a man in livery of prelatical black, who eyed him inimically. "er----" stammered priam farll, utterly flustered and craven. "is this mr. parker's?" now parker was not the dean's name, and priam knew that it was not. parker was merely the first name that had come into priam's cowardly head. "no, it isn't," said the flunkey with censorious lips. "it's the dean's." "oh, i beg pardon," said priam farll. "i thought it was mr. parker's." and he departed. between the ringing of the bell and the flunkey's appearance, he had clearly seen what he was capable, and what he was incapable, of doing. and the correction of england's error was among his incapacities. he could not face the dean. he could not face any one. he was a poltroon in all these things; a poltroon. no use arguing! he could not do it. "i thought it was mr. parker's!" good heavens! to what depths can a great artist fall. that evening he received a cold letter from duncan farll, with a nave-ticket for the funeral. duncan farll did not venture to be sure that mr. henry leek would think proper to attend his master's interment; but he enclosed a ticket. he also stated that the pound a week would be paid to him in due course. lastly he stated that several newspaper representatives had demanded mr. henry leek's address, but he had not thought fit to gratify this curiosity. priam was glad of that. "well, i'm dashed!" he reflected, handling the ticket for the nave. there it was, large, glossy, real as life. _in the valhalla_ in the vast nave there were relatively few people--that is to say, a few hundred, who had sufficient room to move easily to and fro under the eyes of officials. priam farll had been admitted through the cloisters, according to the direction printed on the ticket. in his nervous fancy, he imagined that everybody must be gazing at him suspiciously, but the fact was that he occupied the attention of no one at all. he was with the unprivileged, on the wrong side of the massive screen which separated the nave from the packed choir and transepts, and the unprivileged are never interested in themselves; it is the privileged who interest them. the organ was wafting a melody of purcell to the furthest limits of the abbey. round a roped space a few ecclesiastical uniforms kept watch over the ground that would be the tomb. the sunlight of noon beat and quivered in long lances through crimson and blue windows. then the functionaries began to form an aisle among the spectators, and emotion grew tenser. the organ was silent for a moment, and when it recommenced its song the song was the supreme expression of human grief, the dirge of chopin, wrapping the whole cathedral in heavy folds of sorrow. and as that appeal expired in the pulsating air, the fresh voices of little boys, sweeter even than grief, rose in the distance. it was at this point that priam farll descried lady sophia entwistle, a tall, veiled figure, in full mourning. she had come among the comparatively unprivileged to his funeral. doubtless influence such as hers could have obtained her a seat in the transept, but she had preferred the secluded humility of the nave. she had come from paris for his funeral. she was weeping for her affianced. she stood there, actually within ten yards of him. she had not caught sight of him, but she might do so at any moment, and she was slowly approaching the spot where he trembled. he fled, with nothing in his heart but resentment against her. she had not proposed to him; he had proposed to her. she had not thrown him aside; he had thrown her aside. he was not one of her mistakes; she was one of his mistakes. not she, but he, had been capricious, impulsive, hasty. yet he hated her. he genuinely thought she had sinned against him, and that she ought to be exterminated. he condemned her for all manner of things as to which she had had no choice: for instance, the irregularity of her teeth, and the hollow under her chin, and the little tricks of deportment which are always developed by a spinster as she reaches forty. he fled in terror of her. if she should have a glimpse of him, and should recognize him, the consequence would be absolutely disastrous--disastrous in every way; and a period of publicity would dawn for him such as he could not possibly contemplate either in cold blood or warm. he fled blindly, insinuating himself through the crowd, until he reached a grille in which was a gate, ajar. his strange stare must have affrighted the guardian of the gate, for the robed fellow stood away, and priam passed within the grille, where were winding steps, which he mounted. up the steps ran coils of fire-hose. he heard the click of the gate as the attendant shut it, and he was thankful for an escape. the steps led to the organ-loft, perched on the top of the massive screen. the organist was seated behind a half-drawn curtain, under shaded electric lights, and on the ample platform whose parapet overlooked the choir were two young men who whispered with the organist. none of the three even glanced at priam. priam sat down on a windsor chair fearfully, like an intruder, his face towards the choir. the whispers ceased; the organist's fingers began to move over five rows of notes, and over scores of stops, while his feet groped beneath, and priam heard music, afar off. and close behind him he heard rumblings, steamy vibrations, and, as it were, sudden escapes of gas; and comprehended that these were the hoarse responses of the 32 and 64 foot pipes, laid horizontally along the roof of the screen, to the summoning fingers of the organist. it was all uncanny, weird, supernatural, demoniacal if you will--it was part of the secret and unsuspected mechanism of a vast emotional pageant and spectacle. it unnerved priam, especially when the organist, a handsome youngish man with lustrous eyes, half turned and winked at one of his companions. the thrilling voices of the choristers grew louder, and as they grew louder priam farll was conscious of unaccustomed phenomena in his throat, which shut and opened of itself convulsively. to divert his attention from his throat, he partially rose from the windsor chair, and peeped over the parapet of the screen into the choir, whose depths were candlelit and whose altitudes were capriciously bathed by the intermittent splendours of the sun. high, high up, in front of him, at the summit of a precipice of stone, a little window, out of the sunshine, burned sullenly in a gloom of complicated perspectives. and far below, stretched round the pulpit and disappearing among the forest of statuary in the transept, was a floor consisting of the heads of the privileged--famous, renowned, notorious, by heredity, talent, enterprise, or hazard; he had read many of their names in the _daily telegraph_. the voices of the choristers had become piercing in their beauty. priam frankly stood up, and leaned over the parapet. every gaze was turned to a point under him which he could not see. and then something swayed from beneath into the field of his vision. it was a tall cross borne by a beadle. in the wake of the cross there came to view gorgeous ecclesiastics in pairs, and then a robed man walking backwards and gesticulating in the manner of some important, excited official of the salvation army; and after this violet robe arrived the scarlet choristers, singing to the beat of his gesture. and then swung into view the coffin, covered with a heavy purple pall, and on the pall a single white cross; and the pall-bearers--great european names that had hurried out of the corners of europe as at a peremptory mandate-with duncan farll to complete the tale! was it the coffin, or the richness of its pall, or the solitary whiteness of its cross of flowers, or the august authority of the bearers, that affected priam farll like a blow on the heart? who knows? but the fact was that he could look no more; the scene was too much for him. had he continued to look he would have burst uncontrollably into tears. it mattered not that the corpse of a common rascally valet lay under that pall; it mattered not that a grotesque error was being enacted; it mattered not whether the actuating spring of the immense affair was the dean's water-colouring niece or the solemn deliberations of the chapter; it mattered not that newspapers had ignobly misused the name and honour of art for their own advancement--the instant effect was overwhelmingly impressive. all that had been honest and sincere in the heart of england for a thousand years leapt mystically up and made it impossible that the effect should be other than overwhelmingly impressive. it was an effect beyond argument and reason; it was the magic flowering of centuries in a single moment, the silent awful sigh of a nation's saecular soul. it took majesty and loveliness from the walls around it, and rendered them again tenfold. it left nothing common, neither the motives nor the littleness of men. in priam's mind it gave dignity to lady sophia entwistle, and profound tragedy to the death of leek; it transformed even the gestures of the choir-leader into grave commands. and all that was for him! he had brushed pigments on to cloth in a way of his own, nothing more, and the nation to which he had always denied artistic perceptions, the nation which he had always fiercely accused of sentimentality, was thus solemnizing his committal to the earth! divine mystery of art! the large magnificence of england smote him! he had not suspected his own greatness, nor england's. the music ceased. he chanced to look up at the little glooming window, perched out of reach of mankind. and the thought that the window had burned there, patiently and unexpectantly, for hundreds of years, like an anchorite above the river and town, somehow disturbed him so that he could not continue to look at it. ineffable sadness of a mere window! and his eye fell--fell on the coffin of henry leek with its white cross, and the representative of england's majesty standing beside it. and there was the end of priam farll's self-control. a pang like a pang of parturition itself seized him, and an issuing sob nearly ripped him in two. it was a loud sob, undisguised, unashamed, reverberating. other sobs succeeded it. priam farll was in torture. _a new hat_ the organist vaulted over his seat, shocked by the outrage. "you really mustn't make that noise," whispered the organist. priam farll shook him off. the organist was apparently at a loss what to do. "who is it?" whispered one of the young men. "don't know him from adam!" said the organist with conviction, and then to priam farll: "who are you? you've no right to be here. who gave you permission to come up here?" and the rending sobs continued to issue from the full-bodied ridiculous man of fifty, utterly careless of decorum. "it's perfectly absurd!" whispered the youngster who had whispered before. there had been a silence in the choir. "here! they're waiting for you!" whispered the other young man excitedly to the organist. "by----!" whispered the alarmed organist, not stopping to say by what, but leaping like an acrobat back to his seat. his fingers and boots were at work instantly, and as he played he turned his head and whispered-"better fetch some one." one of the young men crept quickly and creakingly down the stairs. fortunately the organ and choristers were now combined to overcome the sobbing, and they succeeded. presently a powerful arm, hidden under a black cassock, was laid on priam's shoulder. he hysterically tried to free himself, but he could not. the cassock and the two young men thrust him downwards. they all descended together, partly walking and partly falling. and then a door was opened, and priam discovered himself in the unroofed air of the cloisters, without his hat, and breathing in gasps. his executioners were also breathing in gasps. they glared at him in triumphant menace, as though they had done something, which indeed they had, and as though they meant to do something more but could not quite decide what. "where's your ticket of admission?" demanded the cassock. priam fumbled for it, and could not find it. "i must have lost it," he said weakly. "what's your name, anyhow?" "priam farll," said priam farll, without thinking. "off his nut, evidently!" murmured one of the young men contemptuously. "come on, stan. don't let's miss that anthem, for this cuss." and off they both went. then a youthful policeman appeared, putting on his helmet as he quitted the fane. "what's all this?" asked the policeman, in the assured tone of one who had the forces of the empire behind him. "he's been making a disturbance in the horgan loft," said the cassock, "and now he says his name's priam farll." "oh!" said the policeman. "ho! and how did he get into the organ loft?" "don't arsk me," answered the cassock. "he ain't got no ticket." "now then, out of it!" said the policeman, taking zealously hold of priam. "i'll thank you to leave me alone," said priam, rebelling with all the pride of his nature against this clutch of the law. "oh, you will, will you?" said the policeman. "we'll see about that. we shall just see about that." and the policeman dragged priam along the cloister to the muffled music of "he will swallow up death in victory." they had not thus proceeded very far when they met another policeman, an older policeman. "what's all this?" demanded the older policeman. "drunk and disorderly in the abbey!" said the younger. "will you come quietly?" the older policeman asked priam, with a touch of commiseration. "i'm not drunk," said priam fiercely; he was unversed in london, and unaware of the foolishness of reasoning with the watch-dogs of justice. "will you come quietly?" the older policeman repeated, this time without any touch of commiseration. "yes," said priam. and he went quietly. experience may teach with the rapidity of lightning. "but where's my hat?" he added after a moment, instinctively stopping. "now then!" said the older policeman. "come _on_." he walked between them, striding. just as they emerged into dean's yard, his left hand nervously exploring one of his pockets, on a sudden encountered a piece of cardboard. "here's my ticket," he said. "i thought i'd lost it. i've had nothing at all to drink, and you'd better let me go. the whole affair's a mistake." the procession halted, while the older policeman gazed fascinated at the official document. "henry leek," he read, deciphering the name. "he's been a-telling every one as he's priam farll," grumbled the younger policeman, looking over the other's shoulder. "i've done no such thing," said priam promptly. the elder carefully inspected the prisoner, and two little boys arrived and formed a crowd, which was immediately dispersed by a frown. "he don't look as if he'd had 'ardly as much drink as 'ud wash a bus, does he?" murmured the elder critically. the younger, afraid of his senior, said nothing. "look here, mr. henry leek," the elder proceeded, "do you know what i should do if i was you? i should go and buy myself a new hat, if i was you, and quick too!" priam hastened away, and heard the senior say to the junior, "he's a toff, that's what he is, and you're a fool. have you forgotten as you're on point duty?" and such is the effect of a suggestion given under certain circumstances by a man of authority, that priam farll went straight along victoria street and at sowter's famous one-price hat-shop did in fact buy himself a new hat. he then hailed a taximeter from the stand opposite the army and navy stores, and curtly gave the address of the grand babylon hotel. and when the cab was fairly at speed, and not before, he abandoned himself to a fit of candid, unrestrained cursing. he cursed largely and variously and shamelessly both in english and in french. and he did not cease cursing. it was a reaction which i do not care to characterize; but i will not conceal that it occurred. the fit spent itself before he reached the hotel, for most of parliament street was blocked for the spectacular purposes of his funeral, and his driver had to seek devious ways. the cursing over, he began to smooth his plumes in detail. at the hotel, out of sheer nervousness, he gave the cabman half-a-crown, which was preposterous. another cab drove up nearly at the exact instant of his arrival. and, as a capping to the day, mrs. alice challice stepped out of it. * * * * * chapter v _alice on hotels_ she was wearing the same red roses. "oh!" she said, very quickly, pouring out the words generously from the inexhaustible mine of her good heart. "i'm so sorry i missed you saturday night. i can't tell you how sorry i am. of course it was all my fault. i oughtn't to have got into the lift without you. i ought to have waited. when i was in the lift i wanted to get out, but the lift-man was too quick for me. and then on the platforms--well, there was such a crowd it was useless! i knew it was useless. and you not having my address either! i wondered whatever you would think of me." "my dear lady!" he protested. "i can assure you i blamed only myself. my hat blew off, and----" "did it now!" she took him up breathlessly. "well, all i want you to understand really is that i'm not one of those silly sort of women that go losing themselves. no. such a thing's never happened to me before, and i shall take good care----" she glanced round. he had paid both the cabmen, who were departing, and he and mrs. alice challice stood under the immense glass portico of the grand babylon, exposed to the raking stare of two commissionaires. "so you _are_ staying here!" she said, as if laying hold of a fact which she had hitherto hesitated to touch. "yes," he said. "won't you come in?" he took her into the rich gloom of the grand babylon dashingly, fighting against the demon of shyness and beating it off with great loss. they sat down in a corner of the principal foyer, where a few electric lights drew attention to empty fauteuils and the blossoms on the aubusson carpet. the world was at lunch. "and a fine time i had getting your address!" said she. "of course i wrote at once to selwood terrace, as soon as i got home, but i had the wrong number, somehow, and i kept waiting and waiting for an answer, and the only answer i received was the returned letter. i knew i'd got the street right, and i said, 'i'll find that house if i have to ring every bell in selwood terrace, yes', and knock every knocker!' well, i did find it, and then they wouldn't _give_ me your address. they said 'letters would be forwarded,' if you please. but i wasn't going to have any more letter business, no thank you! so i said i wouldn't go without the address. it was mr. duncan farll's clerk that i saw. he's living there for the time being. a very nice young man. we got quite friendly. it seems mr. duncan farll _was_ in a state when he found the will. the young man did say that he broke a typewriter all to pieces. but the funeral being in westminster abbey consoled him. it wouldn't have consoled me--no, not it! however, he's very rich himself, so that doesn't matter. the young man said if i'd call again he'd ask his master if he might give me your address. a rare fuss over an address, thought i to myself. but there! lawyers! so i called again, and he gave it me. i could have come yesterday. i very nearly wrote last night. but i thought on the whole i'd better wait till the funeral was over. i thought it would be nicer. it's over now, i suppose?" "yes," said priam farll. she smiled at him with grave sympathy, comfortably and sensibly. "and right down relieved you must be!" she murmured. "it must have been very trying for you." "in a way," he answered hesitatingly, "it was." taking off her gloves, she glanced round about her, as a thief must glance before opening the door, and then, leaning suddenly towards him, she put her hands to his neck and touched his collar. "no, no!" she said. "let me do it. i can do it. there's no one looking. it's unbuttoned; the necktie was holding it in place, but it's got quite loose now. there! i can do it. i see you've got two funny moles on your neck, close together. how lucky! that's it!" a final pat! now, no woman had ever patted priam farll's necktie before, much less buttoned his collar, and still much less referred to the two little moles, one hirsute, the other hairless, which the collar hid--when it was properly buttoned! the experience was startling for him in the extreme. it might have made him very angry, had the hands of mrs. challice not been--well, nurse's hands, soft hands, persuasive hands, hands that could practise impossible audacities with impunity. imagine a woman, uninvited and unpermitted, arranging his collar and necktie for him in the largest public room of the grand babylon, and then talking about his little moles! it would have been unimaginable! yet it happened. and moreover, he had not disliked it. she sat back in her chair as though she had done nothing in the least degree unusual. "i can see you must have been very upset," she said gently, "though he _has_ only left you a pound a week. still, that's better than a bat in the eye with a burnt stick." a bat in the eye with a burnt stick reminded him vaguely of encounters with the police; otherwise it conveyed no meaning to his mind. "i hope you haven't got to go on duty at once," she said after a pause. "because you really do look as if you needed a rest, and a cup of tea or something of that, i'm quite ashamed to have come bothering you so soon." "duty?" he questioned. "what duty?" "why," she exclaimed, "haven't you got a new place?" "new place!" he repeated after. "what do you mean?" "why, as valet." there was certainly danger in his tendency to forget that he was a valet. he collected himself. "no," he said, "i haven't got a new place." "then why are you staying here?" she cried. "i thought you were simply here with a new master, why are you staying here alone?" "oh," he replied, abashed, "it seemed a convenient place. it was just by chance that i came here." "convenient place indeed!" she said stoutly. "i never heard of such a thing!" he perceived that he had shocked her, pained her. he saw that some ingenious defence of himself was required; but he could find none. so he said, in his confusion-"suppose we go and have something to eat? i do want a bit of lunch, as you say, now i come to think of it. will you?" "what? here?" she demanded apprehensively. "yes," he said. "why not?" "well--!" "come along!" he said, with fine casualness, and conducted her to the eight swinging glass doors that led to the _salle à manger_ of the grand babylon. at each pair of doors was a living statue of dignity in cloth of gold. she passed these statues without a sign of fear, but when she saw the room itself, steeped in a supra-genteel calm, full of gowns and hats and everything that you read about in the _lady's pictorial,_ and the pennoned mast of a barge crossing the windows at the other end, she stopped suddenly. and one of the lord mayors of the grand babylon, wearing a mayoral chain, who had started out to meet them, stopped also. "no!" she said. "i don't feel as if i could eat here. i really couldn't." "but why?" "well," she said, "i couldn't fancy it somehow. can't we go somewhere else?" "certainly we can," he agreed with an eagerness that was more than polite. she thanked him with another of her comfortable, sensible smiles--a smile that took all embarrassment out of the dilemma, as balm will take irritation from a wound. and gently she removed her hat and gown, and her gestures and speech, and her comfortableness, from those august precincts. and they descended to the grill-room, which was relatively noisy, and where her roses were less conspicuous than the helmet of navarre, and her frock found its sisters and cousins from far lands. "i'm not much for these restaurants," she said, over grilled kidneys. "no?" he responded tentatively. "i'm sorry. i thought the other night----" "oh yes," she broke in, "i was very glad to go, the other night, to that place, very glad. but, you see, i'd never been in a restaurant before." "really?" "no," she said, "and i felt as if i should like to try one. and the young lady at the post office had told me that _that_ one was a splendid one. so it is. it's beautiful. but of course they ought to be ashamed to offer you such food. now do you remember that sole? sole! it was no more sole than this glove's sole. and if it had been cooked a minute, it had been cooked an hour, and waiting. and then look at the prices. oh yes, i couldn't help seeing the bill." "i thought it was awfully cheap," said he. "well, _i_ didn't!" said she. "when you think that a good housekeeper can keep everything going on ten shillings a head a _week_.... why, it's simply scandalous! and i suppose this place is even dearer?" he avoided the question. "this is a better place altogether," he said. "in fact, i don't know many places in europe where one can eat better than one does here." "don't you?" she said indulgently, as if saying, "well, i know one, at any rate." "they say," he continued, "that there is no butter used in this place that costs less than three shillings a pound." "_no_ butter costs them three shillings a pound," said she. "not in london," said he. "they have it from paris." "and do you believe that?" she asked. "yes," he said. "well, i don't. any one that pays more than one-and-nine a pound for butter, _at the most_, is a fool, if you'll excuse me saying the word. not but what this is good butter. i couldn't get as good in putney for less than eighteen pence." she made him feel like a child who has a great deal to pick up from a kindly but firm sister. "no, thank you," she said, a little dryly, to the waiter who proffered a further supply of chip potatoes. "now don't say they're cold," priam laughed. and she laughed also. "shall i tell you one thing that puts me against these restaurants?" she went on. "it's the feeling you have that you don't know where the food's _been_. when you've got your kitchen close to your dining-room and you can keep an eye on the stuff from the moment the cart brings it, well, then, you do know a bit where you are. and you can have your dishes served hot. it stands to reason," she said. "where is the kitchen here?" "somewhere down below," he replied apologetically. "a cellar kitchen!" she exclaimed. "why, in putney they simply can't let houses with cellar kitchens. no! no restaurants and hotels for me--not for _choice_--that is, regularly." "still," he said, with a judicial air, "hotels are very convenient." "are they?" she said, meaning, "prove it." "for instance, here, there's a telephone in every room." "you don't mean in the bedrooms?" "yes, in every bedroom." "well," she said, "you wouldn't catch me having a telephone in my bedroom. i should never sleep if i knew there was a telephone in the room! fancy being forced to telephone every time you want--well! i and how is one to know who there is at the other end of the telephone? no, i don't like that. all that's all very well for gentlemen that haven't been used to what i call _com_fort in a way of speaking. but----" he saw that if he persisted, nothing soon would be left of that noble pile, the grand babylon hotel, save a heap of ruins. and, further, she genuinely did cause him to feel that throughout his career he had always missed the very best things of life, through being an uncherished, ingenuous, easily satisfied man. a new sensation for him! for if any male in europe believed in his own capacity to make others make him comfortable priam farll was that male. "i've never been in putney," he ventured, on a new track. _difficulty of truth-telling_ as she informed him, with an ungrudging particularity, about putney, and her life at putney, there gradually arose in his brain a vision of a kind of existence such as he had never encountered. putney had clearly the advantages of a residential town in a magnificent situation. it lay on the slope of a hill whose foot was washed by a glorious stream entitled the thames, its breast covered with picturesque barges and ornamental rowing boats; an arched bridge spanned this stream, and you went over the bridge in milk-white omnibuses to london. putney had a street of handsome shops, a purely business street; no one slept there now because of the noise of motors; at eventide the street glittered in its own splendours. there were theatre, music-hall, assembly-rooms, concert hall, market, brewery, library, and an afternoon tea shop exactly like regent street (not that mrs. challice cared for their alleged china tea); also churches and chapels; and barnes common if you walked one way, and wimbledon common if you walked another. mrs. challice lived in werter road, werter road starting conveniently at the corner of the high street where the fish-shop was--an establishment where authentic sole was always obtainable, though it was advisable not to buy it on monday mornings, of course. putney was a place where you lived unvexed, untroubled. you had your little house, and your furniture, and your ability to look after yourself at all ends, and your knowledge of the prices of everything, and your deep knowledge of human nature, and your experienced forgivingness towards human frailties. you did not keep a servant, because servants were so complicated, and because they could do nothing whatever as well as you could do it yourself. you had a charwoman when you felt idle or when you chose to put the house into the back-yard for an airing. with the charwoman, a pair of gloves for coarser work, and gas stoves, you 'made naught' of domestic labour. you were never worried by ambitions, or by envy, or by the desire to know precisely what the wealthy did and to do likewise. you read when you were not more amusingly occupied, preferring illustrated papers and magazines. you did not traffic with art to any appreciable extent, and you never dreamed of letting it keep you awake at night. you were rich, for the reason that you spent less than you received. you never speculated about the ultimate causes of things, or puzzled yourself concerning the possible developments of society in the next hundred years. when you saw a poor old creature in the street you bought a box of matches off the poor old creature. the social phenomenon which chiefly roused you to just anger was the spectacle of wealthy people making money and so taking the bread out of the mouths of people who needed it. the only apparent blots on existence at putney were the noise and danger of the high street, the dearth of reliable laundries, the manners of a middle-aged lady engaged at the post office (mrs. challice liked the other ladies in the post office), and the absence of a suitable man in the house. existence at putney seemed to priam farll to approach the utopian. it seemed to breathe of romance--the romance of common sense and kindliness and simplicity. it made his own existence to that day appear a futile and unhappy striving after the impossible. art? what was it? what did it lead to? he was sick of art, and sick of all the forms of activity to which he had hitherto been accustomed and which he had mistaken for life itself. one little home, fixed and stable, rendered foolish the whole concourse of european hotels. "i suppose you won't be staying here long," demanded mrs. challice. "oh no!" he said. "i shall decide something." "shall you take another place?" she inquired. "another place?" "yes." her smile was excessively persuasive and inviting. "i don't know," he said diffidently. "you must have put a good bit by," she said, still with the same smile. "or perhaps you haven't. saving's a matter of chance. that's what i always do say. it just depends how you begin. it's a habit. i'd never really blame anybody for not saving. and men----!" she seemed to wish to indicate that men were specially to be excused if they did not save. she had a large mind: that was sure. she understood--things, and human nature in particular. she was not one of those creatures that a man meets with sometimes--creatures who are for ever on the watch to pounce, and who are incapable of making allowances for any male frailty--smooth, smiling creatures, with thin lips, hair a little scanty at the front, and a quietly omniscient 'don't-tell-_me_' tone. mrs. alice challice had a mouth as wide as her ideas, and a full underlip. she was a woman who, as it were, ran out to meet you when you started to cross the dangerous roadway which separates the two sexes. she comprehended because she wanted to comprehend. and when she could not comprehend she would deceive herself that she did: which amounts to the equivalent. she was a living proof that in her sex social distinctions do not effectively count. nothing counted where she was concerned, except a distinction far more profound than any social distinction--the historic distinction between adam and eve. she was balm to priam farll. she might have been equally balm to king david, uriah the hittite, socrates, rousseau, lord byron, heine, or charlie peace. she would have understood them all. they would all have been ready to cushion themselves on her comfortableness. was she a lady? pish! she was a woman. her temperament drew priam farll like an electrified magnet. to wander about freely in that roomy sympathy of hers seemed to him to be the supreme reward of experience. it seemed like the good inn after the bleak high-road, the oasis after the sandstorm, shade after glare, the dressing after the wound, sleep after insomnia, surcease from unspeakable torture. he wanted, in a word, to tell her everything, because she would not demand any difficult explanations. she had given him an opening, in her mention of savings. in reply to her suggestion, "you must have put a good bit by," he could casually answer: "yes, a hundred and forty thousand pounds." and that would lead by natural stages to a complete revealing of the fix in which he was. in five minutes he would have confided to her the principal details, and she would have understood, and then he could describe his agonizing and humiliating half-hour in the abbey, and she would pour her magic oil on that dreadful abrasion of his sensitiveness. and he would be healed of his hurts, and they would settle between them what he ought to do. he regarded her as his refuge, as fate's generous compensation to him for the loss of henry leek (whose remains now rested in the national valhalla). only, it would be necessary to begin the explanation, so that one thing might by natural stages lead to another. on reflection, it appeared rather abrupt to say: "yes, a hundred and forty thousand pounds." the sum was too absurdly high (though correct). the mischief was that, unless the sum did strike her as absurdly high, it could not possibly lead by a natural stage to the remainder of the explanation. he must contrive another path. for instance-"there's been a mistake about the so-called death of priam farll." "a mistake!" she would exclaim, all ears and eyes. then he would say-"yes. priam farll isn't really dead. it's his valet that's dead." whereupon she would burst out-"but _you_ were his valet!" whereupon he would simply shake his head, and she would steam forwards-"then who are you?" whereupon he would say, as calmly as he could-"i'm priam farll. i'll tell you precisely how it all happened." thus the talk might happen. thus it would happen, immediately he began. but, as at the dean's door in dean's yard, so now, he could not begin. he could not utter the necessary words aloud. spoken aloud, they would sound ridiculous, incredible, insane--and not even mrs. challice could reasonably be expected to grasp their import, much less believe them. "_there's been a mistake about the so-called death of priam farll._" "_yes, a hundred and forty thousand pounds._" no, he could enunciate neither the one sentence nor the other. there are some truths so bizarre that they make you feel self-conscious and guilty before you have begun to state them; you state them apologetically; you blush; you stammer; you have all the air of one who does not expect belief; you look a fool; you feel a fool; and you bring disaster on yourself. he perceived with the most painful clearness that he could never, never impart to her the terrific secret, the awful truth. great as she was, the truth was greater, and she would never be able to swallow it. "what time is it?" she asked suddenly. "oh, you mustn't think about time," he said, with hasty concern. _results of rain_ when the lunch was completely finished and the grill-room had so far emptied that it was inhabited by no one except themselves and several waiters who were trying to force them to depart by means of thought transference and uneasy, hovering round their table, priam farll began to worry his brains in order to find some sane way of spending the afternoon in her society. he wanted to keep her, but he did not know how to keep her. he was quite at a loss. strange that a man great enough and brilliant enough to get buried in westminster abbey had not sufficient of the small change of cleverness to retain the company of a mrs. alice challice! yet so it was. happily he was buoyed up by the thought that she understood. "i must be moving off home," she said, putting her gloves on slowly; and sighed. "let me see," he stammered. "i think you said werter road, putney?" "yes. no. 29." "perhaps you'll let me call on you," he ventured. "oh, do!" she encouraged him. nothing could have been more correct, and nothing more banal, than this part of their conversation. he certainly would call. he would travel down to the idyllic putney to-morrow. he could not lose such a friend, such a balm, such a soft cushion, such a comprehending intelligence. he would bit by bit become intimate with her, and perhaps ultimately he might arrive at the stage of being able to tell her who he was with some chance of being believed. anyhow, when he did call--and he insisted to himself that it should be extremely soon--he would try another plan with her; he would carefully decide beforehand just what to say and how to say it. this decision reconciled him somewhat to a temporary parting from her. so he paid the bill, under her sagacious, protesting eyes, and he managed to conceal from those eyes the precise amount of the tip; and then, at the cloak-room, he furtively gave sixpence to a fat and wealthy man who had been watching over his hat and stick. (highly curious, how those common-sense orbs of hers made all such operations seem excessively silly!) and at last they wandered, in silence, through the corridors and antechambers that led to the courtyard entrance. and through the glass portals priam farll had a momentary glimpse of the reflection of light on a cabman's wet macintosh. it was raining. it was raining very heavily indeed. all was dry under the glass-roofed colonnades of the courtyard, but the rain rattled like kettledrums on that glass, and the centre of the courtyard was a pond in which a few hansoms were splashing about. everything--the horses' coats, the cabmen's hats and capes, and the cabmen's red faces, shone and streamed in the torrential summer rain. it is said that geography makes history. in england, and especially in london, weather makes a good deal of history. impossible to brave that rain, except under the severest pressure of necessity! they were in shelter, and in shelter they must remain. he was glad, absurdly and splendidly glad. "it can't last long," she said, looking up at the black sky, which showed an edge towards the east. "suppose we go in again and have some tea?" he said. now they had barely concluded coffee. but she did not seem to mind. "well," she said, "it's always tea-time for _me_." he saw a clock. "it's nearly four," he said. thus justified of the clock, in they went, and sat down in the same seats which they had occupied at the commencement of the adventure in the main lounge. priam discovered a bell-push, and commanded china tea and muffins. he felt that he now, as it were, had an opportunity of making a fresh start in life. he grew almost gay. he could be gay without sinning against decorum, for mrs. challice's singular tact had avoided all reference to deaths and funerals. and in the pause, while he was preparing to be gay, attractive, and in fact his true self, she, calmly stirring china tea, shot a bolt which made him see stars. "it seems to me," she observed, "that we might go farther and fare worse--both of us." he genuinely did not catch the significance of it in the first instant, and she saw that he did not. "oh," she proceeded, benevolently and reassuringly, "i mean it. i'm not gallivanting about. i mean that if you want my opinion i fancy we could make a match of it." it was at this point that he saw stars. he also saw a faint and delicious blush on her face, whose complexion was extraordinarily fresh and tender. she sipped china tea, holding each finger wide apart from the others. he had forgotten the origin of their acquaintance, forgotten that each of them was supposed to have a definite aim in view, forgotten that it was with a purpose that they had exchanged photographs. it had not occurred to him that marriage hung over him like a sword. he perceived the sword now, heavy and sharp, and suspended by a thread of appalling fragility. he dodged. he did not want to lose her, never to see her again; but he dodged. "i couldn't think----" he began, and stopped. "of course it's a very awkward situation for a man," she went on, toying with muffin. "i can quite understand how you feel. and with most folks you'd be right. there's very few women that can judge character, and if you started to try and settle something at once they'd just set you down as a wrong 'un. but i'm not like that. i don't expect any fiddle-faddle. what i like is plain sense and plain dealing. we both want to get married, so it would be silly to pretend we didn't, wouldn't it? and it would be ridiculous of me to look for courting and a proposal, and all that sort of thing, just as if i'd never seen a man in his shirt-sleeves. the only question is: shall we suit each other? i've told you what i think. what do you think?" she smiled honestly, kindly, but piercingly. what could he say? what would you have said, you being a man? it is easy, sitting there in your chair, with no mrs. alice challice in front of you, to invent diplomatic replies; but conceive yourself in priam's place! besides, he did think she would suit him. and most positively he could not bear the prospect of seeing her pass out of his life. he had been through that experience once, when his hat blew off in the tube; and he did not wish to repeat it. "of course you've got no _home_!" she said reflectively, with such compassion. "suppose you come down and just have a little peep at mine?" so that evening, a suitably paired couple chanced into the fishmonger's at the corner of werter road, and bought a bit of sole. at the newspaper shop next door but one, placards said: "impressive scenes at westminster abbey," "farll funeral, stately pageant," "great painter laid to rest," etc. * * * * * chapter vi _a putney morning_ except that there was marrying and giving in marriage, it was just as though he had died and gone to heaven. heaven is the absence of worry and of ambition. heaven is where you want nothing you haven't got. heaven is finality. and this was finality. on the september morning, after the honeymoon and the settling down, he arose leisurely, long after his wife, and, putting on the puce dressing-gown (which alice much admired), he opened the window wider and surveyed that part of the universe which was comprised in werter road and the sky above. a sturdy old woman was coming down the street with a great basket of assorted flowers; he took an immense pleasure in the sight of the old woman; the sight of the old woman thrilled him. why? well, there was no reason, except that she was vigorously alive, a part of the magnificent earth. all life gave him joy; all life was beautiful to him. he had his warm bath; the bath-room was not of the latest convenience, but alice could have made a four-wheeler convenient. as he passed to and fro on the first-floor he heard the calm, efficient activities below stairs. she was busy in the mornings; her eyes would seem to say to him, "now, between my uprising and lunch-time please don't depend on me for intellectual or moral support. i am on the spot, but i am also at the wheel and must not be disturbed." then he descended, fresh as a boy, although the promontory which prevented a direct vision of his toes showed accretions. the front-room was a shrine for his breakfast. she served it herself, in her-white apron, promptly on his arrival! eggs! toast! coffee! it was nothing, that breakfast; and yet it was everything. no breakfast could have been better. he had probably eaten about fifteen thousand hotel breakfasts before alice taught him what a real breakfast was. after serving it she lingered for a moment, and then handed him the _daily telegraph_, which had been lying on a chair. "here's your _telegraph_," she said cheerfully, tacitly disowning any property or interest in the _telegraph_. for her, newspapers were men's toys. she never opened a paper, never wanted to know what was going on in the world. she was always intent upon her own affairs. politics--and all that business of the mere machinery of living: she perfectly ignored it! she lived. she did nothing but live. she lived every hour. priam felt truly that he had at last got down to the bed-rock of life. there were twenty pages of the _telegraph_, far more matter than a man could read in a day even if he read and read and neither ate nor slept. and all of it so soothing in its rich variety! it gently lulled you; it was the ideal companion for a poached egg; upstanding against the coffee-pot, it stood for the solidity of england in the seas. priam folded it large; he read all the articles down to the fold; then turned the thing over, and finished all of them. after communing with the _telegraph_, he communed with his own secret nature, and wandered about, rolling a cigarette. ah! the first cigarette! his wanderings led him to the kitchen, or at least as far as the threshold thereof. his wife was at work there. upon every handle or article that might soil she put soft brown paper, and in addition she often wore house-gloves; so that her hands remained immaculate; thus during the earlier hours of the day the house, especially in the region of fireplaces, had the air of being in curl-papers. "i'm going out now, alice," he said, after he had drawn on his finely polished boots. "very well, love," she replied, preoccupied with her work. "lunch as usual." she never demanded luxuriousness from him. she had got him. she was sure of him. that satisfied her. sometimes, like a simple woman who has come into a set of pearls, she would, as it were, take him out of his drawer and look at him, and put him back. at the gate he hesitated whether to turn to the left, towards high street, or to the right, towards oxford road. he chose the right, but he would have enjoyed himself equally had he chosen the left. the streets through which he passed were populated by domestic servants and tradesmen's boys. he saw white-capped girls cleaning door-knobs or windows, or running along the streets, like escaped nuns, or staring in soft meditation from bedroom windows. and the tradesmen's boys were continually leaping in and out of carts, or off and on tricycles, busily distributing food and drink, as though putney had been a beleaguered city. it was extremely interesting and mysterious--and what made it the most mysterious was that the oligarchy of superior persons for whom these boys and girls so assiduously worked, remained invisible. he passed a newspaper shop and found his customary delight in the placards. this morning the _daily illustrated_ announced nothing but: "portrait of a boy aged 12 who weighs 20 stone." and the _record_ whispered in scarlet: "what the german said to the king. special." the _journal_ cried: "surrey's glorious finish." and the _courier_ shouted: "the unwritten law in the united states. another scandal." not for gold would he have gone behind these placards to the organs themselves; he preferred to gather from the placards alone what wonders of yesterday the excellent staid _telegraph_ had unaccountably missed. but in the _financial times_ he saw: "cohoon's annual meeting. stormy scenes." and he bought the _financial times_ and put it into his pocket for his wife, because she had an interest in cohoon's brewery, and he conceived the possibility of her caring to glance at the report. _the simple joy of life_ after crossing the south-western railway he got into the upper richmond road, a thoroughfare which always diverted and amused him. it was such a street of contrasts. any one could see that, not many years before, it had been a sacred street, trod only by feet genteel, and made up of houses each christened with its own name and each standing in its own garden. and now energetic persons had put churches into it, vast red things with gigantic bells, and large drapery shops, with blouses at six-and-eleven, and court photographers, and banks, and cigar-stores, and auctioneers' offices. and all kinds of omnibuses ran along it. and yet somehow it remained meditative and superior. in every available space gigantic posters were exhibited. they all had to do with food or pleasure. there were york hams eight feet high, that a regiment could not have eaten in a month; shaggy and ferocious oxen peeping out of monstrous teacups in their anxiety to be consumed; spouting bottles of ale whose froth alone would have floated the mail steamers pictured on an adjoining sheet; and forty different decoctions for imparting strength. then after a few score yards of invitation to debauch there came, with characteristic admirable english common sense, a cure for indigestion, so large that it would have given ease to a mastodon who had by inadvertence swallowed an elephant. and then there were the calls to pleasure. astonishing, the quantity of palaces that offered you exactly the same entertainment twice over on the same night! astonishing, the reliance on number in this matter of amusement! authenticated statements that a certain performer had done a certain thing in a certain way a thousand and one times without interruption were stuck all over the upper richmond road, apparently in the sure hope that you would rush to see the thousand and second performance. these performances were invariably styled original and novel. all the remainder of free wall space was occupied by philanthropists who were ready to give away cigarettes at the nominal price of a penny a packet. priam farll never tired of the phantasmagoria of upper richmond road. the interminable, intermittent vision of food dead and alive, and of performers performing the same performance from everlasting to everlasting, and of millions and millions of cigarettes ascending from the mouths of handsome young men in incense to heaven--this rare vision, of which in all his wanderings he had never seen the like, had the singular effect of lulling his soul into a profound content. not once did he arrive at the end of the vision. no! when he reached barnes station he could see the vision still stretching on and on; but, filled to the brim, he would get into an omnibus and return. the omnibus awoke him to other issues: the omnibus was an antidote. in the omnibus cleanliness was nigh to godliness. on one pane a soap was extolled, and on another the exordium, "for this is a true saying and worthy of all acceptation," was followed by the statement of a religious dogma; while on another pane was an urgent appeal not to do in the omnibus what you would not do in a drawing-room. yes, priam farll had seen the world, but he had never seen a city so incredibly strange, so packed with curious and rare psychological interest as london. and he regretted that he had not discovered london earlier in his life-long search after romance. at the corner of the high street he left the omnibus and stopped a moment to chat with his tobacconist. his tobacconist was a stout man in a white apron, who stood for ever behind a counter and sold tobacco to the most respected residents of putney. all his ideas were connected either with tobacco or with putney. a murder in the strand to that tobacconist was less than the breakdown of a motor bus opposite putney station; and a change of government less than a change of programme at the putney empire. a rather pessimistic tobacconist, not inclined to believe in a first cause, until one day a drunken man smashed salmon and gluckstein's window down the high street, whereupon his opinion of providence went up for several days! priam enjoyed talking to him, though the tobacconist was utterly impervious to ideas and never gave out ideas. this morning the tobacconist was at his door. at the other corner was the sturdy old woman whom priam had observed from his window. she sold flowers. "fine old woman, that!" said priam heartily, after he and the tobacconist had agreed upon the fact that it was a glorious morning. "she used to be at the opposite corner by the station until last may but one, when the police shifted her," said the tobacconist. "why did the police shift her?" asked priam. "i don't know as i can tell you," said the tobacconist. "but i remember her this twelve year." "i only noticed her this morning," said priam. "i saw her from my bedroom window, coming down the werter road. i said to myself, 'she's the finest old woman i ever saw in my life!'" "did you now!" murmured the tobacconist. "she's rare and dirty." "i like her to be dirty," said priam stoutly. "she ought to be dirty. she wouldn't be the same if she were clean." "i don't hold with dirt," said the tobacconist calmly. "she'd be better if she had a bath of a saturday night like other folks." "well," said priam, "i want an ounce of the usual." "thank _you_, sir," said the tobacconist, putting down three-halfpence change out of sixpence as priam thanked him for the packet. nothing whatever in such a dialogue! yet priam left the shop with a distinct feeling that life was good. and he plunged into high street, lost himself in crowds of perambulators and nice womanly women who were bustling honestly about in search of food or raiment. many of them carried little red books full of long lists of things which they and their admirers and the offspring of mutual affection had eaten or would shortly eat. in the high street all was luxury: not a necessary in the street. even the bakers' shops were a mass of sultana and berlin pancakes. illuminated calendars, gramophones, corsets, picture postcards, manilla cigars, bridge-scorers, chocolate, exotic fruit, and commodious mansions--these seemed to be the principal objects offered for sale in high street. priam bought a sixpenny edition of herbert spencer's _essays_ for four-pence-halfpenny, and passed on to putney bridge, whose noble arches divided a first storey of vans and omnibuses from a ground-floor of barges and racing eights. and he gazed at the broad river and its hanging gardens, and dreamed; and was wakened by the roar of an electric train shooting across the stream on a red causeway a few yards below him. and, miles off, he could descry the twin towers of the crystal palace, more marvellous than mosques! "astounding!" he murmured joyously. he had not a care in the world; and putney was all that alice had painted it. in due time, when bells had pealed to right and to left of him, he went home to her. _collapse of the putney system_ now, just at the end of lunch, over the last stage of which they usually sat a long time, alice got up quickly, in the midst of her stilton, and, going to the mantelpiece, took a letter therefrom. "i wish you'd look at that, henry," she said, handing him the letter. "it came this morning, but of course i can't be bothered with that sort of thing in the morning. so i put it aside." he accepted the letter, and unfolded it with the professional all-knowing air which even the biggest male fool will quite successfully put on in the presence of a woman if consulted about business. when he had unfolded the thing--it was typed on stiff, expensive, quarto paper--he read it. in the lives of beings like priam farll and alice a letter such as that letter is a terrible event, unique, earth-arresting; simple recipients are apt, on receiving it, to imagine that the christian era has come to an end. but tens of thousands of similar letters are sent out from the city every day, and the city thinks nothing of them. the letter was about cohoon's brewery company, limited, and it was signed by a firm of solicitors. it referred to the verbatim report, which it said would be found in the financial papers, of the annual meeting of the company held at the cannon street hotel on the previous day, and to the exceedingly unsatisfactory nature of the chairman's statement. it regretted the absence of mrs. alice challice (her change of condition had not yet reached the heart of cohoon's) from the meeting, and asked her whether she would be prepared to support the action of a committee which had been formed to eject the existing board and which had already a following of 385,000 votes. it finished by asserting that unless the committee was immediately lifted to absolute power the company would be quite ruined. priam re-read the letter aloud. "what does it all mean?" asked alice quietly. "well," said he, "that's what it means." "does it mean--?" she began. "by jove!" he exclaimed, "i forgot. i saw something on a placard this morning about cohoon's, and i thought it might interest you, so i bought it." so saying, he drew from his pocket the _financial times_, which he had entirely forgotten. there it was: a column and a quarter of the chairman's speech, and nearly two columns of stormy scenes. the chairman was the marquis of drumgaldy, but his rank had apparently not shielded him from the violence of expletives such as "liar!" "humbug!" and even "rogue!" the marquis had merely stated, with every formula of apology, that, owing to the extraordinary depreciation in licensed property, the directors had not felt justified in declaring any dividend at all on the ordinary shares of the company. he had made this quite simple assertion, and instantly a body of shareholders, less reasonable and more avaricious even than shareholders usually are, had begun to turn the historic hall of the cannon street hotel into a bear garden. one might have imagined that the sole aim of brewery companies was to make money, and that the patriotism of old-world brewers, that patriotism which impelled them to supply an honest english beer to the honest english working-man at a purely nominal price, was scorned and forgotten. one was, indeed, forced to imagine this. in vain the marquis pointed out that the shareholders had received a fifteen per cent, dividend for years and years past, and that really, for once in a way, they ought to be prepared to sacrifice a temporary advantage for the sake of future prosperity. the thought of those regular high dividends gave rise to no gratitude in shareholding hearts; it seemed merely to render them the more furious. the baser passions had been let loose in the cannon street hotel. the directors had possibly been expecting the baser passions, for a posse of policemen was handy at the door, and one shareholder, to save him from having the blood of marquises on his soul, was ejected. ultimately, according to the picturesque phrases of the _financial times_ report, the meeting broke up in confusion. "how much have you got in cohoon's?" priam asked alice, after they had looked through the report together. "all i have is in cohoon's," said she, "except this house. father left it like that. he always said there was nothing like a brewery. i've heard him say many and many a time a brewery was better than consols. i think there's 200 £5 shares. yes, that's it. but of course they're worth much more than that. they're worth about £12 each. all i know is they bring me in £150 a year as regular as the clock. what's that there, after 'broke up in confusion'?" she pointed with her finger to a paragraph, and he read in a low voice the fluctuations of cohoon's ordinary shares during the afternoon. they had finished at £6 5s. mrs. henry leek had lost over £1,000 in about half-a-day. "they've always brought me in £150 a year," she insisted, as though she had been saying: "it's always been christmas day on the 25th of december, and of course it will be the same this year." "it doesn't look as if they'd bring you in anything this time," said he. "oh, but henry!" she protested. beer had failed! that was the truth of it. beer had failed. who would have guessed that beer could fail in england? the wisest, the most prudent men in lombard street had put their trust in beer, as the last grand bulwark of the nation; and even beer had failed. the foundations of england's greatness were, if not gone, going. insufficient to argue bad management, indiscreet purchases of licences at inflated prices! in the excellent old days a brewery would stand an indefinite amount of bad management! times were changed. the british workman, caught in a wave of temperance, could no longer be relied upon to drink! it was the crown of his sins against society. trade unions were nothing to this latest caprice of his, which spread desolation in a thousand genteel homes. alice wondered what her father would have said, had he lived. on the whole, she was glad that he did not happen to be alive. the shock to him would have been too rude. the floor seemed to be giving way under alice, melting into a sort of bog that would swallow up her and her husband. for years, without any precise information, but merely by instinct, she had felt that england, beneath the surface, was not quite the island it had been--and here was the awful proof. she gazed at her husband, as a wife ought to gaze at her husband in a crisis. his thoughts were much vaguer than hers, his thoughts about money being always extremely vague. "suppose you went up to the city and saw mr. what's-his-name?" she suggested, meaning the signatory of the letter. "_me_!" it was a cry of the soul aghast, a cry drawn out of him sharply, by a most genuine cruel alarm. him to go up to the city to interview a solicitor! why, the poor dear woman must be demented! he could not have done it for a million pounds. the thought of it made him sick, raising the whole of his lunch to his throat, as by some sinister magic. she saw and translated the look on his face. it was a look of horror. and at once she made excuses for him to herself. at once she said to herself that it was no use pretending that her henry was like other men. he was not. he was a dreamer. he was, at times, amazingly peculiar. but he was her henry. in any other man than her henry a hesitation to take charge of his wife's financial affairs would have been ridiculous; it would have been effeminate. but henry was henry. she was gradually learning that truth. he was adorable; but he was henry. with magnificent strength of mind she collected herself. "no," she said cheerfully. "as they're my shares, perhaps i'd better go. unless we _both_ go!" she encountered his eye again, and added quietly: "no, i'll go alone." he sighed his relief. he could not help sighing his relief. and, after meticulously washing-up and straightening, she departed, and priam remained solitary with his ideas about married life and the fiscal question. alice was assuredly the very mirror of discretion. never, since that unanswered query as to savings at the grand babylon, had she subjected him to any inquisition concerning money. never had she talked of her own means, save in casual phrase now and then to assure him that there was enough. she had indeed refused banknotes diffidently offered to her by him, telling him to keep them by him till need of them arose. never had she discoursed of her own past life, nor led him on to discourse of his. she was one of those women for whom neither the past nor the future seems to exist--they are always so occupied with the important present. he and she had both of them relied on their judgment of character as regarded each other's worthiness and trustworthiness. and he was the last man in the world to be a chancellor of the exchequer. to him, money was a quite uninteresting token that had to pass through your hands. he had always had enough of it. he had always had too much of it. even at putney he had had too much of it. the better part of henry leek's two hundred pounds remained in his pockets, and under his own will he had his pound a week, of which he never spent more than a few shillings. his distractions were tobacco (which cost him about twopence a day), walking about and enjoying colour effects and the oddities of the streets (which cost him nearly nought), and reading: there were three shops of putney where all that is greatest in literature could be bought for fourpence-halfpenny a volume. do what he could, he could not read away more than ninepence a week. he was positively accumulating money. you may say that he ought to have compelled alice to accept money. the idea never occurred to him. in his scheme of things money had not been a matter of sufficient urgency to necessitate an argument with one's wife. she was always welcome to all that he had. and now suddenly, money acquired urgency in his eyes. it was most disturbing. he was not frightened: he was merely disturbed. if he had ever known the sensation of wanting money and not being able to obtain it, he would probably have been frightened. but this sensation was unfamiliar to him. not once in his whole career had he hesitated to change gold from fear that the end of gold was at hand. all kinds of problems crowded round him. he went out for a stroll to escape the problems. but they accompanied him. he walked through exactly the same streets as had delighted him in the morning. and they had ceased to delight him. this surely could not be ideal putney that he was in! it must be some other place of the same name. the mismanagement of a brewery a hundred and fifty miles from london; the failure of the british working-man to drink his customary pints in several scattered scores of public-houses, had most unaccountably knocked the bottom out of the putney system of practical philosophy. putney posters were now merely disgusting, putney trade gross and futile, the tobacconist a narrow-minded and stupid bourgeois; and so on. alice and he met on their doorstep, each in the act of pulling out a latchkey. "oh!" she said, when they were inside, "it's done for! there's no mistake--it's done for! we shan't get a penny this year, not one penny! and he doesn't think there'll be anything next year either! and the shares'll go down yet, he says. i never heard of such a thing in all my life! did you?" he admitted sympathetically that he had not. after she had been upstairs and come down again her mood suddenly changed. "well," she smiled, "whether we get anything or not, it's tea-time. so we'll have tea. i've no patience with worrying. i said i should make pastry after tea, and i will too. see if i don't!" the tea was perhaps slightly more elaborate than usual. after tea he heard her singing in the kitchen. and he was moved to go and look at her. there she was, with her sleeves turned back, and a large pinafore apron over her rich bosom, kneading flour. he would have liked to approach her and kiss her. but he never could accomplish feats of that kind at unusual moments. "oh!" she laughed. "you can look! _i'm_ not worrying. i've no patience with worrying." later in the afternoon he went out; rather like a person who has reasons for leaving inconspicuously. he had made a great, a critical resolve. he passed furtively down werter road into the high street, and then stood a moment outside stawley's stationery shop, which is also a library, an emporium of leather-bags, and an artists'-colourman's. he entered stawley's blushing, trembling--he a man of fifty who could not see his own toes--and asked for certain tubes of colour. an energetic young lady who seemed to know all about the graphic arts endeavoured to sell to him a magnificent and complicated box of paints, which opened out into an easel and a stool, and contained a palette of a shape preferred by the late edwin long, r.a., a selection of colours which had been approved by the late lord leighton, p.r.a., and a patent drying-oil which (she said) had been used by whistler. priam farll got away from the shop without this apparatus for the confection of masterpieces, but he did not get away without a sketching-box which he had had no intention of buying. the young lady was too energetic for him. he was afraid of being too curt with her lest she should turn on him and tell him that pretence was useless--she knew he was priam farll. he felt guilty, and he felt that he looked guilty. as he hurried along the high street towards the river with the paint-box it appeared to him that policemen observed him inimically and cocked their helmets at him, as who should say: "see here; this won't do. you're supposed to be in westminster abbey. you'll be locked up if you're too brazen." the tide was out. he sneaked down to the gravelly shore a little above the steamer pier, and hid himself between the piles, glancing around him in a scared fashion. he might have been about to commit a crime. then he opened the sketch-box, and oiled the palette, and tried the elasticity of the brushes on his hand. and he made a sketch of the scene before him. he did it very quickly--in less than half-an-hour. he had made thousands of such colour 'notes' in his life, and he would never part with any of them. he had always hated to part with his notes. doubtless his cousin duncan had them now, if duncan had discovered his address in paris, as duncan probably had. when it was finished, he inspected the sketch, half shutting his eyes and holding it about three feet off. it was good. except for a few pencil scrawls done in sheer absent-mindedness and hastily destroyed, this was the first sketch he had made since the death of henry leek. but it was very good. "no mistake who's done that!" he murmured; and added: "that's the devil of it. any expert would twig it in a minute. there's only one man that could have done it. i shall have to do something worse than that!" he shut up the box and with a bang as an amative couple came into sight. he need not have done so, for the couple vanished instantly in deep disgust at being robbed of their retreat between the piles. alice was nearing the completion of pastry when he returned in the dusk; he smelt the delicious proof. creeping quietly upstairs, he deposited his brushes in an empty attic at the top of the house. then he washed his hands with especial care to remove all odour of paint. and at dinner he endeavoured to put on the mien of innocence. she was cheerful, but it was the cheerfulness of determined effort. they naturally talked of the situation. it appeared that she had a reserve of money in the bank--as much as would suffice her for quite six months. he told her with false buoyancy that there need never be the slightest difficulty as to money; he had money, and he could always earn more. "if you think i'm going to let you go into another situation," she said, "you're mistaken. that's all." and her lips were firm. this staggered him. he never could remember for more than half-an-hour at a time that he was a retired valet. and it was decidedly not her practice to remind him of the fact. the notion of himself in a situation as valet was half ridiculous and half tragical. he could no more be a valet than he could be a stockbroker or a wire-walker. "i wasn't thinking of that," he stammered. "then what were you thinking of?" she asked. "oh! i don't know!" he said vaguely. "because those things they advertise--homework, envelope addressing, or selling gramophones on commission--they're no good, you know!" he shuddered. the next morning he bought a 36 x 24 canvas, and more brushes and tubes, and surreptitiously introduced them into the attic. happily it was the charwoman's day and alice was busy enough to ignore him. with an old table and the tray out of a travelling-trunk, he arranged a substitute for an easel, and began to try to paint a bad picture from his sketch. but in a quarter of an hour he discovered that he was exactly as fitted to paint a bad picture as to be a valet. he could not sentimentalize the tones, nor falsify the values. he simply could not; the attempt to do so annoyed him. all men are capable of stooping beneath their highest selves, and in several directions priam farll could have stooped. but not on canvas! he could only produce his best. he could only render nature as he saw nature. and it was instinct, rather than conscience, that prevented him from stooping. in three days, during which he kept alice out of the attic partly by lies and partly by locking the door, the picture was finished; and he had forgotten all about everything except his profession. he had become a different man, a very excited man. "by jove," he exclaimed, surveying the picture, "i can paint!" artists do occasionally soliloquize in this way. the picture was dazzling! what atmosphere! what poetry! and what profound fidelity to nature's facts! it was precisely such a picture as he was in the habit of selling for £800 or a £1,000, before his burial in westminster abbey! indeed, the trouble was that it had 'priam farll' written all over it, just as the sketch had! * * * * * chapter vii _the confession_ that evening he was very excited, and he seemed to take no thought to disguise his excitement. the fact was, he could not have disguised it, even if he had tried. the fever of artistic creation was upon him--all the old desires and the old exhausting joys. his genius had been lying idle, like a lion in a thicket, and now it had sprung forth ravening. for months he had not handled a brush; for months his mind had deliberately avoided the question of painting, being content with the observation only of beauty. a week ago, if he had deliberately asked himself whether he would ever paint again, he might have answered, "perhaps not." such is man's ignorance of his own nature! and now the lion of his genius was standing over him, its paw on his breast, and making a great noise. he saw that the last few months had been merely an interlude, that he would be forced to paint--or go mad; and that nothing else mattered. he saw also that he could only paint in one way--priam farll's way. if it was discovered that priam farll was not buried in westminster abbey; if there was a scandal, and legal unpleasantness--well, so much the worse! but he must paint. not for money, mind you! incidentally, of course, he would earn money. but he had already quite forgotten that life has its financial aspect. so in the sitting-room in werter road, he walked uneasily to and fro, squeezing between the table and the sideboard, and then skirting the fireplace where alice sat with a darning apparatus upon her knees, and her spectacles on--she wore spectacles when she had to look fixedly at very dark objects. the room was ugly in a pleasant putneyish way, with a couple of engravings after b.w. leader, r.a., a too realistic wall-paper, hot brown furniture with ribbed legs, a carpet with the characteristics of a retired governess who has taken to drink, and a black cloud on the ceiling over the incandescent burners. happily these surroundings did not annoy him. they did not annoy him because he never saw them. when his eyes were not resting on beautiful things, they were not in this world of reality at all. his sole idea about house-furnishing was an easy-chair. "harry," said his wife, "don't you think you'd better sit down?" the calm voice of common sense stopped him in his circular tour. he glanced at alice, and she, removing her spectacles, glanced at him. the seal on his watch-chain dangled free. he had to talk to some one, and his wife was there--not only the most convenient but the most proper person to talk to. a tremendous impulse seized him to tell her everything; she would understand; she always did understand; and she never allowed herself to be startled. the most singular occurrences, immediately they touched her, were somehow transformed into credible daily, customary events. thus the disaster of the brewery! she had accepted it as though the ruins of breweries were a spectacle to be witnessed at every street-corner. yes, he should tell her. three minutes ago he had no intention of telling her, or any one, anything. he decided in an instant. to tell her his secret would lead up naturally to the picture which he had just finished. "i say, alice," he said, "i want to talk to you." "well," she said, "i wish you'd talk to me sitting down. i don't know what's come over you this last day or two." he sat down. he did not feel really intimate with her at that moment. and their marriage seemed to him, in a way, artificial, scarcely a fact. he did not know that it takes years to accomplish full intimacy between husband and wife. "you know," he said, "henry leek isn't my real name." "oh, isn't it?" she said. "what does that matter?" she was not in the least surprised to hear that henry leek was not his real name. she was a wise woman, and knew the strangeness of the world. and she had married him simply because he was himself, because he existed in a particular manner (whose charm for her she could not have described) from hour to hour. "so long as you haven't committed a murder or anything," she added, with her tranquil smile. "my real name is priam farll," he said gruffly. the gruffness was caused by timidity. "i thought priam farll was your gentleman's name." "to tell you the truth," he said nervously, "there was a mistake. that photograph that was sent to you was my photograph." "yes," she said. "i know it was. and what of it?" "i mean," he blundered on, "it was my valet that died--not me. you see, the doctor, when he came, thought that leek was me, and i didn't tell him differently, because i was afraid of all the bother. i just let it slide--and there were other reasons. you know how i am...." "i don't know what you're talking about," she said. "can't you understand? it's simple enough. i'm priam farll, and i had a valet named henry leek, and he died, and they thought it was me. only it wasn't." he saw her face change and then compose itself. "then it's this henry leek that is buried in westminster abbey, instead of you?" her voice was very soft and soothing. and the astonishing woman resumed her spectacles and her long needle. "yes, of course." here he burst into the whole story, into the middle of it, continuing to the end, and then going back to the commencement. he left out nothing, and nobody, except lady sophia entwistle. "i see," she observed. "and you've never said a word?" "not a word." "if i were you i should still keep perfectly silent about it," she almost whispered persuasively. "it'll be just as well. if i were you, i shouldn't worry myself. i can quite understand how it happened, and i'm glad you've told me. but don't worry. you've been exciting yourself these last two or three days. i thought it was about my money business, but i see it wasn't. at least that may have brought it on, like. now the best thing you can do is to forget it." she did not believe him! she simply discredited the whole story; and, told in werter road, like that, the story did sound fantastic; it did come very near to passing belief. she had always noticed a certain queerness in her husband. his sudden gaieties about a tint in the sky or the gesture of a horse in the street, for example, were most uncanny. and he had peculiar absences of mind that she could never account for. she was sure that he must have been a very bad valet. however, she did not marry him for a valet, but for a husband; and she was satisfied with her bargain. what if he did suffer under a delusion? the exposure of that delusion merely crystallized into a definite shape her vague suspicions concerning his mentality. besides, it was a harmless delusion. and it explained things. it explained, among other things, why he had gone to stay at the grand babylon hotel. that must have been the inception of the delusion. she was glad to know the worst. she adored him more than ever. there was a silence. "no," she repeated, in the most matter-of-fact tone, "i should say nothing, in your place. i should forget it." "you would?" he drummed on the table. "i should! and whatever you do, don't worry." her accents were the coaxing accents of a nurse with a child--or with a lunatic. he perceived now with the utmost clearness that she did not believe a word of what he had said, and that in her magnificent and calm sagacity she was only trying to humour him. he had expected to disturb her soul to its profoundest depths; he had expected that they would sit up half the night discussing the situation. and lo!--"i should forget it," indulgently! and a mild continuance of darning! he had to think, and think hard. _tears_ "henry," she called out the next morning, as he disappeared up the stairs. "what _are_ you doing up there?" she had behaved exactly as if nothing had happened; and she was one of those women whose prudent policy it is to let their men alone even to the furthest limit of patience; but she had nerves, too, and they were being affected. for three days henry had really been too mysterious! he stopped, and put his head over the banisters, and in a queer, moved voice answered: "come and see." sooner or later she must see. sooner or later the already distended situation must get more and more distended until it burst with a loud report. let the moment be sooner, he swiftly decided. so she went and saw. half-way up the attic stairs she began to sniff, and as he turned the knob of the attic door for her she said, "what a smell of paint! i fancied yesterday----" if she had been clever enough she would have said, "what a smell of masterpieces!" but her cleverness lay in other fields. "you surely haven't been aspinalling that bath-room chair?... oh!" this loud exclamation escaped from her as she entered the attic and saw the back of the picture which priam had lodged on the said bath-room chair--filched by him from the bath-room on the previous day. she stepped to the vicinity of the window and obtained a good view of the picture. it was brilliantly shining in the light of morn. it looked glorious; it was a fit companion of many pictures from the same hand distributed among european galleries. it had that priceless quality, at once noble and radiant, which distinguished all priam's work. it transformed the attic; and thousands of amateurs and students, from st. petersburg to san francisco, would have gone into that attic with their hats off and a thrill in the spine, had they known what was there and had they been invited to enter and worship. priam himself was pleased; he was delighted; he was enthusiastic. and he stood near the picture, glancing at it and then glancing at alice, nervously, like a mother whose sister-in-law has come to look at the baby. as for alice, she said nothing. she had first of all to take in the fact that her husband had been ungenerous enough to keep her quite in the dark as to the nature of his secret activities; then she had to take in the fact of the picture. "did you do that?" she said limply. "yes," said he, with all the casualness that he could assume. "how does it strike you?" and to himself: "this'll make her see i'm not a mere lunatic. this'll give her a shaking up." "i'm sure it's beautiful," she said kindly, but without the slightest conviction. "what is it? is that putney bridge?" "yes," he said. "i thought it was. i thought it must be. well, i never knew you could paint. it's beautiful--for an amateur." she said this firmly and yet endearingly, and met his eyes with her eyes. it was her tactful method of politely causing him to see that she had not accepted last night's yarn very seriously. his eyes fell, not hers. "no, no, no!" he expostulated with quick vivacity, as she stepped towards the canvas. "don't come any nearer. you're at just the right distance." "oh! if you don't _want_ me to see it close," she humoured him. "what a pity you haven't put an omnibus on the bridge!" "there is one," said he. "_that's_ one." he pointed. "oh yes! yes, i see. but, you know, i think it looks rather more like a carter paterson van than an omnibus. if you could paint some letters on it--'union jack' or 'vanguard,' then people would be sure. but it's beautiful. i suppose you learnt to to paint from your--" she checked herself. "what's that red streak behind?" "that's the railway bridge," he muttered. "oh, of course it is! how silly of me! now if you were to put a train on that. the worst of trains in pictures is that they never seem to be going along. i've noticed that on the sides of furniture vans, haven't you? but if you put a signal, against it, then people would understand that the train had stopped. i'm not sure whether there _is_ a signal on the bridge, though." he made no remark. "and i see that's the elk public-house there on the right. you've just managed to get it in. i can recognize that quite easily. any one would." he still made no remark. "what are you going to do with it?" she asked gently. "going to sell it, my dear," he replied grimly. "it may surprise you to know that that canvas is worth at the very least £800. there would be a devil of a row and rumpus in bond street and elsewhere if they knew i was painting here instead of rotting in westminster abbey. i don't propose to sign it--i seldom did sign my pictures--and we shall see what we shall see.... i've got fifteen hundred for little things not so good as that. i'll let it go for what it'll fetch. we shall soon be wanting money." the tears rose to alice's eyes. she saw that he was more infinitely more mad than she imagined--with his £800 and his £1,500 for daubs of pictures that conveyed no meaning whatever to the eye! why, you could purchase real, professional pictures, of lakes, and mountains, exquisitely finished, at the frame-makers in high street for three pounds apiece! and here he was rambling in hundreds and thousands! she saw that that extraordinary notion about being able to paint was a natural consequence of the pathetic delusion to which he had given utterance yesterday. and she wondered what would follow next. who could have guessed that the seeds of lunacy were in such a man? yes, harmless lunacy, but lunacy nevertheless! she distinctly remembered the little shock with which she had learned that he was staying at the grand babylon on his own account, as a wealthy visitor. she thought it bizarre, but she certainly had not taken it for a sign of lunacy. and yet it had been a sign of madness. and the worst of harmless lunacy was that it might develop at any moment into harmful lunacy. there was one thing to do, and only one: keep him quiet, shield him from all troubles and alarms. it was disturbance of spirit which induced these mental derangements. his master's death had upset him. and now he had been upset by her disgraceful brewery company. she made a step towards him, and then hesitated. she had to form a plan of campaign all in a moment! she had to keep her wits and to use them! how could she give him confidence about his absurd picture? she noticed that naïve look that sometimes came into his eyes, a boyish expression that gave the he to his greying beard and his generous proportions. he laughed, until, as she came closer, he saw the tears on her eyelids. then he ceased laughing. she fingered the edge of his coat, cajolingly. "it's a beautiful picture!" she repeated again and again. "and if you like i will see if i can sell it for you. but, henry----" "well?" "please, please don't bother about money. we shall have _heaps_. there's no occasion for you to bother, and i won't _have_ you bothering." "what are you crying for?" he asked in a murmur. "it's only--only because i think it's so nice of you trying to earn money like that," she lied. "i'm not really crying." and she ran away, downstairs, really crying. it was excessively comic, but he had better not follow her, lest he might cry too.... _a patron of the arts_ a lull followed this crisis in the affairs of no. 29 werter road. priam went on painting, and there was now no need for secrecy about it. but his painting was not made a subject of conversation. both of them hesitated to touch it, she from tact, and he because her views on the art seemed to him to be lacking in subtlety. in every marriage there is a topic--there are usually several--which the husband will never broach to the wife, out of respect for his respect for her. priam scarcely guessed that alice imagined him to be on the way to lunacy. he thought she merely thought him queer, as artists _are_ queer to non-artists. and he was accustomed to that; henry leek had always thought him queer. as for alice's incredulous attitude towards the revelation of his identity, he did not mentally accuse her of treating him as either a liar or a madman. on reflection he persuaded himself that she regarded the story as a bad joke, as one of his impulsive, capricious essays in the absurd. thus the march of evolution was apparently arrested in werter road during three whole days. and then a singular event happened, and progress was resumed. priam had been out since early morning on the riverside, sketching, and had reached barnes, from which town he returned over barnes common, and so by the upper richmond road to high street. he was on the south side of upper richmond road, whereas his tobacconist's shop was on the north side, near the corner. an unfamiliar peculiarity of the shop caused him to cross the street, for he was not in want of tobacco. it was the look of the window that drew him. he stopped on the refuge in the centre of the street. there was no necessity to go further. his picture of putney bridge was in the middle of the window. he stared at it fixedly. he believed his eyes, for his eyes were the finest part of him and never deceived him; but perhaps if he had been a person with ordinary eyes he would scarce have been able to believe them. the canvas was indubitably there present in the window. it had been put in a cheap frame such as is used for chromographic advertisements of ships, soups, and tobacco. he was almost sure that he had seen that same frame, within the shop, round a pictorial announcement of taddy's snuff. the tobacconist had probably removed the eighteenth-century aristocrat with his fingers to his nose, from the frame, and replaced him with putney bridge. in any event the frame was about half-an-inch too long for the canvas, but the gap was scarcely observable. on the frame was a large notice, 'for sale.' and around it were the cigars of two hemispheres, from syak whiffs at a penny each to precious murias; and cigarettes of every allurement; and the multitudinous fragments of all advertised tobaccos; and meerschaums and briars, and patent pipes and diagrams of their secret machinery; and cigarette-and cigar-holders laid on plush; and pocket receptacles in aluminium and other precious metals. shining there, the picture had a most incongruous appearance. he blushed as he stood on the refuge. it seemed to him that the mere incongruity of the spectacle must inevitably attract crowds, gradually blocking the street, and that when some individual not absolutely a fool in art, had perceived the quality of the picture--well, then the trouble of public curiosity and of journalistic inquisitiveness would begin. he wondered that he could ever have dreamed of concealing his identity on a canvas. the thing simply shouted 'priam farll,' every inch of it. in any exhibition of pictures in london, paris, rome, milan, munich, new york or boston, it would have been the cynosure, the target of ecstatic admirations. it was just such another work as his celebrated 'pont d'austerlitz,' which hung in the luxembourg. and neither a frame of 'chemical gold,' nor the extremely variegated coloration of the other merchandise on sale could kill it. however, there were no signs of a crowd. people passed to and fro, just as though there had not been a masterpiece within ten thousand miles of them. once a servant girl, a loaf of bread in her red arms, stopped to glance at the window, but in an instant she was gone, running. priam's first instinctive movement had been to plunge into the shop, and demand from his tobacconist an explanation of the phenomenon. but of course he checked himself. of course he knew that the presence of his picture in the window could only be due to the enterprise of alice. he went slowly home. the sound of his latchkey in the keyhole brought her into the hall ere he had opened the door. "oh, henry," she said--she was quite excited--"i must tell you. i was passing mr. aylmer's this morning just as he was dressing his window, and the thought struck me that he might put your picture in. so i ran in and asked him. he said he would if he could have it at once. so i came and got it. he found a frame, and wrote out a ticket, and asked after you. no one could have been kinder. you must go and have a look at it. i shouldn't be at all surprised if it gets sold like that." priam answered nothing for a moment. he could not. "what did aylmer say about it?" he asked. "oh!" said his wife quickly, "you can't expect mr. aylmer to understand these things. it's not in his line. but he was glad to oblige us. i saw he arranged it nicely." "well," said priam discreetly, "that's all right. suppose we have lunch?" curious--her relations with mr. aylmer! it was she who had recommended him to go to mr. aylmer's when, on the first morning of his residence in putney, he had demanded, "any decent tobacconists in this happy region?" he suspected that, had it not been for aylmer's beridden and incurable wife, alice's name might have been aylmer. he suspected aylmer of a hopeless passion for alice. he was glad that alice had not been thrown away on aylmer. he could not imagine himself now without alice. in spite of her ideas on the graphic arts, alice was his air, his atmosphere, his oxygen; and also his umbrella to shield him from the hail of untoward circumstances. curious--the process of love! it was the power of love that had put that picture in the tobacconist's window. whatever power had put it there, no power seemed strong enough to get it out again. it lay exposed in the window for weeks and never drew a crowd, nor caused a sensation of any kind! not a word in the newspapers! london, the acknowledged art-centre of the world, calmly went its ways. the sole immediate result was that priam changed his tobacconist, and the direction of his promenades. at last another singular event happened. alice beamingly put five sovereigns into priam's hand one evening. "it's been sold for five guineas," she said, joyous. "mr. aylmer didn't want to keep anything for himself, but i insisted on his having the odd shillings. i think it's splendid, simply splendid! of course i always _did_ think it was a beautiful picture," she added. the fact was that this astounding sale for so large a sum as five pounds, of a picture done in the attic by her henry, had enlarged her ideas of henry's skill. she could no longer regard his painting as the caprice of a gentle lunatic. there was something _in_ it. and now she wanted to persuade herself that she had known from the first there was something in it. the picture had been bought by the eccentric and notorious landlord of the elk hotel, down by the river, on a sunday afternoon when he was--not drunk, but more optimistic than the state of english society warrants. he liked the picture because his public-house was so unmistakably plain in it. he ordered a massive gold frame for it, and hung it in his saloon-bar. his career as a patron of the arts was unfortunately cut short by an order signed by his doctors for his incarceration in a lunatic asylum. all putney had been saying for years that he would end in the asylum, and all putney was right. * * * * * chapter viii _an invasion_ one afternoon, in december, priam and alice were in the sitting-room together, and alice was about to prepare tea. the drawn-thread cloth was laid diagonally on the table (because alice had seen cloths so laid on model tea-tables in model rooms at waring's), the strawberry jam occupied the northern point of the compass, and the marmalade was antarctic, while brittle cakes and spongy cakes represented the occident and the orient respectively. bread-and-butter stood, rightly, for the centre of the universe. silver ornamented the spread, and alice's two tea-pots (for she would never allow even chinese tea to remain on the leaves for more than five minutes) and alice's water-jug with the patent balanced lid, occupied a tray off the cloth. at some distance, but still on the table, a kettle moaned over a spirit-lamp. alice was cutting bread for toast. the fire was of the right redness for toast, and a toasting-fork lay handy. as winter advanced, alice's teas had a tendency to become cosier and cosier, and also more luxurious, more of a ritualistic ceremony. and to avoid the trouble and danger of going through a cold passage to the kitchen, she arranged matters so that the entire operation could be performed with comfort and decency in the sitting-room itself. priam was rolling cigarettes, many of them, and placing them, as he rolled them, in order on the mantelpiece. a happy, mild couple! and a couple, one would judge from the richness of the tea, with no immediate need of money. over two years, however, had passed since the catastrophe to cohoon's, and cohoon's had in no way recovered therefrom. yet money had been regularly found for the household. the manner of its finding was soon to assume importance in the careers of priam and alice. but, ere that moment, an astonishing and vivid experience happened to them. one might have supposed that, in the life of priam farll at least, enough of the astonishing and the vivid had already happened. nevertheless, what had already happened was as customary and unexciting as addressing envelopes, compared to the next event. the next event began at the instant when alice was sticking the long fork into a round of bread. there was a knock at the front door, a knock formidable and reverberating, the knock of fate, perhaps, but fate disguised as a coalheaver. alice answered it. she always answered knocks; priam never. she shielded him from every rough or unexpected contact, just as his valet used to do. the gas in the hall was not lighted, and so she stopped to light it, darkness having fallen. then she opened the door, and saw, in the gloom, a short, thin woman standing on the step, a woman of advanced middle-age, dressed with a kind of shabby neatness. it seemed impossible that so frail and unimportant a creature could have made such a noise on the door. "is this mr. henry leek's?" asked the visitor, in a dissatisfied, rather weary tone. "yes," said alice. which was not quite true. 'this' was assuredly hers, rather than her husband's. "oh!" said the woman, glancing behind her; and entered nervously, without invitation. at the same moment three male figures sprang, or rushed, out of the strip of front garden, and followed the woman into the hall, lunging up against alice, and breathing loudly. one of the trio was a strong, heavy-faced heavy-handed, louring man of some thirty years (it seemed probable that he was the knocker), and the others were curates, with the proper physical attributes of curates; that is to say, they were of ascetic habit and clean-shaven and had ingenuous eyes. the hall now appeared like the antechamber of a may-meeting, and as alice had never seen it so peopled before, she vented a natural exclamation of surprise. "yes," said one of the curates, fiercely. "you may say 'lord,' but we were determined to get in, and in we have got. john, shut the door. mother, don't put yourself about." john, being the heavy-faced and heavy-handed man, shut the door. "where is mr. henry leek?" demanded the other curate. now priam, whose curiosity had been excusably excited by the unusual sounds in the hall, was peeping through a chink of the sitting-room door, and the elderly woman caught the glint of his eyes. she pushed open the door, and, after a few seconds' inspection of him, said: "there you are, henry! after thirty years! to think of it!" priam was utterly at a loss. "i'm his wife, ma'am," the visitor continued sadly to alice. "i'm sorry to have to tell you. i'm his wife. i'm the rightful mrs. henry leek, and these are my sons, come with me to see that i get justice." alice recovered very quickly from the shock of amazement. she was a woman not easily to be startled by the vagaries of human nature. she had often heard of bigamy, and that her husband should prove to be a bigamist did not throw her into a swoon. she at once, in her own mind, began to make excuses for him. she said to herself, as she inspected the real mrs. henry leek, that the real mrs. henry leek had certainly the temperament which manufactures bigamists. she understood how a person may slide into bigamy. and after thirty years!... she never thought of bigamy as a crime, nor did it occur to her to run out and drown herself for shame because she was not properly married to priam! no, it has to be said in favour of alice that she invariably took things as they were. "i think you'd better all come in and sit down quietly," she said. "eh! it's very kind of you," said the mother of the curates, limply. the last thing that the curates wanted to do was to sit down quietly. but they had to sit down. alice made them sit side by side on the sofa. the heavy, elder brother, who had not spoken a word, sat on a chair between the sideboard and the door. their mother sat on a chair near the table. priam fell into his easy-chair between the fireplace and the sideboard. as for alice, she remained standing; she showed no nervousness except in her handling of the toasting-fork. it was a great situation. but unfortunately ordinary people are so unaccustomed to the great situation, that, when it chances to come, they feel themselves incapable of living up to it. a person gazing in at the window, and unacquainted with the facts, might have guessed that the affair was simply a tea party at which the guests had arrived a little too soon and where no one was startlingly proficient in the art of small-talk. still, the curates were apparently bent on doing their best. "now, mother!" one of them urged her. the mother, as if a spring had been touched in her, began: "he married me just thirty years ago, ma'am; and four months after my eldest was born--that's john there"--(pointing to the corner near the door)--"he just walked out of the house and left me. i'm sorry to have to say it. yes, sorry i am! but there it is. and never a word had i ever given him! and eight months after that my twins were born. that's harry and matthew"--(pointing to the sofa)--"harry i called after his father because i thought he was like him, and just to show i bore no ill-feeling, and hoping he'd come back! and there i was with these little children! and not a word of explanation did i ever have. i heard of harry five years later--when johnnie was nearly five--but he was on the continent and i couldn't go traipsing about with three babies. besides, if i _had_ gone!... sorry i am to say it, ma'am; but many's the time he's beaten me, yes, with his hands and his fists! he's knocked me about above a bit. and i never gave him a word back. he was my husband, for better for worse, and i forgave him and i still do. forgive and forget, that's what i say. we only heard of him through matthew being second curate at st. paul's, and in charge of the mission hall. it was your milkman that happened to tell matthew that he had a customer same name as himself. and you know how one thing leads to another. so we're here!" "i never saw this lady in my life," said priam excitedly, "and i'm absolutely certain i never married her. i never married any one; except, of course, you, alice!" "then how do you explain this, sir?" exclaimed matthew, the younger twin, jumping up and taking a blue paper from his pocket. "be so good as to pass this to father," he said, handing the paper to alice. alice inspected the document. it was a certificate of the marriage of henry leek, valet, and sarah featherstone, spinster, at a registry office in paddington. priam also inspected it. this was one of leek's escapades! no revelations as to the past of henry leek would have surprised him. there was nothing to be done except to give a truthful denial of identity and to persist in that denial. useless to say soothingly to the lady visitor that she was the widow of a gentleman who had been laid to rest in westminster abbey! "i know nothing about it," said priam doggedly. "i suppose you'll not deny, sir, that your name is henry leek," said henry, jumping up to stand by matthew. "i deny everything," said priam doggedly. how could he explain? if he had not been able to convince alice that he was not henry leek, could he hope to convince these visitors? "i suppose, madam," henry continued, addressing alice in impressive tones as if she were a crowded congregation, "that at any rate you and my father are--er--living here together under the name of mr. and mrs. henry leek?" alice merely lifted her eyebrows. "it's all a mistake," said priam impatiently. then he had a brilliant inspiration. "as if there was only one henry leek in the world!" "do you really recognize my husband?" alice asked. "your husband, madam!" matthew protested, shocked. "i wouldn't say that i recognized him as he _was_," said the real mrs. henry leek. "no more than he recognizes me. after thirty years!....last time i saw him he was only twenty-two or twenty-three. but he's the same sort of man, and he has the same eyes. and look at henry's eyes. besides, i heard twenty-five years ago that he'd gone into service with a mr. priam farll, a painter or something, him that was buried in westminster abbey. and everybody in putney knows that this gentleman----" "gentleman!" murmured matthew, discontented. "was valet to mr. priam farll. we've heard that everywhere." "i suppose you'll not deny," said henry the younger, "that priam farll wouldn't be likely to have _two_ valets named henry leek?" crushed by this socratic reasoning, priam kept silence, nursing his knees and staring into the fire. alice went to the sideboard where she kept her best china, and took out three extra cups and saucers. "i think we'd all better have some tea," she said tranquilly. and then she got the tea-caddy and put seven teaspoonfuls of tea into one of the tea-pots. "it's very kind of you, i'm sure," whimpered the authentic mrs. henry leek. "now, mother, don't give way!" the curates admonished her. "don't you remember, henry," she went on whimpering to priam, "how you said you wouldn't be married in a church, not for anybody? and how i gave way to you, like i always did? and don't you remember how you wouldn't let poor little johnnie be baptized? well, i do hope your opinions have altered. eh, but it's strange, it's strange, how two of your sons, and just them two that you'd never set eyes on until this day, should have made up their minds to go into the church! and thanks to johnnie there, they've been able to. if i was to tell you all the struggles we've had, you wouldn't believe me. they were clerks, and they might have been clerks to this day, if it hadn't been for johnnie. but johnnie could always earn money. it's that engineering! and now matthew's second curate at st. paul's and getting fifty pounds a year, and henry'll have a curacy next month at bermondsey--it's been promised, and all thanks to johnnie!" she wept. johnnie, in the corner, who had so far done nought but knock at the door, maintained stiffly his policy of non-interference. priam farll, angry, resentful, and quite untouched by the recital, shrugged his shoulders. he was animated by the sole desire to fly from the widow and progeny of his late valet. but he could not fly. the herculean john was too close to the door. so he shrugged his shoulders a second time. "yes, sir," said matthew, "you may shrug your shoulders, but you can't shrug us out of existence. here we are, and you can't get over us. you are our father, and i presume that a kind of respect is due to you. yet how can you hope for our respect? have you earned it? did you earn it when you ill-treated our poor mother? did you earn it when you left her, with the most inhuman cruelty, to fend for herself in the world? did you earn it when you abandoned your children born and unborn? you are a bigamist, sir; a deceiver of women! heaven knows--" "would you mind just toasting this bread?" alice interrupted his impassioned discourse by putting the loaded toasting-fork into his hands, "while i make the tea?" it was a novel way of stopping a mustang in full career, but it succeeded. while somewhat perfunctorily holding the fork to the fire, matthew glared about him, to signify his righteous horror, and other sentiments. "please don't burn it," said alice gently. "suppose you were to sit down on this foot-stool." and then she poured boiling water on the tea, put the lid on the pot, and looked at the clock to note the exact second at which the process of infusion had begun. "of course," burst out henry, the twin of matthew, "i need not say, madam, that you have all our sympathies. you are in a----" "do you mean me?" alice asked. in an undertone priam could be heard obstinately repeating, "never set eyes upon her before! never set eyes on the woman before!" "i do, madam," said henry, not to be cowed nor deflected from his course. "i speak for all of us. you have our sympathies. you could not know the character of the man you married, or rather with whom you went through the ceremony of marriage. however, we have heard, by inquiry, that you made his acquaintance through the medium of a matrimonial agency; and indirectly, when one does that sort of thing, one takes one's chance. your position is an extremely delicate one; but it is not too much to say that you brought it on yourself. in my work, i have encountered many sad instances of the result of lax moral principles; but i little thought to encounter the saddest of all in my own family. the discovery is just as great a blow to us as it is to you. we have suffered; my mother has suffered. and now, i fear, it is your turn to suffer. you are not this man's wife. nothing can make you his wife. you are living in the same house with him--under circumstances--er--without a chaperon. i hesitate to characterize your situation in plain words. it would scarcely become me, or mine, to do so. but really no lady could possibly find herself in a situation more false than--i am afraid there is only one word, open immorality, and--er--to put yourself right with society there is one thing, and only one, left for you to--er--do. i--i speak for the family, and i--" "sugar?" alice questioned the mother of curates. "yes, please." "one lump, or two?" "two, please." "speaking for the family--" henry resumed. "will you kindly pass this cup to your mother?" alice suggested. henry was obliged to take the cup. excited by the fever of eloquence, he unfortunately upset it before it had reached his mother's hands. "oh, henry!" murmured the lady, mournfully aghast. "you always were so clumsy! and a clean cloth, too!" "don't mention it, please," said alice, and then to _her_ henry: "my dear, just run into the kitchen, and bring me something to wipe this up. hanging behind the door--you'll see." priam sprang forward with astonishing celerity. and the occasion brooking no delay, the guardian of the portal could not but let him pass. in another moment the front door banged. priam did not return. and alice staunched the flow of tea with a clean, stiff serviette taken from the sideboard drawer. _a departure_ the family of the late henry leek, each with a cup in hand, experienced a certain difficulty in maintaining the interview at the pitch set by matthew and henry. mrs. leek, their mother, frankly gave way to soft tears, while eating bread-and-butter, jam and zebra-like toast. john took everything that alice offered to him in gloomy and awkward silence. "does he mean to come back?" matthew demanded at length. he had risen from the foot-stool. "who?" asked alice. matthew paused, and then said, savagely and deliberately: "father." alice smiled. "i'm afraid not. i'm afraid he's gone out. you see, he's a rather peculiar man. it's not the slightest use me trying to drive him. he can only be led. he has his good points--i can speak candidly as he isn't here, and i _will_--he has his good points. when mrs. leek, as i suppose she calls herself, spoke about his cruelty to her--well, i understood that. far be it from me to say a word against him; he's often very good to me, but--another cup, mr. john?" john advanced to the table without a word, holding his cup. "you don't mean to say, ma'am," said mrs. leek "that he--?" alice nodded grievously. mrs. leek burst into tears. "when johnnie was barely five weeks old," she said, "he would twist my arm. and he kept me without money. and once he locked me up in the cellar. and one morning when i was ironing he snatched the hot iron out of my hand and--" "don't! don't!" alice soothed her. "i know. i know all you can tell me. i know because i've been through--" "you don't mean to say he threatened _you_ with the flat-iron?" "if threatening was only all!" said alice, like a martyr. "then he's not changed, in all these years!" wept the mother of curates. "if he has, it's for the worse," said alice. "how was i to tell?" she faced the curates. "how could i know? and yet nobody, nobody, could be nicer than he is at times!" "that's true, that's true," responded the authentic mrs. henry leek. "he was always so changeable. so queer." "queer!" alice took up the word. "that's it queer! i don't think he's _quite_ right in his head, not quite right. he has the very strangest fancies. i never take any notice of them, but they're there. i seldom get up in the morning without thinking, 'well, perhaps to-day he'll have to be taken off.'" "taken off?" "yes, to hanwell, or wherever it is. and you must remember," she said gazing firmly at the curates, "you've got his blood in your veins. don't forget that. i suppose you want to make him go back to you, mrs. leek, as he certainly ought." "ye-es," murmured mrs. leek feebly. "well, if you can persuade him to go," said alice, "if you can make him see his duty, you're welcome. but i'm sorry for you. i think i ought to tell you that this is my house, and my furniture. he's got nothing at all. i expect he never could save. many's the blow he's laid on me in anger, but all the same i pity him. i pity him. and i wouldn't like to leave him in the lurch. perhaps these three strong young men'll be able to do something with him. but i'm not sure. he's very strong. and he has a way of leaping out so sudden like." mrs. leek shook her head as memories of the past rose up in her mind. "the fact is," said matthew sternly, "he ought to be prosecuted for bigamy. that's what ought to be done." "most decidedly," henry concurred. "you're quite right! you're quite right!" said alice. "that's only justice. of course he'd deny that he was the same henry leek. he'd deny it like anything. but in the end i dare say you'd be able to prove it. the worst of these law cases is they're so expensive. it means private detectives and all sorts of things, i believe. of course there'd be the scandal. but don't mind me! i'm innocent. everybody knows me in putney, and has done this twenty years. i don't know how it would suit you, mr. henry and mr. matthew, as clergymen, to have your own father in prison. that's as may be. but justice is justice, and there's too many men going about deceiving simple, trusting women. i've often heard such tales. now i know they're all true. it's a mercy my own poor mother hasn't lived to see where i am to-day. as for my father, old as he was, if he'd been alive, there'd have been horsewhipping that i do know." after some rather pointless and disjointed remarks from the curates, a sound came from the corner near the door. it was john's cough. "better clear out of this!" john ejaculated. such was his first and last oral contribution to the scene. _in the bath_ priam farll was wandering about the uncharted groves of wimbledon common, and uttering soliloquies in language that lacked delicacy. he had rushed forth, in his haste, without an overcoat, and the weather was blusterously inclement. but he did not feel the cold; he only felt the keen wind of circumstance. soon after the purchase of his picture by the lunatic landlord of a fully licensed house, he had discovered that the frame-maker in high street knew a man who would not be indisposed to buy such pictures as he could paint, and transactions between him and the frame-maker had developed into a regular trade. the usual price paid for canvases was ten pounds, in cash. by this means he had earned about two hundred a year. no questions were put on either side. the paintings were delivered at intervals, and the money received; and priam knew no more. for many weeks he had lived in daily expectation of an uproar, a scandal in the art-world, visits of police, and other inconveniences, for it was difficult to believe that the pictures would never come beneath the eye of a first-class expert. but nothing had occurred, and he had gradually subsided into a sense of security. he was happy; happy in the untrammelled exercise of his gift, happy in having all the money that his needs and alice's demanded; happier than he had been in the errant days of his glory and his wealth. alice had been amazed at his power of earning; and also, she had seemed little by little to lose her suspicions as to his perfect sanity and truthfulness. in a word, the dog of fate had slept; and he had taken particular care to let it lie. he was in that species of sheltered groove which is absolutely essential to the bliss of a shy and nervous artist, however great he may be. and now this disastrous irruption, this resurrection of the early sins of the real leek! he was hurt; he was startled; he was furious. but he was not surprised. the wonder was that the early sins of henry leek had not troubled him long ago. what could he do? he could do nothing. that was the tragedy: he could do nothing. he could but rely upon alice. alice was amazing. the more he thought of it, the more masterly her handling of these preposterous curates seemed to him. and was he to be robbed of this incomparable woman by ridiculous proceedings connected with a charge of bigamy? he knew that bigamy meant prison, in england. the injustice was monstrous. he saw those curates, and their mute brother, and the aggrieved mother of the three dogging him either to prison or to his deathbed! and how could he explain to alice? impossible to explain to alice!... still, it was conceivable that alice would not desire explanation. alice somehow never did desire an explanation. she always said, "i can quite understand," and set about preparing a meal. she was the comfortablest cushion of a creature that the evolution of the universe had ever produced. then the gusty breeze dropped and it began to rain. he ignored the rain. but december rain has a strange, horrid quality of chilly persistence. it is capable of conquering the most obstinate and serious mental preoccupation, and it conquered priam's. it forced him to admit that his tortured soul had a fleshly garment and that the fleshly garment was soaked to the marrow. and his soul gradually yielded before the attack of the rain, and he went home. he put his latchkey into the door with minute precautions against noise, and crept into his house like a thief, and very gently shut the door. then, in the hall, he intently listened. not a sound! that is to say, not a sound except the drippings of his hat on the linoleum. the sitting-room door was ajar. he timidly pushed it, and entered. alice was darning stockings. "henry!" she exclaimed. "why, you're wet through!" she rose. "have they cleared off?" he demanded. "and you've been out without an overcoat! henry, how could you? well, i must get you into bed at once--instantly, or i shall have you down with pneumonia or something to-morrow!" "have they cleared off?" he repeated. "yes, of course," she said. "when are they coming back?" he asked. "i don't think they'll come back," she replied. "i think they've had enough. i think i've made them see that it's best to leave well alone. did you ever see such toast as that curate made?" "alice, i assure you," he said, later--he was in a boiling bath--"i assure you it's all a mistake, i've never seen the woman before." "of course you haven't," she said calmingly. "of course you haven't. besides, even if you had, it serves her right. every one could see she's a nagging woman. and they seemed quite prosperous. they're hysterical-that's what's the matter with them, all of them--except the eldest, the one that never spoke. i rather liked him." "but i _haven't!_" he reiterated, splashing his positive statement into the water. "my dear, i know you haven't." but he guessed that she was humouring him. he guessed that she was determined to keep him at all costs. and he had a disconcerting glimpse of the depths of utter unscrupulousness that sometimes disclose themselves in the mind of a good and loving woman. "only i hope there won't be any more of them!" she added dryly. ah! that was the point! he conceived the possibility of the rascal leek having committed scores and scores of sins, all of which might come up against him. his affrighted vision saw whole regions populated by disconsolate widows of henry leek and their offspring, ecclesiastical and otherwise. he knew what leek had been. westminster abbey was a strange goal for leek to have achieved. * * * * * chapter ix _a glossy male_ the machine was one of those electric contrivances that do their work noiselessly and efficiently, like a garrotter or the guillotine. no odour, no teeth-disturbing grind of rack-and-pinion, no trumpeting, with that machine! it arrived before the gate with such absence of sound that alice, though she was dusting in the front-room, did not hear it. she heard nothing till the bell discreetly tinkled. justifiably assuming that the tinkler was the butcher's boy, she went to the door with her apron on, and even with the duster in her hand. a handsome, smooth man stood on the step, and the electric carriage made a background for him. he was a dark man, with curly black hair, and a moustache to match, and black eyes. his silk hat, of an incredible smooth newness, glittered over his glittering hair and eyes. his overcoat was lined with astrakan, and this important fact was casually betrayed at the lapels and at the sleeves. he wore a black silk necktie, with a small pearl pin in the mathematical centre of the perfect rhomboid of the upper part of a sailor's knot. his gloves were of slate colour. the chief characteristic of his faintly striped trousers was the crease, which seemed more than mortal. his boots were of _glacé_ kid and as smooth as his cheeks. the cheeks had a fresh boyish colour, and between them, over admirable snowy teeth, projected the hooked key to this temperament. it _is_ possible that alice, from sheer thoughtlessness, shared the vulgar prejudice against jews; but certainly she did not now feel it. the man's personal charm, his exceeding niceness, had always conquered that prejudice, whenever encountered. moreover, he was only about thirty-five in years, and no such costly and beautiful male had ever yet stood on alice's doorstep. she at once, in her mind, contrasted him with the curates of the previous week, to the disadvantage of the established church. she did not know that this man was more dangerous than a thousand curates. "is this mr. leek's?" he inquired smilingly, and raised his hat. "yes," said alice with a responsive smile. "is he in?" "well," said alice, "he's busy at his work. you see in this weather he can't go out much--not to work--and so he--" "could i see him in his studio?" asked the glossy man, with the air of saying, "can you grant me this supreme favour?" it was the first time that alice had heard the attic called a studio. she paused. "it's about pictures," explained the visitor. "oh!" said alice. "will you come in?" "i've run down specially to see mr. leek," said the visitor with emphasis. alice's opinion as to the seriousness of her husband's gift for painting had of course changed in two years. a man who can make two or three hundred a year by sticking colours anyhow, at any hazard, on canvases-by producing alleged pictures that in alice's secret view bore only a comic resemblance to anything at all--that man had to be taken seriously in his attic as an artisan. it is true that alice thought the payment he received miraculously high for the quality of work done; but, with this agreeable jew in the hall, and the _coupé_ at the kerb, she suddenly perceived the probability of even greater miracles in the matter of price. she saw the average price of ten pounds rising to fifteen, or even twenty, pounds--provided her husband was given no opportunity to ruin the affair by his absurd, retiring shyness. "will you come this way?" she suggested briskly. and all that elegance followed her up to the attic door: which door she threw open, remarking simply-"henry, here is a gentleman come to see you about pictures." _a connoisseur_ priam recovered more quickly than might have been expected. his first thought was naturally that women are uncalculated, if not incalculable, creatures, and that the best of them will do impossible things--things inconceivable till actually done! fancy her introducing a stranger, without a word of warning, direct into his attic! however, when he rose he saw the visitor's nose (whose nostrils were delicately expanding and contracting in the fumes of the oil-stove), and he was at once reassured. he knew that he would have to face neither rudeness, nor bluntness, nor lack of imagination, nor lack of quick sympathy. besides, the visitor, with practical assurance, set the tone of the interview instantly. "good-morning, _maître_," he began, right off. "i must apologize for breaking in upon you. but i've come to see if you have any work to sell. my name is oxford, and i'm acting for a collector." he said this with a very agreeable mingling of sincerity, deference, and mercantile directness, also with a bright, admiring smile. he showed no astonishment at the interior of the attic. _maître_! well, of course, it would be idle to pretend that the greatest artists do not enjoy being addressed as _maître_. 'master' is the same word, but entirely different. it was a long time since priam farll had been called _maître_. indeed, owing to his retiring habits, he had very seldom been called _maître_ at all. a just-finished picture stood on an easel near the window; it represented one of the most wonderful scenes in london: putney high street at night; two omnibus horses stepped strongly and willingly out of a dark side street, and under the cold glare of the main road they somehow took on the quality of equestrian sculpture. the altercation of lights was in the highest degree complex. priam understood immediately, from the man's calm glance at the picture, and the position which he instinctively took up to see it, that he was accustomed to looking at pictures. the visitor did not start back, nor rush forward, nor dissolve into hysterics, nor behave as though confronted by the ghost of a murdered victim. he just gazed at the picture, keeping his nerve and holding his tongue. and yet it was not an easy picture to look at. it was a picture of an advanced experimentalism, and would have appealed to nothing but the sense of humour in a person not a connoisseur. "sell!" exclaimed priam. like all shy men he could hide his shyness in an exaggerated familiarity. "what price this?" and he pointed to the picture. there were no other preliminaries. "it is excessively distinguished," murmured mr. oxford, in the accents of expert appreciation. "excessively distinguished. may i ask how much?" "that's what i'm asking you," said priam, fiddling with a paint rag. "hum!" observed mr. oxford, and gazed in silence. then: "two hundred and fifty?" priam had virtually promised to deliver that picture to the picture-framer on the next day, and he had not expected to receive a penny more than twelve pounds for it. but artists are strange organisms. he shook his head. although two hundred and fifty pounds was as much as he had earned in the previous twelve months, he shook his grey head. "no?" said mr. oxford kindly and respectfully, putting his hands behind his back. "by the way," he turned with eagerness to priam, "i presume you have seen the portrait of ariosto by titian that they've bought for the national gallery? what is your opinion of it, _maître_?" he stood expectant, glowing with interest. "except that it isn't ariosto, and it certainly isn't by titian, it's a pretty high-class sort of thing," said priam. mr. oxford smiled with appreciative content, nodding his head. "i hoped you would say so," he remarked. and swiftly he passed on to segantini, then to j.w. morrice, and then to bonnard, demanding the _maître's_ views. in a few moments they were really discussing pictures. and it was years since priam had listened to the voice of informed common sense on the subject of painting. it was years since he had heard anything but exceeding puerility concerning pictures. he had, in fact, accustomed himself not to listen; he had excavated a passage direct from one ear to the other for such remarks. and now he drank up the conversation of mr. oxford, and perceived that he had long been thirsty. and he spoke his mind. he grew warmer, more enthusiastic, more impassioned. and mr. oxford listened with ecstasy. mr. oxford had apparently a natural discretion. he simply accepted priam, as he stood, for a great painter. no reference to the enigma why a great painter should be painting in an attic in werter road, putney! no inconvenient queries about the great painter's previous history and productions. just the frank, full acceptance of his genius! it was odd, but it was comfortable. "so you won't take two hundred and fifty?" asked mr. oxford, hopping back to business. "no," said priam sturdily. "the truth is," he added, "i should rather like to keep that picture for myself." "will you take five hundred, _maître_?" "yes, i suppose i will," and priam sighed. a genuine sigh! for he would really have liked to keep the picture. he knew he had never painted a better. "and may i carry it away with me?" asked mr. oxford. "i expect so," said priam. "i wonder if i might venture to ask you to come back to town with me?" mr. oxford went on, in gentle deference. "i have one or two pictures i should very much like you to see, and i fancy they might give you pleasure. and we could talk over future business. if possibly you could spare an hour or so. if i might request----" a desire rose in priam's breast and fought against his timidity. the tone in which mr. oxford had said "i fancy they might give you pleasure" appeared to indicate something very much out of the common. and priam could scarcely recollect when last his eyes had rested on a picture that was at once unfamiliar and great. _parfitts' galleries_ i have already indicated that the machine was somewhat out of the ordinary. it was, as a fact, exceedingly out of the ordinary. it was much larger than electric carriages usually are. it had what the writers of 'motoring notes' in papers written by the wealthy for the wealthy love to call a 'limousine body.' and outside and in, it was miraculously new and spotless. on the ivory handles of its doors, on its soft yellow leather upholstery, on its cedar woodwork, on its patent blind apparatus, on its silver fittings, on its lamps, on its footstools, on its silken arm-slings--not the minutest trace of usage! mr. oxford's car seemed to show that mr. oxford never used a car twice, purchasing a new car every morning, like stockbrokers their silk hats, or the duke of selsea his trousers. there was a table in the 'body' for writing, and pockets up and down devised to hold documents, also two arm-chairs, and a suspended contrivance which showed the hour, the temperature, and the fluctuations of the barometer; there was also a speaking-tube. one felt that if the machine had been connected by wireless telegraphy with the stock exchange, the leading studios and the houses of parliament, and if a little restaurant had been constructed in the rear, mr. oxford might never have been under the necessity of leaving the car; that he might have passed all his days in it from morn to latest eve. the perfection of the machine and of mr. oxford's attire and complexion caused priam to look rather shabby. indeed, he was rather shabby. shabbiness had slightly overtaken him in putney. once he had been a dandy; but that was in the lamented leek's time. and as the car glided, without smell and without noise, through the encumbered avenues of london towards the centre, now shooting forward like a star, now stopping with gentle suddenness, now swerving in a swift curve round a vehicle earthy and leaden-wheeled, priam grew more and more uncomfortable. he had sunk into a groove at putney. he never left putney, save occasionally to refresh himself at the national gallery, and thither he invariably went by train and tube, because the tube always filled him with wonder and romance, and always threw him up out of the earth at the corner of trafalgar square with such a strange exhilaration in his soul. so that he had not seen the main avenues of london for a long time. he had been forgetting riches and luxury, and the oriental cigarette-shops whose proprietors' names end in 'opoulos,' and the haughtiness of the ruling classes, and the still sterner haughtiness of their footmen. he had now abandoned alice in putney. and a mysterious demon seized him and gripped him, and sought to pull him back in the direction of the simplicity of putney, and struggled with him fiercely, and made him writhe and shrink before the brilliant phenomena of london's centre, and indeed almost pitched him out of the car and set him running as hard as legs would carry to putney. it was the demon which we call habit. he would have given a picture to be in putney, instead of swimming past hyde park corner to the accompaniment of mr. oxford's amiable and deferential and tactful conversation. however, his other demon, shyness, kept him from imperiously stopping the car. the car stopped itself in bond street, in front of a building with a wide archway, and the symbol of empire floating largely over its roof. placards said that admission through the archway was a shilling; but mr. oxford, bearing priam's latest picture as though it had cost fifty thousand instead of five hundred pounds, went straight into the place without paying, and priam accepted his impressive invitation to follow. aged military veterans whose breasts carried a row of medals saluted mr. oxford as he entered, and, within the penetralia, beings in silk hats as faultless as mr. oxford's raised those hats to mr. oxford, who did not raise his in reply. merely nodded, napoleonically! his demeanour had greatly changed. you saw here the man of unbending will, accustomed to use men as pawns in the chess of a complicated career. presently they reached a private office where mr. oxford, with the assistance of a page, removed his gloves, furs, and hat, and sent sharply for a man who at once brought a frame which fitted priam's picture. "do have a cigar," mr. oxford urged priam, with a quick return to his earlier manner, offering a box in which each cigar was separately encased in gold-leaf. the cigar was such as costs a crown in a restaurant, half-a-crown in a shop, and twopence in amsterdam. it was a princely cigar, with the odour of paradise and an ash as white as snow. but priam could not appreciate it. no! he had seen on a beaten copper plate under the archway these words: 'parfitts' galleries.' he was in the celebrated galleries of his former dealers, whom by the way he had never seen. and he was afraid. he was mortally apprehensive, and had a sickly sensation in the stomach. after they had scrupulously inspected the picture, through the clouds of incense, mr. oxford wrote out a cheque for five hundred pounds, and, cigar in mouth, handed it to priam, who tried to take it with a casual air and did not succeed. it was signed 'parfitts'.' "i dare say you have heard that i'm now the sole proprietor of this place," said mr. oxford through his cigar. "really!" said priam, feeling just as nervous as an inexperienced youth. then mr. oxford led priam over thick carpets to a saloon where electric light was thrown by means of reflectors on to a small but incomparable band of pictures. mr. oxford had not exaggerated. they did give pleasure to priam. they were not the pictures one sees every day, nor once a year. there was the finest delacroix of its size that priam had ever met with; also a vermeer that made it unnecessary to visit the ryks museum. and on the more distant wall, to which mr. oxford came last, in a place of marked honour, was an evening landscape of volterra, a hill-town in italy. the bolts of priam's very soul started when he caught sight of that picture. on the lower edge of the rich frame were two words in black lettering: 'priam farll.' how well he remembered painting it! and how masterfully beautiful it was! "now that," said mr. oxford, "is in my humble opinion one of the finest farlls in existence. what do you think, mr. leek?" priam paused. "i agree with you," said he. "farll," said mr. oxford, "is about the only modern painter that can stand the company that that picture has in this room, eh?" priam blushed. "yes," he said. there is a considerable difference, in various matters, between putney and volterra; but the picture of volterra and the picture of putney high street were obviously, strikingly, incontestably, by the same hand; one could not but perceive the same brush-work, the same masses, the same manner of seeing and of grasping, in a word the same dazzling and austere translation of nature. the resemblance jumped at one and shook one by the shoulders. it could not have escaped even an auctioneer. yet mr. oxford did not refer to it. he seemed quite blind to it. all he said was, as they left the room, and priam finished his rather monosyllabic praise-"yes, that's the little collection i've just got together, and i am very proud to have shown it to you. now i want you to come and lunch with me at my club. please do. i should be desolated if you refused." priam did not care a halfpenny about the desolation of mr. oxford; and he most sincerely objected to lunch at mr. oxford's club. but he said "yes" because it was the easiest thing for his shyness to do, mr. oxford being a determined man. priam was afraid to go. he was disturbed, alarmed, affrighted, by the mystery of mr. oxford's silence. they arrived at the club in the car. _the club_ priam had never been in a club before. the statement may astonish, may even meet with incredulity, but it is true. he had left the land of clubs early in life. as for the english clubs in european towns, he was familiar with their exteriors, and with the amiable babble of their supporters at _tables d'hôte,_ and his desire for further knowledge had not been so hot as to inconvenience him. hence he knew nothing of clubs. mr. oxford's club alarmed and intimidated him; it was so big and so black. externally it resembled a town-hall of some great industrial town. as you stood on the pavement at the bottom of the flight of giant steps that led to the first pair of swinging doors, your head was certainly lower than the feet of a being who examined you sternly from the other side of the glass. your head was also far below the sills of the mighty windows of the ground-floor. there were two storeys above the ground-floor, and above them a projecting eave of carven stone that threatened the uplifted eye like a menace. the tenth part of a slate, the merest chip of a corner, falling from the lofty summit of that pile, would have slain elephants. and all the façade was black, black with ages of carbonic deposit. the notion that the building was a town-hall that had got itself misplaced and perverted gradually left you as you gazed. you perceived its falseness. you perceived that mr. oxford's club was a monument, a relic of the days when there were giants on earth, that it had come down unimpaired to a race of pigmies, who were making the best of it. the sole descendant of the giants was the scout behind the door. as mr. oxford and priam climbed towards it, this unique giant, with a giant's force, pulled open the gigantic door, and mr. oxford and priam walked imperceptibly in, and the door swung to with a large displacement of air. priam found himself in an immense interior, under a distant carved ceiling, far, far upwards, like heaven. he watched mr. oxford write his name in a gigantic folio, under a gigantic clock. this accomplished, mr. oxford led him past enormous vistas to right and left, into a very long chamber, both of whose long walls were studded with thousands upon thousands of massive hooks--and here and there upon a hook a silk hat or an overcoat. mr. oxford chose a couple of hooks in the expanse, and when they had divested themselves sufficiently he led priam forwards into another great chamber evidently meant to recall the baths of carcalla. in gigantic basins chiselled out of solid granite, priam scrubbed his finger-nails with a nail-brush larger than he had previously encountered, even in nightmares, and an attendant brushed his coat with a utensil that resembled a weapon of offence lately the property of anak. "shall we go straight to the dining-room now," asked mr. oxford, "or will you have a gin and angostura first?" priam declined the gin and angostura, and they went up an overwhelming staircase of sombre marble, and through other apartments to the dining-room, which would have made an excellent riding-school. here one had six of the gigantic windows in a row, each with curtains that fell in huge folds from the unseen into the seen. the ceiling probably existed. on every wall were gigantic paintings in thick ornate frames, and between the windows stood heroic busts of marble set upon columns of basalt. the chairs would have been immovable had they not run on castors of weight-resisting rock, yet against the tables they had the air of negligible toys. at one end of the room was a sideboard that would not have groaned under an ox whole, and at the other a fire, over which an ox might have been roasted in its entirety, leaped under a mantelpiece upon which goliath could not have put his elbows. all was silent and grave; the floors were everywhere covered with heavy carpets which hushed all echoes. there was not the faintest sound. sound, indeed, seemed to be deprecated. priam had already passed the wide entrance to one illimitable room whose walls were clothed with warnings in gigantic letters: 'silence.' and he had noticed that all chairs and couches were thickly padded and upholstered in soft leather, and that it was impossible to produce in them the slightest creak. at a casual glance the place seemed unoccupied, but on more careful inspection you saw midgets creeping about, or seated in easy-chairs that had obviously been made to hold two of them; these midgets were the members of the club, dwarfed into dolls by its tremendous dimensions. a strange and sinister race! they looked as though in the final stages of decay, and wherever their heads might rest was stretched a white cloth, so that their heads might not touch the spots sanctified by the heads of the mighty departed. they rarely spoke to one another, but exchanged regards of mutual distrust and scorn; and if by chance they did converse it was in tones of weary, brusque disillusion. they could at best descry each other but indistinctly in the universal pervading gloom--a gloom upon which electric lamps, shining dimly yellow in their vast lustres, produced almost no impression. the whole establishment was buried in the past, dreaming of its titantic yore, when there were doubtless giants who could fill those fauteuils and stick their feet on those mantelpieces. it was in such an environment that mr. oxford gave priam to eat and to drink off little ordinary plates and out of tiny tumblers. no hint of the club's immemorial history in that excessively modern and excellent repast--save in the stilton cheese, which seemed to have descended from the fine fruity days of some homeric age, a cheese that ulysses might have inaugurated. i need hardly say that the total effect on priam's temperament was disastrous. (yet how could the diplomatic mr. oxford have guessed that priam had never been in a club before?) it induced in him a speechless anguish, and he would have paid a sum as gigantic as the club--he would have paid the very cheque in his pocket--never to have met mr. oxford. he was a far too sensitive man for a club, and his moods were incalculable. assuredly mr. oxford had miscalculated the result of his club on priam's humour; he soon saw his error. "suppose we take coffee in the smoking-room?" he said. the populous smoking-room was the one part of the club where talking with a natural loudness was not a crime. mr. oxford found a corner fairly free from midgets, and they established themselves in it, and liqueurs and cigars accompanied the coffee. you could actually see midgets laughing outright in the mist of smoke; the chatter narrowly escaped being a din; and at intervals a diminutive boy entered and bawled the name of a midget at the top of his voice, priam was suddenly electrified, and mr. oxford, very alert, noticed the electrification. mr. oxford drank his coffee somewhat quickly, and then he leaned forward a little over the table, and put his moon-like face nearer to priam's, and arranged his legs in a truly comfortable position beneath the table, and expelled a large quantity of smoke from his cigar. it was clearly the preliminary to a scene of confidence, the approach to the crisis to which he had for several hours been leading up. priam's heart trembled. "what is your opinion, _maître_," he asked, "of the ultimate value of farll's pictures?" priam was in misery. mr. oxford's manner was deferential, amiable and expectant. but priam did not know what to say. he only knew what he would do if he could have found the courage to do it: run away, recklessly, unceremoniously, out of that club. "i--i don't know," said priam, visibly whitening. "because i've bought a goodish few farlls in my time," mr. oxford continued, "and i must say i've sold them well. i've only got that one left that i showed you this morning, and i've been wondering whether i should stick to it and wait for a possible further rise, or sell it at once." "how much can you sell it for?" priam mumbled. "i don't mind telling you," said mr. oxford, "that i fancy i could sell it for a couple of thousand. it's rather small, but it's one of the finest in existence." "i should sell it," said priam, scarcely audible. "you would? well, perhaps you're right. it's a question, in my mind, whether some other painter may not turn up one of these days who would do that sort of thing even better than farll did it. i could imagine the possibility of a really clever man coming along and imitating farll so well that only people like yourself, _maître_, and perhaps me, could tell the difference. it's just the kind of work that might be brilliantly imitated, if the imitator was clever enough, don't you think?" "but what do you mean?" asked priam, perspiring in his back. "well," said mr. oxford vaguely, "one never knows. the style might be imitated, and the market flooded with canvases practically as good as farll's. nobody might find it out for quite a long time, and then there might be confusion in the public mind, followed by a sharp fall in prices. and the beauty of it is that the public wouldn't really be any the worse. because an imitation that no one can distinguish from the original is naturally as good as the original. you take me? there's certainly a tremendous chance for a man who could seize it, and that's why i'm inclined to accept your advice and sell my one remaining farll." he smiled more and more confidentially. his gaze was charged with a secret meaning. he seemed to be suggesting unspeakable matters to priam. that bright face wore an expression which such faces wear on such occasions--an expression cheerfully insinuating that after all there is no right and no wrong--or at least that many things which the ordinary slave of convention would consider to be wrong are really right. so priam read the expression. "the dirty rascal wants me to manufacture imitations of myself for him!" priam thought, full of sudden, hidden anger. "he's known all along that there's no difference between what i sold him and the picture he's already had. he wants to suggest that we should come to terms. he's simply been playing a game with me up to now." and he said aloud, "i don't know that i _advise_ you to do anything. i'm not a dealer, mr. oxford." he said it in a hostile tone that ought to have silenced mr. oxford for ever, but it did not. mr. oxford curved away, like a skater into a new figure, and began to expatiate minutely upon the merits of the volterra picture. he analyzed it in so much detail, and lauded it with as much justice, as though the picture was there before them. priam was astonished at the man's exactitude. "scoundrel! he knows a thing or two!" reflected priam grimly. "you don't think i overpraise it, do you, _cher maître?_ mr. oxford finished, still smiling. "a little," said priam. if only priam could have run away! but he couldn't! mr. oxford had him well in a corner. no chance of freedom! besides, he was over fifty and stout. "ah! now i was expecting you to say that! do you mind telling me at what period you painted it?" mr. oxford inquired, very blandly, though his hands were clasped in a violent tension that forced the blood from the region of the knuckle-joints. this was the crisis which mr. oxford had been leading up to! all the time mr. oxford's teethy smile had concealed a knowledge of priam's identity! * * * * * chapter x _the secret_ "what do you mean?" asked priam farll. but he put the question weakly, and he might just as well have said, "i know what you mean, and i would pay a million pounds or so in order to sink through the floor." a few minutes ago he would only have paid five hundred pounds or so in order to run simply away. now he wanted maskelyne miracles to happen to him. the universe seemed to be caving in about the ears of priam farll. mr. oxford was still smiling; smiling, however, as a man holds his breath for a wager. you felt that he could not keep it up much longer. "you _are_ priam farll, aren't you?" said mr. oxford in a very low voice. "what makes you think i'm priam farll?" "i think you are priam farll because you painted that picture i bought from you this morning, and i am sure that no one but priam farll could have painted it." "then you've been playing a game with me all morning!" "please don't put it like that, _cher maître_," mr. oxford whisperingly pleaded. "i only wished to feel my ground. i know that priam farll is supposed to have been buried in westminster abbey. but for me the existence of that picture of putney high street, obviously just painted, is an absolute proof that he is not buried in westminster abbey, and that he still lives. it is an amazing thing that there should have been a mistake at the funeral, an utterly amazing thing, which involves all sorts of consequences! but that's not my business. of course there must be clear reasons for what occurred. i am not interested in them--i mean not professionally. i merely argue, when i see a certain picture, with the paint still wet on it: 'that picture was painted by a certain painter. i am an expert, and i stake my reputation on it' it's no use telling me that the painter in question died several years ago and was buried with national honours in westminster abbey. i say it couldn't have been so. i'm a connoisseur. and if the facts of his death and burial don't agree with the result of my connoisseurship, i say they aren't facts. i say there's been a--a misunderstanding about--er-corpses. now, _cher maître_, what do you think of my position?" mr. oxford drummed lightly on the table. "i don't know," said priam. which was another lie. "you _are_ priam farll, aren't you?" mr. oxford persisted. "well, if you will have it," said priam savagely, "i am. and now you know!" mr. oxford let his smile go. he had held it for an incredible time. he let it go, and sighed a gentle and profound relief. he had been skating over the thinnest ice, and had reached the bank amid terrific crackings, and he began to appreciate the extent of the peril braved. he had been perfectly sure of his connoisseurship. but when one says one is perfectly sure, especially if one says it with immense emphasis, one always means 'imperfectly sure.' so it was with mr. oxford. and really, to argue, from the mere existence of a picture, that a tremendous deceit had been successfully practised upon the most formidable of nations, implies rather more than rashness on the part of the arguer. "but i don't want it to get about," said priam, still in a savage whisper. "and i don't want to talk about it." he looked at the nearest midgets resentfully, suspecting them of eavesdropping. "precisely," said mr. oxford, but in a tone that lacked conviction. "it's a matter that only concerns me," said priam. "precisely," mr. oxford repeated. "at least it _ought_ to concern only you. and i can't assure you too positively that i'm the last person in the world to want to pry; but--" "you must kindly remember," said priam, interrupting, "that you bought that picture this morning simply _as_ a picture, on its merits. you have no authority to attach my name to it, and i must ask you not to do so." "certainly," agreed mr. oxford. "i bought it as a masterpiece, and i'm quite content with my bargain. i want no signature." "i haven't signed my pictures for twenty years," said priam. "pardon me," said mr. oxford. "every square inch of every one is unmistakably signed. you could not put a brush on a canvas without signing it. it is the privilege of only the greatest painters not to put letters on the corners of their pictures in order to keep other painters from taking the credit for them afterwards. for me, all your pictures are signed. but there are some people who want more proof than connoisseurship can give, and that's where the trouble is going to be." "trouble?" said priam, with an intensification of his misery. "yes," said mr. oxford. "i must tell you, so that you can understand the situation." he became very solemn, showing that he had at last reached the real point. "some time ago a man, a little dealer, came to me and offered me a picture that i instantly recognized as one of yours. i bought it." "how much did you pay for it?" priam growled. after a pause mr. oxford said, "i don't mind giving you the figure. i paid fifty pounds for it." "did you!" exclaimed priam, perceiving that some person or persons had made four hundred per cent. on his work by the time it had arrived at a big dealer. "who was the fellow?" "oh, a little dealer. nobody. jew, of course." mr. oxford's way of saying 'jew' was ineffably ironic. priam knew that, being a jew, the dealer could not be his frame-maker, who was a pure-bred yorkshireman from ravensthorpe. mr. oxford continued, "i sold that picture and guaranteed it to be a priam farll." "the devil you did!" "yes. i had sufficient confidence in my judgment." "who bought it?" "whitney c. witt, of new york. he's an old man now, of course. i expect you remember him, _cher maître_." mr. oxford's eyes twinkled. "i sold it to him, and of course he accepted my guarantee. soon afterwards i had the offer of other pictures obviously by you, from the same dealer. and i bought them. i kept on buying them. i dare say i've bought forty altogether." "did your little dealer guess whose work they were?" priam demanded suspiciously. "not he! if he had done, do you suppose he'd have parted with them for fifty pounds apiece? mind, at first i thought i was buying pictures painted before your supposed death. i thought, like the rest of the world, that you were--in the abbey. then i began to have doubts. and one day when a bit of paint came off on my thumb, i can tell you i was startled. however, i stuck to my opinion, and i kept on guaranteeing the pictures as farlls." "it never occurred to you to make any inquiries?" "yes, it did," said mr. oxford. "i did my best to find out from the dealer where he got the pictures from, but he wouldn't tell me. well, i sort of scented a mystery. now i've got no professional use for mysteries, and i came to the conclusion that i'd better just let this one alone. so i did." "well, why didn't you keep on leaving it alone?" priam asked. "because circumstances won't let me. i sold practically all those pictures to whitney c. witt. it was all right. anyhow i thought it was all right. i put parfitts' name and reputation on their being yours. and then one day i heard from mr. witt that on the back of the canvas of one of the pictures the name of the canvas-makers, and a date, had been stamped, with a rubber stamp, and that the date was after your supposed burial, and that his london solicitors had made inquiries from the artist's-material people here, and these people were prepared to prove that the canvas was made after priam farll's funeral. you see the fix?" priam did. "my reputation--parfitts'--is at stake. if those pictures aren't by you, i'm a swindler. parfitts' name is gone for ever, and there'll be the greatest scandal that ever was. witt is threatening proceedings. i offered to take the whole lot back at the price he paid me, without any commission. but he won't. he's an old man; a bit of a maniac i expect, and he won't. he's angry. he thinks he's been swindled, and what he says is that he's going to see the thing through. i've got to prove to him that the pictures are yours. i've got to show him what grounds i had for giving my guarantee. well, to cut a long story short, i've found you, i'm glad to say!" he sighed again. "look here," said priam. "how much has witt paid you altogether for my pictures?" after a pause, mr. oxford said, "i don't mind giving you the figure. he's paid me seventy-two thousand pounds odd." he smiled, as if to excuse himself. when priam farll reflected that he had received about four hundred pounds for those pictures--vastly less than one per cent, of what the shiny and prosperous dealer had ultimately disposed of them for, the traditional fury of the artist against the dealer--of the producer against the parasitic middleman--sprang into flame in his heart. up till then he had never had any serious cause of complaint against his dealers. (extremely successful artists seldom have.) now he saw dealers, as the ordinary painters see them, to be the authors of all evil! now he understood by what methods mr. oxford had achieved his splendid car, clothes, club, and minions. these things were earned, not by mr. oxford, but _for_ mr. oxford in dingy studios, even in attics, by shabby industrious painters! mr. oxford was nothing but an opulent thief, a grinder of the face of genius. mr. oxford was, in a word, the spawn of the devil, and priam silently but sincerely consigned him to his proper place. it was excessively unjust of priam. nobody had asked priam to die. nobody had asked him to give up his identity. if he had latterly been receiving tens instead of thousands for his pictures, the fault was his alone. mr. oxford had only bought and only sold; which was his true function. but mr. oxford's sin, in priam's eyes, was the sin of having been right. it would have needed less insight than mr. oxford had at his disposal to see that priam farll was taking the news very badly. "for both our sakes, _cher maître_," said mr. oxford persuasively, "i think it will be advisable for you to put me in a position to prove that my guarantee to witt was justified." "why for both our sakes?" "because, well, i shall be delighted to pay you, say thirty-six thousand pounds in acknowledgment of--er--" he stopped. probably he had instantly perceived that he was committing a disastrous error of tact. either he should have offered nothing, or he should have offered the whole sum he had received less a small commission. to suggest dividing equally with priam was the instinctive impulse, the fatal folly, of a born dealer. and mr. oxford was a born dealer. "i won't accept a penny," said priam. "and i can't help you in any way. i'm afraid i must go now. i'm late as it is." his cold resistless fury drove him forward, and, without the slightest regard for the amenities of clubs, he left the table, mr. oxford, becoming more and more the dealer, rose and followed him, even directed him to the gigantic cloak-room, murmuring the while soft persuasions and pacifications in priam's ear. "there may be an action in the courts," said mr. oxford in the grand entrance hall, "and your testimony would be indispensable to me." "i can have nothing to do with it. good-day!" the giant at the door could scarce open the gigantic portal quickly enough for him. he fled--fled, surrounded by nightmare visions of horrible publicity in a law-court. unthinkable tortures! he damned mr. oxford to the nethermost places, and swore that he would not lift a finger to save mr. oxford from penal servitude for life. _money-getting_ he stood on the kerb of the monument, talking to himself savagely. at any rate he was safely outside the monument, with its pullulating population of midgets creeping over its carpets and lounging insignificant on its couches. he could not remember clearly what had occurred since the moment of his getting up from the table; he could not remember seeing anything or anyone on his way out; but he could remember the persuasive, deferential voice of mr. oxford following him persistently as far as the giant's door. in recollection that club was like an abode of black magic to him; it seemed so hideously alive in its deadness, and its doings were so absurd and mysterious. "silence, silence!" commanded the white papers in one vast chamber, and, in another, babel existed! and then that terrible mute dining-room, with the high, unscalable mantelpieces that no midget could ever reach! he kept uttering the most dreadful judgments on the club and on mr. oxford, in quite audible tones, oblivious of the street. he was aroused by a rather scared man saluting him. it was mr. oxford's chauffeur, waiting patiently till his master should be ready to re-enter the wheeled salon. the chauffeur apparently thought him either demented or inebriated, but his sole duty was to salute, and he did nothing else. quite forgetting that this chauffeur was a fellow-creature, priam immediately turned upon his heel, and hurried down the street. at the corner of the street was a large bank, and priam, acquiring the reckless courage of the soldier in battle, entered the bank. he had never been in a london bank before. at first it reminded him of the club, with the addition of an enormous placard giving the day of the month as a mystical number--14--and other placards displaying solitary letters of the alphabet. then he saw that it was a huge menagerie in which highly trained young men of assorted sizes and years were confined in stout cages of wire and mahogany. he stamped straight to a cage with a hole in it, and threw down the cheque for five hundred pounds--defiantly. "next desk, please," said a mouth over a high collar and a green tie, behind the grating, and a disdainful hand pushed the cheque back towards priam. "next desk!" repeated priam, dashed but furious. "this is the a to m desk," said the mouth. then priam understood the solitary letters, and he rushed, with a new accession of fury, to the adjoining cage, where another disdainful hand picked up the cheque and turned it over, with an air of saying, "fishy, this!" and, "it isn't endorsed!" said another mouth over another high collar and green tie. the second disdainful hand pushed the cheque back again to priam, as though it had been a begging circular. "oh, if that's all!" said priam, almost speechless from anger. "have you got such a thing as a pen?" he was behaving in an extremely unreasonable manner. he had no right to visit his spleen on a perfectly innocent bank that paid twenty-five per cent to its shareholders and a thousand a year each to its directors, and what trifle was left over to its men in rages. but priam was not like you or me. he did not invariably act according to reason. he could not be angry with one man at once, nor even with one building at once. when he was angry he was inclusively and miscellaneously angry; and the sun, moon, and stars did not escape. after he had endorsed the cheque the disdainful hand clawed it up once more, and directed upon its obverse and upon its reverse a battery of suspicions; then a pair of eyes glanced with critical distrust at so much of priam's person as was visible. then the eyes moved back, the mouth opened, in a brief word, and lo! there were four eyes and two mouths over the cheque, and four for an instant on priam. priam expected some one to call for a policeman; in spite of himself he felt guilty--or anyhow dubious. it was the grossest insult to him to throw doubt on the cheque and to examine him in that frigid, shamelessly disillusioned manner. "you _are_ mr. leek?" a mouth moved. "yes" (very slowly). "how would you like this?" "i'll thank you to give it me in notes," answered priam haughtily. when the disdainful hand had counted twice every corner of a pile of notes, and had dropped the notes one by one, with a peculiar snapping sound of paper, in front of priam, priam crushed them together and crammed them without any ceremony and without gratitude to the giver, into the right pocket of his trousers. and he stamped out of the building with curses on his lips. still, he felt better, he felt assuaged. to cultivate and nourish a grievance when you have five hundred pounds in your pocket, in cash, is the most difficult thing in the world. _a visit to the tailors'_ he gradually grew calmer by dint of walking--aimless, fast walking, with a rapt expression of the eyes that on crowded pavements cleared the way for him more effectually than a shouting footman. and then he debouched unexpectedly on to the embankment. dusk was already falling on the noble curve of the thames, and the mighty panorama stretched before him in a manner mysteriously impressive which has made poets of less poetic men than priam farll. grand hotels, offices of millionaires and of governments, grand hotels, swards and mullioned windows of the law, grand hotels, the terrific arches of termini, cathedral domes, houses of parliament, and grand hotels, rose darkly around him on the arc of the river, against the dark violet murk of the sky. huge trams swam past him like glass houses, and hansoms shot past the trams and automobiles past the hansoms; and phantom barges swirled down on the full ebb, threading holes in bridges as cotton threads a needle. it was london, and the roar of london, majestic, imperial, super-roman. and lo! earlier than the earliest municipal light, an unseen hand, the hand of destiny, printed a writing on the wall of vague gloom that was beginning to hide the opposite bank. and the writing said that shipton's tea was the best. and then the hand wiped largely out that message and wrote in another spot that macdonnell's whisky was the best; and so these two doctrines, in their intermittent pyrotechnics, continued to give the lie to each other under the deepening night. quite five minutes passed before priam perceived, between the altercating doctrines, the high scaffold-clad summit of a building which was unfamiliar to him. it looked serenely and immaterially beautiful in the evening twilight, and as he was close to waterloo bridge, his curiosity concerning beauty took him over to the south bank of the thames. after losing himself in the purlieus of waterloo station, he at last discovered the rear of the building. yes, it was a beautiful thing; its tower climbed in several coloured storeys, diminishing till it expired in a winged figure on the sky. and below, the building was broad and massive, with a frontage of pillars over great arched windows. two cranes stuck their arms out from the general mass, and the whole enterprise was guarded in a hedge of hoardings. through the narrow doorway in the hoarding came the flare and the hissing of a wells's light. priam farll glanced timidly within. the interior was immense. in a sort of court of honour a group of muscular, hairy males, silhouetted against an illuminated latticework of scaffolding, were chipping and paring at huge blocks of stone. it was a subject for a rembrandt. a fat untidy man meditatively approached the doorway. he had a roll of tracing papers in his hand, and the end of a long, thick pencil in his mouth. he was the man who interpreted the dreams of the architect to the dreamy british artisan. experience of life had made him somewhat brusque. "look here," he said to priam; "what the devil do you want?" "what the devil do i want?" repeated priam, who had not yet altogether fallen away from his mood of universal defiance. "i only want to know what the h-ll this building is." the fat man was a little startled. he took his pencil from his mouth, and spit. "it's the new picture gallery, built under the will of that there priam farll. i should ha' thought you'd ha' known that." priam's lips trembled on the verge of an exclamation. "see that?" the fat man pursued, pointing to a small board on the hoarding. the board said, "no hands wanted." the fat man coldly scrutinized priam's appearance, from his greenish hat to his baggy creased boots. priam walked away. he was dumbfounded. then he was furious again. he perfectly saw the humour of the situation, but it was not the kind of humour that induced rollicking laughter. he was furious, and employed the language of fury, when it is not overheard. absorbed by his craft of painting, as in the old continental days, he had long since ceased to read the newspapers, and though he had not forgotten his bequest to the nation, he had never thought of it as taking architectural shape. he was not aware of his cousin duncan's activities for the perpetuation of the family name. the thing staggered him. the probabilities of the strange consequences of dead actions swept against him and overwhelmed him. once, years ago and years ago, in a resentful mood, he had written a few lines on a piece of paper, and signed them in the presence of witnesses. then nothing--nothing whatever--for two decades! the paper slept... and now this--this tremendous concrete result in the heart of london! it was incredible. it passed the bounds even of lawful magic. his palace, his museum! the fruit of a captious hour! ah! but he was furious. like every ageing artist of genuine accomplishment, he knew--none better--that there is no satisfaction save the satisfaction of fatigue after honest endeavour. he knew--none better--that wealth and glory and fine clothes are nought, and that striving is all. he had never been happier than during the last two years. yet the finest souls have their reactions, their rebellions against wise reason. and priam's soul was in insurrection then. he wanted wealth and glory and fine clothes once more. it seemed to him that he was out of the world and that he must return to it. the covert insults of mr. oxford rankled and stung. and the fat foreman had mistaken him for a workman cadging for a job. he walked rapidly to the bridge and took a cab to conduit street, where dwelt a firm of tailors with whose paris branch he had had dealings in his dandiacal past. an odd impulse perhaps, but natural. a lighted clock-tower--far to his left as the cab rolled across the bridge--showed that a legislative providence was watching over israel. _alice on the situation_ "i bet the building alone won't cost less than seventy thousand pounds," he said. he was back again with alice in the intimacy of werter road, and relating to her, in part, the adventures of the latter portion of the day. he had reached home long after tea-time; she, with her natural sagacity, had not waited tea for him. now she had prepared a rather special tea for the adventurer, and she was sitting opposite to him at the little table, with nothing to do but listen and refill his cup. "well," she said mildly, and without the least surprise at his figures, "i don't know what he could have been thinking of--your priam farll! i call it just silly. it isn't as if there wasn't enough picture-galleries already. when what there are are so full that you can't get in--then it will be time enough to think about fresh ones. i've been to the national gallery twice, and upon my word i was almost the only person there! and it's free too! people don't _want_ picture-galleries. if they did they'd go. who ever saw a public-house empty, or peter robinson's? and you have to pay there! silly, i call it! why couldn't he have left his money to you, or at any rate to the hospitals or something of that? no, it isn't silly. it's scandalous! it ought to be stopped!" now priam had resolved that evening to make a serious, gallant attempt to convince his wife of his own identity. he was approaching the critical point. this speech of hers intimidated him, rather complicated his difficulties, but he determined to proceed bravely. "have you put sugar in this?" he asked. "yes," she said. "but you've forgotten to stir it. i'll stir it for you." a charming wifely attention! it enheartened him. "i say, alice," he said, as she stirred, "you remember when first i told you i could paint?" "yes," she said. "well, at first you thought i was daft. you thought my mind was wandering, didn't you?" "no," she said, "i only thought you'd got a bee in your bonnet." she smiled demurely. "well, i hadn't, had i?" "seeing the money you've made, i should just say you hadn't," she handsomely admitted. "where we should be without it i don't know." "you were wrong, weren't you? and i was right?" "of course," she beamed. "and do you remember that time i told you i was really priam farll?" she nodded, reluctantly. "you thought i was absolutely mad. oh, you needn't deny it! i could see well enough what your thoughts were." "i thought you weren't quite well," she said frankly. "but i was, my child. now i've got to tell you again that i am priam farll. honestly i wish i wasn't, but i am. the deuce of it is that that fellow that came here this morning has found it out, and there's going to be trouble. at least there has been trouble, and there may be more." she was impressed. she knew not what to say. "but, priam----" "he's paid me five hundred to-day for that picture i've just finished." "five hund----" priam snatched the notes from his pocket, and with a gesture pardonably dramatic he bade her count them. "count them," he repeated, when she hesitated. "is it right?" he asked when she had finished. "oh, it's right enough," she agreed. "but, priam, i don't like having all this money in the house. you ought to have called and put it in the bank." "dash the bank!" he exclaimed. "just keep on listening to me, and try to persuade yourself i'm not mad. i admit i'm a bit shy, and it was all on account of that that i let that d--d valet of mine be buried as me." "you needn't tell me you're shy," she smiled. "all putney knows you're shy." "i'm not so sure about that!" he tossed his head. then he began at the beginning and recounted to her in detail the historic night and morning at selwood terrace, with a psychological description of his feelings. he convinced her, in less than ten minutes, with the powerful aid of five hundred pounds in banknotes, that he in truth was priam farll. and he waited for her to express an exceeding astonishment and satisfaction. "well, of course if you are, you are," she observed simply, regarding him with benevolent, possessive glances across the table. the fact was that she did not deal in names, she dealt in realities. he was her reality, and so long as he did not change visibly or actually--so long as he remained he--she did not much mind who he was. she added, "but i really don't know what you were _dreaming_ of, henry, to do such a thing!" "neither do i," he muttered. then he disclosed to her the whole chicanery of mr. oxford. "it's a good thing you've ordered those new clothes," she said. "why?" "because of the trial." "the trial between oxford and witt. what's that got to do with me?" "they'll make you give evidence." "but i shan't give evidence. i've told oxford i'll have nothing to do with it at all." "suppose they make you? they can, you know, with a sub--sub something, i forget its name. then you'll _have_ to go in the witness-box." "me in the witness-box!" he murmured, undone. "yes," she said. "i expect it'll be very provoking indeed. but you'd want a new suit for it. so i'm glad you ordered one. when are you going to try on?" * * * * * chapter xi _an escape_ one night, in the following june, priam and alice refrained from going to bed. alice dozed for an hour or so on the sofa, and priam read by her side in an easy-chair, and about two o'clock, just before the first beginnings of dawn, they stimulated themselves into a feverish activity beneath the parlour gas. alice prepared tea, bread-and-butter, and eggs, passing briskly from room to room. alice also ran upstairs, cast a few more things into a valise and a bag already partially packed, and, locking both receptacles, carried them downstairs. meantime the whole of priam's energy was employed in having a bath and in shaving. blood was shed, as was but natural at that ineffable hour. while priam consumed the food she had prepared, alice was continually darting to and fro in the house. at one moment, after an absence, she would come into the parlour with a mouthful of hatpins; at another she would rush out to assure herself that the indispensable keys of the valise and bag with her purse were on the umbrella-stand, where they could not be forgotten. between her excursions she would drink thirty drops of tea. "now, priam," she said at length, "the water's hot. haven't you finished? it'll be getting light soon." "water hot?" he queried, at a loss. "yes," she said. "to wash up these things, of course. you don't suppose i'm going to leave a lot of dirty things in the house, do you? while i'm doing that you might stick labels on the luggage." "they won't need to be labelled," he argued. "we shall take them with us in the carriage." "oh, priam," she protested, "how tiresome you are!" "i've travelled more than you have." he tried to laugh. "yes, and fine travelling it must have been, too! however, if you don't mind the luggage being lost, i don't." during this she was collecting the crockery on a tray, with which tray she whizzed out of the room. in ten minutes, hatted, heavily veiled, and gloved, she cautiously opened the front door and peeped forth into the lamplit street she peered to right and to left. then she went as far as the gate and peered again. "is it all right?" whispered priam, who was behind her. "yes, i think so," she whispered. priam came out of the house with the bag in one hand and the valise in the other, a pipe in his mouth, a stick under his arm, and an overcoat on his shoulder. alice ran up the steps, gazed within the house, pulled the door to silently, and locked it. then beneath the summer stars she and priam hastened furtively, as though the luggage had contained swag, up werter road towards oxford road. when they had turned the corner they felt very much relieved. they had escaped. it was their second attempt. the first, made in daylight, had completely failed. their cab had been followed to paddington station by three other cabs containing the representatives and the cameras of three sunday newspapers. a journalist had deliberately accompanied priam to the booking office, had heard him ask for two seconds to weymouth, and had bought a second to weymouth himself. they had gone to weymouth, but as within two hours of their arrival weymouth had become even more impossible than werter road, they had ignominiously but wisely come back. werter road had developed into the most celebrated thoroughfare in london. its photograph had appeared in scores of newspapers, with a cross marking the abode of priam and alice. it was beset and infested by journalists of several nationalities from morn till night. cameras were as common in it as lamp-posts. and a famous descriptive reporter of the _sunday news_ had got lodgings, at a high figure, exactly opposite no. 29. priam and alice could do nothing without publicity. and if it would be an exaggeration to assert, that evening papers appeared with stop-press news: "5.40. mrs. leek went out shopping," the exaggeration would not be very extravagant. for a fortnight priam had not been beyond the door during daylight. it was alice who, alarmed by priam's pallid cheeks and tightened nerves, had devised the plan of flight before the early summer dawn. they reached east putney station, of which the gates were closed, the first workman's train being not yet due. and there they stood. not another human being was abroad. only the clock of st. bude's was faithfully awakening every soul within a radius of two hundred yards each quarter of an hour. then a porter came and opened the gate--it was still exceedingly early--and priam booked for waterloo in triumph. "oh," cried alice, as they mounted the stairs, "i quite forgot to draw up the blinds at the front of the house." and she stopped on the stairs. "what did you want to draw up the blinds for?" "if they're down everybody will know instantly that we've gone. whereas if i--" she began to descend the stairs. "alice!" he said sharply, in a strange voice. the muscles of his white face were drawn. "what?" "d--n the blinds. come along, or upon my soul i'll kill you." she realized that his nerves were in active insurrection, and that a mere nothing might bring about the fall of the government. "oh, very well!" she soothed him by her amiable obedience. in a quarter of an hour they were safely lost in the wilderness of waterloo, and the newspaper train bore them off to bournemouth for a few days' respite. _the nation's curiosity_ the interest of the united kingdom in the unique case of witt _v_. parfitts had already reached apparently the highest possible degree of intensity. and there was reason for the kingdom's passionate curiosity. whitney witt, the plaintiff, had come over to england, with his eccentricities, his retinue, his extreme wealth and his failing eyesight, specially to fight parfitts. a half-pathetic figure, this white-haired man, once a connoisseur, who, from mere habit, continued to buy expensive pictures when he could no longer see them! whitney witt was implacably set against parfitts, because he was convinced that mr. oxford had sought to take advantage of his blindness. there he was, conducting his action regardless of his blindness. there he was, conducting his action regardless of expense. his apartments and his regal daily existence at the grand babylon alone cost a fabulous sum which may be precisely ascertained by reference to illustrated articles in the papers. then mr. oxford, the youngish jew who had acquired parfitts, who was parfitts, also cut a picturesque figure on the face of london. he, too, was spending money with both hands; for parfitts itself was at stake. last and most disturbing, was the individual looming mysteriously in the background, the inexplicable man who lived in werter road, and whose identity would be decided by the judgment in the case of witt _v_. parfitts. if witt won his action, then parfitts might retire from business. mr. oxford would probably go to prison for having sold goods on false pretences, and the name of henry leek, valet, would be added to the list of adventurous scoundrels who have pretended to be their masters. but if witt should lose--then what a complication, and what further enigmas to be solved! if witt should lose, the national funeral of priam farll had been a fraudulent farce. a common valet lay under the hallowed stones of the abbey, and europe had mourned in vain! if witt should lose, a gigantic and unprecedented swindle had been practised upon the nation. then the question would arise, why? hence it was not surprising that popular interest, nourished by an indefatigable and excessively enterprising press, should have mounted till no one would have believed that it could mount any more. but the evasion from werter road on that june morning intensified the interest enormously. of course, owing to the drawn blinds, it soon became known, and the bloodhounds of the sunday papers were sniffing along the platforms of all the termini in london. priam's departure greatly prejudiced the cause of mr. oxford, especially when the bloodhounds failed and priam persisted in his invisibility. if a man was an honest man, why should he flee the public gaze, and in the night? there was but a step from the posing of this question to the inevitable inference that mr. oxford's line of defence was really too fantastic for credence. certainly organs of vast circulation, while repeating that, as the action was _sub judice_, they could say nothing about it, had already tried the action several times in their impartial columns, and they now tried it again, with the entire public as jury. and in three days priam had definitely become a criminal in the public eye, a criminal flying from justice. useless to assert that he was simply a witness subpoenaed to give evidence at the trial! he had transgressed the unwritten law of the english constitution that a person prominent in a _cause célèbre_ belongs for the time being, not to himself, but to the nation at large. he had no claim to privacy. in surreptitiously obtaining seclusion he was merely robbing the public and the public's press of their inalienable right. who could deny now the reiterated statement that _he_ was a bigamist? it came to be said that he must be on his way to south america. then the public read avidly articles by specially retained barristers on the extradition treaties with brazil, argentina, ecuador, chili, paraguay and uruguay. the curates matthew and henry preached to crowded congregations at putney and bermondsey, and were reported verbatim in the _christian voice sermon supplement_, and other messengers of light. and gradually the nose of england bent closer and closer to its newspaper of a morning. and coffee went cold, and bacon fat congealed, from the isle of wight to hexham, while the latest rumours were being swallowed. it promised to be stupendous, did the case of witt _v_. parfitts. it promised to be one of those cases that alone make life worth living, that alone compensate for the horrors of climate, in england. and then the day of hearing arrived, and the afternoon papers which appear at nine o'clock in the morning announced that henry leek (or priam farll, according to your wish) and his wife (or his female companion and willing victim) had returned to werter road. and england held its breath; and even scotland paused, expectant; and ireland stirred in its celtic dream. _mention of two moles_ the theatre in which the emotional drama of witt parfitts was to be played, lacked the usual characteristics of a modern place of entertainment. it was far too high for its width and breadth; it was badly illuminated; it was draughty in winter and stuffy in summer, being completely deprived of ventilation. had it been under the control of the county council it would have been instantly condemned as dangerous in case of fire, for its gangways were always encumbered and its exits of a mediaeval complexity. it had no stage, no footlights, and all its seats were of naked wood except one. this unique seat was occupied by the principal player, who wore a humorous wig and a brilliant and expensive scarlet costume. he was a fairly able judge, but he had mistaken his vocation; his rare talent for making third-rate jokes would have brought him a fortune in the world of musical comedy. his salary was a hundred a week; better comedians have earned less. on the present occasion he was in the midst of a double row of fashionable hats, and beneath the hats were the faces of fourteen feminine relatives and acquaintances. these hats performed the function of 'dressing' the house. the principal player endeavoured to behave as though under the illusion that he was alone in his glory, but he failed. there were four other leading actors: mr. pennington, k.c., and mr. vodrey, k.c., engaged by the plaintiff, and mr. cass, k.c., and mr. crepitude, k.c., engaged by the defendant. these artistes were the stars of their profession, nominally less glittering, but really far more glittering than the player in scarlet. their wigs were of inferior quality to his, and their costumes shabby, but they did not mind, for whereas he got a hundred a week, they each got a hundred a day. three junior performers received ten guineas a day apiece: one of them held a watching brief for the dean and chapter of the abbey, who, being members of a christian fraternity, were pained and horrified by the defendants' implication that they had given interment to a valet, and who were determined to resist exhumation at all hazards. the supers in the drama, whose business it was to whisper to each other and to the players, consisted of solicitors, solicitors' clerks, and experts; their combined emoluments worked out at the rate of a hundred and fifty pounds a day. twelve excellent men in the jury-box received between them about as much as would have kept a k.c. alive for five minutes. the total expenses of production thus amounted to something like six or seven hundred pounds a day. the preliminary expenses had run into several thousands. the enterprise could have been made remunerative by hiring for it convent garden theatre and selling stalls as for tettrazzini and caruso, but in the absurd auditorium chosen, crammed though it was to the perilous doors, the loss was necessarily terrific. fortunately the affair was subsidized; not merely by the state, but also by those two wealthy capitalists, whitney c. witt and mr. oxford; and therefore the management were in a position to ignore paltry financial considerations and to practise art for art's sake. in opening the case mr. pennington, k.c., gave instant proof of his astounding histrionic powers. he began calmly, colloquially, treating the jury as friends of his boyhood, and the judge as a gifted uncle, and stated in simple language that whitney c. witt was claiming seventy-two thousand pounds from the defendants, money paid for worthless pictures palmed off upon the myopic and venerable plaintiff as masterpieces. he recounted the life and death of the great painter priam farll, and his solemn burial and the tears of the whole world. he dwelt upon the genius of priam farll, and then upon the confiding nature of the plaintiff. then he inquired who could blame the plaintiff for his confidence in the uprightness of a firm with such a name as parfitts. and then he explained by what accident of a dating-stamp on a canvas it had been discovered that the pictures guaranteed to be by priam farll were painted after priam farll's death. he proceeded with no variation of tone: "the explanation is simplicity itself. priam farll was not really dead. it was his valet who died. quite naturally, quite comprehensibly, the great genius priam farll wished to pass the remainder of his career as a humble valet. he deceived everybody; the doctor, his cousin, mr. duncan farll, the public authorities, the dean and chapter of the abbey, the nation--in fact, the entire world! as henry leek he married, and as henry leek he recommenced the art of painting--in putney; he carried on the vocation several years without arousing the suspicions of a single person; and then--by a curious coincidence immediately after my client threatened an action against the defendant--he displayed himself in his true identity as priam farll. such is the simple explanation," said pennington, k.c., and added, "which you will hear presently from the defendant. doubtless it will commend itself to you as experienced men of the world. you cannot but have perceived that such things are constantly happening in real life, that they are of daily occurrence. i am almost ashamed to stand up before you and endeavour to rebut a story so plausible and so essentially convincing. i feel that my task is well-nigh hopeless. nevertheless, i must do my best." and so on. it was one of his greatest feats in the kind of irony that appeals to a jury. and the audience deemed that the case was already virtually decided. after whitney c. witt and his secretary had been called and had filled the court with the echoing twang of new york (the controlled fury of the aged witt was highly effective), mrs. henry leek was invited to the witness-box. she was supported thither by her two curates, who, however, could not prevent her from weeping at the stern voice of the usher. she related her marriage. "is that your husband?" demanded vodrey, k.c. (who had now assumed the principal _rôle_, pennington, k.c., being engaged in another play in another theatre), pointing with one of his well-conceived dramatic gestures to priam farll. "it is," sobbed mrs. henry leek. the unhappy creature believed what she said, and the curates, though silent, made a deep impression on the jury. in cross-examination, when crepitude, k.c., forced her to admit that on first meeting priam in his house in werter road she had not been quite sure of his identity, she replied-"it's all come over me since. shouldn't a woman recognize the father of her own children?" "she should," interpolated the judge. there was a difference of opinion as to whether his word was jocular or not. mrs. henry leek was a touching figure, but not amusing. it was mr. duncan farll who, quite unintentionally, supplied the first relief. duncan pooh-poohed the possibility of priam being priam. he detailed all the circumstances that followed the death in selwood terrace, and showed in fifty ways that priam could not have been priam. the man now masquerading as priam was not even a gentleman, whereas priam was duncan's cousin! duncan was an excellent witness, dry, precise, imperturbable. under cross-examination by crepitude he had to describe particularly his boyish meeting with priam. mr. crepitude was not inquisitive. "tell us what occurred," said crepitude. "well, we fought." "oh! you fought! what did you two naughty boys fight about?" (great laughter.) "about a plum-cake, i think." "oh! not a seed-cake, a plum-cake?" (great laughter.) "i think a plum-cake." "and what was the result of this sanguinary encounter?" (great laughter.) "my cousin loosened one of my teeth." (great laughter, in which the court joined.) "and what did you do to him?" "i'm afraid i didn't do much. i remember tearing half his clothes off." (roars of laughter, in which every one joined except priam and duncan farll.) "oh! you are sure you remember that? you are sure that it wasn't he who tore _your_ clothes off?" (lots of hysteric laughter.) "yes," said duncan, coldly dreaming in the past. his eyes had the 'far away' look, as he added, "i remember now that my cousin had two little moles on his neck below the collar. i seem to remember seeing them. i've just thought of it." there is, of course, when it is mentioned in a theatre, something exorbitantly funny about even one mole. two moles together brought the house down. mr. crepitude leaned over to a solicitor in front of him; the solicitor leaned aside to a solicitor's clerk, and the solicitor's clerk whispered to priam farll, who nodded. "er----" mr. crepitude was beginning again, but he stopped and said to duncan farll, "thank you. you can step down." then a witness named justini, a cashier at the hôtel de paris, monte carlo, swore that priam farll, the renowned painter, had spent four days in the hôtel de paris one hot may, seven years ago, and that the person in the court whom the defendant stated to be priam farll was not that man. no cross-examination could shake mr. justini. following him came the manager of the hôtel belvedere at mont pélerin, near vevey, switzerland, who related a similar tale and was equally unshaken. and after that the pictures themselves were brought in, and the experts came after them and technical evidence was begun. scarcely had it begun when a clock struck and the performance ended for the day. the principal actors doffed their costumes, and snatched up the evening papers to make sure that the descriptive reporters had been as eulogistic of them as usual. the judge, who subscribed to a press-cutting agency, was glad to find, the next morning, that none of his jokes had been omitted by any of the nineteen chief london dailies. and the strand and piccadilly were quick with witt _v_. parfitts--on evening posters and in the strident mouths of newsboys. the telegraph wires vibrated to witt _v_. parfitts. in the great betting industrial towns of the provinces wagers were laid at scientific prices. england, in a word, was content, and the principal actors had the right to be content also. very astute people in clubs and saloon bars talked darkly about those two moles, and priam's nod in response to the whispers of the solicitor's clerk: such details do not escape the modern sketch writer at a thousand a year. to very astute people the two moles appeared to promise pretty things. _priam's refusal_ "leek in the box." this legend got itself on to the telegraph wires and the placards within a few minutes of priam's taking the oath. it sent a shiver of anticipation throughout the country. three days had passed since the opening of the case (for actors engaged at a hundred a day for the run of the piece do not crack whips behind experts engaged at ten or twenty a day; the pace had therefore been dignified), and england wanted a fillip. nobody except alice knew what to expect from priam. alice knew. she knew that priam was in an extremely peculiar state which might lead to extremely peculiar results; and she knew also that there was nothing to be done with him! she herself had made one little effort to bathe him in the light of reason; the effort had not succeeded. she saw the danger of renewing it. pennington, k.c., by the way, insisted that she should leave the court during priam's evidence. priam's attitude towards the whole case was one of bitter resentment, a resentment now hot, now cold. he had the strongest possible objection to the entire affair. he hated witt as keenly as he hated oxford. all that he demanded from the world was peace and quietness, and the world would not grant him these inexpensive commodities. he had not asked to be buried in westminster abbey; his interment had been forced upon him. and if he chose to call himself by another name, why should he not do so? if he chose to marry a simple woman, and live in a suburb and paint pictures at ten pounds each, why should he not do so? why should he be dragged out of his tranquillity because two persons in whom he felt no interest whatever, had quarrelled over his pictures? why should his life have been made unbearable in putney by the extravagant curiosity of a mob of journalists? and then, why should he be compelled, by means of a piece of blue paper, to go through the frightful ordeal and flame of publicity in a witness-box? that was the crowning unmerited torture, the unthinkable horror which had broken his sleep for many nights. in the box he certainly had all the appearance of a trapped criminal, with his nervous movements, his restless lowered eyes, and his faint, hard voice that he could scarcely fetch up from his throat. nervousness lined with resentment forms excellent material for the plastic art of a cross-examining counsel, and pennington, k.c., itched to be at work. crepitude, k.c., oxford's counsel, was in less joyous mood. priam was crepitude's own witness, and yet a horrible witness, a witness who had consistently and ferociously declined to open his mouth until he was in the box. assuredly he had nodded, in response to the whispered question of the solicitor's clerk, but he had not confirmed the nod, nor breathed a word of assistance during the three days of the trial. he had merely sat there, blazing in silence. "your name is priam farll?" began crepitude. "it is," said priam sullenly, and with all the external characteristics of a liar. at intervals he glanced surreptitiously at the judge, as though the judge had been a bomb with a lighted fuse. the examination started badly, and it went from worse to worse. the idea that this craven, prevaricating figure in the box could be the illustrious, the world-renowned priam farll, seemed absurd. crepitude had to exercise all his self-control in order not to bully priam. "that is all," said crepitude, after priam had given his preposterous and halting explanations of the strange phenomena of his life after the death of leek. none of these carried conviction. he merely said that the woman leek was mistaken in identifying him as her husband; he inferred that she was hysterical; this inference alienated him from the audience completely. his statement that he had no definite reason for pretending to be leek--that it was an impulse of the moment--was received with mute derision. his explanation, when questioned as to the evidence of the hotel officials, that more than once his valet leek had gone about impersonating his master, seemed grotesquely inadequate. people wondered why crepitude had made no reference to the moles. the fact was, crepitude was afraid to refer to the moles. in mentioning the moles to priam he might be staking all to lose all. however, pennington, k.c., alluded to the moles. but not until he had conclusively proved to the judge, in a cross-questioning of two hours' duration, that priam knew nothing of priam's own youth, nor of painting, nor of the world of painters. he made a sad mess of priam. and priam's voice grew fainter and fainter, and his gestures more and more self-incriminating. pennington, k.c., achieved one or two brilliant little effects. "now you say you went with the defendant to his club, and that he told you of the difficulty he was in!" "yes." "did he make you any offer of money?" "yes." "ah! what did he offer you?" "thirty-six thousand pounds." (sensation in court.) "so! and what was this thirty-six thousand pounds to be for?" "i don't know." "you don't know? come now." "i don't know." "you accepted the offer?" "no, i refused it." (sensation in court.) "why did you refuse it?" "because i didn't care to accept it." "then no money passed between you that day?" "yes. five hundred pounds." "what for?" "a picture." "the same kind of picture that you had been selling at ten pounds?" "yes." "so that on the very day that the defendant wanted you to swear that you were priam farll, the price of your pictures rose from ten pounds to five hundred?" "yes." "doesn't that strike you as odd?" "yes." "you still say--mind, leek, you are on your oath!--you still say that you refused thirty-six thousand pounds in order to accept five hundred." "i sold a picture for five hundred." (on the placards in the strand: "severe cross-examination of leek.") "now about the encounter with mr. duncan farll. of course, if you are really priam farll, you remember all about that?" "yes." "what age were you?" "i don't know. about nine." "oh! you were about nine. a suitable age for cake." (great laughter.) "now, mr. duncan farll says you loosened one of his teeth." "i did." "and that he tore your clothes." "i dare say." "he says he remembers the fact because you had two moles." "yes." "have you two moles?" "yes." (immense sensation.) pennington paused. "where are they?" "on my neck just below my collar." "kindly place your hand at the spot." priam did so. the excitement was terrific. pennington again paused. but, convinced that priam was an impostor, he sarcastically proceeded-"perhaps, if i am not asking too much, you will take your collar off and show the two moles to the court?" "no," said priam stoutly. and for the first time he looked pennington in the face. "you would prefer to do it, perhaps, in his lordship's room, if his lordship consents." "i won't do it anywhere," said priam. "but surely--" the judge began. "i won't do it anywhere, my lord," priam repeated loudly. all his resentment surged up once more; and particularly his resentment against the little army of experts who had pronounced his pictures to be clever but worthless imitations of himself. if his pictures, admittedly painted after his supposed death, could not prove his identity; if his word was to be flouted by insulting and bewigged beasts of prey; then his moles should not prove his identity. he resolved upon obstinacy. "the witness, gentlemen," said pennington, k.c., in triumph to the jury, "has two moles on his neck, exactly as described by mr. duncan farll, but he will not display them!" eleven legal minds bent nobly to the problem whether the law and justice of england could compel a free man to take his collar off if he refused to take his collar off. in the meantime, of course, the case had to proceed. the six or seven hundred pounds a day must be earned, and there were various other witnesses. the next witness was alice. * * * * * chapter xii _alice's performances_ when alice was called, and when she stood up in the box, and, smiling indulgently at the doddering usher, kissed the book as if it had been a chubby nephew, a change came over the emotional atmosphere of the court, which felt a natural need to smile. alice was in all her best clothes, but it cannot be said that she looked the wife of a super-eminent painter. in answer to a question she stated that before marrying priam she was the widow of a builder in a small way of business, well known in putney and also in wandsworth. this was obviously true. she could have been nothing but the widow of a builder in a small way of business well known in putney and also in wandsworth. she was every inch that. "how did you first meet your present husband, mrs. leek?" asked mr. crepitude. "mrs. farll, if you please," she cheerfully corrected him. "well, mrs. farll, then." "i must say," she remarked conversationally, "it seems queer you should be calling me mrs. leek, when they're paying you to prove that i'm mrs. farll, mr.----, excuse me, i forget your name." this nettled crepitude, k.c. it nettled him, too, merely to see a witness standing in the box just as if she were standing in her kitchen talking to a tradesman at the door. he was not accustomed to such a spectacle. and though alice was his own witness he was angry with her because he was angry with her husband. he blushed. juniors behind him could watch the blush creeping like a tide round the back of his neck over his exceedingly white collar. "if you'll be good enough to reply----" said he. "i met my husband outside st. george's hall, by appointment," said she. "but before that. how did you make his acquaintance?" "through a matrimonial agency," said she. "oh!" observed crepitude, and decided that he would not pursue that avenue. the fact was alice had put him into the wrong humour for making the best of her. she was, moreover, in a very difficult position, for priam had positively forbidden her to have any speech with solicitors' clerks or with solicitors, and thus crepitude knew not what pitfalls for him her evidence might contain. he drew from her an expression of opinion that her husband was the real priam farll, but she could give no reasons in support--did not seem to conceive that reasons in support were necessary. "has your husband any moles?" asked crepitude suddenly. "any what?" demanded alice, leaning forward. vodrey, k.c., sprang up. "i submit to your lordship that my learned friend is putting a leading question," said vodrey, k.c. "mr. crepitude," said the judge, "can you not phrase your questions differently?" "has your husband any birthmarks--er--on his body?" crepitude tried again. "oh! _moles_, you said? you needn't be afraid. yes, he's got two moles, close together on his neck, here." and she pointed amid silence to the exact spot. then, noticing the silence, she added, "that's all that i _know_ of." crepitude resolved to end his examination upon this impressive note, and he sat down. and alice had vodrey, k.c., to face. "you met your husband through a matrimonial agency?" he asked. "yes." "who first had recourse to the agency?" "i did." "and what was your object?" "i wanted to find a husband, of course," she smiled. "what _do_ people go to matrimonial agencies for?" "you aren't here to put questions to me," said vodrey severely. "well," she said, "i should have thought you would have known what people went to matrimonial agencies for. still, you live and learn." she sighed cheerfully. "do you think a matrimonial agency is quite the nicest way of----" "it depends what you mean by 'nice,'" said alice. "womanly." "yes," said alice shortly, "i do. if you're going to stand there and tell me i'm unwomanly, all i have to say is that you're unmanly." "you say you first met your husband outside st george's hall?" "yes." "never seen him before?" "no." "how did you recognize him?" "by his photograph." "oh, he'd sent you his photograph?" "yes." "with a letter?" "yes." "in what name was the letter signed?" "henry leek." "was that before or after the death of the man who was buried in westminster abbey?" "a day or two before." (sensation in court.) "so that your present husband was calling himself henry leek before the death?" "no, he wasn't. that letter was written by the man that died. my husband found my reply to it, and my photograph, in the man's bag afterwards; and happening to be strolling past st. george's hall just at the moment like--" "well, happening to be strolling past st. george's hall just at the moment like--" (titters.) "i caught sight of him and spoke to him. you see, i thought then that he was the man who wrote the letter." "what made you think so?" "i had the photograph." "so that the man who wrote the letter and died didn't send his own photograph. he sent another photograph--the photograph of your husband?" "yes, didn't you know that? i should have thought you'd have known that." "do you really expect the jury to believe that tale?" alice turned smiling to the jury. "no," she said, "i'm not sure as i do. i didn't believe it myself for a long time. but it's true." "then at first you didn't believe your husband was the real priam farll?" "no. you see, he didn't exactly tell me like. he only sort of hinted." "but you didn't believe?" "no." "you thought he was lying?" "no, i thought it was just a kind of an idea he had. you know my husband isn't like other gentlemen." "i imagine not," said vodrey. "now, when did you come to be perfectly sure that, your husband was the real priam farll?" "it was the night of that day when mr. oxford came down to see him. he told me all about it then." "oh! that day when mr. oxford paid him five hundred pounds?" "yes." "immediately mr. oxford paid him five hundred pounds you were ready to believe that your husband was the real priam farll. doesn't that strike you as excessively curious?" "it's just how it happened," said alice blandly. "now about these moles. you pointed to the right side of your neck. are you sure they aren't on the left side?" "let me think now," said alice, frowning. "when he's shaving in a morning--he get up earlier now than he used to--i can see his face in the looking-glass, and in the looking-glass the moles are on the left side. so on _him_ they must be on the right side. yes, the right side. that's it." "have you never seen them except in a mirror, my good woman?" interpolated the judge. for some reason alice flushed. "i suppose you think that's funny," she snapped, slightly tossing her head. the audience expected the roof to fall. but the roof withstood the strain, thanks to a sagacious deafness on the part of the judge. if, indeed, he had not been visited by a sudden deafness, it is difficult to see how he would have handled the situation. "have you any idea," vodrey inquired, "why your husband refuses to submit his neck to the inspection of the court?" "i didn't know he had refused." "but he has." "well," said alice, "if you hadn't turned me out of the court while he was being examined, perhaps i could have told you. but i can't as it is. so it serves you right." thus ended alice's performances. _the public captious_ the court rose, and another six or seven hundred pounds was gone into the pockets of the celebrated artistes engaged. it became at once obvious, from the tone of the evening placards and the contents of evening papers, and the remarks in crowded suburban trains, that for the public the trial had resolved itself into an affair of moles. nothing else now interested the great and intelligent public. if priam had those moles on his neck, then he was the real priam. if he had not, then he was a common cheat. the public had taken the matter into its own hands. the sturdy common sense of the public was being applied to the affair. on the whole it may be said that the sturdy common sense of the public was against priam. for the majority, the entire story was fishily preposterous. it must surely be clear to the feeblest brain that if priam possessed moles he would expose them. the minority, who talked of psychology and the artistic temperament, were regarded as the cousins of little englanders and the direct descendants of pro-boers. still, the thing ought to be proved or disproved. why didn't the judge commit him for contempt of court? he would then be sent to holloway and be compelled to strip--and there you were! or why didn't oxford hire some one to pick a quarrel with him in the street and carry the quarrel to blows, with a view to raiment-tearing? a nice thing, english justice--if it had no machinery to force a man to show his neck to a jury! but then english justice _was_ notoriously comic. and whole trainfuls of people sneered at their country's institution in a manner which, had it been adopted by a foreigner, would have plunged europe into war and finally tested the blue-water theory. undoubtedly the immemorial traditions of english justice came in for very severe handling, simply because priam would not take his collar off. and he would not. the next morning there were consultations in counsel's rooms, and the common law of the realm was ransacked to find a legal method of inspecting priam's moles, without success. priam arrived safely at the courts with his usual high collar, and was photographed thirty times between the kerb and the entrance hall. "he's slept in it!" cried wags. "bet yer two ter one it's a clean 'un!" cried other wags. "his missus gets his linen up." it was subject to such indignities that the man who had defied the supreme court of judicature reached his seat in the theatre. when solicitors and counsel attempted to reason with him, he answered with silence. the rumour ran that in his hip pocket he was carrying a revolver wherewith to protect the modesty of his neck. the celebrated artistes, having perceived the folly of losing six or seven hundred pounds a day because priam happened to be an obstinate idiot, continued with the case. for mr. oxford and another army of experts of european reputation were waiting to prove that the pictures admittedly painted after the burial in the national valhalla, were painted by priam farll, and could have been painted by no other. they demonstrated this by internal evidence. in other words, they proved by deductions from squares of canvas that priam had moles on his neck. it was a phenomenon eminently legal. and priam, in his stiff collar, sat and listened. the experts, however, achieved two feats, both unintentionally. they sent the judge soundly to sleep, and they wearied the public, which considered that the trial was falling short of its early promise. this _expertise_ went on to the extent of two whole days and appreciably more than another thousand pounds. and on the third day priam, somewhat hardened to renown, reappeared with his mysterious neck, and more determined than ever. he had seen in a paper, which was otherwise chiefly occupied with moles and experts, a cautious statement that the police had collected the necessary _primâ facie_ evidence of bigamy, and that his arrest was imminent. however, something stranger than arrest for bigamy happened to him. _new evidence_ the principal king's bench corridor in the law courts, like the other main corridors, is a place of strange meetings and interviews. a man may receive there a bit of news that will change the whole of the rest of his life, or he may receive only an invitation to a mediocre lunch in the restaurant underneath; he never knows beforehand. priam assuredly did not receive an invitation to lunch. he was traversing the crowded thoroughfares--for with the exception of match and toothpick sellers the corridor has the characteristics of a strand pavement in the forenoon-when he caught sight of mr. oxford talking to a woman. now, he had exchanged no word with mr. oxford since the historic scene in the club, and he was determined to exchange no word; however, they had not gone through the formality of an open breach. the most prudent thing to do, therefore, was to turn and take another corridor. and priam would have fled, being capable of astonishing prudence when prudence meant the avoidance of unpleasant encounters; but, just as he was turning, the woman in conversation with mr. oxford saw him, and stepped towards him with the rapidity of thought, holding forth her hand. she was tall, thin, and stiffly distinguished in the brusque, dutch-doll motions of her limbs. her coat and skirt were quite presentable; but her feet were large (not her fault, of course, though one is apt to treat large feet as a crime), and her feathered hat was even larger. she hid her age behind a veil. "how do you do, mr. farll?" she addressed him firmly, in a voice which nevertheless throbbed. it was lady sophia entwistle. "how do you do?" he said, taking her offered hand. there was nothing else to do, and nothing else to say. then mr. oxford put out his hand. "how do you do, mr. farll?" and, taking mr. oxford's hated hand, priam said again, "how do you do?" it was all just as if there had been no past; the past seemed to have been swallowed up in the ordinariness of the crowded corridor. by all the rules for the guidance of human conduct, lady sophia ought to have denounced priam with outstretched dramatic finger to the contempt of the world as a philanderer with the hearts of trusting women; and he ought to have kicked mr. oxford along the corridor for a scheming hebrew. but they merely shook hands and asked each other how they did, not even expecting an answer. this shows to what extent the ancient qualities of the race have deteriorated. then a silence. "i suppose you know, mr. farll," said lady sophia, rather suddenly, "that i have got to give evidence in this case." "no," he said, "i didn't." "yes, it seems they have scoured all over the continent in vain to find people who knew you under your proper name, and who could identify you with certainty, and they couldn't find one--doubtless owing to your peculiar habits of travel." "really," said priam. he had made love to this woman. he had kissed her. they had promised to marry each other. it was a piece of wild folly on his part; but, in the eyes of an impartial person, folly could not excuse his desertion of her, his flight from her intellectual charms. his gaze pierced her veil. no, she was not quite so old as alice. she was not more plain than alice. she certainly knew more than alice. she could talk about pictures without sticking a knife into his soul and turning it in the wound. she was better dressed than alice. and her behaviour on the present occasion, candid, kind, correct, could not have been surpassed by alice. and yet... her demeanour was without question prodigiously splendid in its ignoring of all that she had gone through. and yet... even in that moment of complicated misery he had enough strength to hate her because he had been fool enough to make love to her. no excuse whatever for him, of course! "i was in india when i first heard of this case," lady sophia continued. "at first i thought it must be a sort of tichborne business over again. then, knowing you as i did, i thought perhaps it wasn't." "and as lady sophia happens to be in london now," put in mr. oxford, "she is good enough to give her invaluable evidence on my behalf." "that is scarcely the way to describe it," said lady sophia coldly. "i am only here because you compel me to be here by subpoena. it is all due to your acquaintanceship with my aunt." "quite so, quite so!" mr. oxford agreed. "it naturally can't be very agreeable to you to have to go into the witness-box and submit to cross-examination. certainly not. and i am the more obliged to you for your kindness, lady sophia." priam comprehended the situation. lady sophia, after his supposed death, had imparted to relatives the fact of his engagement, and the unscrupulous scoundrel, mr. oxford, had got hold of her and was forcing her to give evidence for him. and after the evidence, the joke of every man in the street would be to the effect that priam farll, rather than marry the skinny spinster, had pretended to be dead. "you see," mr. oxford added to him, "the important point about lady sophia's evidence is that in paris she saw both you and your valet--the valet obviously a servant, and you obviously his master. there can, therefore, be no question of her having been deceived by the valet posing as the master. it is a most fortunate thing that by a mere accident i got on the tracks of lady sophia in time. in the nick of time. only yesterday afternoon!" no reference by mr. oxford to priam's obstinacy in the matter of collars. he appeared to regard priam's collar as a phenomenon of nature, such as the weather, or a rock in the sea, as something to be accepted with resignation! no sign of annoyance with priam! he was the prince of diplomatists, was mr. oxford. "can i speak to you a minute?" said lady sophia to priam. mr. oxford stepped away with a bow. and lady sophia looked steadily at priam. he had to admit again that she was stupendous. she was his capital mistake; but she was stupendous. at their last interview he had embraced her. she had attended his funeral in westminster abbey. and she could suppress all that from her eyes! she could stand there calm and urbane in her acceptance of the terrific past. apparently she forgave. said lady sophia simply, "now, mr. farll, shall i have to give evidence or not? you know it depends on you?" the casualness of her tone was sublime; it was heroic; it made her feet small. he had sworn to himself that he would be cut in pieces before he would aid the unscrupulous mr. oxford by removing his collar in presence of those dramatic artistes. he had been grossly insulted, disturbed, maltreated, and exploited. the entire world had meddled with his private business, and he would be cut in pieces before he would display those moles which would decide the issue in an instant. well, she had cut him in pieces. "please don't worry," said he in reply. "i will attend to things." at that moment alice, who had followed him by a later train, appeared. "good-morning, lady sophia," he said, raising his hat, and left her. _thoughts on justice_ "farll takes his collar off." "witt _v_. parfitts. result." these and similar placards flew in the strand breezes. never in the history of empires had the removal of a starched linen collar (size 16-1/2) created one-thousandth part of the sensation caused by the removal of this collar. it was an epoch-making act. it finished the drama of witt _v_. parfitts. the renowned artistes engaged did not, of course, permit the case to collapse at once. no, it had to be concluded slowly and majestically, with due forms and expenses. new witnesses (such as doctors) had to be called, and old ones recalled. duncan farll, for instance, had to be recalled, and if the situation was ignominious for priam it was also ignominious for duncan. duncan's sole advantage in his defeat was that the judge did not skin him alive in the summing up, nor the jury in their verdict. england breathed more freely when the affair was finally over and the renowned artistes engaged had withdrawn enveloped in glory. the truth was that england, so proud of her systems, had had a fright. her judicial methods had very nearly failed to make a man take his collar off in public. they had really failed, but it had all come right in the end, and so england pretended that they had only just missed failing. a grave injustice would have been perpetrated had priam chosen not to take off his collar. people said, naturally, that imprisonment for bigamy would have included the taking-off of collars; but then it was rumoured that prosecution for bigamy had not by any means been a certainty, as since leaving the box mrs. henry leek had wavered in her identification. however, the justice of england had emerged safely. and it was all very astounding and shocking and improper. and everybody was exceedingly wise after the event. and with one voice the press cried that something painful ought to occur at once to priam farll, no matter how great an artist he was. the question was: how could priam be trapped in the net of the law? he had not committed bigamy. he had done nothing. he had only behaved in a negative manner. he had not even given false information to the registrar. and dr. cashmore could throw no light on the episode, for he was dead. his wife and daughters had at last succeeded in killing him. the judge had intimated that the ecclesiastical wrath of the dean and chapter might speedily and terribly overtake priam farll; but that sounded vague and unsatisfactory to the lay ear. in short, the matter was the most curious that ever was. and for the sake of the national peace of mind, the national dignity, and the national conceit, it was allowed to drop into forgetfulness after a few days. and when the papers announced that, by priam's wish, the farll museum was to be carried to completion and formally conveyed to the nation, despite all, the nation decided to accept that honourable amend, and went off to the seaside for its annual holiday. _the will to live_ alice insisted on it, and so, immediately before their final departure from england, they went. priam pretended that the visit was undertaken solely to please her; but the fact is that his own morbid curiosity moved in the same direction. they travelled by an omnibus past the putney empire and the walham green empire as far as walham green, and there changed into another one which carried them past the chelsea empire, the army and navy stores, and the hotel windsor to the doors of westminster abbey. and they vanished out of the october sunshine into the beam-shot gloom of valhalla. it was alice's first view of valhalla, though of course she had heard of it. in old times she had visited madame tussaud's and the tower, but she had not had leisure to get round as far as valhalla. it impressed her deeply. a verger pointed them to the nave; but they dared not demand more minute instructions. they had not the courage to ask for _it_. priam could not speak. there were moments with him when he could not speak lest his soul should come out of his mouth and flit irrecoverably away. and he could not find the tomb. save for the outrageous tomb of mighty newton, the nave seemed to be as naked as when it came into the world. yet he was sure he was buried in the nave--and only three years ago, too! astounding, was it not, what could happen in three years? he knew that the tomb had not been removed, for there had been an article in the _daily record_ on the previous day asking in the name of a scandalized public whether the dean and chapter did not consider that three months was more than long enough for the correction of a fundamental error in the burial department. he was gloomy; he had in truth been somewhat gloomy ever since the trial. perhaps it was the shadow of the wrath of the dean and chapter on him. he had ceased to procure joy in the daily manifestations of life in the streets of the town. and this failure to discover the tomb intensified the calm, amiable sadness which distinguished him. alice, gazing around, chiefly with her mouth, inquired suddenly-"what's that printing there?" she had detected a legend incised on one of the small stone flags which form the vast floor of the nave. they stooped over it. "priam farll," it said simply, in fine roman letters and then his dates. that was all. near by, on other flags, they deciphered other names of honour. this austere method of marking the repose of the dead commended itself to him, caused him to feel proud of himself and of the ridiculous england that somehow keeps our great love. his gloom faded. and do you know what idea rushed from his heart to his brain? "by jove! i will paint finer pictures than any i've done yet!" and the impulse to recommence the work of creation surged over him. the tears started to his eyes. "i like that!" murmured alice, gazing at the stone. "i do think that's nice." and _he_ said, because he truly felt it, because the will to live raged through him again, tingling and smarting: "i'm glad i'm not there." they smiled at each other, and their instinctive hands fumblingly met. a few days later, the dean and chapter, stung into action by the majestic rebuke of the _daily record_, amended the floor of valhalla and caused the mortal residuum of the immortal organism known as henry leek to be nocturnally transported to a different bed. _on board_ a few days later, also, a north german lloyd steamer quitted southampton for algiers, bearing among its passengers priam and alice. it was a rough starlit night, and from the stern of the vessel the tumbled white water made a pathway straight to receding england. priam had come to love the slopes of putney with the broad river at the foot; but he showed what i think was a nice feeling in leaving england. his sojourn in our land had not crowned him with brilliance. he was not a being created for society, nor for cutting a figure, nor for exhibiting tact and prudence in the crises of existence. he could neither talk well nor read well, nor express himself in exactly suitable actions. he could only express himself at the end of a brush. he could only paint extremely beautiful pictures. that was the major part of his vitality. in minor ways he may have been, upon occasions, a fool. but he was never a fool on canvas. he said everything there, and said it to perfection, for those who could read, for those who can read, and for those who will be able to read five hundred years hence. why expect more from him? why be disappointed in him? one does not expect a wire-walker to play fine billiards. you yourself, mirror of prudence that you are, would have certainly avoided all priam's manifold errors in the conduct of his social career; but, you see, he was divine in another way. as the steamer sped along the lengthening pathway from england, one question kept hopping in and out of his mind: "_i wonder what they'll do with me next time_?" do not imagine that he and alice were staring over the stern at the singular isle. no! there were imperative reasons, which affected both of them, against that. it was only in the moments of the comparative calm which always follows insurrections, that priam had leisure to wonder, and to see his own limitations, and joyfully to meditate upon the prospect of age devoted to the sole doing of that which he could so supremely, in a sweet exile with the enchantress, alice. right ho, jeeves by p. g. wodehouse 1922 to raymond needham, k.c. with affection and admiration -1"jeeves," i said, "may i speak frankly?" "certainly, sir." "what i have to say may wound you." "not at all, sir." "well, then----" no--wait. hold the line a minute. i've gone off the rails. i don't know if you have had the same experience, but the snag i always come up against when i'm telling a story is this dashed difficult problem of where to begin it. it's a thing you don't want to go wrong over, because one false step and you're sunk. i mean, if you fool about too long at the start, trying to establish atmosphere, as they call it, and all that sort of rot, you fail to grip and the customers walk out on you. get off the mark, on the other hand, like a scalded cat, and your public is at a loss. it simply raises its eyebrows, and can't make out what you're talking about. and in opening my report of the complex case of gussie fink-nottle, madeline bassett, my cousin angela, my aunt dahlia, my uncle thomas, young tuppy glossop and the cook, anatole, with the above spot of dialogue, i see that i have made the second of these two floaters. i shall have to hark back a bit. and taking it for all in all and weighing this against that, i suppose the affair may be said to have had its inception, if inception is the word i want, with that visit of mine to cannes. if i hadn't gone to cannes, i shouldn't have met the bassett or bought that white mess jacket, and angela wouldn't have met her shark, and aunt dahlia wouldn't have played baccarat. yes, most decidedly, cannes was the _point d'appui._ right ho, then. let me marshal my facts. i went to cannes--leaving jeeves behind, he having intimated that he did not wish to miss ascot--round about the beginning of june. with me travelled my aunt dahlia and her daughter angela. tuppy glossop, angela's betrothed, was to have been of the party, but at the last moment couldn't get away. uncle tom, aunt dahlia's husband, remained at home, because he can't stick the south of france at any price. so there you have the layout--aunt dahlia, cousin angela and self off to cannes round about the beginning of june. all pretty clear so far, what? we stayed at cannes about two months, and except for the fact that aunt dahlia lost her shirt at baccarat and angela nearly got inhaled by a shark while aquaplaning, a pleasant time was had by all. on july the twenty-fifth, looking bronzed and fit, i accompanied aunt and child back to london. at seven p.m. on july the twenty-sixth we alighted at victoria. and at seven-twenty or thereabouts we parted with mutual expressions of esteem--they to shove off in aunt dahlia's car to brinkley court, her place in worcestershire, where they were expecting to entertain tuppy in a day or two; i to go to the flat, drop my luggage, clean up a bit, and put on the soup and fish preparatory to pushing round to the drones for a bite of dinner. and it was while i was at the flat, towelling the torso after a much-needed rinse, that jeeves, as we chatted of this and that--picking up the threads, as it were--suddenly brought the name of gussie fink-nottle into the conversation. as i recall it, the dialogue ran something as follows: self: well, jeeves, here we are, what? jeeves: yes, sir. self: i mean to say, home again. jeeves: precisely, sir. self: seems ages since i went away. jeeves: yes, sir. self: have a good time at ascot? jeeves: most agreeable, sir. self: win anything? jeeves: quite a satisfactory sum, thank you, sir. self: good. well, jeeves, what news on the rialto? anybody been phoning or calling or anything during my abs.? jeeves: mr. fink-nottle, sir, has been a frequent caller. i stared. indeed, it would not be too much to say that i gaped. "mr. fink-nottle?" "yes, sir." "you don't mean mr. fink-nottle?" "yes, sir." "but mr. fink-nottle's not in london?" "yes, sir." "well, i'm blowed." and i'll tell you why i was blowed. i found it scarcely possible to give credence to his statement. this fink-nottle, you see, was one of those freaks you come across from time to time during life's journey who can't stand london. he lived year in and year out, covered with moss, in a remote village down in lincolnshire, never coming up even for the eton and harrow match. and when i asked him once if he didn't find the time hang a bit heavy on his hands, he said, no, because he had a pond in his garden and studied the habits of newts. i couldn't imagine what could have brought the chap up to the great city. i would have been prepared to bet that as long as the supply of newts didn't give out, nothing could have shifted him from that village of his. "are you sure?" "yes, sir." "you got the name correctly? fink-nottle?" "yes, sir." "well, it's the most extraordinary thing. it must be five years since he was in london. he makes no secret of the fact that the place gives him the pip. until now, he has always stayed glued to the country, completely surrounded by newts." "sir?" "newts, jeeves. mr. fink-nottle has a strong newt complex. you must have heard of newts. those little sort of lizard things that charge about in ponds." "oh, yes, sir. the aquatic members of the family salamandridae which constitute the genus molge." "that's right. well, gussie has always been a slave to them. he used to keep them at school." "i believe young gentlemen frequently do, sir." "he kept them in his study in a kind of glass-tank arrangement, and pretty niffy the whole thing was, i recall. i suppose one ought to have been able to see what the end would be even then, but you know what boys are. careless, heedless, busy about our own affairs, we scarcely gave this kink in gussie's character a thought. we may have exchanged an occasional remark about it taking all sorts to make a world, but nothing more. you can guess the sequel. the trouble spread," "indeed, sir?" "absolutely, jeeves. the craving grew upon him. the newts got him. arrived at man's estate, he retired to the depths of the country and gave his life up to these dumb chums. i suppose he used to tell himself that he could take them or leave them alone, and then found--too late--that he couldn't." "it is often the way, sir." "too true, jeeves. at any rate, for the last five years he has been living at this place of his down in lincolnshire, as confirmed a species-shunning hermit as ever put fresh water in the tank every second day and refused to see a soul. that's why i was so amazed when you told me he had suddenly risen to the surface like this. i still can't believe it. i am inclined to think that there must be some mistake, and that this bird who has been calling here is some different variety of fink-nottle. the chap i know wears horn-rimmed spectacles and has a face like a fish. how does that check up with your data?" "the gentleman who came to the flat wore horn-rimmed spectacles, sir." "and looked like something on a slab?" "possibly there was a certain suggestion of the piscine, sir." "then it must be gussie, i suppose. but what on earth can have brought him up to london?" "i am in a position to explain that, sir. mr. fink-nottle confided to me his motive in visiting the metropolis. he came because the young lady is here." "young lady?" "yes, sir." "you don't mean he's in love?" "yes, sir." "well, i'm dashed. i'm really dashed. i positively am dashed, jeeves." and i was too. i mean to say, a joke's a joke, but there are limits. then i found my mind turning to another aspect of this rummy affair. conceding the fact that gussie fink-nottle, against all the ruling of the form book, might have fallen in love, why should he have been haunting my flat like this? no doubt the occasion was one of those when a fellow needs a friend, but i couldn't see what had made him pick on me. it wasn't as if he and i were in any way bosom. we had seen a lot of each other at one time, of course, but in the last two years i hadn't had so much as a post card from him. i put all this to jeeves: "odd, his coming to me. still, if he did, he did. no argument about that. it must have been a nasty jar for the poor perisher when he found i wasn't here." "no, sir. mr. fink-nottle did not call to see you, sir." "pull yourself together, jeeves. you've just told me that this is what he has been doing, and assiduously, at that." "it was i with whom he was desirous of establishing communication, sir." "you? but i didn't know you had ever met him." "i had not had that pleasure until he called here, sir. but it appears that mr. sipperley, a fellow student with whom mr. fink-nottle had been at the university, recommended him to place his affairs in my hands." the mystery had conked. i saw all. as i dare say you know, jeeves's reputation as a counsellor has long been established among the cognoscenti, and the first move of any of my little circle on discovering themselves in any form of soup is always to roll round and put the thing up to him. and when he's got a out of a bad spot, a puts b on to him. and then, when he has fixed up b, b sends c along. and so on, if you get my drift, and so forth. that's how these big consulting practices like jeeves's grow. old sippy, i knew, had been deeply impressed by the man's efforts on his behalf at the time when he was trying to get engaged to elizabeth moon, so it was not to be wondered at that he should have advised gussie to apply. pure routine, you might say. "oh, you're acting for him, are you?" "yes, sir." "now i follow. now i understand. and what is gussie's trouble?" "oddly enough, sir, precisely the same as that of mr. sipperley when i was enabled to be of assistance to him. no doubt you recall mr. sipperley's predicament, sir. deeply attached to miss moon, he suffered from a rooted diffidence which made it impossible for him to speak." i nodded. "i remember. yes, i recall the sipperley case. he couldn't bring himself to the scratch. a marked coldness of the feet, was there not? i recollect you saying he was letting--what was it?--letting something do something. cats entered into it, if i am not mistaken." "letting 'i dare not' wait upon 'i would', sir." "that's right. but how about the cats?" "like the poor cat i' the adage, sir." "exactly. it beats me how you think up these things. and gussie, you say, is in the same posish?" "yes, sir. each time he endeavours to formulate a proposal of marriage, his courage fails him." "and yet, if he wants this female to be his wife, he's got to say so, what? i mean, only civil to mention it." "precisely, sir." i mused. "well, i suppose this was inevitable, jeeves. i wouldn't have thought that this fink-nottle would ever have fallen a victim to the divine _p_, but, if he has, no wonder he finds the going sticky." "yes, sir." "look at the life he's led." "yes, sir." "i don't suppose he has spoken to a girl for years. what a lesson this is to us, jeeves, not to shut ourselves up in country houses and stare into glass tanks. you can't be the dominant male if you do that sort of thing. in this life, you can choose between two courses. you can either shut yourself up in a country house and stare into tanks, or you can be a dasher with the sex. you can't do both." "no, sir." i mused once more. gussie and i, as i say, had rather lost touch, but all the same i was exercised about the poor fish, as i am about all my pals, close or distant, who find themselves treading upon life's banana skins. it seemed to me that he was up against it. i threw my mind back to the last time i had seen him. about two years ago, it had been. i had looked in at his place while on a motor trip, and he had put me right off my feed by bringing a couple of green things with legs to the luncheon table, crooning over them like a young mother and eventually losing one of them in the salad. that picture, rising before my eyes, didn't give me much confidence in the unfortunate goof's ability to woo and win, i must say. especially if the girl he had earmarked was one of these tough modern thugs, all lipstick and cool, hard, sardonic eyes, as she probably was. "tell me, jeeves," i said, wishing to know the worst, "what sort of a girl is this girl of gussie's?" "i have not met the young lady, sir. mr. fink-nottle speaks highly of her attractions." "seemed to like her, did he?" "yes, sir." "did he mention her name? perhaps i know her." "she is a miss bassett, sir. miss madeline bassett." "what?" "yes, sir." i was deeply intrigued. "egad, jeeves! fancy that. it's a small world, isn't it, what?" "the young lady is an acquaintance of yours, sir?" "i know her well. your news has relieved my mind, jeeves. it makes the whole thing begin to seem far more like a practical working proposition." "indeed, sir?" "absolutely. i confess that until you supplied this information i was feeling profoundly dubious about poor old gussie's chances of inducing any spinster of any parish to join him in the saunter down the aisle. you will agree with me that he is not everybody's money." "there may be something in what you say, sir." "cleopatra wouldn't have liked him." "possibly not, sir." "and i doubt if he would go any too well with tallulah bankhead." "no, sir." "but when you tell me that the object of his affections is miss bassett, why, then, jeeves, hope begins to dawn a bit. he's just the sort of chap a girl like madeline bassett might scoop in with relish." this bassett, i must explain, had been a fellow visitor of ours at cannes; and as she and angela had struck up one of those effervescent friendships which girls do strike up, i had seen quite a bit of her. indeed, in my moodier moments it sometimes seemed to me that i could not move a step without stubbing my toe on the woman. and what made it all so painful and distressing was that the more we met, the less did i seem able to find to say to her. you know how it is with some girls. they seem to take the stuffing right out of you. i mean to say, there is something about their personality that paralyses the vocal cords and reduces the contents of the brain to cauliflower. it was like that with this bassett and me; so much so that i have known occasions when for minutes at a stretch bertram wooster might have been observed fumbling with the tie, shuffling the feet, and behaving in all other respects in her presence like the complete dumb brick. when, therefore, she took her departure some two weeks before we did, you may readily imagine that, in bertram's opinion, it was not a day too soon. it was not her beauty, mark you, that thus numbed me. she was a pretty enough girl in a droopy, blonde, saucer-eyed way, but not the sort of breath-taker that takes the breath. no, what caused this disintegration in a usually fairly fluent prattler with the sex was her whole mental attitude. i don't want to wrong anybody, so i won't go so far as to say that she actually wrote poetry, but her conversation, to my mind, was of a nature calculated to excite the liveliest suspicions. well, i mean to say, when a girl suddenly asks you out of a blue sky if you don't sometimes feel that the stars are god's daisy-chain, you begin to think a bit. as regards the fusing of her soul and mine, therefore, there was nothing doing. but with gussie, the posish was entirely different. the thing that had stymied me--viz. that this girl was obviously all loaded down with ideals and sentiment and what not--was quite in order as far as he was concerned. gussie had always been one of those dreamy, soulful birds--you can't shut yourself up in the country and live only for newts, if you're not--and i could see no reason why, if he could somehow be induced to get the low, burning words off his chest, he and the bassett shouldn't hit it off like ham and eggs. "she's just the type for him," i said. "i am most gratified to hear it, sir." "and he's just the type for her. in fine, a good thing and one to be pushed along with the utmost energy. strain every nerve, jeeves." "very good, sir," replied the honest fellow. "i will attend to the matter at once." now up to this point, as you will doubtless agree, what you might call a perfect harmony had prevailed. friendly gossip between employer and employed, and everything as sweet as a nut. but at this juncture, i regret to say, there was an unpleasant switch. the atmosphere suddenly changed, the storm clouds began to gather, and before we knew where we were, the jarring note had come bounding on the scene. i have known this to happen before in the wooster home. the first intimation i had that things were about to hot up was a pained and disapproving cough from the neighbourhood of the carpet. for, during the above exchanges, i should explain, while i, having dried the frame, had been dressing in a leisurely manner, donning here a sock, there a shoe, and gradually climbing into the vest, the shirt, the tie, and the knee-length, jeeves had been down on the lower level, unpacking my effects. he now rose, holding a white object. and at the sight of it, i realized that another of our domestic crises had arrived, another of those unfortunate clashes of will between two strong men, and that bertram, unless he remembered his fighting ancestors and stood up for his rights, was about to be put upon. i don't know if you were at cannes this summer. if you were, you will recall that anybody with any pretensions to being the life and soul of the party was accustomed to attend binges at the casino in the ordinary evening-wear trouserings topped to the north by a white mess-jacket with brass buttons. and ever since i had stepped aboard the blue train at cannes station, i had been wondering on and off how mine would go with jeeves. in the matter of evening costume, you see, jeeves is hidebound and reactionary. i had had trouble with him before about soft-bosomed shirts. and while these mess-jackets had, as i say, been all the rage--_tout ce qu'il y a de chic_--on the cã´te d'azur, i had never concealed it from myself, even when treading the measure at the palm beach casino in the one i had hastened to buy, that there might be something of an upheaval about it on my return. i prepared to be firm. "yes, jeeves?" i said. and though my voice was suave, a close observer in a position to watch my eyes would have noticed a steely glint. nobody has a greater respect for jeeves's intellect than i have, but this disposition of his to dictate to the hand that fed him had got, i felt, to be checked. this mess-jacket was very near to my heart, and i jolly well intended to fight for it with all the vim of grand old sieur de wooster at the battle of agincourt. "yes, jeeves?" i said. "something on your mind, jeeves?" "i fear that you inadvertently left cannes in the possession of a coat belonging to some other gentleman, sir." i switched on the steely a bit more. "no, jeeves," i said, in a level tone, "the object under advisement is mine. i bought it out there." "you wore it, sir?" "every night." "but surely you are not proposing to wear it in england, sir?" i saw that we had arrived at the nub. "yes, jeeves." "but, sir----" "you were saying, jeeves?" "it is quite unsuitable, sir." "i do not agree with you, jeeves. i anticipate a great popular success for this jacket. it is my intention to spring it on the public tomorrow at pongo twistleton's birthday party, where i confidently expect it to be one long scream from start to finish. no argument, jeeves. no discussion. whatever fantastic objection you may have taken to it, i wear this jacket." "very good, sir." he went on with his unpacking. i said no more on the subject. i had won the victory, and we woosters do not triumph over a beaten foe. presently, having completed my toilet, i bade the man a cheery farewell and in generous mood suggested that, as i was dining out, why didn't he take the evening off and go to some improving picture or something. sort of olive branch, if you see what i mean. he didn't seem to think much of it. "thank you, sir, i will remain in." i surveyed him narrowly. "is this dudgeon, jeeves?" "no, sir, i am obliged to remain on the premises. mr. fink-nottle informed me he would be calling to see me this evening." "oh, gussie's coming, is he? well, give him my love." "very good, sir." "yes, sir." "and a whisky and soda, and so forth." "very good, sir." "right ho, jeeves." i then set off for the drones. at the drones i ran into pongo twistleton, and he talked so much about the forthcoming merry-making of his, of which good reports had already reached me through my correspondents, that it was nearing eleven when i got home again. and scarcely had i opened the door when i heard voices in the sitting-room, and scarcely had i entered the sitting-room when i found that these proceeded from jeeves and what appeared at first sight to be the devil. a closer scrutiny informed me that it was gussie fink-nottle, dressed as mephistopheles. -2"what-ho, gussie," i said. you couldn't have told it from my manner, but i was feeling more than a bit nonplussed. the spectacle before me was enough to nonplus anyone. i mean to say, this fink-nottle, as i remembered him, was the sort of shy, shrinking goop who might have been expected to shake like an aspen if invited to so much as a social saturday afternoon at the vicarage. and yet here he was, if one could credit one's senses, about to take part in a fancy-dress ball, a form of entertainment notoriously a testing experience for the toughest. and he was attending that fancy-dress ball, mark you--not, like every other well-bred englishman, as a pierrot, but as mephistopheles--this involving, as i need scarcely stress, not only scarlet tights but a pretty frightful false beard. rummy, you'll admit. however, one masks one's feelings. i betrayed no vulgar astonishment, but, as i say, what-hoed with civil nonchalance. he grinned through the fungus--rather sheepishly, i thought. "oh, hullo, bertie." "long time since i saw you. have a spot?" "no, thanks. i must be off in a minute. i just came round to ask jeeves how he thought i looked. how do you think i look, bertie?" well, the answer to that, of course, was "perfectly foul". but we woosters are men of tact and have a nice sense of the obligations of a host. we do not tell old friends beneath our roof-tree that they are an offence to the eyesight. i evaded the question. "i hear you're in london," i said carelessly. "oh, yes." "must be years since you came up." "oh, yes." "and now you're off for an evening's pleasure." he shuddered a bit. he had, i noticed, a hunted air. "pleasure!" "aren't you looking forward to this rout or revel?" "oh, i suppose it'll be all right," he said, in a toneless voice. "anyway, i ought to be off, i suppose. the thing starts round about eleven. i told my cab to wait.... will you see if it's there, jeeves?" "very good, sir." there was something of a pause after the door had closed. a certain constraint. i mixed myself a beaker, while gussie, a glutton for punishment, stared at himself in the mirror. finally i decided that it would be best to let him know that i was abreast of his affairs. it might be that it would ease his mind to confide in a sympathetic man of experience. i have generally found, with those under the influence, that what they want more than anything is the listening ear. "well, gussie, old leper," i said, "i've been hearing all about you." "eh?" "this little trouble of yours. jeeves has told me everything." he didn't seem any too braced. it's always difficult to be sure, of course, when a chap has dug himself in behind a mephistopheles beard, but i fancy he flushed a trifle. "i wish jeeves wouldn't go gassing all over the place. it was supposed to be confidential." i could not permit this tone. "dishing up the dirt to the young master can scarcely be described as gassing all over the place," i said, with a touch of rebuke. "anyway, there it is. i know all. and i should like to begin," i said, sinking my personal opinion that the female in question was a sloppy pest in my desire to buck and encourage, "by saying that madeline bassett is a charming girl. a winner, and just the sort for you." "you don't know her?" "certainly i know her. what beats me is how you ever got in touch. where did you meet?" "she was staying at a place near mine in lincolnshire the week before last." "yes, but even so. i didn't know you called on the neighbours." "i don't. i met her out for a walk with her dog. the dog had got a thorn in its foot, and when she tried to take it out, it snapped at her. so, of course, i had to rally round." "you extracted the thorn?" "yes." "and fell in love at first sight?" "yes." "well, dash it, with a thing like that to give you a send-off, why didn't you cash in immediately?" "i hadn't the nerve." "what happened?" "we talked for a bit." "what about?" "oh, birds." "birds? what birds?" "the birds that happened to be hanging round. and the scenery, and all that sort of thing. and she said she was going to london, and asked me to look her up if i was ever there." "and even after that you didn't so much as press her hand?" "of course not." well, i mean, it looked as though there was no more to be said. if a chap is such a rabbit that he can't get action when he's handed the thing on a plate, his case would appear to be pretty hopeless. nevertheless, i reminded myself that this non-starter and i had been at school together. one must make an effort for an old school friend. "ah, well," i said, "we must see what can be done. things may brighten. at any rate, you will be glad to learn that i am behind you in this enterprise. you have bertram wooster in your corner, gussie." "thanks, old man. and jeeves, of course, which is the thing that really matters." i don't mind admitting that i winced. he meant no harm, i suppose, but i'm bound to say that this tactless speech nettled me not a little. people are always nettling me like that. giving me to understand, i mean to say, that in their opinion bertram wooster is a mere cipher and that the only member of the household with brains and resources is jeeves. it jars on me. and tonight it jarred on me more than usual, because i was feeling pretty dashed fed with jeeves. over that matter of the mess jacket, i mean. true, i had forced him to climb down, quelling him, as described, with the quiet strength of my personality, but i was still a trifle shirty at his having brought the thing up at all. it seemed to me that what jeeves wanted was the iron hand. "and what is he doing about it?" i inquired stiffly. "he's been giving the position of affairs a lot of thought." "he has, has he?" "it's on his advice that i'm going to this dance." "why?" "she is going to be there. in fact, it was she who sent me the ticket of invitation. and jeeves considered----" "and why not as a pierrot?" i said, taking up the point which had struck me before. "why this break with a grand old tradition?" "he particularly wanted me to go as mephistopheles." i started. "he did, did he? he specifically recommended that definite costume?" "yes." "ha!" "eh?" "nothing. just 'ha!'" and i'll tell you why i said "ha!" here was jeeves making heavy weather about me wearing a perfectly ordinary white mess jacket, a garment not only _tout ce qu'il y a de chic_, but absolutely _de rigueur_, and in the same breath, as you might say, inciting gussie fink-nottle to be a blot on the london scene in scarlet tights. ironical, what? one looks askance at this sort of in-and-out running. "what has he got against pierrots?" "i don't think he objects to pierrots as pierrots. but in my case he thought a pierrot wouldn't be adequate." "i don't follow that." "he said that the costume of pierrot, while pleasing to the eye, lacked the authority of the mephistopheles costume." "i still don't get it." "well, it's a matter of psychology, he said." there was a time when a remark like that would have had me snookered. but long association with jeeves has developed the wooster vocabulary considerably. jeeves has always been a whale for the psychology of the individual, and i now follow him like a bloodhound when he snaps it out of the bag. "oh, psychology?" "yes. jeeves is a great believer in the moral effect of clothes. he thinks i might be emboldened in a striking costume like this. he said a pirate chief would be just as good. in fact, a pirate chief was his first suggestion, but i objected to the boots." i saw his point. there is enough sadness in life without having fellows like gussie fink-nottle going about in sea boots. "and are you emboldened?" "well, to be absolutely accurate, bertie, old man, no." a gust of compassion shook me. after all, though we had lost touch a bit of recent years, this man and i had once thrown inked darts at each other. "gussie," i said, "take an old friend's advice, and don't go within a mile of this binge." "but it's my last chance of seeing her. she's off tomorrow to stay with some people in the country. besides, you don't know." "don't know what?" "that this idea of jeeves's won't work. i feel a most frightful chump now, yes, but who can say whether that will not pass off when i get into a mob of other people in fancy dress. i had the same experience as a child, one year during the christmas festivities. they dressed me up as a rabbit, and the shame was indescribable. yet when i got to the party and found myself surrounded by scores of other children, many in costumes even ghastlier than my own, i perked up amazingly, joined freely in the revels, and was able to eat so hearty a supper that i was sick twice in the cab coming home. what i mean is, you can't tell in cold blood." i weighed this. it was specious, of course. "and you can't get away from it that, fundamentally, jeeves's idea is sound. in a striking costume like mephistopheles, i might quite easily pull off something pretty impressive. colour does make a difference. look at newts. during the courting season the male newt is brilliantly coloured. it helps him a lot." "but you aren't a male newt." "i wish i were. do you know how a male newt proposes, bertie? he just stands in front of the female newt vibrating his tail and bending his body in a semi-circle. i could do that on my head. no, you wouldn't find me grousing if i were a male newt." "but if you were a male newt, madeline bassett wouldn't look at you. not with the eye of love, i mean." "she would, if she were a female newt." "but she isn't a female newt." "no, but suppose she was." "well, if she was, you wouldn't be in love with her." "yes, i would, if i were a male newt." a slight throbbing about the temples told me that this discussion had reached saturation point. "well, anyway," i said, "coming down to hard facts and cutting out all this visionary stuff about vibrating tails and what not, the salient point that emerges is that you are booked to appear at a fancy-dress ball. and i tell you out of my riper knowledge of fancy-dress balls, gussie, that you won't enjoy yourself." "it isn't a question of enjoying yourself." "i wouldn't go." "i must go. i keep telling you she's off to the country tomorrow." i gave it up. "so be it," i said. "have it your own way.... yes, jeeves?" "mr. fink-nottle's cab, sir." "ah? the cab, eh?... your cab, gussie." "oh, the cab? oh, right. of course, yes, rather.... thanks, jeeves ... well, so long, bertie." and giving me the sort of weak smile roman gladiators used to give the emperor before entering the arena, gussie trickled off. and i turned to jeeves. the moment had arrived for putting him in his place, and i was all for it. it was a little difficult to know how to begin, of course. i mean to say, while firmly resolved to tick him off, i didn't want to gash his feelings too deeply. even when displaying the iron hand, we woosters like to keep the thing fairly matey. however, on consideration, i saw that there was nothing to be gained by trying to lead up to it gently. it is never any use beating about the b. "jeeves," i said, "may i speak frankly?" "certainly, sir." "what i have to say may wound you." "not at all, sir." "well, then, i have been having a chat with mr. fink-nottle, and he has been telling me about this mephistopheles scheme of yours." "yes, sir?" "now let me get it straight. if i follow your reasoning correctly, you think that, stimulated by being upholstered throughout in scarlet tights, mr. fink-nottle, on encountering the adored object, will vibrate his tail and generally let himself go with a whoop." "i am of opinion that he will lose much of his normal diffidence, sir." "i don't agree with you, jeeves." "no, sir?" "no. in fact, not to put too fine a point upon it, i consider that of all the dashed silly, drivelling ideas i ever heard in my puff this is the most blithering and futile. it won't work. not a chance. all you have done is to subject mr. fink-nottle to the nameless horrors of a fancy-dress ball for nothing. and this is not the first time this sort of thing has happened. to be quite candid, jeeves, i have frequently noticed before now a tendency or disposition on your part to become--what's the word?" "i could not say, sir." "eloquent? no, it's not eloquent. elusive? no, it's not elusive. it's on the tip of my tongue. begins with an 'e' and means being a jolly sight too clever." "elaborate, sir?" "that is the exact word i was after. too elaborate, jeeves--that is what you are frequently prone to become. your methods are not simple, not straightforward. you cloud the issue with a lot of fancy stuff that is not of the essence. all that gussie needs is the elder-brotherly advice of a seasoned man of the world. so what i suggest is that from now onward you leave this case to me." "very good, sir." "you lay off and devote yourself to your duties about the home." "very good, sir." "i shall no doubt think of something quite simple and straightforward yet perfectly effective ere long. i will make a point of seeing gussie tomorrow." "very good, sir." "right ho, jeeves." but on the morrow all those telegrams started coming in, and i confess that for twenty-four hours i didn't give the poor chap a thought, having problems of my own to contend with. -3the first of the telegrams arrived shortly after noon, and jeeves brought it in with the before-luncheon snifter. it was from my aunt dahlia, operating from market snodsbury, a small town of sorts a mile or two along the main road as you leave her country seat. it ran as follows: _come at once. travers._ and when i say it puzzled me like the dickens, i am understating it; if anything. as mysterious a communication, i considered, as was ever flashed over the wires. i studied it in a profound reverie for the best part of two dry martinis and a dividend. i read it backwards. i read it forwards. as a matter of fact, i have a sort of recollection of even smelling it. but it still baffled me. consider the facts, i mean. it was only a few hours since this aunt and i had parted, after being in constant association for nearly two months. and yet here she was--with my farewell kiss still lingering on her cheek, so to speak--pleading for another reunion. bertram wooster is not accustomed to this gluttonous appetite for his society. ask anyone who knows me, and they will tell you that after two months of my company, what the normal person feels is that that will about do for the present. indeed, i have known people who couldn't stick it out for more than a few days. before sitting down to the well-cooked, therefore, i sent this reply: _perplexed. explain. bertie._ to this i received an answer during the after-luncheon sleep: _what on earth is there to be perplexed about, ass? come at once. travers._ three cigarettes and a couple of turns about the room, and i had my response ready: _how do you mean come at once? regards. bertie._ i append the comeback: _i mean come at once, you maddening half-wit. what did you think i meant? come at once or expect an aunt's curse first post tomorrow. love. travers._ i then dispatched the following message, wishing to get everything quite clear: _when you say "come" do you mean "come to brinkley court"? and when you say "at once" do you mean "at once"? fogged. at a loss. all the best. bertie._ i sent this one off on my way to the drones, where i spent a restful afternoon throwing cards into a top-hat with some of the better element. returning in the evening hush, i found the answer waiting for me: _yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. it doesn't matter whether you understand or not. you just come at once, as i tell you, and for heaven's sake stop this back-chat. do you think i am made of money that i can afford to send you telegrams every ten minutes. stop being a fathead and come immediately. love. travers._ it was at this point that i felt the need of getting a second opinion. i pressed the bell. "jeeves," i said, "a v-shaped rumminess has manifested itself from the direction of worcestershire. read these," i said, handing him the papers in the case. he scanned them. "what do you make of it, jeeves?" "i think mrs. travers wishes you to come at once, sir." "you gather that too, do you?" "yes, sir." "i put the same construction on the thing. but why, jeeves? dash it all, she's just had nearly two months of me." "yes, sir." "and many people consider the medium dose for an adult two days." "yes, sir. i appreciate the point you raise. nevertheless, mrs. travers appears very insistent. i think it would be well to acquiesce in her wishes." "pop down, you mean?" "yes, sir." "well, i certainly can't go at once. i've an important conference on at the drones tonight. pongo twistleton's birthday party, you remember." "yes, sir." there was a slight pause. we were both recalling the little unpleasantness that had arisen. i felt obliged to allude to it. "you're all wrong about that mess jacket, jeeves." "these things are matters of opinion, sir." "when i wore it at the casino at cannes, beautiful women nudged one another and whispered: 'who is he?'" "the code at continental casinos is notoriously lax, sir." "and when i described it to pongo last night, he was fascinated." "indeed, sir?" "so were all the rest of those present. one and all admitted that i had got hold of a good thing. not a dissentient voice." "indeed, sir?" "i am convinced that you will eventually learn to love this mess-jacket, jeeves." "i fear not, sir." i gave it up. it is never any use trying to reason with jeeves on these occasions. "pig-headed" is the word that springs to the lips. one sighs and passes on. "well, anyway, returning to the agenda, i can't go down to brinkley court or anywhere else yet awhile. that's final. i'll tell you what, jeeves. give me form and pencil, and i'll wire her that i'll be with her some time next week or the week after. dash it all, she ought to be able to hold out without me for a few days. it only requires will power." "yes, sir." "right ho, then. i'll wire 'expect me tomorrow fortnight' or words to some such effect. that ought to meet the case. then if you will toddle round the corner and send it off, that will be that." "very good, sir." and so the long day wore on till it was time for me to dress for pongo's party. pongo had assured me, while chatting of the affair on the previous night, that this birthday binge of his was to be on a scale calculated to stagger humanity, and i must say i have participated in less fruity functions. it was well after four when i got home, and by that time i was about ready to turn in. i can just remember groping for the bed and crawling into it, and it seemed to me that the lemon had scarcely touched the pillow before i was aroused by the sound of the door opening. i was barely ticking over, but i contrived to raise an eyelid. "is that my tea, jeeves?" "no, sir. it is mrs. travers." and a moment later there was a sound like a mighty rushing wind, and the relative had crossed the threshold at fifty m.p.h. under her own steam. -4it has been well said of bertram wooster that, while no one views his flesh and blood with a keener and more remorselessly critical eye, he is nevertheless a man who delights in giving credit where credit is due. and if you have followed these memoirs of mine with the proper care, you will be aware that i have frequently had occasion to emphasise the fact that aunt dahlia is all right. she is the one, if you remember, who married old tom travers _en secondes noces_, as i believe the expression is, the year bluebottle won the cambridgeshire, and once induced me to write an article on what the well-dressed man is wearing for that paper she runs--_milady's boudoir_. she is a large, genial soul, with whom it is a pleasure to hob-nob. in her spiritual make-up there is none of that subtle gosh-awfulness which renders such an exhibit as, say, my aunt agatha the curse of the home counties and a menace to one and all. i have the highest esteem for aunt dahlia, and have never wavered in my cordial appreciation of her humanity, sporting qualities and general good-eggishness. this being so, you may conceive of my astonishment at finding her at my bedside at such an hour. i mean to say, i've stayed at her place many a time and oft, and she knows my habits. she is well aware that until i have had my cup of tea in the morning, i do not receive. this crashing in at a moment when she knew that solitude and repose were of the essence was scarcely, i could not but feel, the good old form. besides, what business had she being in london at all? that was what i asked myself. when a conscientious housewife has returned to her home after an absence of seven weeks, one does not expect her to start racing off again the day after her arrival. one feels that she ought to be sticking round, ministering to her husband, conferring with the cook, feeding the cat, combing and brushing the pomeranian--in a word, staying put. i was more than a little bleary-eyed, but i endeavoured, as far as the fact that my eyelids were more or less glued together would permit, to give her an austere and censorious look. she didn't seem to get it. "wake up, bertie, you old ass!" she cried, in a voice that hit me between the eyebrows and went out at the back of my head. if aunt dahlia has a fault, it is that she is apt to address a _vis-ã -vis_ as if he were somebody half a mile away whom she had observed riding over hounds. a throwback, no doubt, to the time when she counted the day lost that was not spent in chivvying some unfortunate fox over the countryside. i gave her another of the austere and censorious, and this time it registered. all the effect it had, however, was to cause her to descend to personalities. "don't blink at me in that obscene way," she said. "i wonder, bertie," she proceeded, gazing at me as i should imagine gussie would have gazed at some newt that was not up to sample, "if you have the faintest conception how perfectly loathsome you look? a cross between an orgy scene in the movies and some low form of pond life. i suppose you were out on the tiles last night?" "i attended a social function, yes," i said coldly. "pongo twistleton's birthday party. i couldn't let pongo down. _noblesse oblige_." "well, get up and dress." i felt i could not have heard her aright. "get up and dress?" "yes." i turned on the pillow with a little moan, and at this juncture jeeves entered with the vital oolong. i clutched at it like a drowning man at a straw hat. a deep sip or two, and i felt--i won't say restored, because a birthday party like pongo twistleton's isn't a thing you get restored after with a mere mouthful of tea, but sufficiently the old bertram to be able to bend the mind on this awful thing which had come upon me. and the more i bent same, the less could i grasp the trend of the scenario. "what is this, aunt dahlia?" i inquired. "it looks to me like tea," was her response. "but you know best. you're drinking it." if i hadn't been afraid of spilling the healing brew, i have little doubt that i should have given an impatient gesture. i know i felt like it. "not the contents of this cup. all this. your barging in and telling me to get up and dress, and all that rot." "i've barged in, as you call it, because my telegrams seemed to produce no effect. and i told you to get up and dress because i want you to get up and dress. i've come to take you back with me. i like your crust, wiring that you would come next year or whenever it was. you're coming now. i've got a job for you." "but i don't want a job." "what you want, my lad, and what you're going to get are two very different things. there is man's work for you to do at brinkley court. be ready to the last button in twenty minutes." "but i can't possibly be ready to any buttons in twenty minutes. i'm feeling awful." she seemed to consider. "yes," she said. "i suppose it's only humane to give you a day or two to recover. all right, then, i shall expect you on the thirtieth at the latest." "but, dash it, what is all this? how do you mean, a job? why a job? what sort of a job?" "i'll tell you if you'll only stop talking for a minute. it's quite an easy, pleasant job. you will enjoy it. have you ever heard of market snodsbury grammar school?" "never." "it's a grammar school at market snodsbury." i told her a little frigidly that i had divined as much. "well, how was i to know that a man with a mind like yours would grasp it so quickly?" she protested. "all right, then. market snodsbury grammar school is, as you have guessed, the grammar school at market snodsbury. i'm one of the governors." "you mean one of the governesses." "i don't mean one of the governesses. listen, ass. there was a board of governors at eton, wasn't there? very well. so there is at market snodsbury grammar school, and i'm a member of it. and they left the arrangements for the summer prize-giving to me. this prize-giving takes place on the last--or thirty-first--day of this month. have you got that clear?" i took another oz. of the life-saving and inclined my head. even after a pongo twistleton birthday party, i was capable of grasping simple facts like these. "i follow you, yes. i see the point you are trying to make, certainly. market ... snodsbury ... grammar school ... board of governors ... prize-giving.... quite. but what's it got to do with me?" "you're going to give away the prizes." i goggled. her words did not appear to make sense. they seemed the mere aimless vapouring of an aunt who has been sitting out in the sun without a hat. "me?" "you." i goggled again. "you don't mean me?" "i mean you in person." i goggled a third time. "you're pulling my leg." "i am not pulling your leg. nothing would induce me to touch your beastly leg. the vicar was to have officiated, but when i got home i found a letter from him saying that he had strained a fetlock and must scratch his nomination. you can imagine the state i was in. i telephoned all over the place. nobody would take it on. and then suddenly i thought of you." i decided to check all this rot at the outset. nobody is more eager to oblige deserving aunts than bertram wooster, but there are limits, and sharply defined limits, at that. "so you think i'm going to strew prizes at this bally dotheboys hall of yours?" "i do." "and make a speech?" "exactly." i laughed derisively. "for goodness' sake, don't start gargling now. this is serious." "i was laughing." "oh, were you? well, i'm glad to see you taking it in this merry spirit." "derisively," i explained. "i won't do it. that's final. i simply will not do it." "you will do it, young bertie, or never darken my doors again. and you know what that means. no more of anatole's dinners for you." a strong shudder shook me. she was alluding to her _chef_, that superb artist. a monarch of his profession, unsurpassed--nay, unequalled--at dishing up the raw material so that it melted in the mouth of the ultimate consumer, anatole had always been a magnet that drew me to brinkley court with my tongue hanging out. many of my happiest moments had been those which i had spent champing this great man's roasts and ragouts, and the prospect of being barred from digging into them in the future was a numbing one. "no, i say, dash it!" "i thought that would rattle you. greedy young pig." "greedy young pigs have nothing to do with it," i said with a touch of hauteur. "one is not a greedy young pig because one appreciates the cooking of a genius." "well, i will say i like it myself," conceded the relative. "but not another bite of it do you get, if you refuse to do this simple, easy, pleasant job. no, not so much as another sniff. so put that in your twelve-inch cigarette-holder and smoke it." i began to feel like some wild thing caught in a snare. "but why do you want me? i mean, what am i? ask yourself that." "i often have." "i mean to say, i'm not the type. you have to have some terrific nib to give away prizes. i seem to remember, when i was at school, it was generally a prime minister or somebody." "ah, but that was at eton. at market snodsbury we aren't nearly so choosy. anybody in spats impresses us." "why don't you get uncle tom?" "uncle tom!" "well, why not? he's got spats." "bertie," she said, "i will tell you why not uncle tom. you remember me losing all that money at baccarat at cannes? well, very shortly i shall have to sidle up to tom and break the news to him. if, right after that, i ask him to put on lavender gloves and a topper and distribute the prizes at market snodsbury grammar school, there will be a divorce in the family. he would pin a note to the pincushion and be off like a rabbit. no, my lad, you're for it, so you may as well make the best of it." "but, aunt dahlia, listen to reason. i assure you, you've got hold of the wrong man. i'm hopeless at a game like that. ask jeeves about the time i got lugged in to address a girls' school. i made the most colossal ass of myself." "and i confidently anticipate that you will make an equally colossal ass of yourself on the thirty-first of this month. that's why i want you. the way i look at it is that, as the thing is bound to be a frost, anyway, one may as well get a hearty laugh out of it. i shall enjoy seeing you distribute those prizes, bertie. well, i won't keep you, as, no doubt, you want to do your swedish exercises. i shall expect you in a day or two." and with these heartless words she beetled off, leaving me a prey to the gloomiest emotions. what with the natural reaction after pongo's party and this stunning blow, it is not too much to say that the soul was seared. and i was still writhing in the depths, when the door opened and jeeves appeared. "mr. fink-nottle to see you, sir," he announced. -5i gave him one of my looks. "jeeves," i said, "i had scarcely expected this of you. you are aware that i was up to an advanced hour last night. you know that i have barely had my tea. you cannot be ignorant of the effect of that hearty voice of aunt dahlia's on a man with a headache. and yet you come bringing me fink-nottles. is this a time for fink or any other kind of nottle?" "but did you not give me to understand, sir, that you wished to see mr. fink-nottle to advise him on his affairs?" this, i admit, opened up a new line of thought. in the stress of my emotions, i had clean forgotten about having taken gussie's interests in hand. it altered things. one can't give the raspberry to a client. i mean, you didn't find sherlock holmes refusing to see clients just because he had been out late the night before at doctor watson's birthday party. i could have wished that the man had selected some more suitable hour for approaching me, but as he appeared to be a sort of human lark, leaving his watery nest at daybreak, i supposed i had better give him an audience. "true," i said. "all right. bung him in." "very good, sir." "but before doing so, bring me one of those pick-me-ups of yours." "very good, sir." and presently he returned with the vital essence. i have had occasion, i fancy, to speak before now of these pick-me-ups of jeeves's and their effect on a fellow who is hanging to life by a thread on the morning after. what they consist of, i couldn't tell you. he says some kind of sauce, the yolk of a raw egg and a dash of red pepper, but nothing will convince me that the thing doesn't go much deeper than that. be that as it may, however, the results of swallowing one are amazing. for perhaps the split part of a second nothing happens. it is as though all nature waited breathless. then, suddenly, it is as if the last trump had sounded and judgment day set in with unusual severity. bonfires burst out in all in parts of the frame. the abdomen becomes heavily charged with molten lava. a great wind seems to blow through the world, and the subject is aware of something resembling a steam hammer striking the back of the head. during this phase, the ears ring loudly, the eyeballs rotate and there is a tingling about the brow. and then, just as you are feeling that you ought to ring up your lawyer and see that your affairs are in order before it is too late, the whole situation seems to clarify. the wind drops. the ears cease to ring. birds twitter. brass bands start playing. the sun comes up over the horizon with a jerk. and a moment later all you are conscious of is a great peace. as i drained the glass now, new life seemed to burgeon within me. i remember jeeves, who, however much he may go off the rails at times in the matter of dress clothes and in his advice to those in love, has always had a neat turn of phrase, once speaking of someone rising on stepping-stones of his dead self to higher things. it was that way with me now. i felt that the bertram wooster who lay propped up against the pillows had become a better, stronger, finer bertram. "thank you, jeeves," i said. "not at all, sir." "that touched the exact spot. i am now able to cope with life's problems." "i am gratified to hear it, sir." "what madness not to have had one of those before tackling aunt dahlia! however, too late to worry about that now. tell me of gussie. how did he make out at the fancy-dress ball?" "he did not arrive at the fancy-dress ball, sir." i looked at him a bit austerely. "jeeves," i said, "i admit that after that pick-me-up of yours i feel better, but don't try me too high. don't stand by my sick bed talking absolute rot. we shot gussie into a cab and he started forth, headed for wherever this fancy-dress ball was. he must have arrived." "no, sir. as i gather from mr. fink-nottle, he entered the cab convinced in his mind that the entertainment to which he had been invited was to be held at no. 17, suffolk square, whereas the actual rendezvous was no. 71, norfolk terrace. these aberrations of memory are not uncommon with those who, like mr. fink-nottle, belong essentially to what one might call the dreamer-type." "one might also call it the fatheaded type." "yes, sir." "well?" "on reaching no. 17, suffolk square, mr. fink-nottle endeavoured to produce money to pay the fare." "what stopped him?" "the fact that he had no money, sir. he discovered that he had left it, together with his ticket of invitation, on the mantelpiece of his bedchamber in the house of his uncle, where he was residing. bidding the cabman to wait, accordingly, he rang the door-bell, and when the butler appeared, requested him to pay the cab, adding that it was all right, as he was one of the guests invited to the dance. the butler then disclaimed all knowledge of a dance on the premises." "and declined to unbelt?" "yes, sir." "upon which----" "mr. fink-nottle directed the cabman to drive him back to his uncle's residence." "well, why wasn't that the happy ending? all he had to do was go in, collect cash and ticket, and there he would have been, on velvet." "i should have mentioned, sir, that mr. fink-nottle had also left his latchkey on the mantelpiece of his bedchamber." "he could have rung the bell." "he did ring the bell, sir, for some fifteen minutes. at the expiration of that period he recalled that he had given permission to the caretaker--the house was officially closed and all the staff on holiday--to visit his sailor son at portsmouth." "golly, jeeves!" "yes, sir." "these dreamer types do live, don't they?" "yes, sir." "what happened then?" "mr. fink-nottle appears to have realized at this point that his position as regards the cabman had become equivocal. the figures on the clock had already reached a substantial sum, and he was not in a position to meet his obligations." "he could have explained." "you cannot explain to cabmen, sir. on endeavouring to do so, he found the fellow sceptical of his bona fides." "i should have legged it." "that is the policy which appears to have commended itself to mr. fink-nottle. he darted rapidly away, and the cabman, endeavouring to detain him, snatched at his overcoat. mr. fink-nottle contrived to extricate himself from the coat, and it would seem that his appearance in the masquerade costume beneath it came as something of a shock to the cabman. mr. fink-nottle informs me that he heard a species of whistling gasp, and, looking round, observed the man crouching against the railings with his hands over his face. mr. fink-nottle thinks he was praying. no doubt an uneducated, superstitious fellow, sir. possibly a drinker." "well, if he hadn't been one before, i'll bet he started being one shortly afterwards. i expect he could scarcely wait for the pubs to open." "very possibly, in the circumstances he might have found a restorative agreeable, sir." "and so, in the circumstances, might gussie too, i should think. what on earth did he do after that? london late at night--or even in the daytime, for that matter--is no place for a man in scarlet tights." "no, sir." "he invites comment." "yes, sir." "i can see the poor old bird ducking down side-streets, skulking in alley-ways, diving into dust-bins." "i gathered from mr. fink-nottle's remarks, sir, that something very much on those lines was what occurred. eventually, after a trying night, he found his way to mr. sipperley's residence, where he was able to secure lodging and a change of costume in the morning." i nestled against the pillows, the brow a bit drawn. it is all very well to try to do old school friends a spot of good, but i could not but feel that in espousing the cause of a lunkhead capable of mucking things up as gussie had done, i had taken on a contract almost too big for human consumption. it seemed to me that what gussie needed was not so much the advice of a seasoned man of the world as a padded cell in colney hatch and a couple of good keepers to see that he did not set the place on fire. indeed, for an instant i had half a mind to withdraw from the case and hand it back to jeeves. but the pride of the woosters restrained me. when we woosters put our hands to the plough, we do not readily sheathe the sword. besides, after that business of the mess-jacket, anything resembling weakness would have been fatal. "i suppose you realize, jeeves," i said, for though one dislikes to rub it in, these things have to be pointed out, "that all this was your fault?" "sir?" "it's no good saying 'sir?' you know it was. if you had not insisted on his going to that dance--a mad project, as i spotted from the first--this would not have happened." "yes, sir, but i confess i did not anticipate----" "always anticipate everything, jeeves," i said, a little sternly. "it is the only way. even if you had allowed him to wear a pierrot costume, things would not have panned out as they did. a pierrot costume has pockets. however," i went on more kindly, "we need not go into that now. if all this has shown you what comes of going about the place in scarlet tights, that is something gained. gussie waits without, you say?" "yes, sir." "then shoot him in, and i will see what i can do for him." -6gussie, on arrival, proved to be still showing traces of his grim experience. the face was pale, the eyes gooseberry-like, the ears drooping, and the whole aspect that of a man who has passed through the furnace and been caught in the machinery. i hitched myself up a bit higher on the pillows and gazed at him narrowly. it was a moment, i could see, when first aid was required, and i prepared to get down to cases. "well, gussie." "hullo, bertie." "what ho." "what ho." these civilities concluded, i felt that the moment had come to touch delicately on the past. "i hear you've been through it a bit." "yes." "thanks to jeeves." "it wasn't jeeves's fault." "entirely jeeves's fault." "i don't see that. i forgot my money and latchkey----" "and now you'd better forget jeeves. for you will be interested to hear, gussie," i said, deeming it best to put him in touch with the position of affairs right away, "that he is no longer handling your little problem." this seemed to slip it across him properly. the jaws fell, the ears drooped more limply. he had been looking like a dead fish. he now looked like a deader fish, one of last year's, cast up on some lonely beach and left there at the mercy of the wind and tides. "what!" "yes." "you don't mean that jeeves isn't going to----" "no." "but, dash it----" i was kind, but firm. "you will be much better off without him. surely your terrible experiences of that awful night have told you that jeeves needs a rest. the keenest of thinkers strikes a bad patch occasionally. that is what has happened to jeeves. i have seen it coming on for some time. he has lost his form. he wants his plugs decarbonized. no doubt this is a shock to you. i suppose you came here this morning to seek his advice?" "of course i did." "on what point?" "madeline bassett has gone to stay with these people in the country, and i want to know what he thinks i ought to do." "well, as i say, jeeves is off the case." "but, bertie, dash it----" "jeeves," i said with a certain asperity, "is no longer on the case. i am now in sole charge." "but what on earth can you do?" i curbed my resentment. we woosters are fair-minded. we can make allowances for men who have been parading london all night in scarlet tights. "that," i said quietly, "we shall see. sit down and let us confer. i am bound to say the thing seems quite simple to me. you say this girl has gone to visit friends in the country. it would appear obvious that you must go there too, and flock round her like a poultice. elementary." "but i can't plant myself on a lot of perfect strangers." "don't you know these people?" "of course i don't. i don't know anybody." i pursed the lips. this did seem to complicate matters somewhat. "all that i know is that their name is travers, and it's a place called brinkley court down in worcestershire." i unpursed my lips. "gussie," i said, smiling paternally, "it was a lucky day for you when bertram wooster interested himself in your affairs. as i foresaw from the start, i can fix everything. this afternoon you shall go to brinkley court, an honoured guest." he quivered like a _mousse_. i suppose it must always be rather a thrilling experience for the novice to watch me taking hold. "but, bertie, you don't mean you know these traverses?" "they are my aunt dahlia." "my gosh!" "you see now," i pointed out, "how lucky you were to get me behind you. you go to jeeves, and what does he do? he dresses you up in scarlet tights and one of the foulest false beards of my experience, and sends you off to fancy-dress balls. result, agony of spirit and no progress. i then take over and put you on the right lines. could jeeves have got you into brinkley court? not a chance. aunt dahlia isn't his aunt. i merely mention these things." "by jove, bertie, i don't know how to thank you." "my dear chap!" "but, i say." "now what?" "what do i do when i get there?" "if you knew brinkley court, you would not ask that question. in those romantic surroundings you can't miss. great lovers through the ages have fixed up the preliminary formalities at brinkley. the place is simply ill with atmosphere. you will stroll with the girl in the shady walks. you will sit with her on the shady lawns. you will row on the lake with her. and gradually you will find yourself working up to a point where----" "by jove, i believe you're right." "of course, i'm right. i've got engaged three times at brinkley. no business resulted, but the fact remains. and i went there without the foggiest idea of indulging in the tender pash. i hadn't the slightest intention of proposing to anybody. yet no sooner had i entered those romantic grounds than i found myself reaching out for the nearest girl in sight and slapping my soul down in front of her. it's something in the air." "i see exactly what you mean. that's just what i want to be able to do--work up to it. and in london--curse the place--everything's in such a rush that you don't get a chance." "quite. you see a girl alone for about five minutes a day, and if you want to ask her to be your wife, you've got to charge into it as if you were trying to grab the gold ring on a merry-go-round." "that's right. london rattles one. i shall be a different man altogether in the country. what a bit of luck this travers woman turning out to be your aunt." "i don't know what you mean, turning out to be my aunt. she has been my aunt all along." "i mean, how extraordinary that it should be your aunt that madeline's going to stay with." "not at all. she and my cousin angela are close friends. at cannes she was with us all the time." "oh, you met madeline at cannes, did you? by jove, bertie," said the poor lizard devoutly, "i wish i could have seen her at cannes. how wonderful she must have looked in beach pyjamas! oh, bertie----" "quite," i said, a little distantly. even when restored by one of jeeves's depth bombs, one doesn't want this sort of thing after a hard night. i touched the bell and, when jeeves appeared, requested him to bring me telegraph form and pencil. i then wrote a well-worded communication to aunt dahlia, informing her that i was sending my friend, augustus fink-nottle, down to brinkley today to enjoy her hospitality, and handed it to gussie. "push that in at the first post office you pass," i said. "she will find it waiting for her on her return." gussie popped along, flapping the telegram and looking like a close-up of joan crawford, and i turned to jeeves and gave him a prã©cis of my operations. "simple, you observe, jeeves. nothing elaborate." "no, sir." "nothing far-fetched. nothing strained or bizarre. just nature's remedy." "yes, sir." "this is the attack as it should have been delivered. what do you call it when two people of opposite sexes are bunged together in close association in a secluded spot, meeting each other every day and seeing a lot of each other?" "is 'propinquity' the word you wish, sir?" "it is. i stake everything on propinquity, jeeves. propinquity, in my opinion, is what will do the trick. at the moment, as you are aware, gussie is a mere jelly when in the presence. but ask yourself how he will feel in a week or so, after he and she have been helping themselves to sausages out of the same dish day after day at the breakfast sideboard. cutting the same ham, ladling out communal kidneys and bacon--why----" i broke off abruptly. i had had one of my ideas. "golly, jeeves!" "sir?" "here's an instance of how you have to think of everything. you heard me mention sausages, kidneys and bacon and ham." "yes, sir." "well, there must be nothing of that. fatal. the wrong note entirely. give me that telegraph form and pencil. i must warn gussie without delay. what he's got to do is to create in this girl's mind the impression that he is pining away for love of her. this cannot be done by wolfing sausages." "no, sir." "very well, then." and, taking form and _p._, i drafted the following: _fink-nottle brinkley court, market snodsbury worcestershire lay off the sausages. avoid the ham. bertie._ "send that off, jeeves, instanter." "very good, sir." i sank back on the pillows. "well, jeeves," i said, "you see how i am taking hold. you notice the grip i am getting on this case. no doubt you realize now that it would pay you to study my methods." "no doubt, sir." "and even now you aren't on to the full depths of the extraordinary sagacity i've shown. do you know what brought aunt dahlia up here this morning? she came to tell me i'd got to distribute the prizes at some beastly seminary she's a governor of down at market snodsbury." "indeed, sir? i fear you will scarcely find that a congenial task." "ah, but i'm not going to do it. i'm going to shove it off on to gussie." "sir?" "i propose, jeeves, to wire to aunt dahlia saying that i can't get down, and suggesting that she unleashes him on these young borstal inmates of hers in my stead." "but if mr. fink-nottle should decline, sir?" "decline? can you see him declining? just conjure up the picture in your mind, jeeves. scene, the drawing-room at brinkley; gussie wedged into a corner, with aunt dahlia standing over him making hunting noises. i put it to you, jeeves, can you see him declining?" "not readily, sir. i agree. mrs. travers is a forceful personality." "he won't have a hope of declining. his only way out would be to slide off. and he can't slide off, because he wants to be with miss bassett. no, gussie will have to toe the line, and i shall be saved from a job at which i confess the soul shuddered. getting up on a platform and delivering a short, manly speech to a lot of foul school-kids! golly, jeeves. i've been through that sort of thing once, what? you remember that time at the girls' school?" "very vividly, sir." "what an ass i made of myself!" "certainly i have seen you to better advantage, sir." "i think you might bring me just one more of those dynamite specials of yours, jeeves. this narrow squeak has made me come over all faint." i suppose it must have taken aunt dahlia three hours or so to get back to brinkley, because it wasn't till well after lunch that her telegram arrived. it read like a telegram that had been dispatched in a white-hot surge of emotion some two minutes after she had read mine. as follows: _am taking legal advice to ascertain whether strangling an idiot nephew counts as murder. if it doesn't look out for yourself. consider your conduct frozen limit. what do you mean by planting your loathsome friends on me like this? do you think brinkley court is a leper colony or what is it? who is this spink-bottle? love. travers._ i had expected some such initial reaction. i replied in temperate vein: _not bottle. nottle. regards. bertie._ almost immediately after she had dispatched the above heart cry, gussie must have arrived, for it wasn't twenty minutes later when i received the following: _cipher telegram signed by you has reached me here. runs "lay off the sausages. avoid the ham." wire key immediately. fink-nottle._ i replied: _also kidneys. cheerio. bertie._ i had staked all on gussie making a favourable impression on his hostess, basing my confidence on the fact that he was one of those timid, obsequious, teacup-passing, thin-bread-and-butter-offering yes-men whom women of my aunt dahlia's type nearly always like at first sight. that i had not overrated my acumen was proved by her next in order, which, i was pleased to note, assayed a markedly larger percentage of the milk of human kindness. as follows: _well, this friend of yours has got here, and i must say that for a friend of yours he seems less sub-human than i had expected. a bit of a pop-eyed bleater, but on the whole clean and civil, and certainly most informative about newts. am considering arranging series of lectures for him in neighbourhood. all the same i like your nerve using my house as a summer-hotel resort and shall have much to say to you on subject when you come down. expect you thirtieth. bring spats. love. travers._ to this i riposted: _on consulting engagement book find impossible come brinkley court. deeply regret. toodle-oo. bertie._ hers in reply stuck a sinister note: _oh, so it's like that, is it? you and your engagement book, indeed. deeply regret my foot. let me tell you, my lad, that you will regret it a jolly sight more deeply if you don't come down. if you imagine for one moment that you are going to get out of distributing those prizes, you are very much mistaken. deeply regret brinkley court hundred miles from london, as unable hit you with a brick. love. travers._ i then put my fortune to the test, to win or lose it all. it was not a moment for petty economies. i let myself go regardless of expense: _no, but dash it, listen. honestly, you don't want me. get fink-nottle distribute prizes. a born distributor, who will do you credit. confidently anticipate augustus fink-nottle as master of revels on thirty-first inst. would make genuine sensation. do not miss this great chance, which may never occur again. tinkerty-tonk. bertie._ there was an hour of breathless suspense, and then the joyful tidings arrived: _well, all right. something in what you say, i suppose. consider you treacherous worm and contemptible, spineless cowardly custard, but have booked spink-bottle. stay where you are, then, and i hope you get run over by an omnibus. love. travers._ the relief, as you may well imagine, was stupendous. a great weight seemed to have rolled off my mind. it was as if somebody had been pouring jeeves's pick-me-ups into me through a funnel. i sang as i dressed for dinner that night. at the drones i was so gay and cheery that there were several complaints. and when i got home and turned into the old bed, i fell asleep like a little child within five minutes of inserting the person between the sheets. it seemed to me that the whole distressing affair might now be considered definitely closed. conceive my astonishment, therefore, when waking on the morrow and sitting up to dig into the morning tea-cup, i beheld on the tray another telegram. my heart sank. could aunt dahlia have slept on it and changed her mind? could gussie, unable to face the ordeal confronting him, have legged it during the night down a water-pipe? with these speculations racing through the bean, i tore open the envelope and as i noted contents i uttered a startled yip. "sir?" said jeeves, pausing at the door. i read the thing again. yes, i had got the gist all right. no, i had not been deceived in the substance. "jeeves," i said, "do you know what?" "no, sir." "you know my cousin angela?" "yes, sir." "you know young tuppy glossop?" "yes, sir." "they've broken off their engagement." "i am sorry to hear that, sir." "i have here a communication from aunt dahlia, specifically stating this. i wonder what the row was about." "i could not say, sir." "of course you couldn't. don't be an ass, jeeves." "no, sir." i brooded. i was deeply moved. "well, this means that we shall have to go down to brinkley today. aunt dahlia is obviously all of a twitter, and my place is by her side. you had better pack this morning, and catch that 12.45 train with the luggage. i have a lunch engagement, so will follow in the car." "very good, sir." i brooded some more. "i must say this has come as a great shock to me, jeeves." "no doubt, sir." "a very great shock. angela and tuppy.... tut, tut! why, they seemed like the paper on the wall. life is full of sadness, jeeves." "yes, sir." "still, there it is." "undoubtedly, sir." "right ho, then. switch on the bath." "very good, sir." -7i meditated pretty freely as i drove down to brinkley in the old two-seater that afternoon. the news of this rift or rupture of angela's and tuppy's had disturbed me greatly. the projected match, you see, was one on which i had always looked with kindly approval. too often, when a chap of your acquaintance is planning to marry a girl you know, you find yourself knitting the brow a bit and chewing the lower lip dubiously, feeling that he or she, or both, should be warned while there is yet time. but i have never felt anything of this nature about tuppy and angela. tuppy, when not making an ass of himself, is a soundish sort of egg. so is angela a soundish sort of egg. and, as far as being in love was concerned, it had always seemed to me that you wouldn't have been far out in describing them as two hearts that beat as one. true, they had had their little tiffs, notably on the occasion when tuppy--with what he said was fearless honesty and i considered thorough goofiness--had told angela that her new hat made her look like a pekingese. but in every romance you have to budget for the occasional dust-up, and after that incident i had supposed that he had learned his lesson and that from then on life would be one grand, sweet song. and now this wholly unforeseen severing of diplomatic relations had popped up through a trap. i gave the thing the cream of the wooster brain all the way down, but it continued to beat me what could have caused the outbreak of hostilities, and i bunged my foot sedulously on the accelerator in order to get to aunt dahlia with the greatest possible speed and learn the inside history straight from the horse's mouth. and what with all six cylinders hitting nicely, i made good time and found myself closeted with the relative shortly before the hour of the evening cocktail. she seemed glad to see me. in fact, she actually said she was glad to see me--a statement no other aunt on the list would have committed herself to, the customary reaction of these near and dear ones to the spectacle of bertram arriving for a visit being a sort of sick horror. "decent of you to rally round, bertie," she said. "my place was by your side, aunt dahlia," i responded. i could see at a g. that the unfortunate affair had got in amongst her in no uncertain manner. her usually cheerful map was clouded, and the genial smile conspic. by its a. i pressed her hand sympathetically, to indicate that my heart bled for her. "bad show this, my dear old flesh and blood," i said. "i'm afraid you've been having a sticky time. you must be worried." she snorted emotionally. she looked like an aunt who has just bitten into a bad oyster. "worried is right. i haven't had a peaceful moment since i got back from cannes. ever since i put my foot across this blasted threshold," said aunt dahlia, returning for the nonce to the hearty _argot_ of the hunting field, "everything's been at sixes and sevens. first there was that mix-up about the prize-giving." she paused at this point and gave me a look. "i had been meaning to speak freely to you about your behaviour in that matter, bertie," she said. "i had some good things all stored up. but, as you've rallied round like this, i suppose i shall have to let you off. and, anyway, it is probably all for the best that you evaded your obligations in that sickeningly craven way. i have an idea that this spink-bottle of yours is going to be good. if only he can keep off newts." "has he been talking about newts?" "he has. fixing me with a glittering eye, like the ancient mariner. but if that was the worst i had to bear, i wouldn't mind. what i'm worrying about is what tom says when he starts talking." "uncle tom?" "i wish there was something else you could call him except 'uncle tom'," said aunt dahlia a little testily. "every time you do it, i expect to see him turn black and start playing the banjo. yes, uncle tom, if you must have it. i shall have to tell him soon about losing all that money at baccarat, and, when i do, he will go up like a rocket." "still, no doubt time, the great healer----" "time, the great healer, be blowed. i've got to get a cheque for five hundred pounds out of him for _milady's boudoir_ by august the third at the latest." i was concerned. apart from a nephew's natural interest in an aunt's refined weekly paper, i had always had a soft spot in my heart for _milady's boudoir_ ever since i contributed that article to it on what the well-dressed man is wearing. sentimental, possibly, but we old journalists do have these feelings. "is the _boudoir_ on the rocks?" "it will be if tom doesn't cough up. it needs help till it has turned the corner." "but wasn't it turning the corner two years ago?" "it was. and it's still at it. till you've run a weekly paper for women, you don't know what corners are." "and you think the chances of getting into uncle--into my uncle by marriage's ribs are slight?" "i'll tell you, bertie. up till now, when these subsidies were required, i have always been able to come to tom in the gay, confident spirit of an only child touching an indulgent father for chocolate cream. but he's just had a demand from the income-tax people for an additional fifty-eight pounds, one and threepence, and all he's been talking about since i got back has been ruin and the sinister trend of socialistic legislation and what will become of us all." i could readily believe it. this tom has a peculiarity i've noticed in other very oofy men. nick him for the paltriest sum, and he lets out a squawk you can hear at land's end. he has the stuff in gobs, but he hates giving up. "if it wasn't for anatole's cooking, i doubt if he would bother to carry on. thank god for anatole, i say." i bowed my head reverently. "good old anatole," i said. "amen," said aunt dahlia. then the look of holy ecstasy, which is always the result of letting the mind dwell, however briefly, on anatole's cooking, died out of her face. "but don't let me wander from the subject," she resumed. "i was telling you of the way hell's foundations have been quivering since i got home. first the prize-giving, then tom, and now, on top of everything else, this infernal quarrel between angela and young glossop." i nodded gravely. "i was frightfully sorry to hear of that. terrible shock. what was the row about?" "sharks." "eh?" "sharks. or, rather, one individual shark. the brute that went for the poor child when she was aquaplaning at cannes. you remember angela's shark?" certainly i remembered angela's shark. a man of sensibility does not forget about a cousin nearly being chewed by monsters of the deep. the episode was still green in my memory. in a nutshell, what had occurred was this: you know how you aquaplane. a motor-boat nips on ahead, trailing a rope. you stand on a board, holding the rope, and the boat tows you along. and every now and then you lose your grip on the rope and plunge into the sea and have to swim to your board again. a silly process it has always seemed to me, though many find it diverting. well, on the occasion referred to, angela had just regained her board after taking a toss, when a great beastly shark came along and cannoned into it, flinging her into the salty once more. it took her quite a bit of time to get on again and make the motor-boat chap realize what was up and haul her to safety, and during that interval you can readily picture her embarrassment. according to angela, the finny denizen kept snapping at her ankles virtually without cessation, so that by the time help arrived, she was feeling more like a salted almond at a public dinner than anything human. very shaken the poor child had been, i recall, and had talked of nothing else for weeks. "i remember the whole incident vividly," i said. "but how did that start the trouble?" "she was telling him the story last night." "well?" "her eyes shining and her little hands clasped in girlish excitement." "no doubt." "and instead of giving her the understanding and sympathy to which she was entitled, what do you think this blasted glossop did? he sat listening like a lump of dough, as if she had been talking about the weather, and when she had finished, he took his cigarette holder out of his mouth and said, 'i expect it was only a floating log'!" "he didn't!" "he did. and when angela described how the thing had jumped and snapped at her, he took his cigarette holder out of his mouth again, and said, 'ah! probably a flatfish. quite harmless. no doubt it was just trying to play.' well, i mean! what would you have done if you had been angela? she has pride, sensibility, all the natural feelings of a good woman. she told him he was an ass and a fool and an idiot, and didn't know what he was talking about." i must say i saw the girl's viewpoint. it's only about once in a lifetime that anything sensational ever happens to one, and when it does, you don't want people taking all the colour out of it. i remember at school having to read that stuff where that chap, othello, tells the girl what a hell of a time he'd been having among the cannibals and what not. well, imagine his feelings if, after he had described some particularly sticky passage with a cannibal chief and was waiting for the awestruck "oh-h! not really?", she had said that the whole thing had no doubt been greatly exaggerated and that the man had probably really been a prominent local vegetarian. yes, i saw angela's point of view. "but don't tell me that when he saw how shirty she was about it, the chump didn't back down?" "he didn't. he argued. and one thing led to another until, by easy stages, they had arrived at the point where she was saying that she didn't know if he was aware of it, but if he didn't knock off starchy foods and do exercises every morning, he would be getting as fat as a pig, and he was talking about this modern habit of girls putting make-up on their faces, of which he had always disapproved. this continued for a while, and then there was a loud pop and the air was full of mangled fragments of their engagement. i'm distracted about it. thank goodness you've come, bertie." "nothing could have kept me away," i replied, touched. "i felt you needed me." "yes." "quite." "or, rather," she said, "not you, of course, but jeeves. the minute all this happened, i thought of him. the situation obviously cries out for jeeves. if ever in the whole history of human affairs there was a moment when that lofty brain was required about the home, this is it." i think, if i had been standing up, i would have staggered. in fact, i'm pretty sure i would. but it isn't so dashed easy to stagger when you're sitting in an arm-chair. only my face, therefore, showed how deeply i had been stung by these words. until she spoke them, i had been all sweetness and light--the sympathetic nephew prepared to strain every nerve to do his bit. i now froze, and the face became hard and set. "jeeves!" i said, between clenched teeth. "oom beroofen," said aunt dahlia. i saw that she had got the wrong angle. "i was not sneezing. i was saying 'jeeves!'" "and well you may. what a man! i'm going to put the whole thing up to him. there's nobody like jeeves." my frigidity became more marked. "i venture to take issue with you, aunt dahlia." "you take what?" "issue." "you do, do you?" "i emphatically do. jeeves is hopeless." "what?" "quite hopeless. he has lost his grip completely. only a couple of days ago i was compelled to take him off a case because his handling of it was so footling. and, anyway, i resent this assumption, if assumption is the word i want, that jeeves is the only fellow with brain. i object to the way everybody puts things up to him without consulting me and letting me have a stab at them first." she seemed about to speak, but i checked her with a gesture. "it is true that in the past i have sometimes seen fit to seek jeeves's advice. it is possible that in the future i may seek it again. but i claim the right to have a pop at these problems, as they arise, in person, without having everybody behave as if jeeves was the only onion in the hash. i sometimes feel that jeeves, though admittedly not unsuccessful in the past, has been lucky rather than gifted." "have you and jeeves had a row?" "nothing of the kind." "you seem to have it in for him." "not at all." and yet i must admit that there was a modicum of truth in what she said. i had been feeling pretty austere about the man all day, and i'll tell you why. you remember that he caught that 12.45 train with the luggage, while i remained on in order to keep a luncheon engagement. well, just before i started out to the tryst, i was pottering about the flat, and suddenly--i don't know what put the suspicion into my head, possibly the fellow's manner had been furtive--something seemed to whisper to me to go and have a look in the wardrobe. and it was as i had suspected. there was the mess-jacket still on its hanger. the hound hadn't packed it. well, as anybody at the drones will tell you, bertram wooster is a pretty hard chap to outgeneral. i shoved the thing in a brown-paper parcel and put it in the back of the car, and it was on a chair in the hall now. but that didn't alter the fact that jeeves had attempted to do the dirty on me, and i suppose a certain what-d'you-call-it had crept into my manner during the above remarks. "there has been no breach," i said. "you might describe it as a passing coolness, but no more. we did not happen to see eye to eye with regard to my white mess-jacket with the brass buttons and i was compelled to assert my personality. but----" "well, it doesn't matter, anyway. the thing that matters is that you are talking piffle, you poor fish. jeeves lost his grip? absurd. why, i saw him for a moment when he arrived, and his eyes were absolutely glittering with intelligence. i said to myself 'trust jeeves,' and i intend to." "you would be far better advised to let me see what i can accomplish, aunt dahlia." "for heaven's sake, don't you start butting in. you'll only make matters worse." "on the contrary, it may interest you to know that while driving here i concentrated deeply on this trouble of angela's and was successful in formulating a plan, based on the psychology of the individual, which i am proposing to put into effect at an early moment." "oh, my god!" "my knowledge of human nature tells me it will work." "bertie," said aunt dahlia, and her manner struck me as febrile, "lay off, lay off! for pity's sake, lay off. i know these plans of yours. i suppose you want to shove angela into the lake and push young glossop in after her to save her life, or something like that." "nothing of the kind." "it's the sort of thing you would do." "my scheme is far more subtle. let me outline it for you." "no, thanks." "i say to myself----" "but not to me." "do listen for a second." "i won't." "right ho, then. i am dumb." "and have been from a child." i perceived that little good could result from continuing the discussion. i waved a hand and shrugged a shoulder. "very well, aunt dahlia," i said, with dignity, "if you don't want to be in on the ground floor, that is your affair. but you are missing an intellectual treat. and, anyway, no matter how much you may behave like the deaf adder of scripture which, as you are doubtless aware, the more one piped, the less it danced, or words to that effect, i shall carry on as planned. i am extremely fond of angela, and i shall spare no effort to bring the sunshine back into her heart." "bertie, you abysmal chump, i appeal to you once more. will you please lay off? you'll only make things ten times as bad as they are already." i remember reading in one of those historical novels once about a chap--a buck he would have been, no doubt, or a macaroni or some such bird as that--who, when people said the wrong thing, merely laughed down from lazy eyelids and flicked a speck of dust from the irreproachable mechlin lace at his wrists. this was practically what i did now. at least, i straightened my tie and smiled one of those inscrutable smiles of mine. i then withdrew and went out for a saunter in the garden. and the first chap i ran into was young tuppy. his brow was furrowed, and he was moodily bunging stones at a flowerpot. -8i think i have told you before about young tuppy glossop. he was the fellow, if you remember, who, callously ignoring the fact that we had been friends since boyhood, betted me one night at the drones that i could swing myself across the swimming bath by the rings--a childish feat for one of my lissomeness--and then, having seen me well on the way, looped back the last ring, thus rendering it necessary for me to drop into the deep end in formal evening costume. to say that i had not resented this foul deed, which seemed to me deserving of the title of the crime of the century, would be paltering with the truth. i had resented it profoundly, chafing not a little at the time and continuing to chafe for some weeks. but you know how it is with these things. the wound heals. the agony abates. i am not saying, mind you, that had the opportunity presented itself of dropping a wet sponge on tuppy from some high spot or of putting an eel in his bed or finding some other form of self-expression of a like nature, i would not have embraced it eagerly; but that let me out. i mean to say, grievously injured though i had been, it gave me no pleasure to feel that the fellow's bally life was being ruined by the loss of a girl whom, despite all that had passed, i was convinced he still loved like the dickens. on the contrary, i was heart and soul in favour of healing the breach and rendering everything hotsy-totsy once more between these two young sundered blighters. you will have gleaned that from my remarks to aunt dahlia, and if you had been present at this moment and had seen the kindly commiserating look i gave tuppy, you would have gleaned it still more. it was one of those searching, melting looks, and was accompanied by the hearty clasp of the right hand and the gentle laying of the left on the collar-bone. "well, tuppy, old man," i said. "how are you, old man?" my commiseration deepened as i spoke the words, for there had been no lighting up of the eye, no answering pressure of the palm, no sign whatever, in short, of any disposition on his part to do spring dances at the sight of an old friend. the man seemed sandbagged. melancholy, as i remember jeeves saying once about pongo twistleton when he was trying to knock off smoking, had marked him for her own. not that i was surprised, of course. in the circs., no doubt, a certain moodiness was only natural. i released the hand, ceased to knead the shoulder, and, producing the old case, offered him a cigarette. he took it dully. "are you here, bertie?" he asked. "yes, i'm here." "just passing through, or come to stay?" i thought for a moment. i might have told him that i had arrived at brinkley court with the express intention of bringing angela and himself together once more, of knitting up the severed threads, and so on and so forth; and for perhaps half the time required for the lighting of a gasper i had almost decided to do so. then, i reflected, better, on the whole, perhaps not. to broadcast the fact that i proposed to take him and angela and play on them as on a couple of stringed instruments might have been injudicious. chaps don't always like being played on as on a stringed instrument. "it all depends," i said. "i may remain. i may push on. my plans are uncertain." he nodded listlessly, rather in the manner of a man who did not give a damn what i did, and stood gazing out over the sunlit garden. in build and appearance, tuppy somewhat resembles a bulldog, and his aspect now was that of one of these fine animals who has just been refused a slice of cake. it was not difficult for a man of my discernment to read what was in his mind, and it occasioned me no surprise, therefore, when his next words had to do with the subject marked with a cross on the agenda paper. "you've heard of this business of mine, i suppose? me and angela?" "i have, indeed, tuppy, old man." "we've bust up." "i know. some little friction, i gather, _in re_ angela's shark." "yes. i said it must have been a flatfish." "so my informant told me." "who did you hear it from?" "aunt dahlia." "i suppose she cursed me properly?" "oh, no." "beyond referring to you in one passage as 'this blasted glossop', she was, i thought, singularly temperate in her language for a woman who at one time hunted regularly with the quorn. all the same, i could see, if you don't mind me saying so, old man, that she felt you might have behaved with a little more tact." "tact!" "and i must admit i rather agreed with her. was it nice, tuppy, was it quite kind to take the bloom off angela's shark like that? you must remember that angela's shark is very dear to her. could you not see what a sock on the jaw it would be for the poor child to hear it described by the man to whom she had given her heart as a flatfish?" i saw that he was struggling with some powerful emotion. "and what about my side of the thing?" he demanded, in a voice choked with feeling. "your side?" "you don't suppose," said tuppy, with rising vehemence, "that i would have exposed this dashed synthetic shark for the flatfish it undoubtedly was if there had not been causes that led up to it. what induced me to speak as i did was the fact that angela, the little squirt, had just been most offensive, and i seized the opportunity to get a bit of my own back." "offensive?" "exceedingly offensive. purely on the strength of my having let fall some casual remark--simply by way of saying something and keeping the conversation going--to the effect that i wondered what anatole was going to give us for dinner, she said that i was too material and ought not always to be thinking of food. material, my elbow! as a matter of fact, i'm particularly spiritual." "quite." "i don't see any harm in wondering what anatole was going to give us for dinner. do you?" "of course not. a mere ordinary tribute of respect to a great artist." "exactly." "all the same----" "well?" "i was only going to say that it seems a pity that the frail craft of love should come a stinker like this when a few manly words of contrition----" he stared at me. "you aren't suggesting that i should climb down?" "it would be the fine, big thing, old egg." "i wouldn't dream of climbing down." "but, tuppy----" "no. i wouldn't do it." "but you love her, don't you?" this touched the spot. he quivered noticeably, and his mouth twisted. quite the tortured soul. "i'm not saying i don't love the little blighter," he said, obviously moved. "i love her passionately. but that doesn't alter the fact that i consider that what she needs most in this world is a swift kick in the pants." a wooster could scarcely pass this. "tuppy, old man!" "it's no good saying 'tuppy, old man'." "well, i do say 'tuppy, old man'. your tone shocks me. one raises the eyebrows. where is the fine, old, chivalrous spirit of the glossops." "that's all right about the fine, old, chivalrous spirit of the glossops. where is the sweet, gentle, womanly spirit of the angelas? telling a fellow he was getting a double chin!" "did she do that?" "she did." "oh, well, girls will be girls. forget it, tuppy. go to her and make it up." he shook his head. "no. it is too late. remarks have been passed about my tummy which it is impossible to overlook." "but, tummy--tuppy, i mean--be fair. you once told her her new hat made her look like a pekingese." "it did make her look like a pekingese. that was not vulgar abuse. it was sound, constructive criticism, with no motive behind it but the kindly desire to keep her from making an exhibition of herself in public. wantonly to accuse a man of puffing when he goes up a flight of stairs is something very different." i began to see that the situation would require all my address and ingenuity. if the wedding bells were ever to ring out in the little church of market snodsbury, bertram had plainly got to put in some shrewdish work. i had gathered, during my conversation with aunt dahlia, that there had been a certain amount of frank speech between the two contracting parties, but i had not realized till now that matters had gone so far. the pathos of the thing gave me the pip. tuppy had admitted in so many words that love still animated the glossop bosom, and i was convinced that, even after all that occurred, angela had not ceased to love him. at the moment, no doubt, she might be wishing that she could hit him with a bottle, but deep down in her i was prepared to bet that there still lingered all the old affection and tenderness. only injured pride was keeping these two apart, and i felt that if tuppy would make the first move, all would be well. i had another whack at it. "she's broken-hearted about this rift, tuppy." "how do you know? have you seen her?" "no, but i'll bet she is." "she doesn't look it." "wearing the mask, no doubt. jeeves does that when i assert my authority." "she wrinkles her nose at me as if i were a drain that had got out of order." "merely the mask. i feel convinced she loves you still, and that a kindly word from you is all that is required." i could see that this had moved him. he plainly wavered. he did a sort of twiddly on the turf with his foot. and, when he spoke, one spotted the tremolo in the voice: "you really think that?" "absolutely." "h'm." "if you were to go to her----" he shook his head. "i can't do that. it would be fatal. bing, instantly, would go my prestige. i know girls. grovel, and the best of them get uppish." he mused. "the only way to work the thing would be by tipping her off in some indirect way that i am prepared to open negotiations. should i sigh a bit when we meet, do you think?" "she would think you were puffing." "that's true." i lit another cigarette and gave my mind to the matter. and first crack out of the box, as is so often the way with the woosters, i got an idea. i remembered the counsel i had given gussie in the matter of the sausages and ham. "i've got it, tuppy. there is one infallible method of indicating to a girl that you love her, and it works just as well when you've had a row and want to make it up. don't eat any dinner tonight. you can see how impressive that would be. she knows how devoted you are to food." he started violently. "i am not devoted to food!" "no, no." "i am not devoted to food at all." "quite. all i meant----" "this rot about me being devoted to food," said tuppy warmly, "has got to stop. i am young and healthy and have a good appetite, but that's not the same as being devoted to food. i admire anatole as a master of his craft, and am always willing to consider anything he may put before me, but when you say i am devoted to food----" "quite, quite. all i meant was that if she sees you push away your dinner untasted, she will realize that your heart is aching, and will probably be the first to suggest blowing the all clear." tuppy was frowning thoughtfully. "push my dinner away, eh?" "yes." "push away a dinner cooked by anatole?" "yes." "push it away untasted?" "yes." "let us get this straight. tonight, at dinner, when the butler offers me a _ris de veau ã  la financiere_, or whatever it may be, hot from anatole's hands, you wish me to push it away untasted?" "yes." he chewed his lip. one could sense the struggle going on within. and then suddenly a sort of glow came into his face. the old martyrs probably used to look like that. "all right." "you'll do it?" "i will." "fine." "of course, it will be agony." i pointed out the silver lining. "only for the moment. you could slip down tonight, after everyone is in bed, and raid the larder." he brightened. "that's right. i could, couldn't i?" "i expect there would be something cold there." "there is something cold there," said tuppy, with growing cheerfulness. "a steak-and-kidney pie. we had it for lunch today. one of anatole's ripest. the thing i admire about that man," said tuppy reverently, "the thing that i admire so enormously about anatole is that, though a frenchman, he does not, like so many of these _chefs_, confine himself exclusively to french dishes, but is always willing and ready to weigh in with some good old simple english fare such as this steak-and-kidney pie to which i have alluded. a masterly pie, bertie, and it wasn't more than half finished. it will do me nicely." "and at dinner you will push, as arranged?" "absolutely as arranged." "fine." "it's an excellent idea. one of jeeves's best. you can tell him from me, when you see him, that i'm much obliged." the cigarette fell from my fingers. it was as though somebody had slapped bertram wooster across the face with a wet dish-rag. "you aren't suggesting that you think this scheme i have been sketching out is jeeves's?" "of course it is. it's no good trying to kid me, bertie. you wouldn't have thought of a wheeze like that in a million years." there was a pause. i drew myself up to my full height; then, seeing that he wasn't looking at me, lowered myself again. "come, glossop," i said coldly, "we had better be going. it is time we were dressing for dinner." -9tuppy's fatheaded words were still rankling in my bosom as i went up to my room. they continued rankling as i shed the form-fitting, and had not ceased to rankle when, clad in the old dressing-gown, i made my way along the corridor to the _salle de bain_. it is not too much to say that i was piqued to the tonsils. i mean to say, one does not court praise. the adulation of the multitude means very little to one. but, all the same, when one has taken the trouble to whack out a highly juicy scheme to benefit an in-the-soup friend in his hour of travail, it's pretty foul to find him giving the credit to one's personal attendant, particularly if that personal attendant is a man who goes about the place not packing mess-jackets. but after i had been splashing about in the porcelain for a bit, composure began to return. i have always found that in moments of heart-bowed-downness there is nothing that calms the bruised spirit like a good go at the soap and water. i don't say i actually sang in the tub, but there were times when it was a mere spin of the coin whether i would do so or not. the spiritual anguish induced by that tactless speech had become noticeably lessened. the discovery of a toy duck in the soap dish, presumably the property of some former juvenile visitor, contributed not a little to this new and happier frame of mind. what with one thing and another, i hadn't played with toy ducks in my bath for years, and i found the novel experience most invigorating. for the benefit of those interested, i may mention that if you shove the thing under the surface with the sponge and then let it go, it shoots out of the water in a manner calculated to divert the most careworn. ten minutes of this and i was enabled to return to the bedchamber much more the old merry bertram. jeeves was there, laying out the dinner disguise. he greeted the young master with his customary suavity. "good evening, sir." i responded in the same affable key. "good evening, jeeves." "i trust you had a pleasant drive, sir." "very pleasant, thank you, jeeves. hand me a sock or two, will you?" he did so, and i commenced to don, "well, jeeves," i said, reaching for the underlinen, "here we are again at brinkley court in the county of worcestershire." "yes, sir." "a nice mess things seem to have gone and got themselves into in this rustic joint." "yes, sir." "the rift between tuppy glossop and my cousin angela would appear to be serious." "yes, sir. opinion in the servants' hall is inclined to take a grave view of the situation." "and the thought that springs to your mind, no doubt, is that i shall have my work cut out to fix things up?" "yes, sir." "you are wrong, jeeves. i have the thing well in hand." "you surprise me, sir." "i thought i should. yes, jeeves, i pondered on the matter most of the way down here, and with the happiest results. i have just been in conference with mr. glossop, and everything is taped out." "indeed, sir? might i inquire----" "you know my methods, jeeves. apply them. have you," i asked, slipping into the shirt and starting to adjust the cravat, "been gnawing on the thing at all?" "oh, yes, sir. i have always been much attached to miss angela, and i felt that it would afford me great pleasure were i to be able to be of service to her." "a laudable sentiment. but i suppose you drew blank?" "no, sir. i was rewarded with an idea." "what was it?" "it occurred to me that a reconciliation might be effected between mr. glossop and miss angela by appealing to that instinct which prompts gentlemen in time of peril to hasten to the rescue of----" i had to let go of the cravat in order to raise a hand. i was shocked. "don't tell me you were contemplating descending to that old he-saved-her-from-drowning gag? i am surprised, jeeves. surprised and pained. when i was discussing the matter with aunt dahlia on my arrival, she said in a sniffy sort of way that she supposed i was going to shove my cousin angela into the lake and push tuppy in to haul her out, and i let her see pretty clearly that i considered the suggestion an insult to my intelligence. and now, if your words have the meaning i read into them, you are mooting precisely the same drivelling scheme. really, jeeves!" "no, sir. not that. but the thought did cross my mind, as i walked in the grounds and passed the building where the fire-bell hangs, that a sudden alarm of fire in the night might result in mr. glossop endeavouring to assist miss angela to safety." i shivered. "rotten, jeeves." "well, sir----" "no good. not a bit like it." "i fancy, sir----" "no, jeeves. no more. enough has been said. let us drop the subj." i finished tying the tie in silence. my emotions were too deep for speech. i knew, of course, that this man had for the time being lost his grip, but i had never suspected that he had gone absolutely to pieces like this. remembering some of the swift ones he had pulled in the past, i shrank with horror from the spectacle of his present ineptitude. or is it ineptness? i mean this frightful disposition of his to stick straws in his hair and talk like a perfect ass. it was the old, old story, i supposed. a man's brain whizzes along for years exceeding the speed limit, and something suddenly goes wrong with the steering-gear and it skids and comes a smeller in the ditch. "a bit elaborate," i said, trying to put the thing in as kindly a light as possible. "your old failing. you can see that it's a bit elaborate?" "possibly the plan i suggested might be considered open to that criticism, sir, but _faute de mieux_----" "i don't get you, jeeves." "a french expression, sir, signifying 'for want of anything better'." a moment before, i had been feeling for this wreck of a once fine thinker nothing but a gentle pity. these words jarred the wooster pride, inducing asperity. "i understand perfectly well what _faute de mieux_ means, jeeves. i did not recently spend two months among our gallic neighbours for nothing. besides, i remember that one from school. what caused my bewilderment was that you should be employing the expression, well knowing that there is no bally _faute de mieux_ about it at all. where do you get that _faute-de-mieux_ stuff? didn't i tell you i had everything taped out?" "yes, sir, but----" "what do you mean--but?" "well, sir----" "push on, jeeves. i am ready, even anxious, to hear your views." "well, sir, if i may take the liberty of reminding you of it, your plans in the past have not always been uniformly successful." there was a silence--rather a throbbing one--during which i put on my waistcoat in a marked manner. not till i had got the buckle at the back satisfactorily adjusted did i speak. "it is true, jeeves," i said formally, "that once or twice in the past i may have missed the bus. this, however, i attribute purely to bad luck." "indeed, sir?" "on the present occasion i shall not fail, and i'll tell you why i shall not fail. because my scheme is rooted in human nature." "indeed, sir?" "it is simple. not elaborate. and, furthermore, based on the psychology of the individual." "indeed, sir?" "jeeves," i said, "don't keep saying 'indeed, sir?' no doubt nothing is further from your mind than to convey such a suggestion, but you have a way of stressing the 'in' and then coming down with a thud on the 'deed' which makes it virtually tantamount to 'oh, yeah?' correct this, jeeves." "very good, sir." "i tell you i have everything nicely lined up. would you care to hear what steps i have taken?" "very much, sir." "then listen. tonight at dinner i have recommended tuppy to lay off the food." "sir?" "tut, jeeves, surely you can follow the idea, even though it is one that would never have occurred to yourself. have you forgotten that telegram i sent to gussie fink-nottle, steering him away from the sausages and ham? this is the same thing. pushing the food away untasted is a universally recognized sign of love. it cannot fail to bring home the gravy. you must see that?" "well, sir----" i frowned. "i don't want to seem always to be criticizing your methods of voice production, jeeves," i said, "but i must inform you that that 'well, sir' of yours is in many respects fully as unpleasant as your 'indeed, sir?' like the latter, it seems to be tinged with a definite scepticism. it suggests a lack of faith in my vision. the impression i retain after hearing you shoot it at me a couple of times is that you consider me to be talking through the back of my neck, and that only a feudal sense of what is fitting restrains you from substituting for it the words 'says you!'" "oh, no, sir." "well, that's what it sounds like. why don't you think this scheme will work?" "i fear miss angela will merely attribute mr. glossop's abstinence to indigestion, sir." i hadn't thought of that, and i must confess it shook me for a moment. then i recovered myself. i saw what was at the bottom of all this. mortified by the consciousness of his own ineptness--or ineptitude--the fellow was simply trying to hamper and obstruct. i decided to knock the stuffing out of him without further preamble. "oh?" i said. "you do, do you? well, be that as it may, it doesn't alter the fact that you've put out the wrong coat. be so good, jeeves," i said, indicating with a gesture the gent's ordinary dinner jacket or _smoking_, as we call it on the cã´te d'azur, which was suspended from the hanger on the knob of the wardrobe, "as to shove that bally black thing in the cupboard and bring out my white mess-jacket with the brass buttons." he looked at me in a meaning manner. and when i say a meaning manner, i mean there was a respectful but at the same time uppish glint in his eye and a sort of muscular spasm flickered across his face which wasn't quite a quiet smile and yet wasn't quite not a quiet smile. also the soft cough. "i regret to say, sir, that i inadvertently omitted to pack the garment to which you refer." the vision of that parcel in the hall seemed to rise before my eyes, and i exchanged a merry wink with it. i may even have hummed a bar or two. i'm not quite sure. "i know you did, jeeves," i said, laughing down from lazy eyelids and nicking a speck of dust from the irreproachable mechlin lace at my wrists. "but i didn't. you will find it on a chair in the hall in a brown-paper parcel." the information that his low manoeuvres had been rendered null and void and that the thing was on the strength after all, must have been the nastiest of jars, but there was no play of expression on his finely chiselled to indicate it. there very seldom is on jeeves's f-c. in moments of discomfort, as i had told tuppy, he wears a mask, preserving throughout the quiet stolidity of a stuffed moose. "you might just slide down and fetch it, will you?" "very good, sir." "right ho, jeeves." and presently i was sauntering towards the drawing-room with me good old j. nestling snugly abaft the shoulder blades. and dahlia was in the drawing-room. she glanced up at my entrance. "hullo, eyesore," she said. "what do you think you're made up as?" i did not get the purport. "the jacket, you mean?" i queried, groping. "i do. you look like one of the chorus of male guests at abernethy towers in act 2 of a touring musical comedy." "you do not admire this jacket?" "i do not." "you did at cannes." "well, this isn't cannes." "but, dash it----" "oh, never mind. let it go. if you want to give my butler a laugh, what does it matter? what does anything matter now?" there was a death-where-is-thy-sting-fullness about her manner which i found distasteful. it isn't often that i score off jeeves in the devastating fashion just described, and when i do i like to see happy, smiling faces about me. "tails up, aunt dahlia," i urged buoyantly. "tails up be dashed," was her sombre response. "i've just been talking to tom." "telling him?" "no, listening to him. i haven't had the nerve to tell him yet." "is he still upset about that income-tax money?" "upset is right. he says that civilisation is in the melting-pot and that all thinking men can read the writing on the wall." "what wall?" "old testament, ass. belshazzar's feast." "oh, that, yes. i've often wondered how that gag was worked. with mirrors, i expect." "i wish i could use mirrors to break it to tom about this baccarat business." i had a word of comfort to offer here. i had been turning the thing over in my mind since our last meeting, and i thought i saw where she had got twisted. where she made her error, it seemed to me, was in feeling she had got to tell uncle tom. to my way of thinking, the matter was one on which it would be better to continue to exercise a quiet reserve. "i don't see why you need mention that you lost that money at baccarat." "what do you suggest, then? letting _milady's boudoir_ join civilisation in the melting-pot. because that is what it will infallibly do unless i get a cheque by next week. the printers have been showing a nasty spirit for months." "you don't follow. listen. it's an understood thing, i take it, that uncle tom foots the _boudoir_ bills. if the bally sheet has been turning the corner for two years, he must have got used to forking out by this time. well, simply ask him for the money to pay the printers." "i did. just before i went to cannes." "wouldn't he give it to you?" "certainly he gave it to me. he brassed up like an officer and a gentleman. that was the money i lost at baccarat." "oh? i didn't know that." "there isn't much you do know." a nephew's love made me overlook the slur. "tut!" i said. "what did you say?" "i said 'tut!'" "say it once again, and i'll biff you where you stand. i've enough to endure without being tutted at." "quite." "any tutting that's required, i'll attend to myself. and the same applies to clicking the tongue, if you were thinking of doing that." "far from it." "good." i stood awhile in thought. i was concerned to the core. my heart, if you remember, had already bled once for aunt dahlia this evening. it now bled again. i knew how deeply attached she was to this paper of hers. seeing it go down the drain would be for her like watching a loved child sink for the third time in some pond or mere. and there was no question that, unless carefully prepared for the touch, uncle tom would see a hundred _milady's boudoirs_ go phut rather than take the rap. then i saw how the thing could be handled. this aunt, i perceived, must fall into line with my other clients. tuppy glossop was knocking off dinner to melt angela. gussie fink-nottle was knocking off dinner to impress the bassett. aunt dahlia must knock off dinner to soften uncle tom. for the beauty of this scheme of mine was that there was no limit to the number of entrants. come one, come all, the more the merrier, and satisfaction guaranteed in every case. "i've got it," i said. "there is only one course to pursue. eat less meat." she looked at me in a pleading sort of way. i wouldn't swear that her eyes were wet with unshed tears, but i rather think they were, certainly she clasped her hands in piteous appeal. "must you drivel, bertie? won't you stop it just this once? just for tonight, to please aunt dahlia?" "i'm not drivelling." "i dare say that to a man of your high standards it doesn't come under the head of drivel, but----" i saw what had happened. i hadn't made myself quite clear. "it's all right," i said. "have no misgivings. this is the real tabasco. when i said 'eat less meat', what i meant was that you must refuse your oats at dinner tonight. just sit there, looking blistered, and wave away each course as it comes with a weary gesture of resignation. you see what will happen. uncle tom will notice your loss of appetite, and i am prepared to bet that at the conclusion of the meal he will come to you and say 'dahlia, darling'--i take it he calls you 'dahlia'--'dahlia darling,' he will say, 'i noticed at dinner tonight that you were a bit off your feed. is anything the matter, dahlia, darling?' 'why, yes, tom, darling,' you will reply. 'it is kind of you to ask, darling. the fact is, darling, i am terribly worried.' 'my darling,' he will say----" aunt dahlia interrupted at this point to observe that these traverses seemed to be a pretty soppy couple of blighters, to judge by their dialogue. she also wished to know when i was going to get to the point. i gave her a look. "'my darling,' he will say tenderly, 'is there anything i can do?' to which your reply will be that there jolly well is--viz. reach for his cheque-book and start writing." i was watching her closely as i spoke, and was pleased to note respect suddenly dawn in her eyes. "but, bertie, this is positively bright." "i told you jeeves wasn't the only fellow with brain." "i believe it would work." "it's bound to work. i've recommended it to tuppy." "young glossop?" "in order to soften angela." "splendid!" "and to gussie fink-nottle, who wants to make a hit with the bassett." "well, well, well! what a busy little brain it is." "always working, aunt dahlia, always working." "you're not the chump i took you for, bertie." "when did you ever take me for a chump?" "oh, some time last summer. i forget what gave me the idea. yes, bertie, this scheme is bright. i suppose, as a matter of fact, jeeves suggested it." "jeeves did not suggest it. i resent these implications. jeeves had nothing to do with it whatsoever." "well, all right, no need to get excited about it. yes, i think it will work. tom's devoted to me." "who wouldn't be?" "i'll do it." and then the rest of the party trickled in, and we toddled down to dinner. conditions being as they were at brinkley court--i mean to say, the place being loaded down above the plimsoll mark with aching hearts and standing room only as regarded tortured souls--i hadn't expected the evening meal to be particularly effervescent. nor was it. silent. sombre. the whole thing more than a bit like christmas dinner on devil's island. i was glad when it was over. what with having, on top of her other troubles, to rein herself back from the trough, aunt dahlia was a total loss as far as anything in the shape of brilliant badinage was concerned. the fact that he was fifty quid in the red and expecting civilisation to take a toss at any moment had caused uncle tom, who always looked a bit like a pterodactyl with a secret sorrow, to take on a deeper melancholy. the bassett was a silent bread crumbler. angela might have been hewn from the living rock. tuppy had the air of a condemned murderer refusing to make the usual hearty breakfast before tooling off to the execution shed. and as for gussie fink-nottle, many an experienced undertaker would have been deceived by his appearance and started embalming him on sight. this was the first glimpse i had had of gussie since we parted at my flat, and i must say his demeanour disappointed me. i had been expecting something a great deal more sparkling. at my flat, on the occasion alluded to, he had, if you recall, practically given me a signed guarantee that all he needed to touch him off was a rural setting. yet in this aspect now i could detect no indication whatsoever that he was about to round into mid-season form. he still looked like a cat in an adage, and it did not take me long to realise that my very first act on escaping from this morgue must be to draw him aside and give him a pep talk. if ever a chap wanted the clarion note, it looked as if it was this fink-nottle. in the general exodus of mourners, however, i lost sight of him, and, owing to the fact that aunt dahlia roped me in for a game of backgammon, it was not immediately that i was able to institute a search. but after we had been playing for a while, the butler came in and asked her if she would speak to anatole, so i managed to get away. and some ten minutes later, having failed to find scent in the house, i started to throw out the drag-net through the grounds, and flushed him in the rose garden. he was smelling a rose at the moment in a limp sort of way, but removed the beak as i approached. "well, gussie," i said. i had beamed genially upon him as i spoke, such being my customary policy on meeting an old pal; but instead of beaming back genially, he gave me a most unpleasant look. his attitude perplexed me. it was as if he were not glad to see bertram. for a moment he stood letting this unpleasant look play upon me, as it were, and then he spoke. "you and your 'well, gussie'!" he said this between clenched teeth, always an unmatey thing to do, and i found myself more fogged than ever. "how do you mean--me and my 'well, gussie'?" "i like your nerve, coming bounding about the place, saying 'well, gussie.' that's about all the 'well, gussie' i shall require from you, wooster. and it's no good looking like that. you know what i mean. that damned prize-giving! it was a dastardly act to crawl out as you did and shove it off on to me. i will not mince my words. it was the act of a hound and a stinker." now, though, as i have shown, i had devoted most of the time on the journey down to meditating upon the case of angela and tuppy, i had not neglected to give a thought or two to what i was going to say when i encountered gussie. i had foreseen that there might be some little temporary unpleasantness when we met, and when a difficult interview is in the offing bertram wooster likes to have his story ready. so now i was able to reply with a manly, disarming frankness. the sudden introduction of the topic had given me a bit of a jolt, it is true, for in the stress of recent happenings i had rather let that prize-giving business slide to the back of my mind; but i had speedily recovered and, as i say, was able to reply with a manly d.f. "but, my dear chap," i said, "i took it for granted that you would understand that that was all part of my schemes." he said something about my schemes which i did not catch. "absolutely. 'crawling out' is entirely the wrong way to put it. you don't suppose i didn't want to distribute those prizes, do you? left to myself, there is nothing i would find a greater treat. but i saw that the square, generous thing to do was to step aside and let you take it on, so i did so. i felt that your need was greater than mine. you don't mean to say you aren't looking forward to it?" he uttered a coarse expression which i wouldn't have thought he would have known. it just shows that you can bury yourself in the country and still somehow acquire a vocabulary. no doubt one picks up things from the neighbours--the vicar, the local doctor, the man who brings the milk, and so on. "but, dash it," i said, "can't you see what this is going to do for you? it will send your stock up with a jump. there you will be, up on that platform, a romantic, impressive figure, the star of the whole proceedings, the what-d'you-call-it of all eyes. madeline bassett will be all over you. she will see you in a totally new light." "she will, will she?" "certainly she will. augustus fink-nottle, the newts' friend, she knows. she is acquainted with augustus fink-nottle, the dogs' chiropodist. but augustus fink-nottle, the orator--that'll knock her sideways, or i know nothing of the female heart. girls go potty over a public man. if ever anyone did anyone else a kindness, it was i when i gave this extraordinary attractive assignment to you." he seemed impressed by my eloquence. couldn't have helped himself, of course. the fire faded from behind his horn-rimmed spectacles, and in its place appeared the old fish-like goggle. '"myes," he said meditatively. "have you ever made a speech, bertie?" "dozens of times. it's pie. nothing to it. why, i once addressed a girls' school." "you weren't nervous?" "not a bit." "how did you go?" "they hung on my lips. i held them in the hollow of my hand." "they didn't throw eggs, or anything?" "not a thing." he expelled a deep breath, and for a space stood staring in silence at a passing slug. "well," he said, at length, "it may be all right. possibly i am letting the thing prey on my mind too much. i may be wrong in supposing it the fate that is worse than death. but i'll tell you this much: the prospect of that prize-giving on the thirty-first of this month has been turning my existence into a nightmare. i haven't been able to sleep or think or eat ... by the way, that reminds me. you never explained that cipher telegram about the sausages and ham." "it wasn't a cipher telegram. i wanted you to go light on the food, so that she would realize you were in love." he laughed hollowly. "i see. well, i've been doing that, all right." "yes, i was noticing at dinner. splendid." "i don't see what's splendid about it. it's not going to get me anywhere. i shall never be able to ask her to marry me. i couldn't find nerve to do that if i lived on wafer biscuits for the rest of my life." "but, dash it, gussie. in these romantic surroundings. i should have thought the whispering trees alone----" "i don't care what you would have thought. i can't do it." "oh, come!" "i can't. she seems so aloof, so remote." "she doesn't." "yes, she does. especially when you see her sideways. have you seen her sideways, bertie? that cold, pure profile. it just takes all the heart out of one." "it doesn't." "i tell you it does. i catch sight of it, and the words freeze on my lips." he spoke with a sort of dull despair, and so manifest was his lack of ginger and the spirit that wins to success that for an instant, i confess, i felt a bit stymied. it seemed hopeless to go on trying to steam up such a human jellyfish. then i saw the way. with that extraordinary quickness of mine, i realized exactly what must be done if this fink-nottle was to be enabled to push his nose past the judges' box. "she must be softened up," i said. "be what?" "softened up. sweetened. worked on. preliminary spadework must be put in. here, gussie, is the procedure i propose to adopt: i shall now return to the house and lug this bassett out for a stroll. i shall talk to her of hearts that yearn, intimating that there is one actually on the premises. i shall pitch it strong, sparing no effort. you, meanwhile, will lurk on the outskirts, and in about a quarter of an hour you will come along and carry on from there. by that time, her emotions having been stirred, you ought to be able to do the rest on your head. it will be like leaping on to a moving bus." i remember when i was a kid at school having to learn a poem of sorts about a fellow named pig-something--a sculptor he would have been, no doubt--who made a statue of a girl, and what should happen one morning but that the bally thing suddenly came to life. a pretty nasty shock for the chap, of course, but the point i'm working round to is that there were a couple of lines that went, if i remember correctly: _she starts. she moves. she seems to feel the stir of life along her keel._ and what i'm driving at is that you couldn't get a better description of what happened to gussie as i spoke these heartening words. his brow cleared, his eyes brightened, he lost that fishy look, and he gazed at the slug, which was still on the long, long trail with something approaching bonhomie. a marked improvement. "i see what you mean. you will sort of pave the way, as it were." "that's right. spadework." "it's a terrific idea, bertie. it will make all the difference." "quite. but don't forget that after that it will be up to you. you will have to haul up your slacks and give her the old oil, or my efforts will have been in vain." something of his former gawd-help-us-ness seemed to return to him. he gasped a bit. "that's true. what the dickens shall i say?" i restrained my impatience with an effort. the man had been at school with me. "dash it, there are hundreds of things you can say. talk about the sunset." "the sunset?" "certainly. half the married men you meet began by talking about the sunset." "but what can i say about the sunset?" "well, jeeves got off a good one the other day. i met him airing the dog in the park one evening, and he said, 'now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, sir, and all the air a solemn stillness holds.' you might use that." "what sort of landscape?" "glimmering. _g_ for 'gastritis,' _l_ for 'lizard'----" "oh, glimmering? yes, that's not bad. glimmering landscape ... solemn stillness.... yes, i call that pretty good." "you could then say that you have often thought that the stars are god's daisy chain." "but i haven't." "i dare say not. but she has. hand her that one, and i don't see how she can help feeling that you're a twin soul." "god's daisy chain?" "god's daisy chain. and then you go on about how twilight always makes you sad. i know you're going to say it doesn't, but on this occasion it has jolly well got to." "why?" "that's just what she will ask, and you will then have got her going. because you will reply that it is because yours is such a lonely life. it wouldn't be a bad idea to give her a brief description of a typical home evening at your lincolnshire residence, showing how you pace the meadows with a heavy tread." "i generally sit indoors and listen to the wireless." "no, you don't. you pace the meadows with a heavy tread, wishing that you had someone to love you. and then you speak of the day when she came into your life." "like a fairy princess." "absolutely," i said with approval. i hadn't expected such a hot one from such a quarter. "like a fairy princess. nice work, gussie." "and then?" "well, after that it's easy. you say you have something you want to say to her, and then you snap into it. i don't see how it can fail. if i were you, i should do it in this rose garden. it is well established that there is no sounder move than to steer the adored object into rose gardens in the gloaming. and you had better have a couple of quick ones first." "quick ones?" "snifters." "drinks, do you mean? but i don't drink." "what?" "i've never touched a drop in my life." this made me a bit dubious, i must confess. on these occasions it is generally conceded that a moderate skinful is of the essence. however, if the facts were as he had stated, i supposed there was nothing to be done about it. "well, you'll have to make out as best you can on ginger pop." "i always drink orange juice." "orange juice, then. tell me, gussie, to settle a bet, do you really like that muck?" "very much." "then there is no more to be said. now, let's just have a run through, to see that you've got the lay-out straight. start off with the glimmering landscape." "stars god's daisy chain." "twilight makes you feel sad." "because mine lonely life." "describe life." "talk about the day i met her." "add fairy-princess gag. say there's something you want to say to her. heave a couple of sighs. grab her hand. and give her the works. right." and confident that he had grasped the scenario and that everything might now be expected to proceed through the proper channels, i picked up the feet and hastened back to the house. it was not until i had reached the drawing-room and was enabled to take a square look at the bassett that i found the debonair gaiety with which i had embarked on this affair beginning to wane a trifle. beholding her at close range like this, i suddenly became cognisant of what i was in for. the thought of strolling with this rummy specimen undeniably gave me a most unpleasant sinking feeling. i could not but remember how often, when in her company at cannes, i had gazed dumbly at her, wishing that some kindly motorist in a racing car would ease the situation by coming along and ramming her amidships. as i have already made abundantly clear, this girl was not one of my most congenial buddies. however, a wooster's word is his bond. woosters may quail, but they do not edge out. only the keenest ear could have detected the tremor in the voice as i asked her if she would care to come out for half an hour. "lovely evening," i said. "yes, lovely, isn't it?" "lovely. reminds me of cannes." "how lovely the evenings were there!" "lovely," i said. "lovely," said the bassett. "lovely," i agreed. that completed the weather and news bulletin for the french riviera. another minute, and we were out in the great open spaces, she cooing a bit about the scenery, and self replying, "oh, rather, quite," and wondering how best to approach the matter in hand. -10how different it all would have been, i could not but reflect, if this girl had been the sort of girl one chirrups cheerily to over the telephone and takes for spins in the old two-seater. in that case, i would simply have said, "listen," and she would have said, "what?" and i would have said, "you know gussie fink-nottle," and she would have said, "yes," and i would have said, "he loves you," and she would have said either, "what, that mutt? well, thank heaven for one good laugh today," or else, in more passionate vein, "hot dog! tell me more." i mean to say, in either event the whole thing over and done with in under a minute. but with the bassett something less snappy and a good deal more glutinous was obviously indicated. what with all this daylight-saving stuff, we had hit the great open spaces at a moment when twilight had not yet begun to cheese it in favour of the shades of night. there was a fag-end of sunset still functioning. stars were beginning to peep out, bats were fooling round, the garden was full of the aroma of those niffy white flowers which only start to put in their heavy work at the end of the day--in short, the glimmering landscape was fading on the sight and all the air held a solemn stillness, and it was plain that this was having the worst effect on her. her eyes were enlarged, and her whole map a good deal too suggestive of the soul's awakening for comfort. her aspect was that of a girl who was expecting something fairly fruity from bertram. in these circs., conversation inevitably flagged a bit. i am never at my best when the situation seems to call for a certain soupiness, and i've heard other members of the drones say the same thing about themselves. i remember pongo twistleton telling me that he was out in a gondola with a girl by moonlight once, and the only time he spoke was to tell her that old story about the chap who was so good at swimming that they made him a traffic cop in venice. fell rather flat, he assured me, and it wasn't much later when the girl said she thought it was getting a little chilly and how about pushing back to the hotel. so now, as i say, the talk rather hung fire. it had been all very well for me to promise gussie that i would cut loose to this girl about aching hearts, but you want a cue for that sort of thing. and when, toddling along, we reached the edge of the lake and she finally spoke, conceive my chagrin when i discovered that what she was talking about was stars. not a bit of good to me. "oh, look," she said. she was a confirmed oh-looker. i had noticed this at cannes, where she had drawn my attention in this manner on various occasions to such diverse objects as a french actress, a provenã§al filling station, the sunset over the estorels, michael arlen, a man selling coloured spectacles, the deep velvet blue of the mediterranean, and the late mayor of new york in a striped one-piece bathing suit. "oh, look at that sweet little star up there all by itself." i saw the one she meant, a little chap operating in a detached sort of way above a spinney. "yes," i said. "i wonder if it feels lonely." "oh, i shouldn't think so." "a fairy must have been crying." "eh?" "don't you remember? 'every time a fairy sheds a tear, a wee bit star is born in the milky way.' have you ever thought that, mr. wooster?" i never had. most improbable, i considered, and it didn't seem to me to check up with her statement that the stars were god's daisy chain. i mean, you can't have it both ways. however, i was in no mood to dissect and criticize. i saw that i had been wrong in supposing that the stars were not germane to the issue. quite a decent cue they had provided, and i leaped on it promptly: "talking of shedding tears----" but she was now on the subject of rabbits, several of which were messing about in the park to our right. "oh, look. the little bunnies!" "talking of shedding tears----" "don't you love this time of the evening, mr. wooster, when the sun has gone to bed and all the bunnies come out to have their little suppers? when i was a child, i used to think that rabbits were gnomes, and that if i held my breath and stayed quite still, i should see the fairy queen." indicating with a reserved gesture that this was just the sort of loony thing i should have expected her to think as a child, i returned to the point. "talking of shedding tears," i said firmly, "it may interest you to know that there is an aching heart in brinkley court." this held her. she cheesed the rabbit theme. her face, which had been aglow with what i supposed was a pretty animation, clouded. she unshipped a sigh that sounded like the wind going out of a rubber duck. "ah, yes. life is very sad, isn't it?" "it is for some people. this aching heart, for instance." "those wistful eyes of hers! drenched irises. and they used to dance like elves of delight. and all through a foolish misunderstanding about a shark. what a tragedy misunderstandings are. that pretty romance broken and over just because mr. glossop would insist that it was a flatfish." i saw that she had got the wires crossed. "i'm not talking about angela." "but her heart is aching." "i know it's aching. but so is somebody else's." she looked at me, perplexed. "somebody else? mr. glossop's, you mean?" "no, i don't." "mrs. travers's?" the exquisite code of politeness of the woosters prevented me clipping her one on the ear-hole, but i would have given a shilling to be able to do it. there seemed to me something deliberately fat-headed in the way she persisted in missing the gist. "no, not aunt dahlia's, either." "i'm sure she is dreadfully upset." "quite. but this heart i'm talking about isn't aching because of tuppy's row with angela. it's aching for a different reason altogether. i mean to say--dash it, you know why hearts ache!" she seemed to shimmy a bit. her voice, when she spoke, was whispery: "you mean--for love?" "absolutely. right on the bull's-eye. for love." "oh, mr. wooster!" "i take it you believe in love at first sight?" "i do, indeed." "well, that's what happened to this aching heart. it fell in love at first sight, and ever since it's been eating itself out, as i believe the expression is." there was a silence. she had turned away and was watching a duck out on the lake. it was tucking into weeds, a thing i've never been able to understand anyone wanting to do. though i suppose, if you face it squarely, they're no worse than spinach. she stood drinking it in for a bit, and then it suddenly stood on its head and disappeared, and this seemed to break the spell. "oh, mr. wooster!" she said again, and from the tone of her voice, i could see that i had got her going. "for you, i mean to say," i proceeded, starting to put in the fancy touches. i dare say you have noticed on these occasions that the difficulty is to plant the main idea, to get the general outline of the thing well fixed. the rest is mere detail work. i don't say i became glib at this juncture, but i certainly became a dashed glibber than i had been. "it's having the dickens of a time. can't eat, can't sleep--all for love of you. and what makes it all so particularly rotten is that it--this aching heart--can't bring itself up to the scratch and tell you the position of affairs, because your profile has gone and given it cold feet. just as it is about to speak, it catches sight of you sideways, and words fail it. silly, of course, but there it is." i heard her give a gulp, and i saw that her eyes had become moistish. drenched irises, if you care to put it that way. "lend you a handkerchief?" "no, thank you. i'm quite all right." it was more than i could say for myself. my efforts had left me weak. i don't know if you suffer in the same way, but with me the act of talking anything in the nature of real mashed potatoes always induces a sort of prickly sensation and a hideous feeling of shame, together with a marked starting of the pores. i remember at my aunt agatha's place in hertfordshire once being put on the spot and forced to enact the role of king edward iii saying goodbye to that girl of his, fair rosamund, at some sort of pageant in aid of the distressed daughters of the clergy. it involved some rather warmish medieval dialogue, i recall, racy of the days when they called a spade a spade, and by the time the whistle blew, i'll bet no daughter of the clergy was half as distressed as i was. not a dry stitch. my reaction now was very similar. it was a highly liquid bertram who, hearing his _vis-ã -vis_ give a couple of hiccups and start to speak bent an attentive ear. "please don't say any more, mr. wooster." well, i wasn't going to, of course. "i understand." i was glad to hear this. "yes, i understand. i won't be so silly as to pretend not to know what you mean. i suspected this at cannes, when you used to stand and stare at me without speaking a word, but with whole volumes in your eyes." if angela's shark had bitten me in the leg, i couldn't have leaped more convulsively. so tensely had i been concentrating on gussie's interests that it hadn't so much as crossed my mind that another and an unfortunate construction could be placed on those words of mine. the persp., already bedewing my brow, became a regular niagara. my whole fate hung upon a woman's word. i mean to say, i couldn't back out. if a girl thinks a man is proposing to her, and on that understanding books him up, he can't explain to her that she has got hold of entirely the wrong end of the stick and that he hadn't the smallest intention of suggesting anything of the kind. he must simply let it ride. and the thought of being engaged to a girl who talked openly about fairies being born because stars blew their noses, or whatever it was, frankly appalled me. she was carrying on with her remarks, and as i listened i clenched my fists till i shouldn't wonder if the knuckles didn't stand out white under the strain. it seemed as if she would never get to the nub. "yes, all through those days at cannes i could see what you were trying to say. a girl always knows. and then you followed me down here, and there was that same dumb, yearning look in your eyes when we met this evening. and then you were so insistent that i should come out and walk with you in the twilight. and now you stammer out those halting words. no, this does not come as a surprise. but i am sorry----" the word was like one of jeeves's pick-me-ups. just as if a glassful of meat sauce, red pepper, and the yolk of an egg--though, as i say, i am convinced that these are not the sole ingredients--had been shot into me, i expanded like some lovely flower blossoming in the sunshine. it was all right, after all. my guardian angel had not been asleep at the switch. "--but i am afraid it is impossible." she paused. "impossible," she repeated. i had been so busy feeling saved from the scaffold that i didn't get on to it for a moment that an early reply was desired. "oh, right ho," i said hastily. "i'm sorry." "quite all right." "sorrier than i can say." "don't give it another thought." "we can still be friends." "oh, rather." "then shall we just say no more about it; keep what has happened as a tender little secret between ourselves?" "absolutely." "we will. like something lovely and fragrant laid away in lavender." "in lavender--right." there was a longish pause. she was gazing at me in a divinely pitying sort of way, much as if i had been a snail she had happened accidentally to bring her short french vamp down on, and i longed to tell her that it was all right, and that bertram, so far from being the victim of despair, had never felt fizzier in his life. but, of course, one can't do that sort of thing. i simply said nothing, and stood there looking brave. "i wish i could," she murmured. "could?" i said, for my attensh had been wandering. "feel towards you as you would like me to feel." "oh, ah." "but i can't. i'm sorry." "absolutely o.k. faults on both sides, no doubt." "because i am fond of you, mr.--no, i think i must call you bertie. may i?" "oh, rather." "because we are real friends." "quite." "i do like you, bertie. and if things were different--i wonder----" "eh?" "after all, we are real friends.... we have this common memory.... you have a right to know.... i don't want you to think----life is such a muddle, isn't it?" to many men, no doubt, these broken utterances would have appeared mere drooling and would have been dismissed as such. but the woosters are quicker-witted than the ordinary and can read between the lines. i suddenly divined what it was that she was trying to get off the chest. "you mean there's someone else?" she nodded. "you're in love with some other bloke?" she nodded. "engaged, what?" this time she shook the pumpkin. "no, not engaged." well, that was something, of course. nevertheless, from the way she spoke, it certainly looked as if poor old gussie might as well scratch his name off the entry list, and i didn't at all like the prospect of having to break the bad news to him. i had studied the man closely, and it was my conviction that this would about be his finish. gussie, you see, wasn't like some of my pals--the name of bingo little is one that springs to the lips--who, if turned down by a girl, would simply say, "well, bung-oh!" and toddle off quite happily to find another. he was so manifestly a bird who, having failed to score in the first chukker, would turn the thing up and spend the rest of his life brooding over his newts and growing long grey whiskers, like one of those chaps you read about in novels, who live in the great white house you can just see over there through the trees and shut themselves off from the world and have pained faces. "i'm afraid he doesn't care for me in that way. at least, he has said nothing. you understand that i am only telling you this because----" "oh, rather." "it's odd that you should have asked me if i believed in love at first sight." she half closed her eyes. "'who ever loved that loved not at first sight?'" she said in a rummy voice that brought back to me--i don't know why--the picture of my aunt agatha, as boadicea, reciting at that pageant i was speaking of. "it's a silly little story. i was staying with some friends in the country, and i had gone for a walk with my dog, and the poor wee mite got a nasty thorn in his little foot and i didn't know what to do. and then suddenly this man came along----" harking back once again to that pageant, in sketching out for you my emotions on that occasion, i showed you only the darker side of the picture. there was, i should now mention, a splendid aftermath when, having climbed out of my suit of chain mail and sneaked off to the local pub, i entered the saloon bar and requested mine host to start pouring. a moment later, a tankard of their special home-brewed was in my hand, and the ecstasy of that first gollup is still green in my memory. the recollection of the agony through which i had passed was just what was needed to make it perfect. it was the same now. when i realized, listening to her words, that she must be referring to gussie--i mean to say, there couldn't have been a whole platoon of men taking thorns out of her dog that day; the animal wasn't a pin-cushion--and became aware that gussie, who an instant before had, to all appearances, gone so far back in the betting as not to be worth a quotation, was the big winner after all, a positive thrill permeated the frame and there escaped my lips a "wow!" so crisp and hearty that the bassett leaped a liberal inch and a half from terra firma. "i beg your pardon?" she said. i waved a jaunty hand. "nothing," i said. "nothing. just remembered there's a letter i have to write tonight without fail. if you don't mind, i think i'll be going in. here," i said, "comes gussie fink-nottle. he will look after you." and, as i spoke, gussie came sidling out from behind a tree. i passed away and left them to it. as regards these two, everything was beyond a question absolutely in order. all gussie had to do was keep his head down and not press. already, i felt, as i legged it back to the house, the happy ending must have begun to function. i mean to say, when you leave a girl and a man, each of whom has admitted in set terms that she and he loves him and her, in close juxtaposition in the twilight, there doesn't seem much more to do but start pricing fish slices. something attempted, something done, seemed to me to have earned two-penn'orth of wassail in the smoking-room. i proceeded thither. -11the makings were neatly laid out on a side-table, and to pour into a glass an inch or so of the raw spirit and shoosh some soda-water on top of it was with me the work of a moment. this done, i retired to an arm-chair and put my feet up, sipping the mixture with carefree enjoyment, rather like caesar having one in his tent the day he overcame the nervii. as i let the mind dwell on what must even now be taking place in that peaceful garden, i felt bucked and uplifted. though never for an instant faltering in my opinion that augustus fink-nottle was nature's final word in cloth-headed guffins, i liked the man, wished him well, and could not have felt more deeply involved in the success of his wooing if i, and not he, had been under the ether. the thought that by this time he might quite easily have completed the preliminary _pourparlers_ and be deep in an informal discussion of honeymoon plans was very pleasant to me. of course, considering the sort of girl madeline bassett was--stars and rabbits and all that, i mean--you might say that a sober sadness would have been more fitting. but in these matters you have got to realize that tastes differ. the impulse of right-thinking men might be to run a mile when they saw the bassett, but for some reason she appealed to the deeps in gussie, so that was that. i had reached this point in my meditations, when i was aroused by the sound of the door opening. somebody came in and started moving like a leopard toward the side-table and, lowering the feet, i perceived that it was tuppy glossop. the sight of him gave me a momentary twinge of remorse, reminding me, as it did, that in the excitement of getting gussie fixed up i had rather forgotten about this other client. it is often that way when you're trying to run two cases at once. however, gussie now being off my mind, i was prepared to devote my whole attention to the glossop problem. i had been much pleased by the way he had carried out the task assigned him at the dinner-table. no easy one, i can assure you, for the browsing and sluicing had been of the highest quality, and there had been one dish in particular--i allude to the _nonnettes de poulet agnã¨s sorel_--which might well have broken down the most iron resolution. but he had passed it up like a professional fasting man, and i was proud of him. "oh, hullo, tuppy," i said, "i wanted to see you." he turned, snifter in hand, and it was easy to see that his privations had tried him sorely. he was looking like a wolf on the steppes of russia which has seen its peasant shin up a high tree. "yes?" he said, rather unpleasantly. "well, here i am." "well?" "how do you mean----well?" "make your report." "what report?" "have you nothing to tell me about angela?" "only that she's a blister." i was concerned. "hasn't she come clustering round you yet?" "she has not." "very odd." "why odd?" "she must have noted your lack of appetite." he barked raspingly, as if he were having trouble with the tonsils of the soul. "lack of appetite! i'm as hollow as the grand canyon." "courage, tuppy! think of gandhi." "what about gandhi?" "he hasn't had a square meal for years." "nor have i. or i could swear i hadn't. gandhi, my left foot." i saw that it might be best to let the gandhi _motif_ slide. i went back to where we had started. "she's probably looking for you now." "who is? angela?" "yes. she must have noticed your supreme sacrifice." "i don't suppose she noticed it at all, the little fathead. i'll bet it didn't register in any way whatsoever." "come, tuppy," i urged, "this is morbid. don't take this gloomy view. she must at least have spotted that you refused those _nonnettes de poulet agnã¨s sorel_. it was a sensational renunciation and stuck out like a sore thumb. and the _cã¨pes ã  la rossini_----" a hoarse cry broke from his twisted lips: "will you stop it, bertie! do you think i am made of marble? isn't it bad enough to have sat watching one of anatole's supremest dinners flit by, course after course, without having you making a song about it? don't remind me of those _nonnettes_. i can't stand it." i endeavoured to hearten and console. "be brave, tuppy. fix your thoughts on that cold steak-and-kidney pie in the larder. as the good book says, it cometh in the morning." "yes, in the morning. and it's now about half-past nine at night. you would bring that pie up, wouldn't you? just when i was trying to keep my mind off it." i saw what he meant. hours must pass before he could dig into that pie. i dropped the subject, and we sat for a pretty good time in silence. then he rose and began to pace the room in an overwrought sort of way, like a zoo lion who has heard the dinner-gong go and is hoping the keeper won't forget him in the general distribution. i averted my gaze tactfully, but i could hear him kicking chairs and things. it was plain that the man's soul was in travail and his blood pressure high. presently he returned to his seat, and i saw that he was looking at me intently. there was that about his demeanour that led me to think that he had something to communicate. nor was i wrong. he tapped me significantly on the knee and spoke: "bertie." "hullo?" "shall i tell you something?" "certainly, old bird," i said cordially. "i was just beginning to feel that the scene could do with a bit more dialogue." "this business of angela and me." "yes?" "i've been putting in a lot of solid thinking about it." "oh, yes?" "i have analysed the situation pitilessly, and one thing stands out as clear as dammit. there has been dirty work afoot." "i don't get you." "all right. let me review the facts. up to the time she went to cannes angela loved me. she was all over me. i was the blue-eyed boy in every sense of the term. you'll admit that?" "indisputably." "and directly she came back we had this bust-up." "quite." "about nothing." "oh, dash it, old man, nothing? you were a bit tactless, what, about her shark." "i was frank and candid about her shark. and that's my point. do you seriously believe that a trifling disagreement about sharks would make a girl hand a man his hat, if her heart were really his?" "certainly." it beats me why he couldn't see it. but then poor old tuppy has never been very hot on the finer shades. he's one of those large, tough, football-playing blokes who lack the more delicate sensibilities, as i've heard jeeves call them. excellent at blocking a punt or walking across an opponent's face in cleated boots, but not so good when it comes to understanding the highly-strung female temperament. it simply wouldn't occur to him that a girl might be prepared to give up her life's happiness rather than waive her shark. "rot! it was just a pretext." "what was?" "this shark business. she wanted to get rid of me, and grabbed at the first excuse." "no, no." "i tell you she did." "but what on earth would she want to get rid of you for?" "exactly. that's the very question i asked myself. and here's the answer: because she has fallen in love with somebody else. it sticks out a mile. there's no other possible solution. she goes to cannes all for me, she comes back all off me. obviously during those two months, she must have transferred her affections to some foul blister she met out there." "no, no." "don't keep saying 'no, no'. she must have done. well, i'll tell you one thing, and you can take this as official. if ever i find this slimy, slithery snake in the grass, he had better make all the necessary arrangements at his favourite nursing-home without delay, because i am going to be very rough with him. i propose, if and when found, to take him by his beastly neck, shake him till he froths, and pull him inside out and make him swallow himself." with which words he biffed off; and i, having given him a minute or two to get out of the way, rose and made for the drawing-room. the tendency of females to roost in drawing-rooms after dinner being well marked, i expected to find angela there. it was my intention to have a word with angela. to tuppy's theory that some insinuating bird had stolen the girl's heart from him at cannes i had given, as i have indicated, little credence, considering it the mere unbalanced apple sauce of a bereaved man. it was, of course, the shark, and nothing but the shark, that had caused love's young dream to go temporarily off the boil, and i was convinced that a word or two with the cousin at this juncture would set everything right. for, frankly, i thought it incredible that a girl of her natural sweetness and tender-heartedness should not have been moved to her foundations by what she had seen at dinner that night. even seppings, aunt dahlia's butler, a cold, unemotional man, had gasped and practically reeled when tuppy waved aside those _nonnettes de poulet agnã¨s sorel_, while the footman, standing by with the potatoes, had stared like one seeing a vision. i simply refused to consider the possibility of the significance of the thing having been lost on a nice girl like angela. i fully expected to find her in the drawing-room with her heart bleeding freely, all ripe for an immediate reconciliation. in the drawing-room, however, when i entered, only aunt dahlia met the eye. it seemed to me that she gave me rather a jaundiced look as i hove in sight, but this, having so recently beheld tuppy in his agony, i attributed to the fact that she, like him, had been going light on the menu. you can't expect an empty aunt to beam like a full aunt. "oh, it's you, is it?" she said. well, it was, of course. "where's angela?" i asked. "gone to bed." "already?" "she said she had a headache." "h'm." i wasn't so sure that i liked the sound of that so much. a girl who has observed the sundered lover sensationally off his feed does not go to bed with headaches if love has been reborn in her heart. she sticks around and gives him the swift, remorseful glance from beneath the drooping eyelashes and generally endeavours to convey to him that, if he wants to get together across a round table and try to find a formula, she is all for it too. yes, i am bound to say i found that going-to-bed stuff a bit disquieting. "gone to bed, eh?" i murmured musingly. "what did you want her for?" "i thought she might like a stroll and a chat." "are you going for a stroll?" said aunt dahlia, with a sudden show of interest. "where?" "oh, hither and thither." "then i wonder if you would mind doing something for me." "give it a name." "it won't take you long. you know that path that runs past the greenhouses into the kitchen garden. if you go along it, you come to a pond." "that's right." "well, will you get a good, stout piece of rope or cord and go down that path till you come to the pond----" "to the pond. right." "--and look about you till you find a nice, heavy stone. or a fairly large brick would do." "i see," i said, though i didn't, being still fogged. "stone or brick. yes. and then?" "then," said the relative, "i want you, like a good boy, to fasten the rope to the brick and tie it around your damned neck and jump into the pond and drown yourself. in a few days i will send and have you fished up and buried because i shall need to dance on your grave." i was more fogged than ever. and not only fogged--wounded and resentful. i remember reading a book where a girl "suddenly fled from the room, afraid to stay for fear dreadful things would come tumbling from her lips; determined that she would not remain another day in this house to be insulted and misunderstood." i felt much about the same. then i reminded myself that one has got to make allowances for a woman with only about half a spoonful of soup inside her, and i checked the red-hot crack that rose to the lips. "what," i said gently, "is this all about? you seem pipped with bertram." "pipped!" "noticeably pipped. why this ill-concealed animus?" a sudden flame shot from her eyes, singeing my hair. "who was the ass, who was the chump, who was the dithering idiot who talked me, against my better judgment, into going without my dinner? i might have guessed----" i saw that i had divined correctly the cause of her strange mood. "it's all right. aunt dahlia. i know just how you're feeling. a bit on the hollow side, what? but the agony will pass. if i were you, i'd sneak down and raid the larder after the household have gone to bed. i am told there's a pretty good steak-and-kidney pie there which will repay inspection. have faith, aunt dahlia," i urged. "pretty soon uncle tom will be along, full of sympathy and anxious inquiries." "will he? do you know where he is now?" "i haven't seen him." "he is in the study with his face buried in his hands, muttering about civilization and melting pots." "eh? why?" "because it has just been my painful duty to inform him that anatole has given notice." i own that i reeled. "what?" "given notice. as the result of that drivelling scheme of yours. what did you expect a sensitive, temperamental french cook to do, if you went about urging everybody to refuse all food? i hear that when the first two courses came back to the kitchen practically untouched, his feelings were so hurt that he cried like a child. and when the rest of the dinner followed, he came to the conclusion that the whole thing was a studied and calculated insult, and decided to hand in his portfolio." "golly!" "you may well say 'golly!' anatole, god's gift to the gastric juices, gone like the dew off the petal of a rose, all through your idiocy. perhaps you understand now why i want you to go and jump in that pond. i might have known that some hideous disaster would strike this house like a thunderbolt if once you wriggled your way into it and started trying to be clever." harsh words, of course, as from aunt to nephew, but i bore her no resentment. no doubt, if you looked at it from a certain angle, bertram might be considered to have made something of a floater. "i am sorry." "what's the good of being sorry?" "i acted for what i deemed the best." "another time try acting for the worst. then we may possibly escape with a mere flesh wound." "uncle tom's not feeling too bucked about it all, you say?" "he's groaning like a lost soul. and any chance i ever had of getting that money out of him has gone." i stroked the chin thoughtfully. there was, i had to admit, reason in what she said. none knew better than i how terrible a blow the passing of anatole would be to uncle tom. i have stated earlier in this chronicle that this curious object of the seashore with whom aunt dahlia has linked her lot is a bloke who habitually looks like a pterodactyl that has suffered, and the reason he does so is that all those years he spent in making millions in the far east put his digestion on the blink, and the only cook that has ever been discovered capable of pushing food into him without starting something like old home week in moscow under the third waistcoat button is this uniquely gifted anatole. deprived of anatole's services, all he was likely to give the wife of his b. was a dirty look. yes, unquestionably, things seemed to have struck a somewhat rocky patch, and i must admit that i found myself, at moment of going to press, a little destitute of constructive ideas. confident, however, that these would come ere long, i kept the stiff upper lip. "bad," i conceded. "quite bad, beyond a doubt. certainly a nasty jar for one and all. but have no fear, aunt dahlia, i will fix everything." i have alluded earlier to the difficulty of staggering when you're sitting down, showing that it is a feat of which i, personally, am not capable. aunt dahlia, to my amazement, now did it apparently without an effort. she was well wedged into a deep arm-chair, but, nevertheless, she staggered like billy-o. a sort of spasm of horror and apprehension contorted her face. "if you dare to try any more of your lunatic schemes----" i saw that it would be fruitless to try to reason with her. quite plainly, she was not in the vein. contenting myself, accordingly, with a gesture of loving sympathy, i left the room. whether she did or did not throw a handsomely bound volume of the works of alfred, lord tennyson, at me, i am not in a position to say. i had seen it lying on the table beside her, and as i closed the door i remember receiving the impression that some blunt instrument had crashed against the woodwork, but i was feeling too pre-occupied to note and observe. i blame myself for not having taken into consideration the possible effects of a sudden abstinence on the part of virtually the whole strength of the company on one of anatole's impulsive provenã§al temperament. these gauls, i should have remembered, can't take it. their tendency to fly off the handle at the slightest provocation is well known. no doubt the man had put his whole soul into those _nonnettes de poulet_, and to see them come homing back to him must have gashed him like a knife. however, spilt milk blows nobody any good, and it is useless to dwell upon it. the task now confronting bertram was to put matters right, and i was pacing the lawn, pondering to this end, when i suddenly heard a groan so lost-soulish that i thought it must have proceeded from uncle tom, escaped from captivity and come to groan in the garden. looking about me, however, i could discern no uncles. puzzled, i was about to resume my meditations, when the sound came again. and peering into the shadows i observed a dim form seated on one of the rustic benches which so liberally dotted this pleasance and another dim form standing beside same. a second and more penetrating glance and i had assembled the facts. these dim forms were, in the order named, gussie fink-nottle and jeeves. and what gussie was doing, groaning all over the place like this, was more than i could understand. because, i mean to say, there was no possibility of error. he wasn't singing. as i approached, he gave an encore, and it was beyond question a groan. moreover, i could now see him clearly, and his whole aspect was definitely sand-bagged. "good evening, sir," said jeeves. "mr. fink-nottle is not feeling well." nor was i. gussie had begun to make a low, bubbling noise, and i could no longer disguise it from myself that something must have gone seriously wrong with the works. i mean, i know marriage is a pretty solemn business and the realization that he is in for it frequently churns a chap up a bit, but i had never come across a case of a newly-engaged man taking it on the chin so completely as this. gussie looked up. his eye was dull. he clutched the thatch. "goodbye, bertie," he said, rising. i seemed to spot an error. "you mean 'hullo,' don't you?" "no, i don't. i mean goodbye. i'm off." "off where?" "to the kitchen garden. to drown myself." "don't be an ass." "i'm not an ass.... am i an ass, jeeves?" "possibly a little injudicious, sir." "drowning myself, you mean?" "yes, sir." "you think, on the whole, not drown myself?" "i should not advocate it, sir." "very well, jeeves. i accept your ruling. after all, it would be unpleasant for mrs. travers to find a swollen body floating in her pond." "yes, sir." "and she has been very kind to me." "yes, sir." "and you have been very kind to me, jeeves." "thank you, sir." "so have you, bertie. very kind. everybody has been very kind to me. very, very kind. very kind indeed. i have no complaints to make. all right, i'll go for a walk instead." i followed him with bulging eyes as he tottered off into the dark. "jeeves," i said, and i am free to admit that in my emotion i bleated like a lamb drawing itself to the attention of the parent sheep, "what the dickens is all this?" "mr. fink-nottle is not quite himself, sir. he has passed through a trying experience." i endeavoured to put together a brief synopsis of previous events. "i left him out here with miss bassett." "yes, sir." "i had softened her up." "yes, sir." "he knew exactly what he had to do. i had coached him thoroughly in lines and business." "yes, sir. so mr. fink-nottle informed me." "well, then----" "i regret to say, sir, that there was a slight hitch." "you mean, something went wrong?" "yes, sir." i could not fathom. the brain seemed to be tottering on its throne. "but how could anything go wrong? she loves him, jeeves." "indeed, sir?" "she definitely told me so. all he had to do was propose." "yes sir." "well, didn't he?" "no, sir." "then what the dickens did he talk about?" "newts, sir." "newts?" "yes, sir." "newts?" "yes, sir." "but why did he want to talk about newts?" "he did not want to talk about newts, sir. as i gather from mr. fink-nottle, nothing could have been more alien to his plans." i simply couldn't grasp the trend. "but you can't force a man to talk about newts." "mr. fink-nottle was the victim of a sudden unfortunate spasm of nervousness, sir. upon finding himself alone with the young lady, he admits to having lost his morale. in such circumstances, gentlemen frequently talk at random, saying the first thing that chances to enter their heads. this, in mr. fink-nottle's case, would seem to have been the newt, its treatment in sickness and in health." the scales fell from my eyes. i understood. i had had the same sort of thing happen to me in moments of crisis. i remember once detaining a dentist with the drill at one of my lower bicuspids and holding him up for nearly ten minutes with a story about a scotchman, an irishman, and a jew. purely automatic. the more he tried to jab, the more i said "hoots, mon," "begorrah," and "oy, oy". when one loses one's nerve, one simply babbles. i could put myself in gussie's place. i could envisage the scene. there he and the bassett were, alone together in the evening stillness. no doubt, as i had advised, he had shot the works about sunsets and fairy princesses, and so forth, and then had arrived at the point where he had to say that bit about having something to say to her. at this, i take it, she lowered her eyes and said, "oh, yes?" he then, i should imagine, said it was something very important; to which her response would, one assumes, have been something on the lines of "really?" or "indeed?" or possibly just the sharp intake of the breath. and then their eyes met, just as mine met the dentist's, and something suddenly seemed to catch him in the pit of the stomach and everything went black and he heard his voice starting to drool about newts. yes, i could follow the psychology. nevertheless, i found myself blaming gussie. on discovering that he was stressing the newt note in this manner, he ought, of course, to have tuned out, even if it had meant sitting there saying nothing. no matter how much of a twitter he was in, he should have had sense enough to see that he was throwing a spanner into the works. no girl, when she has been led to expect that a man is about to pour forth his soul in a fervour of passion, likes to find him suddenly shelving the whole topic in favour of an address on aquatic salamandridae. "bad, jeeves." "yes, sir." "and how long did this nuisance continue?" "for some not inconsiderable time, i gather, sir. according to mr. fink-nottle, he supplied miss bassett with very full and complete information not only with respect to the common newt, but also the crested and palmated varieties. he described to her how newts, during the breeding season, live in the water, subsisting upon tadpoles, insect larvae, and crustaceans; how, later, they make their way to the land and eat slugs and worms; and how the newly born newt has three pairs of long, plumlike, external gills. and he was just observing that newts differ from salamanders in the shape of the tail, which is compressed, and that a marked sexual dimorphism prevails in most species, when the young lady rose and said that she thought she would go back to the house." "and then----" "she went, sir." i stood musing. more and more, it was beginning to be borne in upon me what a particularly difficult chap gussie was to help. he seemed to so marked an extent to lack snap and finish. with infinite toil, you manoeuvred him into a position where all he had to do was charge ahead, and he didn't charge ahead, but went off sideways, missing the objective completely. "difficult, jeeves." "yes, sir." in happier circs., of course, i would have canvassed his views on the matter. but after what had occurred in connection with that mess-jacket, my lips were sealed. "well, i must think it over." "yes, sir." "burnish the brain a bit and endeavour to find the way out." "yes, sir." "well, good night, jeeves." "good night, sir." he shimmered off, leaving a pensive bertram wooster standing motionless in the shadows. it seemed to me that it was hard to know what to do for the best. -12i don't know if it has happened to you at all, but a thing i've noticed with myself is that, when i'm confronted by a problem which seems for the moment to stump and baffle, a good sleep will often bring the solution in the morning. it was so on the present occasion. the nibs who study these matters claim, i believe, that this has got something to do with the subconscious mind, and very possibly they may be right. i wouldn't have said off-hand that i had a subconscious mind, but i suppose i must without knowing it, and no doubt it was there, sweating away diligently at the old stand, all the while the corporeal wooster was getting his eight hours. for directly i opened my eyes on the morrow, i saw daylight. well, i don't mean that exactly, because naturally i did. what i mean is that i found i had the thing all mapped out. the good old subconscious m. had delivered the goods, and i perceived exactly what steps must be taken in order to put augustus fink-nottle among the practising romeos. i should like you, if you can spare me a moment of your valuable time, to throw your mind back to that conversation he and i had had in the garden on the previous evening. not the glimmering landscape bit, i don't mean that, but the concluding passages of it. having done so, you will recall that when he informed me that he never touched alcoholic liquor, i shook the head a bit, feeling that this must inevitably weaken him as a force where proposing to girls was concerned. and events had shown that my fears were well founded. put to the test, with nothing but orange juice inside him, he had proved a complete bust. in a situation calling for words of molten passion of a nature calculated to go through madeline bassett like a red-hot gimlet through half a pound of butter, he had said not a syllable that could bring a blush to the cheek of modesty, merely delivering a well-phrased but, in the circumstances, quite misplaced lecture on newts. a romantic girl is not to be won by such tactics. obviously, before attempting to proceed further, augustus fink-nottle must be induced to throw off the shackling inhibitions of the past and fuel up. it must be a primed, confident fink-nottle who squared up to the bassett for round no. 2. only so could the _morning post_ make its ten bob, or whatever it is, for printing the announcement of the forthcoming nuptials. having arrived at this conclusion i found the rest easy, and by the time jeeves brought me my tea i had evolved a plan complete in every detail. this i was about to place before him--indeed, i had got as far as the preliminary "i say, jeeves"--when we were interrupted by the arrival of tuppy. he came listlessly into the room, and i was pained to observe that a night's rest had effected no improvement in the unhappy wreck's appearance. indeed, i should have said, if anything, that he was looking rather more moth-eaten than when i had seen him last. if you can visualize a bulldog which has just been kicked in the ribs and had its dinner sneaked by the cat, you will have hildebrand glossop as he now stood before me. "stap my vitals, tuppy, old corpse," i said, concerned, "you're looking pretty blue round the rims." jeeves slid from the presence in that tactful, eel-like way of his, and i motioned the remains to take a seat. "what's the matter?" i said. he came to anchor on the bed, and for awhile sat picking at the coverlet in silence. "i've been through hell, bertie." "through where?" "hell." "oh, hell? and what took you there?" once more he became silent, staring before him with sombre eyes. following his gaze, i saw that he was looking at an enlarged photograph of my uncle tom in some sort of masonic uniform which stood on the mantelpiece. i've tried to reason with aunt dahlia about this photograph for years, placing before her two alternative suggestions: (a) to burn the beastly thing; or (b) if she must preserve it, to shove me in another room when i come to stay. but she declines to accede. she says it's good for me. a useful discipline, she maintains, teaching me that there is a darker side to life and that we were not put into this world for pleasure only. "turn it to the wall, if it hurts you, tuppy," i said gently. "eh?" "that photograph of uncle tom as the bandmaster." "i didn't come here to talk about photographs. i came for sympathy." "and you shall have it. what's the trouble? worrying about angela, i suppose? well, have no fear. i have another well-laid plan for encompassing that young shrimp. i'll guarantee that she will be weeping on your neck before yonder sun has set." he barked sharply. "a fat chance!" "tup, tushy!" "eh?" "i mean 'tush, tuppy.' i tell you i will do it. i was just going to describe this plan of mine to jeeves when you came in. care to hear it?" "i don't want to hear any of your beastly plans. plans are no good. she's gone and fallen in love with this other bloke, and now hates my gizzard." "rot." "it isn't rot." "i tell you, tuppy, as one who can read the female heart, that this angela loves you still." "well, it didn't look much like it in the larder last night." "oh, you went to the larder last night?" "i did." "and angela was there?" "she was. and your aunt. also your uncle." i saw that i should require foot-notes. all this was new stuff to me. i had stayed at brinkley court quite a lot in my time, but i had no idea the larder was such a social vortex. more like a snack bar on a race-course than anything else, it seemed to have become. "tell me the whole story in your own words," i said, "omitting no detail, however apparently slight, for one never knows how important the most trivial detail may be." he inspected the photograph for a moment with growing gloom. "all right," he said. "this is what happened. you know my views about that steak-and-kidney pie." "quite." "well, round about one a.m. i thought the time was ripe. i stole from my room and went downstairs. the pie seemed to beckon me." i nodded. i knew how pies do. "i got to the larder. i fished it out. i set it on the table. i found knife and fork. i collected salt, mustard, and pepper. there were some cold potatoes. i added those. and i was about to pitch in when i heard a sound behind me, and there was your aunt at the door. in a blue-and-yellow dressing gown." "embarrassing." "most." "i suppose you didn't know where to look." "i looked at angela." "she came in with my aunt?" "no. with your uncle, a minute or two later. he was wearing mauve pyjamas and carried a pistol. have you ever seen your uncle in pyjamas and a pistol?" "never." "you haven't missed much." "tell me, tuppy," i asked, for i was anxious to ascertain this, "about angela. was there any momentary softening in her gaze as she fixed it on you?" "she didn't fix it on me. she fixed it on the pie." "did she say anything?" "not right away. your uncle was the first to speak. he said to your aunt, 'god bless my soul, dahlia, what are you doing here?' to which she replied, 'well, if it comes to that, my merry somnambulist, what are you?' your uncle then said that he thought there must be burglars in the house, as he had heard noises." i nodded again. i could follow the trend. ever since the scullery window was found open the year shining light was disqualified in the cesarewitch for boring, uncle tom has had a marked complex about burglars. i can still recall my emotions when, paying my first visit after he had bars put on all the windows and attempting to thrust the head out in order to get a sniff of country air, i nearly fractured my skull on a sort of iron grille, as worn by the tougher kinds of mediaeval prison. "'what sort of noises?' said your aunt. 'funny noises,' said your uncle. whereupon angela--with a nasty, steely tinkle in her voice, the little buzzard--observed, 'i expect it was mr. glossop eating.' and then she did give me a look. it was the sort of wondering, revolted look a very spiritual woman would give a fat man gulping soup in a restaurant. the kind of look that makes a fellow feel he's forty-six round the waist and has great rolls of superfluous flesh pouring down over the back of his collar. and, still speaking in the same unpleasant tone, she added, 'i ought to have told you, father, that mr. glossop always likes to have a good meal three or four times during the night. it helps to keep him going till breakfast. he has the most amazing appetite. see, he has practically finished a large steak-and-kidney pie already'." as he spoke these words, a feverish animation swept over tuppy. his eyes glittered with a strange light, and he thumped the bed violently with his fist, nearly catching me a juicy one on the leg. "that was what hurt, bertie. that was what stung. i hadn't so much as started on that pie. but that's a woman all over." "the eternal feminine." "she continued her remarks. 'you've no idea,' she said, 'how mr. glossop loves food. he just lives for it. he always eats six or seven meals a day, and then starts in again after bedtime. i think it's rather wonderful.' your aunt seemed interested, and said it reminded her of a boa constrictor. angela said, didn't she mean a python? and then they argued as to which of the two it was. your uncle, meanwhile, poking about with that damned pistol of his till human life wasn't safe in the vicinity. and the pie lying there on the table, and me unable to touch it. you begin to understand why i said i had been through hell." "quite. can't have been at all pleasant." "presently your aunt and angela settled their discussion, deciding that angela was right and that it was a python that i reminded them of. and shortly after that we all pushed back to bed, angela warning me in a motherly voice not to take the stairs too quickly. after seven or eight solid meals, she said, a man of my build ought to be very careful, because of the danger of apoplectic fits. she said it was the same with dogs. when they became very fat and overfed, you had to see that they didn't hurry upstairs, as it made them puff and pant, and that was bad for their hearts. she asked your aunt if she remembered the late spaniel, ambrose; and your aunt said, 'poor old ambrose, you couldn't keep him away from the garbage pail'; and angela said, 'exactly, so do please be careful, mr. glossop.' and you tell me she loves me still!" i did my best to encourage. "girlish banter, what?" "girlish banter be dashed. she's right off me. once her ideal, i am now less than the dust beneath her chariot wheels. she became infatuated with this chap, whoever he was, at cannes, and now she can't stand the sight of me." i raised my eyebrows. "my dear tuppy, you are not showing your usual good sense in this angela-chap-at-cannes matter. if you will forgive me saying so, you have got an _idã©e fixe_." "a what?" "an _idã©e fixe_. you know. one of those things fellows get. like uncle tom's delusion that everybody who is known even slightly to the police is lurking in the garden, waiting for a chance to break into the house. you keep talking about this chap at cannes, and there never was a chap at cannes, and i'll tell you why i'm so sure about this. during those two months on the riviera, it so happens that angela and i were practically inseparable. if there had been somebody nosing round her, i should have spotted it in a second." he started. i could see that this had impressed him. "oh, she was with you all the time at cannes, was she?" "i don't suppose she said two words to anybody else, except, of course, idle conv. at the crowded dinner table or a chance remark in a throng at the casino." "i see. you mean that anything in the shape of mixed bathing and moonlight strolls she conducted solely in your company?" "that's right. it was quite a joke in the hotel." "you must have enjoyed that." "oh, rather. i've always been devoted to angela." "oh, yes?" "when we were kids, she used to call herself my little sweetheart." "she did?" "absolutely." "i see." he sat plunged in thought, while i, glad to have set his mind at rest, proceeded with my tea. and presently there came the banging of a gong from the hall below, and he started like a war horse at the sound of the bugle. "breakfast!" he said, and was off to a flying start, leaving me to brood and ponder. and the more i brooded and pondered, the more did it seem to me that everything now looked pretty smooth. tuppy, i could see, despite that painful scene in the larder, still loved angela with all the old fervour. this meant that i could rely on that plan to which i had referred to bring home the bacon. and as i had found the way to straighten out the gussie-bassett difficulty, there seemed nothing more to worry about. it was with an uplifted heart that i addressed jeeves as he came in to remove the tea tray. -13"jeeves," i said. "sir?" "i've just been having a chat with young tuppy, jeeves. did you happen to notice that he wasn't looking very roguish this morning?" "yes, sir. it seemed to me that mr. glossop's face was sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought." "quite. he met my cousin angela in the larder last night, and a rather painful interview ensued." "i am sorry, sir." "not half so sorry as he was. she found him closeted with a steak-and-kidney pie, and appears to have been a bit caustic about fat men who lived for food alone." "most disturbing, sir." "very. in fact, many people would say that things had gone so far between these two nothing now could bridge the chasm. a girl who could make cracks about human pythons who ate nine or ten meals a day and ought to be careful not to hurry upstairs because of the danger of apoplectic fits is a girl, many people would say, in whose heart love is dead. wouldn't people say that, jeeves?" "undeniably, sir." "they would be wrong." "you think so, sir?" "i am convinced of it. i know these females. you can't go by what they say." "you feel that miss angela's strictures should not be taken too much _au pied de la lettre_, sir?" "eh?" "in english, we should say 'literally'." "literally. that's exactly what i mean. you know what girls are. a tiff occurs, and they shoot their heads off. but underneath it all the old love still remains. am i correct?" "quite correct, sir. the poet scott----" "right ho, jeeves." "very good, sir." "and in order to bring that old love whizzing to the surface once more, all that is required is the proper treatment." "by 'proper treatment,' sir, you mean----" "clever handling, jeeves. a spot of the good old snaky work. i see what must be done to jerk my cousin angela back to normalcy. i'll tell you, shall i?" "if you would be so kind, sir." i lit a cigarette, and eyed him keenly through the smoke. he waited respectfully for me to unleash the words of wisdom. i must say for jeeves that--till, as he is so apt to do, he starts shoving his oar in and cavilling and obstructing--he makes a very good audience. i don't know if he is actually agog, but he looks agog, and that's the great thing. "suppose you were strolling through the illimitable jungle, jeeves, and happened to meet a tiger cub." "the contingency is a remote one, sir." "never mind. let us suppose it." "very good, sir." "let us now suppose that you sloshed that tiger cub, and let us suppose further that word reached its mother that it was being put upon. what would you expect the attitude of that mother to be? in what frame of mind do you consider that that tigress would approach you?" "i should anticipate a certain show of annoyance, sir." "and rightly. due to what is known as the maternal instinct, what?" "yes, sir." "very good, jeeves. we will now suppose that there has recently been some little coolness between this tiger cub and this tigress. for some days, let us say, they have not been on speaking terms. do you think that that would make any difference to the vim with which the latter would leap to the former's aid?" "no, sir." "exactly. here, then, in brief, is my plan, jeeves. i am going to draw my cousin angela aside to a secluded spot and roast tuppy properly." "roast, sir?" "knock. slam. tick-off. abuse. denounce. i shall be very terse about tuppy, giving it as my opinion that in all essentials he is more like a wart hog than an ex-member of a fine old english public school. what will ensue? hearing him attacked, my cousin angela's womanly heart will be as sick as mud. the maternal tigress in her will awake. no matter what differences they may have had, she will remember only that he is the man she loves, and will leap to his defence. and from that to falling into his arms and burying the dead past will be but a step. how do you react to that?" "the idea is an ingenious one, sir." "we woosters are ingenious, jeeves, exceedingly ingenious." "yes, sir." "as a matter of fact, i am not speaking without a knowledge of the form book. i have tested this theory." "indeed, sir?" "yes, in person. and it works. i was standing on the eden rock at antibes last month, idly watching the bathers disport themselves in the water, and a girl i knew slightly pointed at a male diver and asked me if i didn't think his legs were about the silliest-looking pair of props ever issued to human being. i replied that i did, indeed, and for the space of perhaps two minutes was extraordinarily witty and satirical about this bird's underpinning. at the end of that period, i suddenly felt as if i had been caught up in the tail of a cyclone. "beginning with a _critique_ of my own limbs, which she said, justly enough, were nothing to write home about, this girl went on to dissect my manners, morals, intellect, general physique, and method of eating asparagus with such acerbity that by the time she had finished the best you could say of bertram was that, so far as was known, he had never actually committed murder or set fire to an orphan asylum. subsequent investigation proved that she was engaged to the fellow with the legs and had had a slight disagreement with him the evening before on the subject of whether she should or should not have made an original call of two spades, having seven, but without the ace. that night i saw them dining together with every indication of relish, their differences made up and the lovelight once more in their eyes. that shows you, jeeves." "yes, sir." "i expect precisely similar results from my cousin angela when i start roasting tuppy. by lunchtime, i should imagine, the engagement will be on again and the diamond-and-platinum ring glittering as of yore on her third finger. or is it the fourth?" "scarcely by luncheon time, sir. miss angela's maid informs me that miss angela drove off in her car early this morning with the intention of spending the day with friends in the vicinity." "well, within half an hour of whatever time she comes back, then. these are mere straws, jeeves. do not let us chop them." "no, sir." "the point is that, as far as tuppy and angela are concerned, we may say with confidence that everything will shortly be hotsy-totsy once more. and what an agreeable thought that is, jeeves." "very true, sir." "if there is one thing that gives me the pip, it is two loving hearts being estranged." "i can readily appreciate the fact, sir." i placed the stub of my gasper in the ash tray and lit another, to indicate that that completed chap. i. "right ho, then. so much for the western front. we now turn to the eastern." "sir?" "i speak in parables, jeeves. what i mean is, we now approach the matter of gussie and miss bassett." "yes, sir." "here, jeeves, more direct methods are required. in handling the case of augustus fink-nottle, we must keep always in mind the fact that we are dealing with a poop." "a sensitive plant would, perhaps, be a kinder expression, sir." "no, jeeves, a poop. and with poops one has to employ the strong, forceful, straightforward policy. psychology doesn't get you anywhere. you, if i may remind you without wounding your feelings, fell into the error of mucking about with psychology in connection with this fink-nottle, and the result was a wash-out. you attempted to push him over the line by rigging him out in a mephistopheles costume and sending him off to a fancy-dress ball, your view being that scarlet tights would embolden him. futile." "the matter was never actually put to the test, sir." "no. because he didn't get to the ball. and that strengthens my argument. a man who can set out in a cab for a fancy-dress ball and not get there is manifestly a poop of no common order. i don't think i have ever known anybody else who was such a dashed silly ass that he couldn't even get to a fancy-dress ball. have you, jeeves?" "no, sir." "but don't forget this, because it is the point i wish, above all, to make: even if gussie had got to that ball; even if those scarlet tights, taken in conjunction with his horn-rimmed spectacles, hadn't given the girl a fit of some kind; even if she had rallied from the shock and he had been able to dance and generally hobnob with her; even then your efforts would have been fruitless, because, mephistopheles costume or no mephistopheles costume, augustus fink-nottle would never have been able to summon up the courage to ask her to be his. all that would have resulted would have been that she would have got that lecture on newts a few days earlier. and why, jeeves? shall i tell you why?" "yes, sir." "because he would have been attempting the hopeless task of trying to do the thing on orange juice." "sir?" "gussie is an orange-juice addict. he drinks nothing else." "i was not aware of that, sir." "i have it from his own lips. whether from some hereditary taint, or because he promised his mother he wouldn't, or simply because he doesn't like the taste of the stuff, gussie fink-nottle has never in the whole course of his career pushed so much as the simplest gin and tonic over the larynx. and he expects--this poop expects, jeeves--this wabbling, shrinking, diffident rabbit in human shape expects under these conditions to propose to the girl he loves. one hardly knows whether to smile or weep, what?" "you consider total abstinence a handicap to a gentleman who wishes to make a proposal of marriage, sir?" the question amazed me. "why, dash it," i said, astounded, "you must know it is. use your intelligence, jeeves. reflect what proposing means. it means that a decent, self-respecting chap has got to listen to himself saying things which, if spoken on the silver screen, would cause him to dash to the box-office and demand his money back. let him attempt to do it on orange juice, and what ensues? shame seals his lips, or, if it doesn't do that, makes him lose his morale and start to babble. gussie, for example, as we have seen, babbles of syncopated newts." "palmated newts, sir." "palmated or syncopated, it doesn't matter which. the point is that he babbles and is going to babble again, if he has another try at it. unless--and this is where i want you to follow me very closely, jeeves--unless steps are taken at once through the proper channels. only active measures, promptly applied, can provide this poor, pusillanimous poop with the proper pep. and that is why, jeeves, i intend tomorrow to secure a bottle of gin and lace his luncheon orange juice with it liberally." "sir?" i clicked the tongue. "i have already had occasion, jeeves," i said rebukingly, "to comment on the way you say 'well, sir' and 'indeed, sir?' i take this opportunity of informing you that i object equally strongly to your 'sir?' pure and simple. the word seems to suggest that in your opinion i have made a statement or mooted a scheme so bizarre that your brain reels at it. in the present instance, there is absolutely nothing to say 'sir?' about. the plan i have put forward is entirely reasonable and icily logical, and should excite no sirring whatsoever. or don't you think so?" "well, sir----" "jeeves!" "i beg your pardon, sir. the expression escaped me inadvertently. what i intended to say, since you press me, was that the action which you propose does seem to me somewhat injudicious." "injudicious? i don't follow you, jeeves." "a certain amount of risk would enter into it, in my opinion, sir. it is not always a simple matter to gauge the effect of alcohol on a subject unaccustomed to such stimulant. i have known it to have distressing results in the case of parrots." "parrots?" "i was thinking of an incident of my earlier life, sir, before i entered your employment. i was in the service of the late lord brancaster at the time, a gentleman who owned a parrot to which he was greatly devoted, and one day the bird chanced to be lethargic, and his lordship, with the kindly intention of restoring it to its customary animation, offered it a portion of seed cake steeped in the '84 port. the bird accepted the morsel gratefully and consumed it with every indication of satisfaction. almost immediately afterwards, however, its manner became markedly feverish. having bitten his lordship in the thumb and sung part of a sea-chanty, it fell to the bottom of the cage and remained there for a considerable period of time with its legs in the air, unable to move. i merely mention this, sir, in order to----" i put my finger on the flaw. i had spotted it all along. "but gussie isn't a parrot." "no, sir, but----" "it is high time, in my opinion, that this question of what young gussie really is was threshed out and cleared up. he seems to think he is a male newt, and you now appear to suggest that he is a parrot. the truth of the matter being that he is just a plain, ordinary poop and needs a snootful as badly as ever man did. so no more discussion, jeeves. my mind is made up. there is only one way of handling this difficult case, and that is the way i have outlined." "very good, sir." "right ho, jeeves. so much for that, then. now here's something else: you noticed that i said i was going to put this project through tomorrow, and no doubt you wondered why i said tomorrow. why did i, jeeves?" "because you feel that if it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly, sir?" "partly, jeeves, but not altogether. my chief reason for fixing the date as specified is that tomorrow, though you have doubtless forgotten, is the day of the distribution of prizes at market snodsbury grammar school, at which, as you know, gussie is to be the male star and master of the revels. so you see we shall, by lacing that juice, not only embolden him to propose to miss bassett, but also put him so into shape that he will hold that market snodsbury audience spellbound." "in fact, you will be killing two birds with one stone, sir." "exactly. a very neat way of putting it. and now here is a minor point. on second thoughts, i think the best plan will be for you, not me, to lace the juice." "sir?" "jeeves!" "i beg your pardon, sir." "and i'll tell you why that will be the best plan. because you are in a position to obtain ready access to the stuff. it is served to gussie daily, i have noticed, in an individual jug. this jug will presumably be lying about the kitchen or somewhere before lunch tomorrow. it will be the simplest of tasks for you to slip a few fingers of gin in it." "no doubt, sir, but----" "don't say 'but,' jeeves." "i fear, sir----" "'i fear, sir' is just as bad." "what i am endeavouring to say, sir, is that i am sorry, but i am afraid i must enter an unequivocal _nolle prosequi_." "do what?" "the expression is a legal one, sir, signifying the resolve not to proceed with a matter. in other words, eager though i am to carry out your instructions, sir, as a general rule, on this occasion i must respectfully decline to co-operate." "you won't do it, you mean?" "precisely, sir." i was stunned. i began to understand how a general must feel when he has ordered a regiment to charge and has been told that it isn't in the mood. "jeeves," i said, "i had not expected this of you." "no, sir?" "no, indeed. naturally, i realize that lacing gussie's orange juice is not one of those regular duties for which you receive the monthly stipend, and if you care to stand on the strict letter of the contract, i suppose there is nothing to be done about it. but you will permit me to observe that this is scarcely the feudal spirit." "i am sorry, sir." "it is quite all right, jeeves, quite all right. i am not angry, only a little hurt." "very good, sir." "right ho, jeeves." -14investigation proved that the friends angela had gone to spend the day with were some stately-home owners of the name of stretchley-budd, hanging out in a joint called kingham manor, about eight miles distant in the direction of pershore. i didn't know these birds, but their fascination must have been considerable, for she tore herself away from them only just in time to get back and dress for dinner. it was, accordingly, not until coffee had been consumed that i was able to get matters moving. i found her in the drawing-room and at once proceeded to put things in train. it was with very different feelings from those which had animated the bosom when approaching the bassett twenty-four hours before in the same manner in this same drawing-room that i headed for where she sat. as i had told tuppy, i have always been devoted to angela, and there is nothing i like better than a ramble in her company. and i could see by the look of her now how sorely in need she was of my aid and comfort. frankly, i was shocked by the unfortunate young prune's appearance. at cannes she had been a happy, smiling english girl of the best type, full of beans and buck. her face now was pale and drawn, like that of a hockey centre-forward at a girls' school who, in addition to getting a fruity one on the shin, has just been penalized for "sticks". in any normal gathering, her demeanour would have excited instant remark, but the standard of gloom at brinkley court had become so high that it passed unnoticed. indeed, i shouldn't wonder if uncle tom, crouched in his corner waiting for the end, didn't think she was looking indecently cheerful. i got down to the agenda in my debonair way. "what ho, angela, old girl." "hullo, bertie, darling." "glad you're back at last. i missed you." "did you, darling?" "i did, indeed. care to come for a saunter?" "i'd love it." "fine. i have much to say to you that is not for the public ear." i think at this moment poor old tuppy must have got a sudden touch of cramp. he had been sitting hard by, staring at the ceiling, and he now gave a sharp leap like a gaffed salmon and upset a small table containing a vase, a bowl of potpourri, two china dogs, and a copy of omar khayyã¡m bound in limp leather. aunt dahlia uttered a startled hunting cry. uncle tom, who probably imagined from the noise that this was civilization crashing at last, helped things along by breaking a coffee-cup. tuppy said he was sorry. aunt dahlia, with a deathbed groan, said it didn't matter. and angela, having stared haughtily for a moment like a princess of the old rã©gime confronted by some notable example of gaucherie on the part of some particularly foul member of the underworld, accompanied me across the threshold. and presently i had deposited her and self on one of the rustic benches in the garden, and was ready to snap into the business of the evening. i considered it best, however, before doing so, to ease things along with a little informal chitchat. you don't want to rush a delicate job like the one i had in hand. and so for a while we spoke of neutral topics. she said that what had kept her so long at the stretchley-budds was that hilda stretchley-budd had made her stop on and help with the arrangements for their servants' ball tomorrow night, a task which she couldn't very well decline, as all the brinkley court domestic staff were to be present. i said that a jolly night's revelry might be just what was needed to cheer anatole up and take his mind off things. to which she replied that anatole wasn't going. on being urged to do so by aunt dahlia, she said, he had merely shaken his head sadly and gone on talking of returning to provence, where he was appreciated. it was after the sombre silence induced by this statement that angela said the grass was wet and she thought she would go in. this, of course, was entirely foreign to my policy. "no, don't do that. i haven't had a chance to talk to you since you arrived." "i shall ruin my shoes." "put your feet up on my lap." "all right. and you can tickle my ankles." "quite." matters were accordingly arranged on these lines, and for some minutes we continued chatting in desultory fashion. then the conversation petered out. i made a few observations _in re_ the scenic effects, featuring the twilight hush, the peeping stars, and the soft glimmer of the waters of the lake, and she said yes. something rustled in the bushes in front of us, and i advanced the theory that it was possibly a weasel, and she said it might be. but it was plain that the girl was distraite, and i considered it best to waste no more time. "well, old thing," i said, "i've heard all about your little dust-up so those wedding bells are not going to ring out, what?" "no." "definitely over, is it?" "yes." "well, if you want my opinion, i think that's a bit of goose for you, angela, old girl. i think you're extremely well out of it. it's a mystery to me how you stood this glossop so long. take him for all in all, he ranks very low down among the wines and spirits. a washout, i should describe him as. a frightful oik, and a mass of side to boot. i'd pity the girl who was linked for life to a bargee like tuppy glossop." and i emitted a hard laugh--one of the sneering kind. "i always thought you were such friends," said angela. i let go another hard one, with a bit more top spin on it than the first time: "friends? absolutely not. one was civil, of course, when one met the fellow, but it would be absurd to say one was a friend of his. a club acquaintance, and a mere one at that. and then one was at school with the man." "at eton?" "good heavens, no. we wouldn't have a fellow like that at eton. at a kid's school before i went there. a grubby little brute he was, i recollect. covered with ink and mire generally, washing only on alternate thursdays. in short, a notable outsider, shunned by all." i paused. i was more than a bit perturbed. apart from the agony of having to talk in this fashion of one who, except when he was looping back rings and causing me to plunge into swimming baths in correct evening costume, had always been a very dear and esteemed crony, i didn't seem to be getting anywhere. business was not resulting. staring into the bushes without a yip, she appeared to be bearing these slurs and innuendos of mine with an easy calm. i had another pop at it: "'uncouth' about sums it up. i doubt if i've ever seen an uncouther kid than this glossop. ask anyone who knew him in those days to describe him in a word, and the word they will use is 'uncouth'. and he's just the same today. it's the old story. the boy is the father of the man." she appeared not to have heard. "the boy," i repeated, not wishing her to miss that one, "is the father of the man." "what are you talking about?" "i'm talking about this glossop." "i thought you said something about somebody's father." "i said the boy was the father of the man." "what boy?" "the boy glossop." "he hasn't got a father." "i never said he had. i said he was the father of the boy--or, rather, of the man." "what man?" i saw that the conversation had reached a point where, unless care was taken, we should be muddled. "the point i am trying to make," i said, "is that the boy glossop is the father of the man glossop. in other words, each loathsome fault and blemish that led the boy glossop to be frowned upon by his fellows is present in the man glossop, and causes him--i am speaking now of the man glossop--to be a hissing and a byword at places like the drones, where a certain standard of decency is demanded from the inmates. ask anyone at the drones, and they will tell you that it was a black day for the dear old club when this chap glossop somehow wriggled into the list of members. here you will find a man who dislikes his face; there one who could stand his face if it wasn't for his habits. but the universal consensus of opinion is that the fellow is a bounder and a tick, and that the moment he showed signs of wanting to get into the place he should have been met with a firm _nolle prosequi_ and heartily blackballed." i had to pause again here, partly in order to take in a spot of breath, and partly to wrestle with the almost physical torture of saying these frightful things about poor old tuppy. "there are some chaps," i resumed, forcing myself once more to the nauseous task, "who, in spite of looking as if they had slept in their clothes, can get by quite nicely because they are amiable and suave. there are others who, for all that they excite adverse comment by being fat and uncouth, find themselves on the credit side of the ledger owing to their wit and sparkling humour. but this glossop, i regret to say, falls into neither class. in addition to looking like one of those things that come out of hollow trees, he is universally admitted to be a dumb brick of the first water. no soul. no conversation. in short, any girl who, having been rash enough to get engaged to him, has managed at the eleventh hour to slide out is justly entitled to consider herself dashed lucky." i paused once more, and cocked an eye at angela to see how the treatment was taking. all the while i had been speaking, she had sat gazing silently into the bushes, but it seemed to me incredible that she should not now turn on me like a tigress, according to specifications. it beat me why she hadn't done it already. it seemed to me that a mere tithe of what i had said, if said to a tigress about a tiger of which she was fond, would have made her--the tigress, i mean--hit the ceiling. and the next moment you could have knocked me down with a toothpick. "yes," she said, nodding thoughtfully, "you're quite right." "eh?" "that's exactly what i've been thinking myself." "what!" "'dumb brick.' it just describes him. one of the six silliest asses in england, i should think he must be." i did not speak. i was endeavouring to adjust the faculties, which were in urgent need of a bit of first-aid treatment. i mean to say, all this had come as a complete surprise. in formulating the well-laid plan which i had just been putting into effect, the one contingency i had not budgeted for was that she might adhere to the sentiments which i expressed. i had braced myself for a gush of stormy emotion. i was expecting the tearful ticking off, the girlish recriminations and all the rest of the bag of tricks along those lines. but this cordial agreement with my remarks i had not foreseen, and it gave me what you might call pause for thought. she proceeded to develop her theme, speaking in ringing, enthusiastic tones, as if she loved the topic. jeeves could tell you the word i want. i think it's "ecstatic", unless that's the sort of rash you get on your face and have to use ointment for. but if that is the right word, then that's what her manner was as she ventilated the subject of poor old tuppy. if you had been able to go simply by the sound of her voice, she might have been a court poet cutting loose about an oriental monarch, or gussie fink-nottle describing his last consignment of newts. "it's so nice, bertie, talking to somebody who really takes a sensible view about this man glossop. mother says he's a good chap, which is simply absurd. anybody can see that he's absolutely impossible. he's conceited and opinionative and argues all the time, even when he knows perfectly well that he's talking through his hat, and he smokes too much and eats too much and drinks too much, and i don't like the colour of his hair. not that he'll have any hair in a year or two, because he's pretty thin on the top already, and before he knows where he is he'll be as bald as an egg, and he's the last man who can afford to go bald. and i think it's simply disgusting, the way he gorges all the time. do you know, i found him in the larder at one o'clock this morning, absolutely wallowing in a steak-and-kidney pie? there was hardly any of it left. and you remember what an enormous dinner he had. quite disgusting, i call it. but i can't stop out here all night, talking about men who aren't worth wasting a word on and haven't even enough sense to tell sharks from flatfish. i'm going in." and gathering about her slim shoulders the shawl which she had put on as a protection against the evening dew, she buzzed off, leaving me alone in the silent night. well, as a matter of fact, not absolutely alone, because a few moments later there was a sort of upheaval in the bushes in front of me, and tuppy emerged. -15i gave him the eye. the evening had begun to draw in a bit by now and the visibility, in consequence, was not so hot, but there still remained ample light to enable me to see him clearly. and what i saw convinced me that i should be a lot easier in my mind with a stout rustic bench between us. i rose, accordingly, modelling my style on that of a rocketing pheasant, and proceeded to deposit myself on the other side of the object named. my prompt agility was not without its effect. he seemed somewhat taken aback. he came to a halt, and, for about the space of time required to allow a bead of persp. to trickle from the top of the brow to the tip of the nose, stood gazing at me in silence. "so!" he said at length, and it came as a complete surprise to me that fellows ever really do say "so!" i had always thought it was just a thing you read in books. like "quotha!" i mean to say, or "odds bodikins!" or even "eh, ba goom!" still, there it was. quaint or not quaint, bizarre or not bizarre, he had said "so!" and it was up to me to cope with the situation on those lines. it would have been a duller man than bertram wooster who had failed to note that the dear old chap was a bit steamed up. whether his eyes were actually shooting forth flame, i couldn't tell you, but there appeared to me to be a distinct incandescence. for the rest, his fists were clenched, his ears quivering, and the muscles of his jaw rotating rhythmically, as if he were making an early supper off something. his hair was full of twigs, and there was a beetle hanging to the side of his head which would have interested gussie fink-nottle. to this, however, i paid scant attention. there is a time for studying beetles and a time for not studying beetles. "so!" he said again. now, those who know bertram wooster best will tell you that he is always at his shrewdest and most level-headed in moments of peril. who was it who, when gripped by the arm of the law on boat-race night not so many years ago and hauled off to vine street police station, assumed in a flash the identity of eustace h. plimsoll, of the laburnums, alleyn road, west dulwich, thus saving the grand old name of wooster from being dragged in the mire and avoiding wide publicity of the wrong sort? who was it ... but i need not labour the point. my record speaks for itself. three times pinched, but never once sentenced under the correct label. ask anyone at the drones about this. so now, in a situation threatening to become every moment more scaly, i did not lose my head. i preserved the old sang-froid. smiling a genial and affectionate smile, and hoping that it wasn't too dark for it to register, i spoke with a jolly cordiality: "why, hallo, tuppy. you here?" he said, yes, he was here. "been here long?" "i have." "fine. i wanted to see you." "well, here i am. come out from behind that bench." "no, thanks, old man. i like leaning on it. it seems to rest the spine." "in about two seconds," said tuppy, "i'm going to kick your spine up through the top of your head." i raised the eyebrows. not much good, of course, in that light, but it seemed to help the general composition. "is this hildebrand glossop speaking?" i said. he replied that it was, adding that if i wanted to make sure i might move a few feet over in his direction. he also called me an opprobrious name. i raised the eyebrows again. "come, come, tuppy, don't let us let this little chat become acrid. is 'acrid' the word i want?" "i couldn't say," he replied, beginning to sidle round the bench. i saw that anything i might wish to say must be said quickly. already he had sidled some six feet. and though, by dint of sidling, too, i had managed to keep the bench between us, who could predict how long this happy state of affairs would last? i came to the point, therefore. "i think i know what's on your mind, tuppy," i said. "if you were in those bushes during my conversation with the recent angela, i dare say you heard what i was saying about you." "i did." "i see. well, we won't go into the ethics of the thing. eavesdropping, some people might call it, and i can imagine stern critics drawing in the breath to some extent. considering it--i don't want to hurt your feelings, tuppy--but considering it un-english. a bit un-english, tuppy, old man, you must admit." "i'm scotch." "really?" i said. "i never knew that before. rummy how you don't suspect a man of being scotch unless he's mac-something and says 'och, aye' and things like that. i wonder," i went on, feeling that an academic discussion on some neutral topic might ease the tension, "if you can tell me something that has puzzled me a good deal. what exactly is it that they put into haggis? i've often wondered about that." from the fact that his only response to the question was to leap over the bench and make a grab at me, i gathered that his mind was not on haggis. "however," i said, leaping over the bench in my turn, "that is a side issue. if, to come back to it, you were in those bushes and heard what i was saying about you----" he began to move round the bench in a nor'-nor'-easterly direction. i followed his example, setting a course sou'-sou'-west. "no doubt you were surprised at the way i was talking." "not a bit." "what? did nothing strike you as odd in the tone of my remarks?" "it was just the sort of stuff i should have expected a treacherous, sneaking hound like you to say." "my dear chap," i protested, "this is not your usual form. a bit slow in the uptake, surely? i should have thought you would have spotted right away that it was all part of a well-laid plan." "i'll get you in a jiffy," said tuppy, recovering his balance after a swift clutch at my neck. and so probable did this seem that i delayed no longer, but hastened to place all the facts before him. speaking rapidly and keeping moving, i related my emotions on receipt of aunt dahlia's telegram, my instant rush to the scene of the disaster, my meditations in the car, and the eventual framing of this well-laid plan of mine. i spoke clearly and well, and it was with considerable concern, consequently, that i heard him observe--between clenched teeth, which made it worse--that he didn't believe a damned word of it. "but, tuppy," i said, "why not? to me the thing rings true to the last drop. what makes you sceptical? confide in me, tuppy." he halted and stood taking a breather. tuppy, pungently though angela might have argued to the contrary, isn't really fat. during the winter months you will find him constantly booting the football with merry shouts, and in the summer the tennis racket is seldom out of his hand. but at the recently concluded evening meal, feeling, no doubt, that after that painful scene in the larder there was nothing to be gained by further abstinence, he had rather let himself go and, as it were, made up leeway; and after really immersing himself in one of anatole's dinners, a man of his sturdy build tends to lose elasticity a bit. during the exposition of my plans for his happiness a certain animation had crept into this round-and-round-the mulberry-bush jamboree of ours--so much so, indeed, that for the last few minutes we might have been a rather oversized greyhound and a somewhat slimmer electric hare doing their stuff on a circular track for the entertainment of the many-headed. this, it appeared, had taken it out of him a bit, and i was not displeased. i was feeling the strain myself, and welcomed a lull. "it absolutely beats me why you don't believe it," i said. "you know we've been pals for years. you must be aware that, except at the moment when you caused me to do a nose dive into the drones' swimming bath, an incident which i long since decided to put out of my mind and let the dead past bury its dead about, if you follow what i mean--except on that one occasion, as i say, i have always regarded you with the utmost esteem. why, then, if not for the motives i have outlined, should i knock you to angela? answer me that. be very careful." "what do you mean, be very careful?" well, as a matter of fact, i didn't quite know myself. it was what the magistrate had said to me on the occasion when i stood in the dock as eustace plimsoll, of the laburnums: and as it had impressed me a good deal at the time, i just bunged it in now by way of giving the conversation a tone. "all right. never mind about being careful, then. just answer me that question. why, if i had not your interests sincerely at heart, should i have ticked you off, as stated?" a sharp spasm shook him from base to apex. the beetle, which, during the recent exchanges, had been clinging to his head, hoping for the best, gave it up at this and resigned office. it shot off and was swallowed in the night. "ah!" i said. "your beetle," i explained. "no doubt you were unaware of it, but all this while there has been a beetle of sorts parked on the side of your head. you have now dislodged it." he snorted. "beetles!" "not beetles. one beetle only." "i like your crust!" cried tuppy, vibrating like one of gussie's newts during the courting season. "talking of beetles, when all the time you know you're a treacherous, sneaking hound." it was a debatable point, of course, why treacherous, sneaking hounds should be considered ineligible to talk about beetles, and i dare say a good cross-examining counsel would have made quite a lot of it. but i let it go. "that's the second time you've called me that. and," i said firmly, "i insist on an explanation. i have told you that i acted throughout from the best and kindliest motives in roasting you to angela. it cut me to the quick to have to speak like that, and only the recollection of our lifelong friendship would have made me do it. and now you say you don't believe me and call me names for which i am not sure i couldn't have you up before a beak and jury and mulct you in very substantial damages. i should have to consult my solicitor, of course, but it would surprise me very much if an action did not lie. be reasonable, tuppy. suggest another motive i could have had. just one." "i will. do you think i don't know? you're in love with angela yourself." "what?" "and you knocked me in order to poison her mind against me and finally remove me from your path." i had never heard anything so absolutely loopy in my life. why, dash it, i've known angela since she was so high. you don't fall in love with close relations you've known since they were so high. besides, isn't there something in the book of rules about a man may not marry his cousin? or am i thinking of grandmothers? "tuppy, my dear old ass," i cried, "this is pure banana oil! you've come unscrewed." "oh, yes?" "me in love with angela? ha-ha!" "you can't get out of it with ha-ha's. she called you 'darling'." "i know. and i disapproved. this habit of the younger g. of scattering 'darlings' about like birdseed is one that i deprecate. lax, is how i should describe it." "you tickled her ankles." "in a purely cousinly spirit. it didn't mean a thing. why, dash it, you must know that in the deeper and truer sense i wouldn't touch angela with a barge pole." "oh? and why not? not good enough for you?" "you misunderstand me," i hastened to reply. "when i say i wouldn't touch angela with a barge pole, i intend merely to convey that my feelings towards her are those of distant, though cordial, esteem. in other words, you may rest assured that between this young prune and myself there never has been and never could be any sentiment warmer and stronger than that of ordinary friendship." "i believe it was you who tipped her off that i was in the larder last night, so that she could find me there with that pie, thus damaging my prestige." "my dear tuppy! a wooster?" i was shocked. "you think a wooster would do that?" he breathed heavily. "listen," he said. "it's no good your standing there arguing. you can't get away from the facts. somebody stole her from me at cannes. you told me yourself that she was with you all the time at cannes and hardly saw anybody else. you gloated over the mixed bathing, and those moonlight walks you had together----" "not gloated. just mentioned them." "so now you understand why, as soon as i can get you clear of this damned bench, i am going to tear you limb from limb. why they have these bally benches in gardens," said tuppy discontentedly, "is more than i can see. they only get in the way." he ceased, and, grabbing out, missed me by a hair's breadth. it was a moment for swift thinking, and it is at such moments, as i have already indicated, that bertram wooster is at his best. i suddenly remembered the recent misunderstanding with the bassett, and with a flash of clear vision saw that this was where it was going to come in handy. "you've got it all wrong, tuppy," i said, moving to the left. "true, i saw a lot of angela, but my dealings with her were on a basis from start to finish of the purest and most wholesome camaraderie. i can prove it. during that sojourn in cannes my affections were engaged elsewhere." "what?" "engaged elsewhere. my affections. during that sojourn." i had struck the right note. he stopped sidling. his clutching hand fell to his side. "is that true?" "quite official." "who was she?" "my dear tuppy, does one bandy a woman's name?" "one does if one doesn't want one's ruddy head pulled off." i saw that it was a special case. "madeline bassett," i said. "who?" "madeline bassett." he seemed stunned. "you stand there and tell me you were in love with that bassett disaster?" "i wouldn't call her 'that bassett disaster', tuppy. not respectful." "dash being respectful. i want the facts. you deliberately assert that you loved that weird gawd-help-us?" "i don't see why you should call her a weird gawd-help-us, either. a very charming and beautiful girl. odd in some of her views perhaps--one does not quite see eye to eye with her in the matter of stars and rabbits--but not a weird gawd-help-us." "anyway, you stick to it that you were in love with her?" "i do." "it sounds thin to me, wooster, very thin." i saw that it would be necessary to apply the finishing touch. "i must ask you to treat this as entirely confidential, glossop, but i may as well inform you that it is not twenty-four hours since she turned me down." "turned you down?" "like a bedspread. in this very garden." "twenty-four hours?" "call it twenty-five. so you will readily see that i can't be the chap, if any, who stole angela from you at cannes." and i was on the brink of adding that i wouldn't touch angela with a barge pole, when i remembered i had said it already and it hadn't gone frightfully well. i desisted, therefore. my manly frankness seemed to be producing good results. the homicidal glare was dying out of tuppy's eyes. he had the aspect of a hired assassin who had paused to think things over. "i see," he said, at length. "all right, then. sorry you were troubled." "don't mention it, old man," i responded courteously. for the first time since the bushes had begun to pour forth glossops, bertram wooster could be said to have breathed freely. i don't say i actually came out from behind the bench, but i did let go of it, and with something of the relief which those three chaps in the old testament must have experienced after sliding out of the burning fiery furnace, i even groped tentatively for my cigarette case. the next moment a sudden snort made me take my fingers off it as if it had bitten me. i was distressed to note in the old friend a return of the recent frenzy. "what the hell did you mean by telling her that i used to be covered with ink when i was a kid?" "my dear tuppy----" "i was almost finickingly careful about my personal cleanliness as a boy. you could have eaten your dinner off me." "quite. but----" "and all that stuff about having no soul. i'm crawling with soul. and being looked on as an outsider at the drones----" "but, my dear old chap, i explained that. it was all part of my ruse or scheme." "it was, was it? well, in future do me a favour and leave me out of your foul ruses." "just as you say, old boy." "all right, then. that's understood." he relapsed into silence, standing with folded arms, staring before him rather like a strong, silent man in a novel when he's just been given the bird by the girl and is thinking of looking in at the rocky mountains and bumping off a few bears. his manifest pippedness excited my compash, and i ventured a kindly word. "i don't suppose you know what _au pied de la lettre_ means, tuppy, but that's how i don't think you ought to take all that stuff angela was saying just now too much." he seemed interested. "what the devil," he asked, "are you talking about?" i saw that i should have to make myself clearer. "don't take all that guff of hers too literally, old man. you know what girls are like." "i do," he said, with another snort that came straight up from his insteps. "and i wish i'd never met one." "i mean to say, it's obvious that she must have spotted you in those bushes and was simply talking to score off you. there you were, i mean, if you follow the psychology, and she saw you, and in that impulsive way girls have, she seized the opportunity of ribbing you a bit--just told you a few home truths, i mean to say." "home truths?" "that's right." he snorted once more, causing me to feel rather like royalty receiving a twenty-one gun salute from the fleet. i can't remember ever having met a better right-and-left-hand snorter. "what do you mean, 'home truths'? i'm not fat." "no, no." "and what's wrong with the colour of my hair?" "quite in order, tuppy, old man. the hair, i mean." "and i'm not a bit thin on the top.... what the dickens are you grinning about?" "not grinning. just smiling slightly. i was conjuring up a sort of vision, if you know what i mean, of you as seen through angela's eyes. fat in the middle and thin on the top. rather funny." "you think it funny, do you?" "not a bit." "you'd better not." "quite." it seemed to me that the conversation was becoming difficult again. i wished it could be terminated. and so it was. for at this moment something came shimmering through the laurels in the quiet evenfall, and i perceived that it was angela. she was looking sweet and saintlike, and she had a plate of sandwiches in her hand. ham, i was to discover later. "if you see mr. glossop anywhere, bertie," she said, her eyes resting dreamily on tuppy's facade, "i wish you would give him these. i'm so afraid he may be hungry, poor fellow. it's nearly ten o'clock, and he hasn't eaten a morsel since dinner. i'll just leave them on this bench." she pushed off, and it seemed to me that i might as well go with her. nothing to keep me here, i mean. we moved towards the house, and presently from behind us there sounded in the night the splintering crash of a well-kicked plate of ham sandwiches, accompanied by the muffled oaths of a strong man in his wrath. "how still and peaceful everything is," said angela. -16sunshine was gilding the grounds of brinkley court and the ear detected a marked twittering of birds in the ivy outside the window when i woke next morning to a new day. but there was no corresponding sunshine in bertram wooster's soul and no answering twitter in his heart as he sat up in bed, sipping his cup of strengthening tea. it could not be denied that to bertram, reviewing the happenings of the previous night, the tuppy-angela situation seemed more or less to have slipped a cog. with every desire to look for the silver lining, i could not but feel that the rift between these two haughty spirits had now reached such impressive proportions that the task of bridging same would be beyond even my powers. i am a shrewd observer, and there had been something in tuppy's manner as he booted that plate of ham sandwiches that seemed to tell me that he would not lightly forgive. in these circs., i deemed it best to shelve their problem for the nonce and turn the mind to the matter of gussie, which presented a brighter picture. with regard to gussie, everything was in train. jeeves's morbid scruples about lacing the chap's orange juice had put me to a good deal of trouble, but i had surmounted every obstacle in the old wooster way. i had secured an abundance of the necessary spirit, and it was now lying in its flask in the drawer of the dressing-table. i had also ascertained that the jug, duly filled, would be standing on a shelf in the butler's pantry round about the hour of one. to remove it from that shelf, sneak it up to my room, and return it, laced, in good time for the midday meal would be a task calling, no doubt, for address, but in no sense an exacting one. it was with something of the emotions of one preparing a treat for a deserving child that i finished my tea and rolled over for that extra spot of sleep which just makes all the difference when there is man's work to be done and the brain must be kept clear for it. and when i came downstairs an hour or so later, i knew how right i had been to formulate this scheme for gussie's bucking up. i ran into him on the lawn, and i could see at a glance that if ever there was a man who needed a snappy stimulant, it was he. all nature, as i have indicated, was smiling, but not augustus fink-nottle. he was walking round in circles, muttering something about not proposing to detain us long, but on this auspicious occasion feeling compelled to say a few words. "ah, gussie," i said, arresting him as he was about to start another lap. "a lovely morning, is it not?" even if i had not been aware of it already, i could have divined from the abruptness with which he damned the lovely morning that he was not in merry mood. i addressed myself to the task of bringing the roses back to his cheeks. "i've got good news for you, gussie." he looked at me with a sudden sharp interest. "has market snodsbury grammar school burned down?" "not that i know of." "have mumps broken out? is the place closed on account of measles?" "no, no." "then what do you mean you've got good news?" i endeavoured to soothe. "you mustn't take it so hard, gussie. why worry about a laughably simple job like distributing prizes at a school?" "laughably simple, eh? do you realize i've been sweating for days and haven't been able to think of a thing to say yet, except that i won't detain them long. you bet i won't detain them long. i've been timing my speech, and it lasts five seconds. what the devil am i to say, bertie? what do you say when you're distributing prizes?" i considered. once, at my private school, i had won a prize for scripture knowledge, so i suppose i ought to have been full of inside stuff. but memory eluded me. then something emerged from the mists. "you say the race is not always to the swift." "why?" "well, it's a good gag. it generally gets a hand." "i mean, why isn't it? why isn't the race to the swift?" "ah, there you have me. but the nibs say it isn't." "but what does it mean?" "i take it it's supposed to console the chaps who haven't won prizes." "what's the good of that to me? i'm not worrying about them. it's the ones that have won prizes that i'm worrying about, the little blighters who will come up on the platform. suppose they make faces at me." "they won't." "how do you know they won't? it's probably the first thing they'll think of. and even if they don't--bertie, shall i tell you something?" "what?" "i've a good mind to take that tip of yours and have a drink." i smiled. he little knew, about summed up what i was thinking. "oh, you'll be all right," i said. he became fevered again. "how do you know i'll be all right? i'm sure to blow up in my lines." "tush!" "or drop a prize." "tut!" "or something. i can feel it in my bones. as sure as i'm standing here, something is going to happen this afternoon which will make everybody laugh themselves sick at me. i can hear them now. like hyenas.... bertie!" "hullo?" "do you remember that kids' school we went to before eton?" "quite. it was there i won my scripture prize." "never mind about your scripture prize. i'm not talking about your scripture prize. do you recollect the bosher incident?" i did, indeed. it was one of the high spots of my youth. "major-general sir wilfred bosher came to distribute the prizes at that school," proceeded gussie in a dull, toneless voice. "he dropped a book. he stooped to pick it up. and, as he stooped, his trousers split up the back." "how we roared!" gussie's face twisted. "we did, little swine that we were. instead of remaining silent and exhibiting a decent sympathy for a gallant officer at a peculiarly embarrassing moment, we howled and yelled with mirth. i loudest of any. that is what will happen to me this afternoon, bertie. it will be a judgment on me for laughing like that at major-general sir wilfred bosher." "no, no, gussie, old man. your trousers won't split." "how do you know they won't? better men than i have split their trousers. general bosher was a d.s.o., with a fine record of service on the north-western frontier of india, and his trousers split. i shall be a mockery and a scorn. i know it. and you, fully cognizant of what i am in for, come babbling about good news. what news could possibly be good to me at this moment except the information that bubonic plague had broken out among the scholars of market snodsbury grammar school, and that they were all confined to their beds with spots?" the moment had come for me to speak. i laid a hand gently on his shoulder. he brushed it off. i laid it on again. he brushed it off once more. i was endeavouring to lay it on for the third time, when he moved aside and desired, with a certain petulance, to be informed if i thought i was a ruddy osteopath. i found his manner trying, but one has to make allowances. i was telling myself that i should be seeing a very different gussie after lunch. "when i said i had good news, old man, i meant about madeline bassett." the febrile gleam died out of his eyes, to be replaced by a look of infinite sadness. "you can't have good news about her. i've dished myself there completely." "not at all. i am convinced that if you take another whack at her, all will be well." and, keeping it snappy, i related what had passed between the bassett and myself on the previous night. "so all you have to do is play a return date, and you cannot fail to swing the voting. you are her dream man." he shook his head. "no." "what?" "no use." "what do you mean?" "not a bit of good trying." "but i tell you she said in so many words----" "it doesn't make any difference. she may have loved me once. last night will have killed all that." "of course it won't." "it will. she despises me now." "not a bit of it. she knows you simply got cold feet." "and i should get cold feet if i tried again. it's no good, bertie. i'm hopeless, and there's an end of it. fate made me the sort of chap who can't say 'bo' to a goose." "it isn't a question of saying 'bo' to a goose. the point doesn't arise at all. it is simply a matter of----" "i know, i know. but it's no good. i can't do it. the whole thing is off. i am not going to risk a repetition of last night's fiasco. you talk in a light way of taking another whack at her, but you don't know what it means. you have not been through the experience of starting to ask the girl you love to marry you and then suddenly finding yourself talking about the plumlike external gills of the newly-born newt. it's not a thing you can do twice. no, i accept my destiny. it's all over. and now, bertie, like a good chap, shove off. i want to compose my speech. i can't compose my speech with you mucking around. if you are going to continue to muck around, at least give me a couple of stories. the little hell hounds are sure to expect a story or two." "do you know the one about----" "no good. i don't want any of your off-colour stuff from the drones' smoking-room. i need something clean. something that will be a help to them in their after lives. not that i care a damn about their after lives, except that i hope they'll all choke." "i heard a story the other day. i can't quite remember it, but it was about a chap who snored and disturbed the neighbours, and it ended, 'it was his adenoids that adenoid them.'" he made a weary gesture. "you expect me to work that in, do you, into a speech to be delivered to an audience of boys, every one of whom is probably riddled with adenoids? damn it, they'd rush the platform. leave me, bertie. push off. that's all i ask you to do. push off.... ladies and gentlemen," said gussie, in a low, soliloquizing sort of way, "i do not propose to detain this auspicious occasion long----" it was a thoughtful wooster who walked away and left him at it. more than ever i was congratulating myself on having had the sterling good sense to make all my arrangements so that i could press a button and set things moving at an instant's notice. until now, you see, i had rather entertained a sort of hope that when i had revealed to him the bassett's mental attitude, nature would have done the rest, bracing him up to such an extent that artificial stimulants would not be required. because, naturally, a chap doesn't want to have to sprint about country houses lugging jugs of orange juice, unless it is absolutely essential. but now i saw that i must carry on as planned. the total absence of pep, ginger, and the right spirit which the man had displayed during these conversational exchanges convinced me that the strongest measures would be necessary. immediately upon leaving him, therefore, i proceeded to the pantry, waited till the butler had removed himself elsewhere, and nipped in and secured the vital jug. a few moments later, after a wary passage of the stairs, i was in my room. and the first thing i saw there was jeeves, fooling about with trousers. he gave the jug a look which--wrongly, as it was to turn out--i diagnosed as censorious. i drew myself up a bit. i intended to have no rot from the fellow. "yes, jeeves?" "sir?" "you have the air of one about to make a remark, jeeves." "oh, no, sir. i note that you are in possession of mr. fink-nottle's orange juice. i was merely about to observe that in my opinion it would be injudicious to add spirit to it." "that is a remark, jeeves, and it is precisely----" "because i have already attended to the matter, sir." "what?" "yes, sir. i decided, after all, to acquiesce in your wishes." i stared at the man, astounded. i was deeply moved. well, i mean, wouldn't any chap who had been going about thinking that the old feudal spirit was dead and then suddenly found it wasn't have been deeply moved? "jeeves," i said, "i am touched." "thank you, sir." "touched and gratified." "thank you very much, sir." "but what caused this change of heart?" "i chanced to encounter mr. fink-nottle in the garden, sir, while you were still in bed, and we had a brief conversation." "and you came away feeling that he needed a bracer?" "very much so, sir. his attitude struck me as defeatist." i nodded. "i felt the same. 'defeatist' sums it up to a nicety. did you tell him his attitude struck you as defeatist?" "yes, sir." "but it didn't do any good?" "no, sir." "very well, then, jeeves. we must act. how much gin did you put in the jug?" "a liberal tumblerful, sir." "would that be a normal dose for an adult defeatist, do you think?" "i fancy it should prove adequate, sir." "i wonder. we must not spoil the ship for a ha'porth of tar. i think i'll add just another fluid ounce or so." "i would not advocate it, sir. in the case of lord brancaster's parrot----" "you are falling into your old error, jeeves, of thinking that gussie is a parrot. fight against this. i shall add the oz." "very good, sir." "and, by the way, jeeves, mr. fink-nottle is in the market for bright, clean stories to use in his speech. do you know any?" "i know a story about two irishmen, sir." "pat and mike?" "yes, sir." "who were walking along broadway?" "yes, sir." "just what he wants. any more?" "no, sir." "well, every little helps. you had better go and tell it to him." "very good, sir." he passed from the room, and i unscrewed the flask and tilted into the jug a generous modicum of its contents. and scarcely had i done so, when there came to my ears the sound of footsteps without. i had only just time to shove the jug behind the photograph of uncle tom on the mantelpiece before the door opened and in came gussie, curveting like a circus horse. "what-ho, bertie," he said. "what-ho, what-ho, what-ho, and again what-ho. what a beautiful world this is, bertie. one of the nicest i ever met." i stared at him, speechless. we woosters are as quick as lightning, and i saw at once that something had happened. i mean to say, i told you about him walking round in circles. i recorded what passed between us on the lawn. and if i portrayed the scene with anything like adequate skill, the picture you will have retained of this fink-nottle will have been that of a nervous wreck, sagging at the knees, green about the gills, and picking feverishly at the lapels of his coat in an ecstasy of craven fear. in a word, defeatist. gussie, during that interview, had, in fine, exhibited all the earmarks of one licked to a custard. vastly different was the gussie who stood before me now. self-confidence seemed to ooze from the fellow's every pore. his face was flushed, there was a jovial light in his eyes, the lips were parted in a swashbuckling smile. and when with a genial hand he sloshed me on the back before i could sidestep, it was as if i had been kicked by a mule. "well, bertie," he proceeded, as blithely as a linnet without a thing on his mind, "you will be glad to hear that you were right. your theory has been tested and proved correct. i feel like a fighting cock." my brain ceased to reel. i saw all. "have you been having a drink?" "i have. as you advised. unpleasant stuff. like medicine. burns your throat, too, and makes one as thirsty as the dickens. how anyone can mop it up, as you do, for pleasure, beats me. still, i would be the last to deny that it tunes up the system. i could bite a tiger." "what did you have?" "whisky. at least, that was the label on the decanter, and i have no reason to suppose that a woman like your aunt--staunch, true-blue, british--would deliberately deceive the public. if she labels her decanters whisky, then i consider that we know where we are." "a whisky and soda, eh? you couldn't have done better." "soda?" said gussie thoughtfully. "i knew there was something i had forgotten." "didn't you put any soda in it?" "it never occurred to me. i just nipped into the dining-room and drank out of the decanter." "how much?" "oh, about ten swallows. twelve, maybe. or fourteen. say sixteen medium-sized gulps. gosh, i'm thirsty." he moved over to the wash-stand and drank deeply out of the water bottle. i cast a covert glance at uncle tom's photograph behind his back. for the first time since it had come into my life, i was glad that it was so large. it hid its secret well. if gussie had caught sight of that jug of orange juice, he would unquestionably have been on to it like a knife. "well, i'm glad you're feeling braced," i said. he moved buoyantly from the wash-hand stand, and endeavoured to slosh me on the back again. foiled by my nimble footwork, he staggered to the bed and sat down upon it. "braced? did i say i could bite a tiger?" "you did." "make it two tigers. i could chew holes in a steel door. what an ass you must have thought me out there in the garden. i see now you were laughing in your sleeve." "no, no." "yes," insisted gussie. "that very sleeve," he said, pointing. "and i don't blame you. i can't imagine why i made all that fuss about a potty job like distributing prizes at a rotten little country grammar school. can you imagine, bertie?" "exactly. nor can i imagine. there's simply nothing to it. i just shin up on the platform, drop a few gracious words, hand the little blighters their prizes, and hop down again, admired by all. not a suggestion of split trousers from start to finish. i mean, why should anybody split his trousers? i can't imagine. can you imagine?" "no." "nor can i imagine. i shall be a riot. i know just the sort of stuff that's needed--simple, manly, optimistic stuff straight from the shoulder. this shoulder," said gussie, tapping. "why i was so nervous this morning i can't imagine. for anything simpler than distributing a few footling books to a bunch of grimy-faced kids i can't imagine. still, for some reason i can't imagine, i was feeling a little nervous, but now i feel fine, bertie--fine, fine, fine--and i say this to you as an old friend. because that's what you are, old man, when all the smoke has cleared away--an old friend. i don't think i've ever met an older friend. how long have you been an old friend of mine, bertie?" "oh, years and years." "imagine! though, of course, there must have been a time when you were a new friend.... hullo, the luncheon gong. come on, old friend." and, rising from the bed like a performing flea, he made for the door. i followed rather pensively. what had occurred was, of course, so much velvet, as you might say. i mean, i had wanted a braced fink-nottle-indeed, all my plans had had a braced fink-nottle as their end and aim --but i found myself wondering a little whether the fink-nottle now sliding down the banister wasn't, perhaps, a shade too braced. his demeanour seemed to me that of a man who might quite easily throw bread about at lunch. fortunately, however, the settled gloom of those round him exercised a restraining effect upon him at the table. it would have needed a far more plastered man to have been rollicking at such a gathering. i had told the bassett that there were aching hearts in brinkley court, and it now looked probable that there would shortly be aching tummies. anatole, i learned, had retired to his bed with a fit of the vapours, and the meal now before us had been cooked by the kitchen maid--as c3 a performer as ever wielded a skillet. this, coming on top of their other troubles, induced in the company a pretty unanimous silence--a solemn stillness, as you might say--which even gussie did not seem prepared to break. except, therefore, for one short snatch of song on his part, nothing untoward marked the occasion, and presently we rose, with instructions from aunt dahlia to put on festal raiment and be at market snodsbury not later than 3.30. this leaving me ample time to smoke a gasper or two in a shady bower beside the lake, i did so, repairing to my room round about the hour of three. jeeves was on the job, adding the final polish to the old topper, and i was about to apprise him of the latest developments in the matter of gussie, when he forestalled me by observing that the latter had only just concluded an agreeable visit to the wooster bedchamber. "i found mr. fink-nottle seated here when i arrived to lay out your clothes, sir." "indeed, jeeves? gussie was in here, was he?" "yes, sir. he left only a few moments ago. he is driving to the school with mr. and mrs. travers in the large car." "did you give him your story of the two irishmen?" "yes, sir. he laughed heartily." "good. had you any other contributions for him?" "i ventured to suggest that he might mention to the young gentlemen that education is a drawing out, not a putting in. the late lord brancaster was much addicted to presenting prizes at schools, and he invariably employed this dictum." "and how did he react to that?" "he laughed heartily, sir." "this surprised you, no doubt? this practically incessant merriment, i mean." "yes, sir." "you thought it odd in one who, when you last saw him, was well up in group a of the defeatists." "yes, sir." "there is a ready explanation, jeeves. since you last saw him, gussie has been on a bender. he's as tight as an owl." "indeed, sir?" "absolutely. his nerve cracked under the strain, and he sneaked into the dining-room and started mopping the stuff up like a vacuum cleaner. whisky would seem to be what he filled the radiator with. i gather that he used up most of the decanter. golly, jeeves, it's lucky he didn't get at that laced orange juice on top of that, what?" "extremely, sir." i eyed the jug. uncle tom's photograph had fallen into the fender, and it was standing there right out in the open, where gussie couldn't have helped seeing it. mercifully, it was empty now. "it was a most prudent act on your part, if i may say so, sir, to dispose of the orange juice." i stared at the man. "what? didn't you?" "no, sir." "jeeves, let us get this clear. was it not you who threw away that o.j.?" "no, sir. i assumed, when i entered the room and found the pitcher empty, that you had done so." we looked at each other, awed. two minds with but a single thought. "i very much fear, sir----" "so do i, jeeves." "it would seem almost certain----" "quite certain. weigh the facts. sift the evidence. the jug was standing on the mantelpiece, for all eyes to behold. gussie had been complaining of thirst. you found him in here, laughing heartily. i think that there can be little doubt, jeeves, that the entire contents of that jug are at this moment reposing on top of the existing cargo in that already brilliantly lit man's interior. disturbing, jeeves." "most disturbing, sir." "let us face the position, forcing ourselves to be calm. you inserted in that jug--shall we say a tumblerful of the right stuff?" "fully a tumblerful, sir." "and i added of my plenty about the same amount." "yes, sir." "and in two shakes of a duck's tail gussie, with all that lapping about inside him, will be distributing the prizes at market snodsbury grammar school before an audience of all that is fairest and most refined in the county." "yes, sir." "it seems to me, jeeves, that the ceremony may be one fraught with considerable interest." "yes, sir." "what, in your opinion, will the harvest be?" "one finds it difficult to hazard a conjecture, sir." "you mean imagination boggles?" "yes, sir." i inspected my imagination. he was right. it boggled. -17"and yet, jeeves," i said, twiddling a thoughtful steering wheel, "there is always the bright side." some twenty minutes had elapsed, and having picked the honest fellow up outside the front door, i was driving in the two-seater to the picturesque town of market snodsbury. since we had parted--he to go to his lair and fetch his hat, i to remain in my room and complete the formal costume--i had been doing some close thinking. the results of this i now proceeded to hand on to him. "however dark the prospect may be, jeeves, however murkily the storm clouds may seem to gather, a keen eye can usually discern the blue bird. it is bad, no doubt, that gussie should be going, some ten minutes from now, to distribute prizes in a state of advanced intoxication, but we must never forget that these things cut both ways." "you imply, sir----" "precisely. i am thinking of him in his capacity of wooer. all this ought to have put him in rare shape for offering his hand in marriage. i shall be vastly surprised if it won't turn him into a sort of caveman. have you ever seen james cagney in the movies?" "yes, sir." "something on those lines." i heard him cough, and sniped him with a sideways glance. he was wearing that informative look of his. "then you have not heard, sir?" "eh?" "you are not aware that a marriage has been arranged and will shortly take place between mr. fink-nottle and miss bassett?" "what?" "yes, sir." "when did this happen?" "shortly after mr. fink-nottle had left your room, sir." "ah! in the post-orange-juice era?" "yes, sir." "but are you sure of your facts? how do you know?" "my informant was mr. fink-nottle himself, sir. he appeared anxious to confide in me. his story was somewhat incoherent, but i had no difficulty in apprehending its substance. prefacing his remarks with the statement that this was a beautiful world, he laughed heartily and said that he had become formally engaged." "no details?" "no, sir." "but one can picture the scene." "yes, sir." "i mean, imagination doesn't boggle." "no, sir." and it didn't. i could see exactly what must have happened. insert a liberal dose of mixed spirits in a normally abstemious man, and he becomes a force. he does not stand around, twiddling his fingers and stammering. he acts. i had no doubt that gussie must have reached for the bassett and clasped her to him like a stevedore handling a sack of coals. and one could readily envisage the effect of that sort of thing on a girl of romantic mind. "well, well, well, jeeves." "yes, sir." "this is splendid news." "yes, sir." "you see now how right i was." "yes, sir." "it must have been rather an eye-opener for you, watching me handle this case." "yes, sir." "the simple, direct method never fails." "no, sir." "whereas the elaborate does." "yes, sir." "right ho, jeeves." we had arrived at the main entrance of market snodsbury grammar school. i parked the car, and went in, well content. true, the tuppy-angela problem still remained unsolved and aunt dahlia's five hundred quid seemed as far off as ever, but it was gratifying to feel that good old gussie's troubles were over, at any rate. the grammar school at market snodsbury had, i understood, been built somewhere in the year 1416, and, as with so many of these ancient foundations, there still seemed to brood over its great hall, where the afternoon's festivities were to take place, not a little of the fug of the centuries. it was the hottest day of the summer, and though somebody had opened a tentative window or two, the atmosphere remained distinctive and individual. in this hall the youth of market snodsbury had been eating its daily lunch for a matter of five hundred years, and the flavour lingered. the air was sort of heavy and languorous, if you know what i mean, with the scent of young england and boiled beef and carrots. aunt dahlia, who was sitting with a bevy of the local nibs in the second row, sighted me as i entered and waved to me to join her, but i was too smart for that. i wedged myself in among the standees at the back, leaning up against a chap who, from the aroma, might have been a corn chandler or something on that order. the essence of strategy on these occasions is to be as near the door as possible. the hall was gaily decorated with flags and coloured paper, and the eye was further refreshed by the spectacle of a mixed drove of boys, parents, and what not, the former running a good deal to shiny faces and eton collars, the latter stressing the black-satin note rather when female, and looking as if their coats were too tight, if male. and presently there was some applause--sporadic, jeeves has since told me it was--and i saw gussie being steered by a bearded bloke in a gown to a seat in the middle of the platform. and i confess that as i beheld him and felt that there but for the grace of god went bertram wooster, a shudder ran through the frame. it all reminded me so vividly of the time i had addressed that girls' school. of course, looking at it dispassionately, you may say that for horror and peril there is no comparison between an almost human audience like the one before me and a mob of small girls with pigtails down their backs, and this, i concede, is true. nevertheless, the spectacle was enough to make me feel like a fellow watching a pal going over niagara falls in a barrel, and the thought of what i had escaped caused everything for a moment to go black and swim before my eyes. when i was able to see clearly once more, i perceived that gussie was now seated. he had his hands on his knees, with his elbows out at right angles, like a nigger minstrel of the old school about to ask mr. bones why a chicken crosses the road, and he was staring before him with a smile so fixed and pebble-beached that i should have thought that anybody could have guessed that there sat one in whom the old familiar juice was plashing up against the back of the front teeth. in fact, i saw aunt dahlia, who, having assisted at so many hunting dinners in her time, is second to none as a judge of the symptoms, give a start and gaze long and earnestly. and she was just saying something to uncle tom on her left when the bearded bloke stepped to the footlights and started making a speech. from the fact that he spoke as if he had a hot potato in his mouth without getting the raspberry from the lads in the ringside seats, i deduced that he must be the head master. with his arrival in the spotlight, a sort of perspiring resignation seemed to settle on the audience. personally, i snuggled up against the chandler and let my attention wander. the speech was on the subject of the doings of the school during the past term, and this part of a prize-giving is always apt rather to fail to grip the visiting stranger. i mean, you know how it is. you're told that j.b. brewster has won an exhibition for classics at cat's, cambridge, and you feel that it's one of those stories where you can't see how funny it is unless you really know the fellow. and the same applies to g. bullett being awarded the lady jane wix scholarship at the birmingham college of veterinary science. in fact, i and the corn chandler, who was looking a bit fagged i thought, as if he had had a hard morning chandling the corn, were beginning to doze lightly when things suddenly brisked up, bringing gussie into the picture for the first time. "today," said the bearded bloke, "we are all happy to welcome as the guest of the afternoon mr. fitz-wattle----" at the beginning of the address, gussie had subsided into a sort of daydream, with his mouth hanging open. about half-way through, faint signs of life had begun to show. and for the last few minutes he had been trying to cross one leg over the other and failing and having another shot and failing again. but only now did he exhibit any real animation. he sat up with a jerk. "fink-nottle," he said, opening his eyes. "fitz-nottle." "fink-nottle." "i should say fink-nottle." "of course you should, you silly ass," said gussie genially. "all right, get on with it." and closing his eyes, he began trying to cross his legs again. i could see that this little spot of friction had rattled the bearded bloke a bit. he stood for a moment fumbling at the fungus with a hesitating hand. but they make these head masters of tough stuff. the weakness passed. he came back nicely and carried on. "we are all happy, i say, to welcome as the guest of the afternoon mr. fink-nottle, who has kindly consented to award the prizes. this task, as you know, is one that should have devolved upon that well-beloved and vigorous member of our board of governors, the rev. william plomer, and we are all, i am sure, very sorry that illness at the last moment should have prevented him from being here today. but, if i may borrow a familiar metaphor from the--if i may employ a homely metaphor familiar to you all--what we lose on the swings we gain on the roundabouts." he paused, and beamed rather freely, to show that this was comedy. i could have told the man it was no use. not a ripple. the corn chandler leaned against me and muttered "whoddidesay?" but that was all. it's always a nasty jar to wait for the laugh and find that the gag hasn't got across. the bearded bloke was visibly discomposed. at that, however, i think he would have got by, had he not, at this juncture, unfortunately stirred gussie up again. "in other words, though deprived of mr. plomer, we have with us this afternoon mr. fink-nottle. i am sure that mr. fink-nottle's name is one that needs no introduction to you. it is, i venture to assert, a name that is familiar to us all." "not to you," said gussie. and the next moment i saw what jeeves had meant when he had described him as laughing heartily. "heartily" was absolutely the _mot juste_. it sounded like a gas explosion. "you didn't seem to know it so dashed well, what, what?" said gussie. and, reminded apparently by the word "what" of the word "wattle," he repeated the latter some sixteen times with a rising inflection. "wattle, wattle, wattle," he concluded. "right-ho. push on." but the bearded bloke had shot his bolt. he stood there, licked at last; and, watching him closely, i could see that he was now at the crossroads. i could spot what he was thinking as clearly as if he had confided it to my personal ear. he wanted to sit down and call it a day, i mean, but the thought that gave him pause was that, if he did, he must then either uncork gussie or take the fink-nottle speech as read and get straight on to the actual prize-giving. it was a dashed tricky thing, of course, to have to decide on the spur of the moment. i was reading in the paper the other day about those birds who are trying to split the atom, the nub being that they haven't the foggiest as to what will happen if they do. it may be all right. on the other hand, it may not be all right. and pretty silly a chap would feel, no doubt, if, having split the atom, he suddenly found the house going up in smoke and himself torn limb from limb. so with the bearded bloke. whether he was abreast of the inside facts in gussie's case, i don't know, but it was obvious to him by this time that he had run into something pretty hot. trial gallops had shown that gussie had his own way of doing things. those interruptions had been enough to prove to the perspicacious that here, seated on the platform at the big binge of the season, was one who, if pushed forward to make a speech, might let himself go in a rather epoch-making manner. on the other hand, chain him up and put a green-baize cloth over him, and where were you? the proceeding would be over about half an hour too soon. it was, as i say, a difficult problem to have to solve, and, left to himself, i don't know what conclusion he would have come to. personally, i think he would have played it safe. as it happened, however, the thing was taken out of his hands, for at this moment, gussie, having stretched his arms and yawned a bit, switched on that pebble-beached smile again and tacked down to the edge of the platform. "speech," he said affably. he then stood with his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat, waiting for the applause to die down. it was some time before this happened, for he had got a very fine hand indeed. i suppose it wasn't often that the boys of market snodsbury grammar school came across a man public-spirited enough to call their head master a silly ass, and they showed their appreciation in no uncertain manner. gussie may have been one over the eight, but as far as the majority of those present were concerned he was sitting on top of the world. "boys," said gussie, "i mean ladies and gentlemen and boys, i do not detain you long, but i suppose on this occasion to feel compelled to say a few auspicious words; ladies--and boys and gentlemen--we have all listened with interest to the remarks of our friend here who forgot to shave this morning--i don't know his name, but then he didn't know mine--fitz-wattle, i mean, absolutely absurd--which squares things up a bit--and we are all sorry that the reverend what-ever-he-was-called should be dying of adenoids, but after all, here today, gone tomorrow, and all flesh is as grass, and what not, but that wasn't what i wanted to say. what i wanted to say was this--and i say it confidently--without fear of contradiction--i say, in short, i am happy to be here on this auspicious occasion and i take much pleasure in kindly awarding the prizes, consisting of the handsome books you see laid out on that table. as shakespeare says, there are sermons in books, stones in the running brooks, or, rather, the other way about, and there you have it in a nutshell." it went well, and i wasn't surprised. i couldn't quite follow some of it, but anybody could see that it was real ripe stuff, and i was amazed that even the course of treatment he had been taking could have rendered so normally tongue-tied a dumb brick as gussie capable of it. it just shows, what any member of parliament will tell you, that if you want real oratory, the preliminary noggin is essential. unless pie-eyed, you cannot hope to grip. "gentlemen," said gussie, "i mean ladies and gentlemen and, of course, boys, what a beautiful world this is. a beautiful world, full of happiness on every side. let me tell you a little story. two irishmen, pat and mike, were walking along broadway, and one said to the other, 'begorrah, the race is not always to the swift,' and the other replied, 'faith and begob, education is a drawing out, not a putting in.'" i must say it seemed to me the rottenest story i had ever heard, and i was surprised that jeeves should have considered it worth while shoving into a speech. however, when i taxed him with this later, he said that gussie had altered the plot a good deal, and i dare say that accounts for it. at any rate, that was the _conte_ as gussie told it, and when i say that it got a very fair laugh, you will understand what a popular favourite he had become with the multitude. there might be a bearded bloke or so on the platform and a small section in the second row who were wishing the speaker would conclude his remarks and resume his seat, but the audience as a whole was for him solidly. there was applause, and a voice cried: "hear, hear!" "yes," said gussie, "it is a beautiful world. the sky is blue, the birds are singing, there is optimism everywhere. and why not, boys and ladies and gentlemen? i'm happy, you're happy, we're all happy, even the meanest irishman that walks along broadway. though, as i say, there were two of them--pat and mike, one drawing out, the other putting in. i should like you boys, taking the time from me, to give three cheers for this beautiful world. all together now." presently the dust settled down and the plaster stopped falling from the ceiling, and he went on. "people who say it isn't a beautiful world don't know what they are talking about. driving here in the car today to award the kind prizes, i was reluctantly compelled to tick off my host on this very point. old tom travers. you will see him sitting there in the second row next to the large lady in beige." he pointed helpfully, and the hundred or so market snods-buryians who craned their necks in the direction indicated were able to observe uncle tom blushing prettily. "i ticked him off properly, the poor fish. he expressed the opinion that the world was in a deplorable state. i said, 'don't talk rot, old tom travers.' 'i am not accustomed to talk rot,' he said. 'then, for a beginner,' i said, 'you do it dashed well.' and i think you will admit, boys and ladies and gentlemen, that that was telling him." the audience seemed to agree with him. the point went big. the voice that had said, "hear, hear" said "hear, hear" again, and my corn chandler hammered the floor vigorously with a large-size walking stick. "well, boys," resumed gussie, having shot his cuffs and smirked horribly, "this is the end of the summer term, and many of you, no doubt, are leaving the school. and i don't blame you, because there's a frost in here you could cut with a knife. you are going out into the great world. soon many of you will be walking along broadway. and what i want to impress upon you is that, however much you may suffer from adenoids, you must all use every effort to prevent yourselves becoming pessimists and talking rot like old tom travers. there in the second row. the fellow with a face rather like a walnut." he paused to allow those wishing to do so to refresh themselves with another look at uncle tom, and i found myself musing in some little perplexity. long association with the members of the drones has put me pretty well in touch with the various ways in which an overdose of the blushful hippocrene can take the individual, but i had never seen anyone react quite as gussie was doing. there was a snap about his work which i had never witnessed before, even in barmy fotheringay-phipps on new year's eve. jeeves, when i discussed the matter with him later, said it was something to do with inhibitions, if i caught the word correctly, and the suppression of, i think he said, the ego. what he meant, i gathered, was that, owing to the fact that gussie had just completed a five years' stretch of blameless seclusion among the newts, all the goofiness which ought to have been spread out thin over those five years and had been bottled up during that period came to the surface on this occasion in a lump--or, if you prefer to put it that way, like a tidal wave. there may be something in this. jeeves generally knows. anyway, be that as it may, i was dashed glad i had had the shrewdness to keep out of that second row. it might be unworthy of the prestige of a wooster to squash in among the proletariat in the standing-room-only section, but at least, i felt, i was out of the danger zone. so thoroughly had gussie got it up his nose by now that it seemed to me that had he sighted me he might have become personal about even an old school friend. "if there's one thing in the world i can't stand," proceeded gussie, "it's a pessimist. be optimists, boys. you all know the difference between an optimist and a pessimist. an optimist is a man who--well, take the case of two irishmen walking along broadway. one is an optimist and one is a pessimist, just as one's name is pat and the other's mike.... why, hullo, bertie; i didn't know you were here." too late, i endeavoured to go to earth behind the chandler, only to discover that there was no chandler there. some appointment, suddenly remembered--possibly a promise to his wife that he would be home to tea--had caused him to ooze away while my attention was elsewhere, leaving me right out in the open. between me and gussie, who was now pointing in an offensive manner, there was nothing but a sea of interested faces looking up at me. "now, there," boomed gussie, continuing to point, "is an instance of what i mean. boys and ladies and gentlemen, take a good look at that object standing up there at the back--morning coat, trousers as worn, quiet grey tie, and carnation in buttonhole--you can't miss him. bertie wooster, that is, and as foul a pessimist as ever bit a tiger. i tell you i despise that man. and why do i despise him? because, boys and ladies and gentlemen, he is a pessimist. his attitude is defeatist. when i told him i was going to address you this afternoon, he tried to dissuade me. and do you know why he tried to dissuade me? because he said my trousers would split up the back." the cheers that greeted this were the loudest yet. anything about splitting trousers went straight to the simple hearts of the young scholars of market snodsbury grammar school. two in the row in front of me turned purple, and a small lad with freckles seated beside them asked me for my autograph. "let me tell you a story about bertie wooster." a wooster can stand a good deal, but he cannot stand having his name bandied in a public place. picking my feet up softly, i was in the very process of executing a quiet sneak for the door, when i perceived that the bearded bloke had at last decided to apply the closure. why he hadn't done so before is beyond me. spell-bound, i take it. and, of course, when a chap is going like a breeze with the public, as gussie had been, it's not so dashed easy to chip in. however, the prospect of hearing another of gussie's anecdotes seemed to have done the trick. rising rather as i had risen from my bench at the beginning of that painful scene with tuppy in the twilight, he made a leap for the table, snatched up a book and came bearing down on the speaker. he touched gussie on the arm, and gussie, turning sharply and seeing a large bloke with a beard apparently about to bean him with a book, sprang back in an attitude of self-defence. "perhaps, as time is getting on, mr. fink-nottle, we had better----" "oh, ah," said gussie, getting the trend. he relaxed. "the prizes, eh? of course, yes. right-ho. yes, might as well be shoving along with it. what's this one?" "spelling and dictation--p.k. purvis," announced the bearded bloke. "spelling and dictation--p.k. purvis," echoed gussie, as if he were calling coals. "forward, p.k. purvis." now that the whistle had been blown on his speech, it seemed to me that there was no longer any need for the strategic retreat which i had been planning. i had no wish to tear myself away unless i had to. i mean, i had told jeeves that this binge would be fraught with interest, and it was fraught with interest. there was a fascination about gussie's methods which gripped and made one reluctant to pass the thing up provided personal innuendoes were steered clear of. i decided, accordingly, to remain, and presently there was a musical squeaking and p.k. purvis climbed the platform. the spelling-and-dictation champ was about three foot six in his squeaking shoes, with a pink face and sandy hair. gussie patted his hair. he seemed to have taken an immediate fancy to the lad. "you p.k. purvis?" "sir, yes, sir." "it's a beautiful world, p.k. purvis." "sir, yes, sir." "ah, you've noticed it, have you? good. you married, by any chance?" "sir, no, sir." "get married, p.k. purvis," said gussie earnestly. "it's the only life ... well, here's your book. looks rather bilge to me from a glance at the title page, but, such as it is, here you are." p.k. purvis squeaked off amidst sporadic applause, but one could not fail to note that the sporadic was followed by a rather strained silence. it was evident that gussie was striking something of a new note in market snodsbury scholastic circles. looks were exchanged between parent and parent. the bearded bloke had the air of one who has drained the bitter cup. as for aunt dahlia, her demeanour now told only too clearly that her last doubts had been resolved and her verdict was in. i saw her whisper to the bassett, who sat on her right, and the bassett nodded sadly and looked like a fairy about to shed a tear and add another star to the milky way. gussie, after the departure of p.k. purvis, had fallen into a sort of daydream and was standing with his mouth open and his hands in his pockets. becoming abruptly aware that a fat kid in knickerbockers was at his elbow, he started violently. "hullo!" he said, visibly shaken. "who are you?" "this," said the bearded bloke, "is r.v. smethurst." "what's he doing here?" asked gussie suspiciously. "you are presenting him with the drawing prize, mr. fink-nottle." this apparently struck gussie as a reasonable explanation. his face cleared. "that's right, too," he said.... "well, here it is, cocky. you off?" he said, as the kid prepared to withdraw. "sir, yes, sir." "wait, r.v. smethurst. not so fast. before you go, there is a question i wish to ask you." but the beard bloke's aim now seemed to be to rush the ceremonies a bit. he hustled r.v. smethurst off stage rather like a chucker-out in a pub regretfully ejecting an old and respected customer, and starting paging g.g. simmons. a moment later the latter was up and coming, and conceive my emotion when it was announced that the subject on which he had clicked was scripture knowledge. one of us, i mean to say. g.g. simmons was an unpleasant, perky-looking stripling, mostly front teeth and spectacles, but i gave him a big hand. we scripture-knowledge sharks stick together. gussie, i was sorry to see, didn't like him. there was in his manner, as he regarded g.g. simmons, none of the chumminess which had marked it during his interview with p.k. purvis or, in a somewhat lesser degree, with r.v. smethurst. he was cold and distant. "well, g.g. simmons." "sir, yes, sir." "what do you mean--sir, yes, sir? dashed silly thing to say. so you've won the scripture-knowledge prize, have you?" "sir, yes, sir." "yes," said gussie, "you look just the sort of little tick who would. and yet," he said, pausing and eyeing the child keenly, "how are we to know that this has all been open and above board? let me test you, g.g. simmons. what was what's-his-name--the chap who begat thingummy? can you answer me that, simmons?" "sir, no, sir." gussie turned to the bearded bloke. "fishy," he said. "very fishy. this boy appears to be totally lacking in scripture knowledge." the bearded bloke passed a hand across his forehead. "i can assure you, mr. fink-nottle, that every care was taken to ensure a correct marking and that simmons outdistanced his competitors by a wide margin." "well, if you say so," said gussie doubtfully. "all right, g.g. simmons, take your prize." "sir, thank you, sir." "but let me tell you that there's nothing to stick on side about in winning a prize for scripture knowledge. bertie wooster----" i don't know when i've had a nastier shock. i had been going on the assumption that, now that they had stopped him making his speech, gussie's fangs had been drawn, as you might say. to duck my head down and resume my edging toward the door was with me the work of a moment. "bertie wooster won the scripture-knowledge prize at a kids' school we were at together, and you know what he's like. but, of course, bertie frankly cheated. he succeeded in scrounging that scripture-knowledge trophy over the heads of better men by means of some of the rawest and most brazen swindling methods ever witnessed even at a school where such things were common. if that man's pockets, as he entered the examination-room, were not stuffed to bursting-point with lists of the kings of judah----" i heard no more. a moment later i was out in god's air, fumbling with a fevered foot at the self-starter of the old car. the engine raced. the clutch slid into position. i tooted and drove off. my ganglions were still vibrating as i ran the car into the stables of brinkley court, and it was a much shaken bertram who tottered up to his room to change into something loose. having donned flannels, i lay down on the bed for a bit, and i suppose i must have dozed off, for the next thing i remember is finding jeeves at my side. i sat up. "my tea, jeeves?" "no, sir. it is nearly dinner-time." the mists cleared away. "i must have been asleep." "yes, sir." "nature taking its toll of the exhausted frame." "yes, sir." "and enough to make it." "yes, sir." "and now it's nearly dinner-time, you say? all right. i am in no mood for dinner, but i suppose you had better lay out the clothes." "it will not be necessary, sir. the company will not be dressing tonight. a cold collation has been set out in the dining-room." "why's that?" "it was mrs. travers's wish that this should be done in order to minimize the work for the staff, who are attending a dance at sir percival stretchley-budd's residence tonight." "of course, yes. i remember. my cousin angela told me. tonight's the night, what? you going, jeeves?" "no, sir. i am not very fond of this form of entertainment in the rural districts, sir." "i know what you mean. these country binges are all the same. a piano, one fiddle, and a floor like sandpaper. is anatole going? angela hinted not." "miss angela was correct, sir. monsieur anatole is in bed." "temperamental blighters, these frenchmen." "yes, sir." there was a pause. "well, jeeves," i said, "it was certainly one of those afternoons, what?" "yes, sir." "i cannot recall one more packed with incident. and i left before the finish." "yes, sir. i observed your departure." "you couldn't blame me for withdrawing." "no, sir. mr. fink-nottle had undoubtedly become embarrassingly personal." "was there much more of it after i went?" "no, sir. the proceedings terminated very shortly. mr. fink-nottle's remarks with reference to master g.g. simmons brought about an early closure." "but he had finished his remarks about g.g. simmons." "only temporarily, sir. he resumed them immediately after your departure. if you recollect, sir, he had already proclaimed himself suspicious of master simmons's bona fides, and he now proceeded to deliver a violent verbal attack upon the young gentleman, asserting that it was impossible for him to have won the scripture-knowledge prize without systematic cheating on an impressive scale. he went so far as to suggest that master simmons was well known to the police." "golly, jeeves!" "yes, sir. the words did create a considerable sensation. the reaction of those present to this accusation i should describe as mixed. the young students appeared pleased and applauded vigorously, but master simmons's mother rose from her seat and addressed mr. fink-nottle in terms of strong protest." "did gussie seem taken aback? did he recede from his position?" "no, sir. he said that he could see it all now, and hinted at a guilty liaison between master simmons's mother and the head master, accusing the latter of having cooked the marks, as his expression was, in order to gain favour with the former." "you don't mean that?" "yes, sir." "egad, jeeves! and then----" "they sang the national anthem, sir." "surely not?" "yes, sir." "at a moment like that?" "yes, sir." "well, you were there and you know, of course, but i should have thought the last thing gussie and this woman would have done in the circs. would have been to start singing duets." "you misunderstand me, sir. it was the entire company who sang. the head master turned to the organist and said something to him in a low tone. upon which the latter began to play the national anthem, and the proceedings terminated." "i see. about time, too." "yes, sir. mrs. simmons's attitude had become unquestionably menacing." i pondered. what i had heard was, of course, of a nature to excite pity and terror, not to mention alarm and despondency, and it would be paltering with the truth to say that i was pleased about it. on the other hand, it was all over now, and it seemed to me that the thing to do was not to mourn over the past but to fix the mind on the bright future. i mean to say, gussie might have lowered the existing worcestershire record for goofiness and definitely forfeited all chance of becoming market snodsbury's favourite son, but you couldn't get away from the fact that he had proposed to madeline bassett, and you had to admit that she had accepted him. i put this to jeeves. "a frightful exhibition," i said, "and one which will very possibly ring down history's pages. but we must not forget, jeeves, that gussie, though now doubtless looked upon in the neighbourhood as the world's worst freak, is all right otherwise." "no, sir." i did not get quite this. "when you say 'no, sir,' do you mean 'yes, sir'?" "no, sir. i mean 'no, sir.'" "he is not all right otherwise?" "no, sir." "but he's betrothed." "no longer, sir. miss bassett has severed the engagement." "you don't mean that?" "yes, sir." i wonder if you have noticed a rather peculiar thing about this chronicle. i allude to the fact that at one time or another practically everybody playing a part in it has had occasion to bury his or her face in his or her hands. i have participated in some pretty glutinous affairs in my time, but i think that never before or since have i been mixed up with such a solid body of brow clutchers. uncle tom did it, if you remember. so did gussie. so did tuppy. so, probably, though i have no data, did anatole, and i wouldn't put it past the bassett. and aunt dahlia, i have no doubt, would have done it, too, but for the risk of disarranging the carefully fixed coiffure. well, what i am trying to say is that at this juncture i did it myself. up went the hands and down went the head, and in another jiffy i was clutching as energetically as the best of them. and it was while i was still massaging the coconut and wondering what the next move was that something barged up against the door like the delivery of a ton of coals. "i think this may very possibly be mr. fink-nottle himself, sir," said jeeves. his intuition, however, had led him astray. it was not gussie but tuppy. he came in and stood breathing asthmatically. it was plain that he was deeply stirred. -18i eyed him narrowly. i didn't like his looks. mark you, i don't say i ever had, much, because nature, when planning this sterling fellow, shoved in a lot more lower jaw than was absolutely necessary and made the eyes a bit too keen and piercing for one who was neither an empire builder nor a traffic policeman. but on the present occasion, in addition to offending the aesthetic sense, this glossop seemed to me to be wearing a distinct air of menace, and i found myself wishing that jeeves wasn't always so dashed tactful. i mean, it's all very well to remove yourself like an eel sliding into mud when the employer has a visitor, but there are moments--and it looked to me as if this was going to be one of them--when the truer tact is to stick round and stand ready to lend a hand in the free-for-all. for jeeves was no longer with us. i hadn't seen him go, and i hadn't heard him go, but he had gone. as far as the eye could reach, one noted nobody but tuppy. and in tuppy's demeanour, as i say, there was a certain something that tended to disquiet. he looked to me very much like a man who had come to reopen that matter of my tickling angela's ankles. however, his opening remark told me that i had been alarming myself unduly. it was of a pacific nature, and came as a great relief. "bertie," he said, "i owe you an apology. i have come to make it." my relief on hearing these words, containing as they did no reference of any sort to tickled ankles, was, as i say, great. but i don't think it was any greater than my surprise. months had passed since that painful episode at the drones, and until now he hadn't given a sign of remorse and contrition. indeed, word had reached me through private sources that he frequently told the story at dinners and other gatherings and, when doing so, laughed his silly head off. i found it hard to understand, accordingly, what could have caused him to abase himself at this later date. presumably he had been given the elbow by his better self, but why? still, there it was. "my dear chap," i said, gentlemanly to the gills, "don't mention it." "what's the sense of saying, 'don't mention it'? i have mentioned it." "i mean, don't mention it any more. don't give the matter another thought. we all of us forget ourselves sometimes and do things which, in our calmer moments, we regret. no doubt you were a bit tight at the time." "what the devil do you think you're talking about?" i didn't like his tone. brusque. "correct me if i am wrong," i said, with a certain stiffness, "but i assumed that you were apologizing for your foul conduct in looping back the last ring that night in the drones, causing me to plunge into the swimming b. in the full soup and fish." "ass! not that, at all." "then what?" "this bassett business." "what bassett business?" "bertie," said tuppy, "when you told me last night that you were in love with madeline bassett, i gave you the impression that i believed you, but i didn't. the thing seemed too incredible. however, since then i have made inquiries, and the facts appear to square with your statement. i have now come to apologize for doubting you." "made inquiries?" "i asked her if you had proposed to her, and she said, yes, you had." "tuppy! you didn't?" "i did." "have you no delicacy, no proper feeling?" "no." "oh? well, right-ho, of course, but i think you ought to have." "delicacy be dashed. i wanted to be certain that it was not you who stole angela from me. i now know it wasn't." so long as he knew that, i didn't so much mind him having no delicacy. "ah," i said. "well, that's fine. hold that thought." "i have found out who it was." "what?" he stood brooding for a moment. his eyes were smouldering with a dull fire. his jaw stuck out like the back of jeeves's head. "bertie," he said, "do you remember what i swore i would do to the chap who stole angela from me?" "as nearly as i recall, you planned to pull him inside out----" "--and make him swallow himself. correct. the programme still holds good." "but, tuppy, i keep assuring you, as a competent eyewitness, that nobody snitched angela from you during that cannes trip." "no. but they did after she got back." "what?" "don't keep saying, 'what?' you heard." "but she hasn't seen anybody since she got back." "oh, no? how about that newt bloke?" "gussie?" "precisely. the serpent fink-nottle." this seemed to me absolute gibbering. "but gussie loves the bassett." "you can't all love this blighted bassett. what astonishes me is that anyone can do it. he loves angela, i tell you. and she loves him." "but angela handed you your hat before gussie ever got here." "no, she didn't. couple of hours after." "he couldn't have fallen in love with her in a couple of hours." "why not? i fell in love with her in a couple of minutes. i worshipped her immediately we met, the popeyed little excrescence." "but, dash it----" "don't argue, bertie. the facts are all docketed. she loves this newt-nuzzling blister." "quite absurd, laddie--quite absurd." "oh?" he ground a heel into the carpet--a thing i've often read about, but had never seen done before. "then perhaps you will explain how it is that she happens to come to be engaged to him?" you could have knocked me down with a f. "engaged to him?" "she told me herself." "she was kidding you." "she was not kidding me. shortly after the conclusion of this afternoon's binge at market snodsbury grammar school he asked her to marry him, and she appears to have right-hoed without a murmur." "there must be some mistake." "there was. the snake fink-nottle made it, and by now i bet he realizes it. i've been chasing him since 5.30." "chasing him?" "all over the place. i want to pull his head off." "i see. quite." "you haven't seen him, by any chance?" "no." "well, if you do, say goodbye to him quickly and put in your order for lilies.... oh, jeeves." "sir?" i hadn't heard the door open, but the man was on the spot once more. my private belief, as i think i have mentioned before, is that jeeves doesn't have to open doors. he's like one of those birds in india who bung their astral bodies about--the chaps, i mean, who having gone into thin air in bombay, reassemble the parts and appear two minutes later in calcutta. only some such theory will account for the fact that he's not there one moment and is there the next. he just seems to float from spot a to spot b like some form of gas. "have you seen mr. fink-nottle, jeeves?" "no, sir." "i'm going to murder him." "very good, sir." tuppy withdrew, banging the door behind him, and i put jeeves abreast. "jeeves," i said, "do you know what? mr. fink-nottle is engaged to my cousin angela." "indeed, sir?" "well, how about it? do you grasp the psychology? does it make sense? only a few hours ago he was engaged to miss bassett." "gentlemen who have been discarded by one young lady are often apt to attach themselves without delay to another, sir. it is what is known as a gesture." i began to grasp. "i see what you mean. defiant stuff." "yes, sir." "a sort of 'oh, right-ho, please yourself, but if you don't want me, there are plenty who do.'" "precisely, sir. my cousin george----" "never mind about your cousin george, jeeves." "very good, sir." "keep him for the long winter evenings, what?" "just as you wish, sir." "and, anyway, i bet your cousin george wasn't a shrinking, non-goose-bo-ing jellyfish like gussie. that is what astounds me, jeeves--that it should be gussie who has been putting in all this heavy gesture-making stuff." "you must remember, sir, that mr. fink-nottle is in a somewhat inflamed cerebral condition." "that's true. a bit above par at the moment, as it were?" "exactly, sir." "well, i'll tell you one thing--he'll be in a jolly sight more inflamed cerebral condition if tuppy gets hold of him.... what's the time?" "just on eight o'clock, sir." "then tuppy has been chasing him for two hours and a half. we must save the unfortunate blighter, jeeves." "yes, sir." "a human life is a human life, what?" "exceedingly true, sir." "the first thing, then, is to find him. after that we can discuss plans and schemes. go forth, jeeves, and scour the neighbourhood." "it will not be necessary, sir. if you will glance behind you, you will see mr. fink-nottle coming out from beneath your bed." and, by jove, he was absolutely right. there was gussie, emerging as stated. he was covered with fluff and looked like a tortoise popping forth for a bit of a breather. "gussie!" i said. "jeeves," said gussie. "sir?" said jeeves. "is that door locked, jeeves?" "no, sir, but i will attend to the matter immediately." gussie sat down on the bed, and i thought for a moment that he was going to be in the mode by burying his face in his hands. however, he merely brushed a dead spider from his brow. "have you locked the door, jeeves?" "yes, sir." "because you can never tell that that ghastly glossop may not take it into his head to come----" the word "back" froze on his lips. he hadn't got any further than a _b_-ish sound, when the handle of the door began to twist and rattle. he sprang from the bed, and for an instant stood looking exactly like a picture my aunt agatha has in her dining-room--the stag at bay--landseer. then he made a dive for the cupboard and was inside it before one really got on to it that he had started leaping. i have seen fellows late for the 9.15 move less nippily. i shot a glance at jeeves. he allowed his right eyebrow to flicker slightly, which is as near as he ever gets to a display of the emotions. "hullo?" i yipped. "let me in, blast you!" responded tuppy's voice from without. "who locked this door?" i consulted jeeves once more in the language of the eyebrow. he raised one of his. i raised one of mine. he raised his other. i raised my other. then we both raised both. finally, there seeming no other policy to pursue, i flung wide the gates and tuppy came shooting in. "now what?" i said, as nonchalantly as i could manage. "why was the door locked?" demanded tuppy. i was in pretty good eyebrow-raising form by now, so i gave him a touch of it. "is one to have no privacy, glossop?" i said coldly. "i instructed jeeves to lock the door because i was about to disrobe." "a likely story!" said tuppy, and i'm not sure he didn't add "forsooth!" "you needn't try to make me believe that you're afraid people are going to run excursion trains to see you in your underwear. you locked that door because you've got the snake fink-nottle concealed in here. i suspected it the moment i'd left, and i decided to come back and investigate. i'm going to search this room from end to end. i believe he's in that cupboard.... what's in this cupboard?" "just clothes," i said, having another stab at the nonchalant, though extremely dubious as to whether it would come off. "the usual wardrobe of the english gentleman paying a country-house visit." "you're lying!" well, i wouldn't have been if he had only waited a minute before speaking, because the words were hardly out of his mouth before gussie was out of the cupboard. i have commented on the speed with which he had gone in. it was as nothing to the speed with which he emerged. there was a sort of whir and blur, and he was no longer with us. i think tuppy was surprised. in fact, i'm sure he was. despite the confidence with which he had stated his view that the cupboard contained fink-nottles, it plainly disconcerted him to have the chap fizzing out at him like this. he gargled sharply, and jumped back about five feet. the next moment, however, he had recovered his poise and was galloping down the corridor in pursuit. it only needed aunt dahlia after them, shouting "yoicks!" or whatever is customary on these occasions, to complete the resemblance to a brisk run with the quorn. i sank into a handy chair. i am not a man whom it is easy to discourage, but it seemed to me that things had at last begun to get too complex for bertram. "jeeves," i said, "all this is a bit thick." "yes, sir." "the head rather swims." "yes, sir." "i think you had better leave me, jeeves. i shall need to devote the very closest thought to the situation which has arisen." "very good, sir." the door closed. i lit a cigarette and began to ponder. -19most chaps in my position, i imagine, would have pondered all the rest of the evening without getting a bite, but we woosters have an uncanny knack of going straight to the heart of things, and i don't suppose it was much more than ten minutes after i had started pondering before i saw what had to be done. what was needed to straighten matters out, i perceived, was a heart-toheart talk with angela. she had caused all the trouble by her muttonheaded behaviour in saying "yes" instead of "no" when gussie, in the grip of mixed drinks and cerebral excitement, had suggested teaming up. she must obviously be properly ticked off and made to return him to store. a quarter of an hour later, i had tracked her down to the summer-house in which she was taking a cooler and was seating myself by her side. "angela," i said, and if my voice was stern, well, whose wouldn't have been, "this is all perfect drivel." she seemed to come out of a reverie. she looked at me inquiringly. "i'm sorry, bertie, i didn't hear. what were you talking drivel about?" "i was not talking drivel." "oh, sorry, i thought you said you were." "is it likely that i would come out here in order to talk drivel?" "very likely." i thought it best to haul off and approach the matter from another angle. "i've just been seeing tuppy." "oh?" "and gussie fink-nottle." "oh, yes?" "it appears that you have gone and got engaged to the latter." "quite right." "well, that's what i meant when i said it was all perfect drivel. you can't possibly love a chap like gussie." "why not?" "you simply can't." well, i mean to say, of course she couldn't. nobody could love a freak like gussie except a similar freak like the bassett. the shot wasn't on the board. a splendid chap, of course, in many ways--courteous, amiable, and just the fellow to tell you what to do till the doctor came, if you had a sick newt on your hands--but quite obviously not of mendelssohn's march timber. i have no doubt that you could have flung bricks by the hour in england's most densely populated districts without endangering the safety of a single girl capable of becoming mrs. augustus fink-nottle without an anaesthetic. i put this to her, and she was forced to admit the justice of it. "all right, then. perhaps i don't." "then what," i said keenly, "did you want to go and get engaged to him for, you unreasonable young fathead?" "i thought it would be fun." "fun!" "and so it has been. i've had a lot of fun out of it. you should have seen tuppy's face when i told him." a sudden bright light shone upon me. "ha! a gesture!" "what?" "you got engaged to gussie just to score off tuppy?" "i did." "well, then, that was what i was saying. it was a gesture." "yes, i suppose you could call it that." "and i'll tell you something else i'll call it--viz. a dashed low trick. i'm surprised at you, young angela." "i don't see why." i curled the lip about half an inch. "being a female, you wouldn't. you gentler sexes are like that. you pull off the rawest stuff without a pang. you pride yourselves on it. look at jael, the wife of heber." "where did you ever hear of jael, the wife of heber?" "possibly you are not aware that i once won a scripture-knowledge prize at school?" "oh, yes. i remember augustus mentioning it in his speech." "quite," i said, a little hurriedly. i had no wish to be reminded of augustus's speech. "well, as i say, look at jael, the wife of heber. dug spikes into the guest's coconut while he was asleep, and then went swanking about the place like a girl guide. no wonder they say, 'oh, woman, woman!'" "who?" "the chaps who do. coo, what a sex! but you aren't proposing to keep this up, of course?" "keep what up?" "this rot of being engaged to gussie." "i certainly am." "just to make tuppy look silly." "do you think he looks silly?" "i do." "so he ought to." i began to get the idea that i wasn't making real headway. i remember when i won that scripture-knowledge prize, having to go into the facts about balaam's ass. i can't quite recall what they were, but i still retain a sort of general impression of something digging its feet in and putting its ears back and refusing to co-operate; and it seemed to me that this was what angela was doing now. she and balaam's ass were, so to speak, sisters under the skin. there's a word beginning with r----"re" something----"recal" something--no, it's gone. but what i am driving at is that is what this angela was showing herself. "silly young geezer," i said. she pinkened. "i'm not a silly young geezer." "you are a silly young geezer. and, what's more, you know it." "i don't know anything of the kind." "here you are, wrecking tuppy's life, wrecking gussie's life, all for the sake of a cheap score." "well, it's no business of yours." i sat on this promptly: "no business of mine when i see two lives i used to go to school with wrecked? ha! besides, you know you're potty about tuppy." "i'm not!" "is that so? if i had a quid for every time i've seen you gaze at him with the lovelight in your eyes----" she gazed at me, but without the lovelight. "oh, for goodness sake, go away and boil your head, bertie!" i drew myself up. "that," i replied, with dignity, "is just what i am going to go away and boil. at least, i mean, i shall now leave you. i have said my say." "good." "but permit me to add----" "i won't." "very good," i said coldly. "in that case, tinkerty tonk." and i meant it to sting. "moody" and "discouraged" were about the two adjectives you would have selected to describe me as i left the summer-house. it would be idle to deny that i had expected better results from this little chat. i was surprised at angela. odd how you never realize that every girl is at heart a vicious specimen until something goes wrong with her love affair. this cousin and i had been meeting freely since the days when i wore sailor suits and she hadn't any front teeth, yet only now was i beginning to get on to her hidden depths. a simple, jolly, kindly young pimple she had always struck me as--the sort you could more or less rely on not to hurt a fly. but here she was now laughing heartlessly--at least, i seemed to remember hearing her laugh heartlessly--like something cold and callous out of a sophisticated talkie, and fairly spitting on her hands in her determination to bring tuppy's grey hairs in sorrow to the grave. i've said it before, and i'll say it again--girls are rummy. old pop kipling never said a truer word than when he made that crack about the f. of the s. being more d. than the m. it seemed to me in the circs. that there was but one thing to do--that is head for the dining-room and take a slash at the cold collation of which jeeves had spoken. i felt in urgent need of sustenance, for the recent interview had pulled me down a bit. there is no gainsaying the fact that this naked-emotion stuff reduces a chap's vitality and puts him in the vein for a good whack at the beef and ham. to the dining-room, accordingly, i repaired, and had barely crossed the threshold when i perceived aunt dahlia at the sideboard, tucking into salmon mayonnaise. the spectacle drew from me a quick "oh, ah," for i was somewhat embarrassed. the last time this relative and i had enjoyed a _tãªte-ã -tãªte,_ it will be remembered, she had sketched out plans for drowning me in the kitchen-garden pond, and i was not quite sure what my present standing with her was. i was relieved to find her in genial mood. nothing could have exceeded the cordiality with which she waved her fork. "hallo, bertie, you old ass," was her very matey greeting. "i thought i shouldn't find you far away from the food. try some of this salmon. excellent." "anatole's?" i queried. "no. he's still in bed. but the kitchen maid has struck an inspired streak. it suddenly seems to have come home to her that she isn't catering for a covey of buzzards in the sahara desert, and she has put out something quite fit for human consumption. there is good in the girl, after all, and i hope she enjoys herself at the dance." i ladled out a portion of salmon, and we fell into pleasant conversation, chatting of this servants' ball at the stretchley-budds and speculating idly, i recall, as to what seppings, the butler, would look like, doing the rumba. it was not till i had cleaned up the first platter and was embarking on a second that the subject of gussie came up. considering what had passed at market snodsbury that afternoon, it was one which i had been expecting her to touch on earlier. when she did touch on it, i could see that she had not yet been informed of angela's engagement. "i say, bertie," she said, meditatively chewing fruit salad. "this spink-bottle." "nottle." "bottle," insisted the aunt firmly. "after that exhibition of his this afternoon, bottle, and nothing but bottle, is how i shall always think of him. however, what i was going to say was that, if you see him, i wish you would tell him that he has made an old woman very, very happy. except for the time when the curate tripped over a loose shoelace and fell down the pulpit steps, i don't think i have ever had a more wonderful moment than when good old bottle suddenly started ticking tom off from the platform. in fact, i thought his whole performance in the most perfect taste." i could not but demur. "those references to myself----" "those were what i liked next best. i thought they were fine. is it true that you cheated when you won that scripture-knowledge prize?" "certainly not. my victory was the outcome of the most strenuous and unremitting efforts." "and how about this pessimism we hear of? are you a pessimist, bertie?" i could have told her that what was occurring in this house was rapidly making me one, but i said no, i wasn't. "that's right. never be a pessimist. everything is for the best in this best of all possible worlds. it's a long lane that has no turning. it's always darkest before the dawn. have patience and all will come right. the sun will shine, although the day's a grey one.... try some of this salad." i followed her advice, but even as i plied the spoon my thoughts were elsewhere. i was perplexed. it may have been the fact that i had recently been hobnobbing with so many bowed-down hearts that made this cheeriness of hers seem so bizarre, but bizarre was certainly what i found it. "i thought you might have been a trifle peeved," i said. "peeved?" "by gussie's manoeuvres on the platform this afternoon. i confess that i had rather expected the tapping foot and the drawn brow." "nonsense. what was there to be peeved about? i took the whole thing as a great compliment, proud to feel that any drink from my cellars could have produced such a majestic jag. it restores one's faith in post-war whisky. besides, i couldn't be peeved at anything tonight. i am like a little child clapping its hands and dancing in the sunshine. for though it has been some time getting a move on, bertie, the sun has at last broken through the clouds. ring out those joy bells. anatole has withdrawn his notice." "what? oh, very hearty congratulations." "thanks. yes, i worked on him like a beaver after i got back this afternoon, and finally, vowing he would ne'er consent, he consented. he stays on, praises be, and the way i look at it now is that god's in his heaven and all's right with----" she broke off. the door had opened, and we were plus a butler. "hullo, seppings," said aunt dahlia. "i thought you had gone." "not yet, madam." "well, i hope you will all have a good time." "thank you, madam." "was there something you wanted to see me about?" "yes, madam. it is with reference to monsieur anatole. is it by your wish, madam, that mr. fink-nottle is making faces at monsieur anatole through the skylight of his bedroom?" -20there was one of those long silences. pregnant, i believe, is what they're generally called. aunt looked at butler. butler looked at aunt. i looked at both of them. an eerie stillness seemed to envelop the room like a linseed poultice. i happened to be biting on a slice of apple in my fruit salad at the moment, and it sounded as if carnera had jumped off the top of the eiffel tower on to a cucumber frame. aunt dahlia steadied herself against the sideboard, and spoke in a low, husky voice: "faces?" "yes, madam." "through the skylight?" "yes, madam." "you mean he's sitting on the roof?" "yes, madam. it has upset monsieur anatole very much." i suppose it was that word "upset" that touched aunt dahlia off. experience had taught her what happened when anatole got upset. i had always known her as a woman who was quite active on her pins, but i had never suspected her of being capable of the magnificent burst of speed which she now showed. pausing merely to get a rich hunting-field expletive off her chest, she was out of the room and making for the stairs before i could swallow a sliver of--i think--banana. and feeling, as i had felt when i got that telegram of hers about angela and tuppy, that my place was by her side, i put down my plate and hastened after her, seppings following at a loping gallop. i say that my place was by her side, but it was not so dashed easy to get there, for she was setting a cracking pace. at the top of the first flight she must have led by a matter of half a dozen lengths, and was still shaking off my challenge when she rounded into the second. at the next landing, however, the gruelling going appeared to tell on her, for she slackened off a trifle and showed symptoms of roaring, and by the time we were in the straight we were running practically neck and neck. our entry into anatole's room was as close a finish as you could have wished to see. result: 1. _aunt dahlia._ 2. _bertram._ 3. _seppings._ _won by a short head. half a staircase separated second and third._ the first thing that met the eye on entering was anatole. this wizard of the cooking-stove is a tubby little man with a moustache of the outsize or soup-strainer type, and you can generally take a line through it as to the state of his emotions. when all is well, it turns up at the ends like a sergeant-major's. when the soul is bruised, it droops. it was drooping now, striking a sinister note. and if any shadow of doubt had remained as to how he was feeling, the way he was carrying on would have dispelled it. he was standing by the bed in pink pyjamas, waving his fists at the skylight. through the glass, gussie was staring down. his eyes were bulging and his mouth was open, giving him so striking a resemblance to some rare fish in an aquarium that one's primary impulse was to offer him an ant's egg. watching this fist-waving cook and this goggling guest, i must say that my sympathies were completely with the former. i considered him thoroughly justified in waving all the fists he wanted to. review the facts, i mean to say. there he had been, lying in bed, thinking idly of whatever french cooks do think about when in bed, and he had suddenly become aware of that frightful face at the window. a thing to jar the most phlegmatic. i know i should hate to be lying in bed and have gussie popping up like that. a chap's bedroom--you can't get away from it--is his castle, and he has every right to look askance if gargoyles come glaring in at him. while i stood musing thus, aunt dahlia, in her practical way, was coming straight to the point: "what's all this?" anatole did a sort of swedish exercise, starting at the base of the spine, carrying on through the shoulder-blades and finishing up among the back hair. then he told her. in the chats i have had with this wonder man, i have always found his english fluent, but a bit on the mixed side. if you remember, he was with mrs. bingo little for a time before coming to brinkley, and no doubt he picked up a good deal from bingo. before that, he had been a couple of years with an american family at nice and had studied under their chauffeur, one of the maloneys of brooklyn. so, what with bingo and what with maloney, he is, as i say, fluent but a bit mixed. he spoke, in part, as follows: "hot dog! you ask me what is it? listen. make some attention a little. me, i have hit the hay, but i do not sleep so good, and presently i wake and up i look, and there is one who make faces against me through the dashed window. is that a pretty affair? is that convenient? if you think i like it, you jolly well mistake yourself. i am so mad as a wet hen. and why not? i am somebody, isn't it? this is a bedroom, what-what, not a house for some apes? then for what do blighters sit on my window so cool as a few cucumbers, making some faces?" "quite," i said. dashed reasonable, was my verdict. he threw another look up at gussie, and did exercise 2--the one where you clutch the moustache, give it a tug and then start catching flies. "wait yet a little. i am not finish. i say i see this type on my window, making a few faces. but what then? does he buzz off when i shout a cry, and leave me peaceable? not on your life. he remain planted there, not giving any damns, and sit regarding me like a cat watching a duck. he make faces against me and again he make faces against me, and the more i command that he should get to hell out of here, the more he do not get to hell out of here. he cry something towards me, and i demand what is his desire, but he do not explain. oh, no, that arrives never. he does but shrug his head. what damn silliness! is this amusing for me? you think i like it? i am not content with such folly. i think the poor mutt's loony. _je me fiche de ce type infect. c'est idiot de faire comme ã§a l'oiseau.... allez-vous-en, louffier_.... tell the boob to go away. he is mad as some march hatters." i must say i thought he was making out a jolly good case, and evidently aunt dahlia felt the same. she laid a quivering hand on his shoulder. "i will, monsieur anatole, i will," she said, and i couldn't have believed that robust voice capable of sinking to such an absolute coo. more like a turtle dove calling to its mate than anything else. "it's quite all right." she had said the wrong thing. he did exercise 3. "all right? _nom d'un nom d'un nom_! the hell you say it's all right! of what use to pull stuff like that? wait one half-moment. not yet quite so quick, my old sport. it is by no means all right. see yet again a little. it is some very different dishes of fish. i can take a few smooths with a rough, it is true, but i do not find it agreeable when one play larks against me on my windows. that cannot do. a nice thing, no. i am a serious man. i do not wish a few larks on my windows. i enjoy larks on my windows worse as any. it is very little all right. if such rannygazoo is to arrive, i do not remain any longer in this house no more. i buzz off and do not stay planted." sinister words, i had to admit, and i was not surprised that aunt dahlia, hearing them, should have uttered a cry like the wail of a master of hounds seeing a fox shot. anatole had begun to wave his fists again at gussie, and she now joined him. seppings, who was puffing respectfully in the background, didn't actually wave his fists, but he gave gussie a pretty austere look. it was plain to the thoughtful observer that this fink-nottle, in getting on to that skylight, had done a mistaken thing. he couldn't have been more unpopular in the home of g.g. simmons. "go away, you crazy loon!" cried aunt dahlia, in that ringing voice of hers which had once caused nervous members of the quorn to lose stirrups and take tosses from the saddle. gussie's reply was to waggle his eyebrows. i could read the message he was trying to convey. "i think he means," i said--reasonable old bertram, always trying to throw oil on the troubled w's----"that if he does he will fall down the side of the house and break his neck." "well, why not?" said aunt dahlia. i could see her point, of course, but it seemed to me that there might be a nearer solution. this skylight happened to be the only window in the house which uncle tom had not festooned with his bally bars. i suppose he felt that if a burglar had the nerve to climb up as far as this, he deserved what was coming to him. "if you opened the skylight, he could jump in." the idea got across. "seppings, how does this skylight open?" "with a pole, madam." "then get a pole. get two poles. ten." and presently gussie was mixing with the company, like one of those chaps you read about in the papers, the wretched man seemed deeply conscious of his position. i must say aunt dahlia's bearing and demeanour did nothing to assist toward a restored composure. of the amiability which she had exhibited when discussing this unhappy chump's activities with me over the fruit salad, no trace remained, and i was not surprised that speech more or less froze on the fink-nottle lips. it isn't often that aunt dahlia, normally as genial a bird as ever encouraged a gaggle of hounds to get their noses down to it, lets her angry passions rise, but when she does, strong men climb trees and pull them up after them. "well?" she said. in answer to this, all that gussie could produce was a sort of strangled hiccough. "well?" aunt dahlia's face grew darker. hunting, if indulged in regularly over a period of years, is a pastime that seldom fails to lend a fairly deepish tinge to the patient's complexion, and her best friends could not have denied that even at normal times the relative's map tended a little toward the crushed strawberry. but never had i seen it take on so pronounced a richness as now. she looked like a tomato struggling for self-expression. "well?" gussie tried hard. and for a moment it seemed as if something was going to come through. but in the end it turned out nothing more than a sort of death-rattle. "oh, take him away, bertie, and put ice on his head," said aunt dahlia, giving the thing up. and she turned to tackle what looked like the rather man's size job of soothing anatole, who was now carrying on a muttered conversation with himself in a rapid sort of way. seeming to feel that the situation was one to which he could not do justice in bingo-cum-maloney anglo-american, he had fallen back on his native tongue. words like "_marmiton de domange," "pignouf," "hurluberlu_" and "_roustisseur_" were fluttering from him like bats out of a barn. lost on me, of course, because, though i sweated a bit at the gallic language during that cannes visit, i'm still more or less in the esker-vous-avez stage. i regretted this, for they sounded good. i assisted gussie down the stairs. a cooler thinker than aunt dahlia, i had already guessed the hidden springs and motives which had led him to the roof. where she had seen only a cockeyed reveller indulging himself in a drunken prank or whimsy, i had spotted the hunted fawn. "was tuppy after you?" i asked sympathetically. what i believe is called a _frisson_ shook him. "he nearly got me on the top landing. i shinned out through a passage window and scrambled along a sort of ledge." "that baffled him, what?" "yes. but then i found i had stuck. the roof sloped down in all directions. i couldn't go back. i had to go on, crawling along this ledge. and then i found myself looking down the skylight. who was that chap?" "that was anatole, aunt dahlia's chef." "french?" "to the core." "that explains why i couldn't make him understand. what asses these frenchmen are. they don't seem able to grasp the simplest thing. you'd have thought if a chap saw a chap on a skylight, the chap would realize the chap wanted to be let in. but no, he just stood there." "waving a few fists." "yes. silly idiot. still, here i am." "here you are, yes--for the moment." "eh?" "i was thinking that tuppy is probably lurking somewhere." he leaped like a lamb in springtime. "what shall i do?" i considered this. "sneak back to your room and barricade the door. that is the manly policy." "suppose that's where he's lurking?" "in that case, move elsewhere." but on arrival at the room, it transpired that tuppy, if anywhere, was infesting some other portion of the house. gussie shot in, and i heard the key turn. and feeling that there was no more that i could do in that quarter, i returned to the dining-room for further fruit salad and a quiet think. and i had barely filled my plate when the door opened and aunt dahlia came in. she sank into a chair, looking a bit shopworn. "give me a drink, bertie." "what sort?" "any sort, so long as it's strong." approach bertram wooster along these lines, and you catch him at his best. st. bernard dogs doing the square thing by alpine travellers could not have bustled about more assiduously. i filled the order, and for some moments nothing was to be heard but the sloshing sound of an aunt restoring her tissues. "shove it down, aunt dahlia," i said sympathetically. "these things take it out of one, don't they? you've had a toughish time, no doubt, soothing anatole," i proceeded, helping myself to anchovy paste on toast. "everything pretty smooth now, i trust?" she gazed at me in a long, lingering sort of way, her brow wrinkled as if in thought. "attila," she said at length. "that's the name. attila, the hun." "eh?" "i was trying to think who you reminded me of. somebody who went about strewing ruin and desolation and breaking up homes which, until he came along, had been happy and peaceful. attila is the man. it's amazing." she said, drinking me in once more. "to look at you, one would think you were just an ordinary sort of amiable idiot--certifiable, perhaps, but quite harmless. yet, in reality, you are worse a scourge than the black death. i tell you, bertie, when i contemplate you i seem to come up against all the underlying sorrow and horror of life with such a thud that i feel as if i had walked into a lamp post." pained and surprised, i would have spoken, but the stuff i had thought was anchovy paste had turned out to be something far more gooey and adhesive. it seemed to wrap itself round the tongue and impede utterance like a gag. and while i was still endeavouring to clear the vocal cords for action, she went on: "do you realize what you started when you sent that spink-bottle man down here? as regards his getting blotto and turning the prize-giving ceremonies at market snodsbury grammar school into a sort of two-reel comic film, i will say nothing, for frankly i enjoyed it. but when he comes leering at anatole through skylights, just after i had with infinite pains and tact induced him to withdraw his notice, and makes him so temperamental that he won't hear of staying on after tomorrow----" the paste stuff gave way. i was able to speak: "what?" "yes, anatole goes tomorrow, and i suppose poor old tom will have indigestion for the rest of his life. and that is not all. i have just seen angela, and she tells me she is engaged to this bottle." "temporarily, yes," i had to admit. "temporarily be blowed. she's definitely engaged to him and talks with a sort of hideous coolness of getting married in october. so there it is. if the prophet job were to walk into the room at this moment, i could sit swapping hard-luck stories with him till bedtime. not that job was in my class." "he had boils." "well, what are boils?" "dashed painful, i understand." "nonsense. i'd take all the boils on the market in exchange for my troubles. can't you realize the position? i've lost the best cook to england. my husband, poor soul, will probably die of dyspepsia. and my only daughter, for whom i had dreamed such a wonderful future, is engaged to be married to an inebriated newt fancier. and you talk about boils!" i corrected her on a small point: "i don't absolutely talk about boils. i merely mentioned that job had them. yes, i agree with you, aunt dahlia, that things are not looking too oojah-cum-spiff at the moment, but be of good cheer. a wooster is seldom baffled for more than the nonce." "you rather expect to be coming along shortly with another of your schemes?" "at any minute." she sighed resignedly. "i thought as much. well, it needed but this. i don't see how things could possibly be worse than they are, but no doubt you will succeed in making them so. your genius and insight will find the way. carry on, bertie. yes, carry on. i am past caring now. i shall even find a faint interest in seeing into what darker and profounder abysses of hell you can plunge this home. go to it, lad.... what's that stuff you're eating?" "i find it a little difficult to classify. some sort of paste on toast. rather like glue flavoured with beef extract." "gimme," said aunt dahlia listlessly. "be careful how you chew," i advised. "it sticketh closer than a brother.... yes, jeeves?" the man had materialized on the carpet. absolutely noiseless, as usual. "a note for you, sir." "a note for me, jeeves?" "a note for you, sir." "from whom, jeeves?" "from miss bassett, sir." "from whom, jeeves?" "from miss bassett, sir." "from miss bassett, jeeves?" "from miss bassett, sir." at this point, aunt dahlia, who had taken one nibble at her whatever-it-was-on-toast and laid it down, begged us--a little fretfully, i thought--for heaven's sake to cut out the cross-talk vaudeville stuff, as she had enough to bear already without having to listen to us doing our imitation of the two macs. always willing to oblige, i dismissed jeeves with a nod, and he flickered for a moment and was gone. many a spectre would have been less slippy. "but what," i mused, toying with the envelope, "can this female be writing to me about?" "why not open the damn thing and see?" "a very excellent idea," i said, and did so. "and if you are interested in my movements," proceeded aunt dahlia, heading for the door, "i propose to go to my room, do some yogi deep breathing, and try to forget." "quite," i said absently, skimming p. l. and then, as i turned over, a sharp howl broke from my lips, causing aunt dahlia to shy like a startled mustang. "don't do it!" she exclaimed, quivering in every limb. "yes, but dash it----" "what a pest you are, you miserable object," she sighed. "i remember years ago, when you were in your cradle, being left alone with you one day and you nearly swallowed your rubber comforter and started turning purple. and i, ass that i was, took it out and saved your life. let me tell you, young bertie, it will go very hard with you if you ever swallow a rubber comforter again when only i am by to aid." "but, dash it!" i cried. "do you know what's happened? madeline bassett says she's going to marry me!" "i hope it keeps fine for you," said the relative, and passed from the room looking like something out of an edgar allan poe story. -21i don't suppose i was looking so dashed unlike something out of an edgar allan poe story myself, for, as you can readily imagine, the news item which i have just recorded had got in amongst me properly. if the bassett, in the belief that the wooster heart had long been hers and was waiting ready to be scooped in on demand, had decided to take up her option, i should, as a man of honour and sensibility, have no choice but to come across and kick in. the matter was obviously not one that could be straightened out with a curt _nolle prosequi_. all the evidence, therefore, seemed to point to the fact that the doom had come upon me and, what was more, had come to stay. and yet, though it would be idle to pretend that my grip on the situation was quite the grip i would have liked it to be, i did not despair of arriving at a solution. a lesser man, caught in this awful snare, would no doubt have thrown in the towel at once and ceased to struggle; but the whole point about the woosters is that they are not lesser men. by way of a start, i read the note again. not that i had any hope that a second perusal would enable me to place a different construction on its contents, but it helped to fill in while the brain was limbering up. i then, to assist thought, had another go at the fruit salad, and in addition ate a slice of sponge cake. and it was as i passed on to the cheese that the machinery started working. i saw what had to be done. to the question which had been exercising the mind--viz., can bertram cope?--i was now able to reply with a confident "absolutely." the great wheeze on these occasions of dirty work at the crossroads is not to lose your head but to keep cool and try to find the ringleaders. once find the ringleaders, and you know where you are. the ringleader here was plainly the bassett. it was she who had started the whole imbroglio by chucking gussie, and it was clear that before anything could be done to solve and clarify, she must be induced to revise her views and take him on again. this would put angela back into circulation, and that would cause tuppy to simmer down a bit, and then we could begin to get somewhere. i decided that as soon as i had had another morsel of cheese i would seek this bassett out and be pretty eloquent. and at this moment in she came. i might have foreseen that she would be turning up shortly. i mean to say, hearts may ache, but if they know that there is a cold collation set out in the dining-room, they are pretty sure to come popping in sooner or later. her eyes, as she entered the room, were fixed on the salmon mayonnaise, and she would no doubt have made a bee-line for it and started getting hers, had i not, in the emotion of seeing her, dropped a glass of the best with which i was endeavouring to bring about a calmer frame of mind. the noise caused her to turn, and for an instant embarrassment supervened. a slight flush mantled the cheek, and the eyes popped a bit. "oh!" she said. i have always found that there is nothing that helps to ease you over one of these awkward moments like a spot of stage business. find something to do with your hands, and it's half the battle. i grabbed a plate and hastened forward. "a touch of salmon?" "thank you." "with a suspicion of salad?" "if you please." "and to drink? name the poison." "i think i would like a little orange juice." she gave a gulp. not at the orange juice, i don't mean, because she hadn't got it yet, but at all the tender associations those two words provoked. it was as if someone had mentioned spaghetti to the relict of an italian organ-grinder. her face flushed a deeper shade, she registered anguish, and i saw that it was no longer within the sphere of practical politics to try to confine the conversation to neutral topics like cold boiled salmon. so did she, i imagine, for when i, as a preliminary to getting down to brass tacks, said "er," she said "er," too, simultaneously, the brace of "ers" clashing in mid-air. "i'm sorry." "i beg your pardon." "you were saying----" "you were saying----" "no, please go on." "oh, right-ho." i straightened the tie, my habit when in this girl's society, and had at it: "with reference to yours of even date----" she flushed again, and took a rather strained forkful of salmon. "you got my note?" "yes, i got your note." "i gave it to jeeves to give it to you." "yes, he gave it to me. that's how i got it." there was another silence. and as she was plainly shrinking from talking turkey, i was reluctantly compelled to do so. i mean, somebody had got to. too dashed silly, a male and female in our position simply standing eating salmon and cheese at one another without a word. "yes, i got it all right." "i see. you got it." "yes, i got it. i've just been reading it. and what i was rather wanting to ask you, if we happened to run into each other, was--well, what about it?" "what about it?" "that's what i say: what about it?" "but it was quite clear." "oh, quite. perfectly clear. very well expressed and all that. but--i mean--well, i mean, deeply sensible of the honour, and so forth--but---well, dash it!" she had polished off her salmon, and now put the plate down. "fruit salad?" "no, thank you." "spot of pie?" "no, thanks." "one of those glue things on toast?" "no, thank you." she took a cheese straw. i found a cold egg which i had overlooked. then i said "i mean to say" just as she said "i think i know", and there was another collision. "i beg your pardon." "i'm sorry." "do go on." "no, you go on." i waved my cold egg courteously, to indicate that she had the floor, and she started again: "i think i know what you are trying to say. you are surprised." "yes." "you are thinking of----" "exactly." "--mr. fink-nottle." "the very man." "you find what i have done hard to understand." "absolutely." "i don't wonder." "i do." "and yet it is quite simple." she took another cheese straw. she seemed to like cheese straws. "quite simple, really. i want to make you happy." "dashed decent of you." "i am going to devote the rest of my life to making you happy." "a very matey scheme." "i can at least do that. but--may i be quite frank with you, bertie?" "oh, rather." "then i must tell you this. i am fond of you. i will marry you. i will do my best to make you a good wife. but my affection for you can never be the flamelike passion i felt for augustus." "just the very point i was working round to. there, as you say, is the snag. why not chuck the whole idea of hitching up with me? wash it out altogether. i mean, if you love old gussie----" "no longer." "oh, come." "no. what happened this afternoon has killed my love. a smear of ugliness has been drawn across a thing of beauty, and i can never feel towards him as i did." i saw what she meant, of course. gussie had bunged his heart at her feet; she had picked it up, and, almost immediately after doing so, had discovered that he had been stewed to the eyebrows all the time. the shock must have been severe. no girl likes to feel that a chap has got to be thoroughly plastered before he can ask her to marry him. it wounds the pride. nevertheless, i persevered. "but have you considered," i said, "that you may have got a wrong line on gussie's performance this afternoon? admitted that all the evidence points to a more sinister theory, what price him simply having got a touch of the sun? chaps do get touches of the sun, you know, especially when the weather's hot." she looked at me, and i saw that she was putting in a bit of the old drenched-irises stuff. "it was like you to say that, bertie. i respect you for it." "oh, no." "yes. you have a splendid, chivalrous soul." "not a bit." "yes, you have. you remind me of cyrano." "who?" "cyrano de bergerac." "the chap with the nose?" "yes." i can't say i was any too pleased. i felt the old beak furtively. it was a bit on the prominent side, perhaps, but, dash it, not in the cyrano class. it began to look as if the next thing this girl would do would be to compare me to schnozzle durante. "he loved, but pleaded another's cause." "oh, i see what you mean now." "i like you for that, bertie. it was fine of you--fine and big. but it is no use. there are things which kill love. i can never forget augustus, but my love for him is dead. i will be your wife." well, one has to be civil. "right ho," i said. "thanks awfully." then the dialogue sort of poofed out once more, and we stood eating cheese straws and cold eggs respectively in silence. there seemed to exist some little uncertainty as to what the next move was. fortunately, before embarrassment could do much more supervening, angela came in, and this broke up the meeting. then bassett announced our engagement, and angela kissed her and said she hoped she would be very, very happy, and the bassett kissed her and said she hoped she would be very, very happy with gussie, and angela said she was sure she would, because augustus was such a dear, and the bassett kissed her again, and angela kissed her again and, in a word, the whole thing got so bally feminine that i was glad to edge away. i would have been glad to do so, of course, in any case, for if ever there was a moment when it was up to bertram to think, and think hard, this moment was that moment. it was, it seemed to me, the end. not even on the occasion, some years earlier, when i had inadvertently become betrothed to tuppy's frightful cousin honoria, had i experienced a deeper sense of being waist high in the gumbo and about to sink without trace. i wandered out into the garden, smoking a tortured gasper, with the iron well embedded in the soul. and i had fallen into a sort of trance, trying to picture what it would be like having the bassett on the premises for the rest of my life and at the same time, if you follow me, trying not to picture what it would be like, when i charged into something which might have been a tree, but was not--being, in point of fact, jeeves. "i beg your pardon, sir," he said. "i should have moved to one side." i did not reply. i stood looking at him in silence. for the sight of him had opened up a new line of thought. this jeeves, now, i reflected. i had formed the opinion that he had lost his grip and was no longer the force he had been, but was it not possible, i asked myself, that i might be mistaken? start him off exploring avenues and might he not discover one through which i would be enabled to sneak off to safety, leaving no hard feelings behind? i found myself answering that it was quite on the cards that he might. after all, his head still bulged out at the back as of old. one noted in the eyes the same intelligent glitter. mind you, after what had passed between us in the matter of that white mess-jacket with the brass buttons, i was not prepared absolutely to hand over to the man. i would, of course, merely take him into consultation. but, recalling some of his earlier triumphs--the sipperley case, the episode of my aunt agatha and the dog mcintosh, and the smoothly handled affair of uncle george and the barmaid's niece were a few that sprang to my mind--i felt justified at least in offering him the opportunity of coming to the aid of the young master in his hour of peril. but before proceeding further, there was one thing that had got to be understood between us, and understood clearly. "jeeves," i said, "a word with you." "sir?" "i am up against it a bit, jeeves." "i am sorry to hear that, sir. can i be of any assistance?" "quite possibly you can, if you have not lost your grip. tell me frankly, jeeves, are you in pretty good shape mentally?" "yes, sir." "still eating plenty of fish?" "yes, sir." "then it may be all right. but there is just one point before i begin. in the past, when you have contrived to extricate self or some pal from some little difficulty, you have frequently shown a disposition to take advantage of my gratitude to gain some private end. those purple socks, for instance. also the plus fours and the old etonian spats. choosing your moment with subtle cunning, you came to me when i was weakened by relief and got me to get rid of them. and what i am saying now is that if you are successful on the present occasion there must be no rot of that description about that mess-jacket of mine." "very good, sir." "you will not come to me when all is over and ask me to jettison the jacket?" "certainly not, sir." "on that understanding then, i will carry on. jeeves, i'm engaged." "i hope you will be very happy, sir." "don't be an ass. i'm engaged to miss bassett." "indeed, sir? i was not aware----" "nor was i. it came as a complete surprise. however, there it is. the official intimation was in that note you brought me." "odd, sir." "what is?" "odd, sir, that the contents of that note should have been as you describe. it seemed to me that miss bassett, when she handed me the communication, was far from being in a happy frame of mind." "she is far from being in a happy frame of mind. you don't suppose she really wants to marry me, do you? pshaw, jeeves! can't you see that this is simply another of those bally gestures which are rapidly rendering brinkley court a hell for man and beast? dash all gestures, is my view." "yes, sir." "well, what's to be done?" "you feel that miss bassett, despite what has occurred, still retains a fondness for mr. fink-nottle, sir?" "she's pining for him." "in that case, sir, surely the best plan would be to bring about a reconciliation between them." "how? you see. you stand silent and twiddle the fingers. you are stumped." "no, sir. if i twiddled my fingers, it was merely to assist thought." "then continue twiddling." "it will not be necessary, sir." "you don't mean you've got a bite already?" "yes, sir." "you astound me, jeeves. let's have it." "the device which i have in mind is one that i have already mentioned to you, sir." "when did you ever mention any device to me?" "if you will throw your mind back to the evening of our arrival, sir. you were good enough to inquire of me if i had any plan to put forward with a view to bringing miss angela and mr. glossop together, and i ventured to suggest----" "good lord! not the old fire-alarm thing?" "precisely, sir." "you're still sticking to that?" "yes, sir." it shows how much the ghastly blow i had received had shaken me when i say that, instead of dismissing the proposal with a curt "tchah!" or anything like that, i found myself speculating as to whether there might not be something in it, after all. when he had first mooted this fire-alarm scheme of his, i had sat upon it, if you remember, with the maximum of promptitude and vigour. "rotten" was the adjective i had employed to describe it, and you may recall that i mused a bit sadly, considering the idea conclusive proof of the general breakdown of a once fine mind. but now it somehow began to look as if it might have possibilities. the fact of the matter was that i had about reached the stage where i was prepared to try anything once, however goofy. "just run through that wheeze again, jeeves," i said thoughtfully. "i remember thinking it cuckoo, but it may be that i missed some of the finer shades." "your criticism of it at the time, sir, was that it was too elaborate, but i do not think it is so in reality. as i see it, sir, the occupants of the house, hearing the fire bell ring, will suppose that a conflagration has broken out." i nodded. one could follow the train of thought. "yes, that seems reasonable." "whereupon mr. glossop will hasten to save miss angela, while mr. fink-nottle performs the same office for miss bassett." "is that based on psychology?" "yes, sir. possibly you may recollect that it was an axiom of the late sir arthur conan doyle's fictional detective, sherlock holmes, that the instinct of everyone, upon an alarm of fire, is to save the object dearest to them." "it seems to me that there is a grave danger of seeing tuppy come out carrying a steak-and-kidney pie, but resume, jeeves, resume. you think that this would clean everything up?" "the relations of the two young couples could scarcely continue distant after such an occurrence, sir." "perhaps you're right. but, dash it, if we go ringing fire bells in the night watches, shan't we scare half the domestic staff into fits? there is one of the housemaids--jane, i believe--who already skips like the high hills if i so much as come on her unexpectedly round a corner." "a neurotic girl, sir, i agree. i have noticed her. but by acting promptly we should avoid such a contingency. the entire staff, with the exception of monsieur anatole, will be at the ball at kingham manor tonight." "of course. that just shows the condition this thing has reduced me to. forget my own name next. well, then, let's just try to envisage. bong goes the bell. gussie rushes and grabs the bassett.... wait. why shouldn't she simply walk downstairs?" "you are overlooking the effect of sudden alarm on the feminine temperament, sir." "that's true." "miss bassett's impulse, i would imagine, sir, would be to leap from her window." "well, that's worse. we don't want her spread out in a sort of _purã©e_ on the lawn. it seems to me that the flaw in this scheme of yours, jeeves, is that it's going to litter the garden with mangled corpses." "no, sir. you will recall that mr. travers's fear of burglars has caused him to have stout bars fixed to all the windows." "of course, yes. well, it sounds all right," i said, though still a bit doubtfully. "quite possibly it may come off. but i have a feeling that it will slip up somewhere. however, i am in no position to cavil at even a 100 to 1 shot. i will adopt this policy of yours, jeeves, though, as i say, with misgivings. at what hour would you suggest bonging the bell?" "not before midnight, sir." "that is to say, some time after midnight." "yes, sir." "right-ho, then. at 12.30 on the dot, i will bong." "very good, sir." -22i don't know why it is, but there's something about the rural districts after dark that always has a rummy effect on me. in london i can stay out till all hours and come home with the milk without a tremor, but put me in the garden of a country house after the strength of the company has gone to roost and the place is shut up, and a sort of goose-fleshy feeling steals over me. the night wind stirs the tree-tops, twigs crack, bushes rustle, and before i know where i am, the morale has gone phut and i'm expecting the family ghost to come sneaking up behind me, making groaning noises. dashed unpleasant, the whole thing, and if you think it improves matters to know that you are shortly about to ring the loudest fire bell in england and start an all-hands-to-the-pumps panic in that quiet, darkened house, you err. i knew all about the brinkley court fire bell. the dickens of a row it makes. uncle tom, in addition to not liking burglars, is a bloke who has always objected to the idea of being cooked in his sleep, so when he bought the place he saw to it that the fire bell should be something that might give you heart failure, but which you couldn't possibly mistake for the drowsy chirping of a sparrow in the ivy. when i was a kid and spent my holidays at brinkley, we used to have fire drills after closing time, and many is the night i've had it jerk me out of the dreamless like the last trump. i confess that the recollection of what this bell could do when it buckled down to it gave me pause as i stood that night at 12.30 p.m. prompt beside the outhouse where it was located. the sight of the rope against the whitewashed wall and the thought of the bloodsome uproar which was about to smash the peace of the night into hash served to deepen that rummy feeling to which i have alluded. moreover, now that i had had time to meditate upon it, i was more than ever defeatist about this scheme of jeeves's. jeeves seemed to take it for granted that gussie and tuppy, faced with a hideous fate, would have no thought beyond saving the bassett and angela. i could not bring myself to share his sunny confidence. i mean to say, i know how moments when they're faced with a hideous fate affect chaps. i remember freddie widgeon, one of the most chivalrous birds in the drones, telling me how there was an alarm of fire once at a seaside hotel where he was staying and, so far from rushing about saving women, he was down the escape within ten seconds of the kick-off, his mind concerned with but one thing--viz., the personal well-being of f. widgeon. as far as any idea of doing the delicately nurtured a bit of good went, he tells me, he was prepared to stand underneath and catch them in blankets, but no more. why, then, should this not be so with augustus fink-nottle and hildebrand glossop? such were my thoughts as i stood toying with the rope, and i believe i should have turned the whole thing up, had it not been that at this juncture there floated into my mind a picture of the bassett hearing that bell for the first time. coming as a wholly new experience, it would probably startle her into a decline. and so agreeable was this reflection that i waited no longer, but seized the rope, braced the feet and snapped into it. well, as i say, i hadn't been expecting that bell to hush things up to any great extent. nor did it. the last time i had heard it, i had been in my room on the other side of the house, and even so it had hoiked me out of bed as if something had exploded under me. standing close to it like this, i got the full force and meaning of the thing, and i've never heard anything like it in my puff. i rather enjoy a bit of noise, as a general rule. i remember cats-meat potter-pirbright bringing a police rattle into the drones one night and loosing it off behind my chair, and i just lay back and closed my eyes with a pleasant smile, like someone in a box at the opera. and the same applies to the time when my aunt agatha's son, young thos., put a match to the parcel of guy fawkes day fireworks to see what would happen. but the brinkley court fire bell was too much for me. i gave about half a dozen tugs, and then, feeling that enough was enough, sauntered round to the front lawn to ascertain what solid results had been achieved. brinkley court had given of its best. a glance told me that we were playing to capacity. the eye, roving to and fro, noted here uncle tom in a purple dressing gown, there aunt dahlia in the old blue and yellow. it also fell upon anatole, tuppy, gussie, angela, the bassett and jeeves, in the order named. there they all were, present and correct. but--and this was what caused me immediate concern--i could detect no sign whatever that there had been any rescue work going on. what i had been hoping, of course, was to see tuppy bending solicitously over angela in one corner, while gussie fanned the bassett with a towel in the other. instead of which, the bassett was one of the group which included aunt dahlia and uncle tom and seemed to be busy trying to make anatole see the bright side, while angela and gussie were, respectively, leaning against the sundial with a peeved look and sitting on the grass rubbing a barked shin. tuppy was walking up and down the path, all by himself. a disturbing picture, you will admit. it was with a rather imperious gesture that i summoned jeeves to my side. "well, jeeves?" "sir?" i eyed him sternly. "sir?" forsooth! "it's no good saying 'sir?' jeeves. look round you. see for yourself. your scheme has proved a bust." "certainly it would appear that matters have not arranged themselves quite as we anticipated, sir." "we?" "as i had anticipated, sir." "that's more like it. didn't i tell you it would be a flop?" "i remember that you did seem dubious, sir." "dubious is no word for it, jeeves. i hadn't a scrap of faith in the idea from the start. when you first mooted it, i said it was rotten, and i was right. i'm not blaming you, jeeves. it is not your fault that you have sprained your brain. but after this--forgive me if i hurt your feelings, jeeves----i shall know better than to allow you to handle any but the simplest and most elementary problems. it is best to be candid about this, don't you think? kindest to be frank and straightforward?" "certainly, sir." "i mean, the surgeon's knife, what?" "precisely, sir." "i consider----" "if you will pardon me for interrupting you, sir, i fancy mrs. travers is endeavouring to attract your attention." and at this moment a ringing "hoy!" which could have proceeded only from the relative in question, assured me that his view was correct. "just step this way a moment, attila, if you don't mind," boomed that well-known--and under certain conditions, well-loved--voice, and i moved over. i was not feeling unmixedly at my ease. for the first time it was beginning to steal upon me that i had not prepared a really good story in support of my questionable behaviour in ringing fire bells at such an hour, and i have known aunt dahlia to express herself with a hearty freedom upon far smaller provocation. she exhibited, however, no signs of violence. more a sort of frozen calm, if you know what i mean. you could see that she was a woman who had suffered. "well, bertie, dear," she said, "here we all are." "quite," i replied guardedly. "nobody missing, is there?" "i don't think so." "splendid. so much healthier for us out in the open like this than frowsting in bed. i had just dropped off when you did your bell-ringing act. for it was you, my sweet child, who rang that bell, was it not?" "i did ring the bell, yes." "any particular reason, or just a whim?" "i thought there was a fire." "what gave you that impression, dear?" "i thought i saw flames." "where, darling? tell aunt dahlia." "in one of the windows." "i see. so we have all been dragged out of bed and scared rigid because you have been seeing things." here uncle tom made a noise like a cork coming out of a bottle, and anatole, whose moustache had hit a new low, said something about "some apes" and, if i am not mistaken, a "_rogommier_"--whatever that is. "i admit i was mistaken. i am sorry." "don't apologize, ducky. can't you see how pleased we all are? what were you doing out here, anyway?" "just taking a stroll." "i see. and are you proposing to continue your stroll?" "no, i think i'll go in now." "that's fine. because i was thinking of going in, too, and i don't believe i could sleep knowing you were out here giving rein to that powerful imagination of yours. the next thing that would happen would be that you would think you saw a pink elephant sitting on the drawing-room window-sill and start throwing bricks at it.... well, come on, tom, the entertainment seems to be over.... but wait. the newt king wishes a word with us.... yes, mr. fink-nottle?" gussie, as he joined our little group, seemed upset about something. "i say!" "say on, augustus." "i say, what are we going to do?" "speaking for myself, i intend to return to bed." "but the door's shut." "what door?" "the front door. somebody must have shut it." "then i shall open it." "but it won't open." "then i shall try another door." "but all the other doors are shut." "what? who shut them?" "i don't know." i advanced a theory! "the wind?" aunt dahlia's eyes met mine. "don't try me too high," she begged. "not now, precious." and, indeed, even as i spoke, it did strike me that the night was pretty still. uncle tom said we must get in through a window. aunt dahlia sighed a bit. "how? could lloyd george do it, could winston do it, could baldwin do it? no. not since you had those bars of yours put on." "well, well, well. god bless my soul, ring the bell, then." "the fire bell?" "the door bell." "to what end, thomas? there's nobody in the house. the servants are all at kingham." "but, confound it all, we can't stop out here all night." "can't we? you just watch us. there is nothing--literally nothing--which a country house party can't do with attila here operating on the premises. seppings presumably took the back-door key with him. we must just amuse ourselves till he comes back." tuppy made a suggestion: "why not take out one of the cars and drive over to kingham and get the key from seppings?" it went well. no question about that. for the first time, a smile lit up aunt dahlia's drawn face. uncle tom grunted approvingly. anatole said something in provenã§al that sounded complimentary. and i thought i detected even on angela's map a slight softening. "a very excellent idea," said aunt dahlia. "one of the best. nip round to the garage at once." after tuppy had gone, some extremely flattering things were said about his intelligence and resource, and there was a disposition to draw rather invidious comparisons between him and bertram. painful for me, of course, but the ordeal didn't last long, for it couldn't have been more than five minutes before he was with us again. tuppy seemed perturbed. "i say, it's all off." "why?" "the garage is locked." "unlock it." "i haven't the key." "shout, then, and wake waterbury." "who's waterbury?" "the chauffeur, ass. he sleeps over the garage." "but he's gone to the dance at kingham." it was the final wallop. until this moment, aunt dahlia had been able to preserve her frozen calm. the dam now burst. the years rolled away from her, and she was once more the dahlia wooster of the old yoicks-and-tantivy days--the emotional, free-speaking girl who had so often risen in her stirrups to yell derogatory personalities at people who were heading hounds. "curse all dancing chauffeurs! what on earth does a chauffeur want to dance for? i mistrusted that man from the start. something told me he was a dancer. well, this finishes it. we're out here till breakfast-time. if those blasted servants come back before eight o'clock, i shall be vastly surprised. you won't get seppings away from a dance till you throw him out. i know him. the jazz'll go to his head, and he'll stand clapping and demanding encores till his hands blister. damn all dancing butlers! what is brinkley court? a respectable english country house or a crimson dancing school? one might as well be living in the middle of the russian ballet. well, all right. if we must stay out here, we must. we shall all be frozen stiff, except"--here she directed at me not one of her friendliest glances----"except dear old attila, who is, i observe, well and warmly clad. we will resign ourselves to the prospect of freezing to death like the babes in the wood, merely expressing a dying wish that our old pal attila will see that we are covered with leaves. no doubt he will also toll that fire bell of his as a mark of respect--and what might you want, my good man?" she broke off, and stood glaring at jeeves. during the latter portion of her address, he had been standing by in a respectful manner, endeavouring to catch the speaker's eye. "if i might make a suggestion, madam." i am not saying that in the course of our long association i have always found myself able to view jeeves with approval. there are aspects of his character which have frequently caused coldnesses to arise between us. he is one of those fellows who, if you give them a thingummy, take a what-d'you-call-it. his work is often raw, and he has been known to allude to me as "mentally negligible". more than once, as i have shown, it has been my painful task to squelch in him a tendency to get uppish and treat the young master as a serf or peon. these are grave defects. but one thing i have never failed to hand the man. he is magnetic. there is about him something that seems to soothe and hypnotize. to the best of my knowledge, he has never encountered a charging rhinoceros, but should this contingency occur, i have no doubt that the animal, meeting his eye, would check itself in mid-stride, roll over and lie purring with its legs in the air. at any rate he calmed down aunt dahlia, the nearest thing to a charging rhinoceros, in under five seconds. he just stood there looking respectful, and though i didn't time the thing--not having a stop-watch on me--i should say it wasn't more than three seconds and a quarter before her whole manner underwent an astounding change for the better. she melted before one's eyes. "jeeves! you haven't got an idea?" "yes, madam." "that great brain of yours has really clicked as ever in the hour of need?" "yes, madam." "jeeves," said aunt dahlia in a shaking voice, "i am sorry i spoke so abruptly. i was not myself. i might have known that you would not come simply trying to make conversation. tell us this idea of yours, jeeves. join our little group of thinkers and let us hear what you have to say. make yourself at home, jeeves, and give us the good word. can you really get us out of this mess?" "yes, madam, if one of the gentlemen would be willing to ride a bicycle." "a bicycle?" "there is a bicycle in the gardener's shed in the kitchen garden, madam. possibly one of the gentlemen might feel disposed to ride over to kingham manor and procure the back-door key from mr. seppings." "splendid, jeeves!" "thank you, madam." "wonderful!" "thank you, madam." "attila!" said aunt dahlia, turning and speaking in a quiet, authoritative manner. i had been expecting it. from the very moment those ill-judged words had passed the fellow's lips, i had had a presentiment that a determined effort would be made to elect me as the goat, and i braced myself to resist and obstruct. and as i was about to do so, while i was in the very act of summoning up all my eloquence to protest that i didn't know how to ride a bike and couldn't possibly learn in the brief time at my disposal, i'm dashed if the man didn't go and nip me in the bud. "yes, madam, mr. wooster would perform the task admirably. he is an expert cyclist. he has often boasted to me of his triumphs on the wheel." i hadn't. i hadn't done anything of the sort. it's simply monstrous how one's words get twisted. all i had ever done was to mention to him--casually, just as an interesting item of information, one day in new york when we were watching the six-day bicycle race--that at the age of fourteen, while spending my holidays with a vicar of sorts who had been told off to teach me latin, i had won the choir boys' handicap at the local school treat. a different thing from boasting of one's triumphs on the wheel. i mean, he was a man of the world and must have known that the form of school treats is never of the hottest. and, if i'm not mistaken, i had specifically told him that on the occasion referred to i had received half a lap start and that willie punting, the odds-on favourite to whom the race was expected to be a gift, had been forced to retire, owing to having pinched his elder brother's machine without asking the elder brother, and the elder brother coming along just as the pistol went and giving him one on the side of the head and taking it away from him, thus rendering him a scratched-at-the-post non-starter. yet, from the way he talked, you would have thought i was one of those chaps in sweaters with medals all over them, whose photographs bob up from time to time in the illustrated press on the occasion of their having ridden from hyde park corner to glasgow in three seconds under the hour, or whatever it is. and as if this were not bad enough, tuppy had to shove his oar in. "that's right," said tuppy. "bertie has always been a great cyclist. i remember at oxford he used to take all his clothes off on bump-supper nights and ride around the quad, singing comic songs. jolly fast he used to go too." "then he can go jolly fast now," said aunt dahlia with animation. "he can't go too fast for me. he may also sing comic songs, if he likes.... and if you wish to take your clothes off, bertie, my lamb, by all means do so. but whether clothed or in the nude, whether singing comic songs or not singing comic songs, get a move on." i found speech: "but i haven't ridden for years." "then it's high time you began again." "i've probably forgotten how to ride." "you'll soon get the knack after you've taken a toss or two. trial and error. the only way." "but it's miles to kingham." "so the sooner you're off, the better." "but----" "bertie, dear." "but, dash it----" "bertie, darling." "yes, but dash it----" "bertie, my sweet." and so it was arranged. presently i was moving sombrely off through the darkness, jeeves at my side, aunt dahlia calling after me something about trying to imagine myself the man who brought the good news from ghent to aix. the first i had heard of the chap. "so, jeeves," i said, as we reached the shed, and my voice was cold and bitter, "this is what your great scheme has accomplished! tuppy, angela, gussie and the bassett not on speaking terms, and self faced with an eight-mile ride----" "nine, i believe, sir." "--a nine-mile ride, and another nine-mile ride back." "i am sorry, sir." "no good being sorry now. where is this foul bone-shaker?" "i will bring it out, sir." he did so. i eyed it sourly. "where's the lamp?" "i fear there is no lamp, sir." "no lamp?" "no, sir." "but i may come a fearful stinker without a lamp. suppose i barge into something." i broke off and eyed him frigidly. "you smile, jeeves. the thought amuses you?" "i beg your pardon, sir. i was thinking of a tale my uncle cyril used to tell me as a child. an absurd little story, sir, though i confess that i have always found it droll. according to my uncle cyril, two men named nicholls and jackson set out to ride to brighton on a tandem bicycle, and were so unfortunate as to come into collision with a brewer's van. and when the rescue party arrived on the scene of the accident, it was discovered that they had been hurled together with such force that it was impossible to sort them out at all adequately. the keenest eye could not discern which portion of the fragments was nicholls and which jackson. so they collected as much as they could, and called it nixon. i remember laughing very much at that story when i was a child, sir." i had to pause a moment to master my feelings. "you did, eh?" "yes, sir." "you thought it funny?" "yes, sir." "and your uncle cyril thought it funny?" "yes, sir." "golly, what a family! next time you meet your uncle cyril, jeeves, you can tell him from me that his sense of humour is morbid and unpleasant." "he is dead, sir." "thank heaven for that.... well, give me the blasted machine." "very good, sir." "are the tyres inflated?" "yes, sir." "the nuts firm, the brakes in order, the sprockets running true with the differential gear?" "yes, sir." "right ho, jeeves." in tuppy's statement that, when at the university of oxford, i had been known to ride a bicycle in the nude about the quadrangle of our mutual college, there had been, i cannot deny, a certain amount of substance. correct, however, though his facts were, so far as they went, he had not told all. what he had omitted to mention was that i had invariably been well oiled at the time, and when in that condition a chap is capable of feats at which in cooler moments his reason would rebel. stimulated by the juice, i believe, men have even been known to ride alligators. as i started now to pedal out into the great world, i was icily sober, and the old skill, in consequence, had deserted me entirely. i found myself wobbling badly, and all the stories i had ever heard of nasty bicycle accidents came back to me with a rush, headed by jeeves's uncle cyril's cheery little anecdote about nicholls and jackson. pounding wearily through the darkness, i found myself at a loss to fathom the mentality of men like jeeves's uncle cyril. what on earth he could see funny in a disaster which had apparently involved the complete extinction of a human creature--or, at any rate, of half a human creature and half another human creature--was more than i could understand. to me, the thing was one of the most poignant tragedies that had ever been brought to my attention, and i have no doubt that i should have continued to brood over it for quite a time, had my thoughts not been diverted by the sudden necessity of zigzagging sharply in order to avoid a pig in the fairway. for a moment it looked like being real nicholls-and-jackson stuff, but, fortunately, a quick zig on my part, coinciding with an adroit zag on the part of the pig, enabled me to win through, and i continued my ride safe, but with the heart fluttering like a captive bird. the effect of this narrow squeak upon me was to shake the nerve to the utmost. the fact that pigs were abroad in the night seemed to bring home to me the perilous nature of my enterprise. it set me thinking of all the other things that could happen to a man out and about on a velocipede without a lamp after lighting-up time. in particular, i recalled the statement of a pal of mine that in certain sections of the rural districts goats were accustomed to stray across the road to the extent of their chains, thereby forming about as sound a booby trap as one could well wish. he mentioned, i remember, the case of a friend of his whose machine got entangled with a goat chain and who was dragged seven miles--like skijoring in switzerland--so that he was never the same man again. and there was one chap who ran into an elephant, left over from a travelling circus. indeed, taking it for all in all, it seemed to me that, with the possible exception of being bitten by sharks, there was virtually no front-page disaster that could not happen to a fellow, once he had allowed his dear ones to override his better judgment and shove him out into the great unknown on a push-bike, and i am not ashamed to confess that, taking it by and large, the amount of quailing i did from this point on was pretty considerable. however, in respect to goats and elephants, i must say things panned out unexpectedly well. oddly enough, i encountered neither. but when you have said that you have said everything, for in every other way the conditions could scarcely have been fouler. apart from the ceaseless anxiety of having to keep an eye skinned for elephants, i found myself much depressed by barking dogs, and once i received a most unpleasant shock when, alighting to consult a signpost, i saw sitting on top of it an owl that looked exactly like my aunt agatha. so agitated, indeed, had my frame of mind become by this time that i thought at first it was aunt agatha, and only when reason and reflection told me how alien to her habits it would be to climb signposts and sit on them, could i pull myself together and overcome the weakness. in short, what with all this mental disturbance added to the more purely physical anguish in the billowy portions and the calves and ankles, the bertram wooster who eventually toppled off at the door of kingham manor was a very different bertram from the gay and insouciant _boulevardier_ of bond street and piccadilly. even to one unaware of the inside facts, it would have been evident that kingham manor was throwing its weight about a bit tonight. lights shone in the windows, music was in the air, and as i drew nearer my ear detected the sibilant shuffling of the feet of butlers, footmen, chauffeurs, parlourmaids, housemaids, tweenies and, i have no doubt, cooks, who were busily treading the measure. i suppose you couldn't sum it up much better than by saying that there was a sound of revelry by night. the orgy was taking place in one of the ground-floor rooms which had french windows opening on to the drive, and it was to these french windows that i now made my way. an orchestra was playing something with a good deal of zip to it, and under happier conditions i dare say my feet would have started twitching in time to the melody. but i had sterner work before me than to stand hoofing it by myself on gravel drives. i wanted that back-door key, and i wanted it instanter. scanning the throng within, i found it difficult for a while to spot seppings. presently, however, he hove in view, doing fearfully lissom things in mid-floor. i "hi-seppings!"-ed a couple of times, but his mind was too much on his job to be diverted, and it was only when the swirl of the dance had brought him within prodding distance of my forefinger that a quick one to the lower ribs enabled me to claim his attention. the unexpected buffet caused him to trip over his partner's feet, and it was with marked austerity that he turned. as he recognized bertram, however, coldness melted, to be replaced by astonishment. "mr. wooster!" i was in no mood for bandying words. "less of the 'mr. wooster' and more back-door keys," i said curtly. "give me the key of the back door, seppings." he did not seem to grasp the gist. "the key of the back door, sir?" "precisely. the brinkley court back-door key." "but it is at the court, sir." i clicked the tongue, annoyed. "don't be frivolous, my dear old butler," i said. "i haven't ridden nine miles on a push-bike to listen to you trying to be funny. you've got it in your trousers pocket." "no, sir. i left it with mr. jeeves." "you did--what?" "yes, sir. before i came away. mr. jeeves said that he wished to walk in the garden before retiring for the night. he was to place the key on the kitchen window-sill." i stared at the man dumbly. his eye was clear, his hand steady. he had none of the appearance of a butler who has had a couple. "you mean that all this while the key has been in jeeves's possession?"?? "yes, sir." i could speak no more. emotion had overmastered my voice. i was at a loss and not abreast; but of one thing, it seemed to me, there could be no doubt. for some reason, not to be fathomed now, but most certainly to be gone well into as soon as i had pushed this infernal sewing-machine of mine over those nine miles of lonely, country road and got within striking distance of him, jeeves had been doing the dirty. knowing that at any given moment he could have solved the whole situation, he had kept aunt dahlia and others roosting out on the front lawn _en dã©shabille_ and, worse still, had stood calmly by and watched his young employer set out on a wholly unnecessary eighteen-mile bicycle ride. i could scarcely believe such a thing of him. of his uncle cyril, yes. with that distorted sense of humour of his, uncle cyril might quite conceivably have been capable of such conduct. but that it should be jeeves-i leaped into the saddle and, stifling the cry of agony which rose to the lips as the bruised person touched the hard leather, set out on the homeward journey. -23i remember jeeves saying on one occasion--i forgot how the subject had arisen--he may simply have thrown the observation out, as he does sometimes, for me to take or leave--that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. and until tonight i had always felt that there was a lot in it. i had never scorned a woman myself, but pongo twistleton once scorned an aunt of his, flatly refusing to meet her son gerald at paddington and give him lunch and see him off to school at waterloo, and he never heard the end of it. letters were written, he tells me, which had to be seen to be believed. also two very strong telegrams and a bitter picture post card with a view of the little chilbury war memorial on it. until tonight, therefore, as i say, i had never questioned the accuracy of the statement. scorned women first and the rest nowhere, was how it had always seemed to me. but tonight i revised my views. if you want to know what hell can really do in the way of furies, look for the chap who has been hornswoggled into taking a long and unnecessary bicycle ride in the dark without a lamp. mark that word "unnecessary". that was the part of it that really jabbed the iron into the soul. i mean, if it was a case of riding to the doctor's to save the child with croup, or going off to the local pub to fetch supplies in the event of the cellar having run dry, no one would leap to the handlebars more readily than i. young lochinvar, absolutely. but this business of being put through it merely to gratify one's personal attendant's diseased sense of the amusing was a bit too thick, and i chafed from start to finish. so, what i mean to say, although the providence which watches over good men saw to it that i was enabled to complete the homeward journey unscathed except in the billowy portions, removing from my path all goats, elephants, and even owls that looked like my aunt agatha, it was a frowning and jaundiced bertram who finally came to anchor at the brinkley court front door. and when i saw a dark figure emerging from the porch to meet me, i prepared to let myself go and uncork all that was fizzing in the mind. "jeeves!" i said. "it is i, bertie." the voice which spoke sounded like warm treacle, and even if i had not recognized it immediately as that of the bassett, i should have known that it did not proceed from the man i was yearning to confront. for this figure before me was wearing a simple tweed dress and had employed my first name in its remarks. and jeeves, whatever his moral defects, would never go about in skirts calling me bertie. the last person, of course, whom i would have wished to meet after a long evening in the saddle, but i vouchsafed a courteous "what ho!" there was a pause, during which i massaged the calves. mine, of course, i mean. "you got in, then?" i said, in allusion to the change of costume. "oh, yes. about a quarter of an hour after you left jeeves went searching about and found the back-door key on the kitchen window-sill." "ha!" "what?" "nothing." "i thought you said something." "no, nothing." and i continued to do so. for at this juncture, as had so often happened when this girl and i were closeted, the conversation once more went blue on us. the night breeze whispered, but not the bassett. a bird twittered, but not so much as a chirp escaped bertram. it was perfectly amazing, the way her mere presence seemed to wipe speech from my lips--and mine, for that matter, from hers. it began to look as if our married life together would be rather like twenty years among the trappist monks. "seen jeeves anywhere?" i asked, eventually coming through. "yes, in the dining-room." "the dining-room?" "waiting on everybody. they are having eggs and bacon and champagne.... what did you say?" i had said nothing--merely snorted. there was something about the thought of these people carelessly revelling at a time when, for all they knew, i was probably being dragged about the countryside by goats or chewed by elephants, that struck home at me like a poisoned dart. it was the sort of thing you read about as having happened just before the french revolution--the haughty nobles in their castles callously digging in and quaffing while the unfortunate blighters outside were suffering frightful privations. the voice of the bassett cut in on these mordant reflections: "bertie." "hullo!" silence. "hullo!" i said again. no response. whole thing rather like one of those telephone conversations where you sit at your end of the wire saying: "hullo! hullo!" unaware that the party of the second part has gone off to tea. eventually, however, she came to the surface again: "bertie, i have something to say to you." "what?" "i have something to say to you." "i know. i said 'what?'" "oh, i thought you didn't hear what i said." "yes, i heard what you said, all right, but not what you were going to say." "oh, i see." "right-ho." so that was straightened out. nevertheless, instead of proceeding she took time off once more. she stood twisting the fingers and scratching the gravel with her foot. when finally she spoke, it was to deliver an impressive boost: "bertie, do you read tennyson?" "not if i can help." "you remind me so much of those knights of the round table in the 'idylls of the king'." of course i had heard of them--lancelot, galahad and all that lot, but i didn't see where the resemblance came in. it seemed to me that she must be thinking of a couple of other fellows. "how do you mean?" "you have such a great heart, such a fine soul. you are so generous, so unselfish, so chivalrous. i have always felt that about you--that you are one of the few really chivalrous men i have ever met." well, dashed difficult, of course, to know what to say when someone is giving you the old oil on a scale like that. i muttered an "oh, yes?" or something on those lines, and rubbed the billowy portions in some embarrassment. and there was another silence, broken only by a sharp howl as i rubbed a bit too hard. "bertie." "hullo?" i heard her give a sort of gulp. "bertie, will you be chivalrous now?" "rather. only too pleased. how do you mean?" "i am going to try you to the utmost. i am going to test you as few men have ever been tested. i am going----" i didn't like the sound of this. "well," i said doubtfully, "always glad to oblige, you know, but i've just had the dickens of a bicycle ride, and i'm a bit stiff and sore, especially in the--as i say, a bit stiff and sore. if it's anything to be fetched from upstairs----" "no, no, you don't understand." "i don't, quite, no." "oh, it's so difficult.... how can i say it?... can't you guess?" "no. i'm dashed if i can." "bertie--let me go!" "but i haven't got hold of you." "release me!" "re----" and then i suddenly got it. i suppose it was fatigue that had made me so slow to apprehend the nub. "what?" i staggered, and the left pedal came up and caught me on the shin. but such was the ecstasy in the soul that i didn't utter a cry. "release you?" "yes." i didn't want any confusion on the point. "you mean you want to call it all off? you're going to hitch up with gussie, after all?" "only if you are fine and big enough to consent." "oh, i am." "i gave you my promise." "dash promises." "then you really----" "absolutely." "oh, bertie!" she seemed to sway like a sapling. it is saplings that sway, i believe. "a very parfait knight!" i heard her murmur, and there not being much to say after that, i excused myself on the ground that i had got about two pecks of dust down my back and would like to go and get my maid to put me into something loose. "you go back to gussie," i said, "and tell him that all is well." she gave a sort of hiccup and, darting forward, kissed me on the forehead. unpleasant, of course, but, as anatole would say, i can take a few smooths with a rough. the next moment she was legging it for the dining-room, while i, having bunged the bicycle into a bush, made for the stairs. i need not dwell upon my buckedness. it can be readily imagined. talk about chaps with the noose round their necks and the hangman about to let her go and somebody galloping up on a foaming horse, waving the reprieve--not in it. absolutely not in it at all. i don't know that i can give you a better idea of the state of my feelings than by saying that as i started to cross the hall i was conscious of so profound a benevolence toward all created things that i found myself thinking kindly thoughts even of jeeves. i was about to mount the stairs when a sudden "what ho!" from my rear caused me to turn. tuppy was standing in the hall. he had apparently been down to the cellar for reinforcements, for there were a couple of bottles under his arm. "hullo, bertie," he said. "you back?" he laughed amusedly. "you look like the wreck of the hesperus. get run over by a steam-roller or something?" at any other time i might have found his coarse badinage hard to bear. but such was my uplifted mood that i waved it aside and slipped him the good news. "tuppy, old man, the bassett's going to marry gussie fink-nottle." "tough luck on both of them, what?" "but don't you understand? don't you see what this means? it means that angela is once more out of pawn, and you have only to play your cards properly----" he bellowed rollickingly. i saw now that he was in the pink. as a matter of fact, i had noticed something of the sort directly i met him, but had attributed it to alcoholic stimulant. "good lord! you're right behind the times, bertie. only to be expected, of course, if you will go riding bicycles half the night. angela and i made it up hours ago." "what?" "certainly. nothing but a passing tiff. all you need in these matters is a little give and take, a bit of reasonableness on both sides. we got together and talked things over. she withdrew my double chin. i conceded her shark. perfectly simple. all done in a couple of minutes." "but----" "sorry, bertie. can't stop chatting with you all night. there is a rather impressive beano in progress in the dining-room, and they are waiting for supplies." endorsement was given to this statement by a sudden shout from the apartment named. i recognized--as who would not--aunt dahlia's voice: "glossop!" "hullo?" "hurry up with that stuff." "coming, coming." "well, come, then. yoicks! hard for-rard!" "tallyho, not to mention tantivy. your aunt," said tuppy, "is a bit above herself. i don't know all the facts of the case, but it appears that anatole gave notice and has now consented to stay on, and also your uncle has given her a cheque for that paper of hers. i didn't get the details, but she is much braced. see you later. i must rush." to say that bertram was now definitely nonplussed would be but to state the simple truth. i could make nothing of this. i had left brinkley court a stricken home, with hearts bleeding wherever you looked, and i had returned to find it a sort of earthly paradise. it baffled me. i bathed bewilderedly. the toy duck was still in the soap-dish, but i was too preoccupied to give it a thought. still at a loss, i returned to my room, and there was jeeves. and it is proof of my fogged condish that my first words to him were words not of reproach and stern recrimination but of inquiry: "i say, jeeves!" "good evening, sir. i was informed that you had returned. i trust you had an enjoyable ride." at any other moment, a crack like that would have woken the fiend in bertram wooster. i barely noticed it. i was intent on getting to the bottom of this mystery. "but i say, jeeves, what?" "sir?" "what does all this mean?" "you refer, sir----" "of course i refer. you know what i'm talking about. what has been happening here since i left? the place is positively stiff with happy endings." "yes, sir. i am glad to say that my efforts have been rewarded." "what do you mean, your efforts? you aren't going to try to make out that that rotten fire bell scheme of yours had anything to do with it?" "yes, sir." "don't be an ass, jeeves. it flopped." "not altogether, sir. i fear, sir, that i was not entirely frank with regard to my suggestion of ringing the fire bell. i had not really anticipated that it would in itself produce the desired results. i had intended it merely as a preliminary to what i might describe as the real business of the evening." "you gibber, jeeves." "no, sir. it was essential that the ladies and gentlemen should be brought from the house, in order that, once out of doors, i could ensure that they remained there for the necessary period of time." "how do you mean?" "my plan was based on psychology, sir." "how?" "it is a recognized fact, sir, that there is nothing that so satisfactorily unites individuals who have been so unfortunate as to quarrel amongst themselves as a strong mutual dislike for some definite person. in my own family, if i may give a homely illustration, it was a generally accepted axiom that in times of domestic disagreement it was necessary only to invite my aunt annie for a visit to heal all breaches between the other members of the household. in the mutual animosity excited by aunt annie, those who had become estranged were reconciled almost immediately. remembering this, it occurred to me that were you, sir, to be established as the person responsible for the ladies and gentlemen being forced to spend the night in the garden, everybody would take so strong a dislike to you that in this common sympathy they would sooner or later come together." i would have spoken, but he continued: "and such proved to be the case. all, as you see, sir, is now well. after your departure on the bicycle, the various estranged parties agreed so heartily in their abuse of you that the ice, if i may use the expression, was broken, and it was not long before mr. glossop was walking beneath the trees with miss angela, telling her anecdotes of your career at the university in exchange for hers regarding your childhood; while mr. fink-nottle, leaning against the sundial, held miss bassett enthralled with stories of your schooldays. mrs. travers, meanwhile, was telling monsieur anatole----" i found speech. "oh?" i said. "i see. and now, i suppose, as the result of this dashed psychology of yours, aunt dahlia is so sore with me that it will be years before i can dare to show my face here again--years, jeeves, during which, night after night, anatole will be cooking those dinners of his----" "no, sir. it was to prevent any such contingency that i suggested that you should bicycle to kingham manor. when i informed the ladies and gentlemen that i had found the key, and it was borne in upon them that you were having that long ride for nothing, their animosity vanished immediately, to be replaced by cordial amusement. there was much laughter." "there was, eh?" "yes, sir. i fear you may possibly have to submit to a certain amount of good-natured chaff, but nothing more. all, if i may say so, is forgiven, sir." "oh?" "yes, sir." i mused awhile. "you certainly seem to have fixed things." "yes, sir." "tuppy and angela are once more betrothed. also gussie and the bassett; uncle tom appears to have coughed up that money for _milady's boudoir_. and anatole is staying on." "yes, sir." "i suppose you might say that all's well that ends well." "very apt, sir." i mused again. "all the same, your methods are a bit rough, jeeves." "one cannot make an omelette without breaking eggs, sir." i started. "omelette! do you think you could get me one?" "certainly, sir." "together with half a bot. of something?" "undoubtedly, sir." "do so, jeeves, and with all speed." i climbed into bed and sank back against the pillows. i must say that my generous wrath had ebbed a bit. i was aching the whole length of my body, particularly toward the middle, but against this you had to set the fact that i was no longer engaged to madeline bassett. in a good cause one is prepared to suffer. yes, looking at the thing from every angle, i saw that jeeves had done well, and it was with an approving beam that i welcomed him as he returned with the needful. he did not check up with this beam. a bit grave, he seemed to me to be looking, and i probed the matter with a kindly query: "something on your mind, jeeves?" "yes, sir. i should have mentioned it earlier, but in the evening's disturbance it escaped my memory, i fear i have been remiss, sir." "yes, jeeves?" i said, champing contentedly. "in the matter of your mess-jacket, sir." a nameless fear shot through me, causing me to swallow a mouthful of omelette the wrong way. "i am sorry to say, sir, that while i was ironing it this afternoon i was careless enough to leave the hot instrument upon it. i very much fear that it will be impossible for you to wear it again, sir." one of those old pregnant silences filled the room. "i am extremely sorry, sir." for a moment, i confess, that generous wrath of mine came bounding back, hitching up its muscles and snorting a bit through the nose, but, as we say on the riviera, _ã  quoi sert-il_? there was nothing to be gained by g.w. now. we woosters can bite the bullet. i nodded moodily and speared another slab of omelette. "right ho, jeeves." "very good, sir." successful novels by ambrose pratt. vigorous daunt, billionaire. the newcastle journal.--"mr. ambrose pratt has with conspicuous success followed up his previous ventures in the world of romance with a tale that for sensation and daring originality goes to the furthermost limit. 'vigorous daunt' is an amazing creation." the sheffield telegraph.--"'vigorous daunt, billionaire,' is worthy of a place among the best of its kind. the book is capital reading." the scotsman.--"the novel is at once fresh, witty, ingenious, and full of entertainment. in his portrayal of character and the creation of incidents and situations, mr. pratt's audacity simply defies criticism; he has given free rein, with literary taste, to a vivacious imagination." the dundee courier.--"if you want innocent excitement read 'vigorous daunt.' his wild adventures will make you grasp your chair-arms as you read." the hull weekly news.--"well written, this book is one that can be well recommended. it is certain to keep the attention and to prove attractive." jan digby. financial times.--"the book is written in a clear, lively style, and as the interest is well sustained to the end, it should enhance the author's already considerable reputation." people's saturday journal.--"a tale in no wise lacking in human interest. from the first page to the last the tale grips, and its pleasant humour is well handled and its cynicism will appeal to all who like a breezy tale well told." the bristol times.--"mr. ambrose pratt has given us of the best of his work in this tale. we have not for some time read a novel that interested and held us right through as this has done." glasgow herald.--"the very considerable merit of the story lies in its vivid picture of the resolutely adverse and conflicting forces. besides illustrating the author's grip of characterization, the story gives fresh evidence of his descriptive vigour and his literary accomplishment." northern whig.--"a tale at once cleverly told and absorbingly interesting throughout. it will appeal to all readers who relish rapid movement and imaginative sweep of a writer who evidently closely observes men and manners." the counterstroke. the daily telegraph.--"mr. pratt is nothing if not startling. in this story he unfolds amazing experiences in such a dauntless and effective manner that he almost succeeds in making such curious and furiously exciting adventures appear to be real." the daily graphic.--"in 'the counterstroke' the author has surpassed his previous efforts and given us a tale which is daring in its conception and powerful in its narration. from the first page, on which we are introduced to the 'academy of ex-ambassadors' and mr. perigord, their mysterious master, down to the last, the book never loses its hold upon the reader." dundee advertiser.--"ambrose pratt is to be heartily congratulated on the imaginary gifts and the marvellous ingenuity displayed in his book. it is one of absorbing interest, and the reader pursues with almost breathless eagerness the many and varied experiences of lord francis crossingham, the brave hero of the book." the people's journal.--"there have been many nihilist novels written, but few which contain the grip and strength of mr. ambrose pratt's story. his plot is daring to a degree. it is worked out with an ingenuity which cannot but appeal to all those readers who like a cleverly-constructed romance in which the interest is kept up to the end." the evening news.--"a novel never to be forgotten." belfast northern whig.--"a story which keeps the reader absorbed all the time." the dublin daily express.--"a novel which should be eagerly read, and anyone who reads it will look eagerly for further books from mr. pratt's pen." the newcastle chronicle.--"tremendously exciting." southport visitor.--"crowded with incident, is full of excitement, and abounds in dramatic and delicate situations." leeds mercury.--"written in vigorous and dashing style, the story will certainly commend itself to a wide circle of readers." first person paramount [frontispiece: "in another second i had him by the throat." (page 189) _first person paramount_] [_frontispiece_] first person paramount by ambrose pratt author of "vigorous daunt: billionaire," etc., etc. _illustrated by j. macfarlane_ london ward, lock & co., limited 1908 contents chapter i the house in curzon street chapter ii the foundation of a fortune chapter iii the kingsmere hospital for consumptives chapter iv the operation chapter v the campaign opens chapter vi a battle of wits chapter vii a dream of love chapter viii torture chapter ix "the anglo-american hotels, limited" chapter x the house among the pines first person paramount i the house in curzon street my name is agar hume. my mother died when i was two years old. my father was the first violin in a second-rate music hall orchestra at birmingham. he had once been a gentleman. he taught me french and how to play the flute. between whiles he treated me like a dog. he wished me to become a member of his orchestra. my tastes, however, inclined to the stage. from early childhood i had possessed an almost perfect talent for mimicry. when i was nineteen years old, there was not an artist i had ever seen whom i could not represent to the life. one morning, about that time, in a fit of drunken rage my father gave me a terrible beating. i was then somewhat undersized--the result of irregular meals and bad food. i could neither retaliate nor defend myself. that night, as soon as my father had set off for the theatre, i ran away from home. i walked to liverpool, and easily obtained employment at a music hall, where for three years i nightly imitated every actor and person of note whom the liverpudlians wished to see. they grew tired of me at last and ceased to applaud my turn. i was promptly discharged by the management. not caring to return to birmingham, as my father had never forgiven me for deserting him, i made my way to london. i had saved a little money, and i thought that before it was spent i should procure a new engagement. the london market, however, was simply glutted with mimics, and before three months had passed i was penniless and still without a place. i haunted the theatres and employment agencies to no purpose. i was obliged to pawn my wardrobe, and at last a day came when i stood in the strand owning nothing in the world but the suit of decent black i wore and my make-up box, which i carried in my hand because i had been turned out of my lodging-house that morning. i had not tasted food for four-and-twenty hours. i mentioned the latter fact ten minutes later to the manager of the next employment agency i visited. he had seen me so often that he knew me well, and he sympathized with my misfortune. "look here," said he, "if you are so hard up as all that, your only hope is to try your hand at something else. there is no chance for you at the theatres." "i'm ready to turn boot-black!" i assured him. "well, well," said he, "a client of ours inquired yesterday for a valet. if you are really willing to put your pride in your pocket, i shall personally recommend you." "i have no pride," i answered, "but i have also no experience." he gave me a pitying smile. "certainly not, but i believe that you are hungry--you look it!" i was so hungry indeed that i thanked him warmly, and a few minutes afterwards i was walking as fast as i could towards piccadilly with a letter in my pocket which bore the following address:--"sir william dagmar, bart., 22a curzon street." it was a small two-storied house, but it looked good, and i raised the knocker tremblingly. a footman opened the door, to whom i gave my precious letter. he was civil because my clothes were well cut, and because i have the appearance of a gentleman. he invited me to a seat in an anteroom, and went off with my letter. when he returned, he carried his nose in the air, and his bearing was unaffectedly contemptuous. "huh!" he sniffed. "step this way, but wipe your shoes on that mat first, please!" i obeyed. he led me to a room on the first floor, opened the second door and announced in an oily voice "the valet--sir william." had i been a man of pride, i should have felt offended. as it was i walked into the room quite undisturbed, and with the most respectful mien i was able to assume. the door closed behind me. the walls of the room, which was a large one, were piled from floor to ceiling with books, which ran in long straggling tiers, on shelves of carven oak. books littered the carpet about the bases of the shelves. rows of books lying one upon another, were heaped upon an immense table that occupied the centre of the room. dust covered the books. a revolving bookcase crammed with books stood beside the chair upon which sir william dagmar sat. the apartment resembled, except for its air of general untidiness, nothing so much as a corner in the british museum library. it possessed no windows, and was lighted from the roof like a gallery of pictures. i am a keenly observant man by nature, and from a lad i had persistently developed my peculiar faculty for the sake of my profession. at that time it was only necessary for me to glance at a place, person or thing in order to photograph its character and details on my mind. a second after i entered the room i looked at sir william, but i had already said to myself: "a book-worm!" so he appeared, and nothing to my surprise. he was of middle size and age. his features were regular and even handsome. his complexion was yellow and bloodless. he possessed a broad rather high forehead, and a large head covered with a mass of stubbly iron-grey hair. his nose was long and straight. his chin was a trifle weak. he was clean shaven. the key to his face was his mouth. it was large and sensitive. it had a trick of screwing itself up at the corners, and sending the upper lip into a curl of sneering querulousness, which i immediately experienced an itch to imitate. his teeth were long, even and very white, but the right incisor was lacking, and this circumstance made his voice sound slightly sibilant. his eyes were grey like my own, but they were set deeper in his head, and the man had twice my weight of years stooping his narrow shoulders. he regarded me appraisingly. "i need a valet," he began. his voice was querulous like his mouth. "yes, sir," said i. "you are recommended by mr. bray. you look young--rather too young. why did you leave your last place?" "my employer could not afford to keep me any longer. i was with him for three years, sir." "show me your references." i had expected that demand. "i gave them to mr. bray, sir," i answered glibly. "did he not send them on to you? he said he would enclose them in his letter!" sir william shook his head, and a bored look crept into his eyes. "i suppose they are all right," he muttered wearily. "i like your voice; it is soft. if you want to please me never raise it. my head aches very easily." "i shall remember, sir," i answered in my mildest accents. "when could you commence your duties?" "at once, sir." he raised his eyebrows, then nodded languidly. "very well. i shall give you a trial. your wages will be £5 a month and your keep. butts, the footman, will show you to your room and explain my ways to you. i shall ring when i require you." "thank you, sir." "by the way, bray writes me that your name is agar hume. i dislike it. once upon a time i had a friend named hume. i shall call you brown." "very good, sir." i backed out of the room, and as i half expected found the footman in the passage. his air of defiant indifference informed me that he had been listening through the keyhole. he was an owlish looking creature, but there were garrulous wrinkles about his eyes and lips which determined me to treat him civilly. "sir william has engaged me, mr. butts," i said in a low voice. "will you be good enough to show me to my room. i am to start work at once." "you won't stay here long," he mumbled as he tip-toed off. "they never do." i had no intention of staying one day longer than i could help. but i did not confide the fact to butts. as i followed him my one thought was to get my hands on food as soon as possible. i was desperately hungry. he took me upstairs to an attic room at the back of the house. it was small, but well lighted and clean, also it smelt of lavender. it contained a deal wardrobe with a full length mirror, a truckle bed, a dressing table and a wash stand. there was also a carpet on the floor. i felt pleased, but i was famished. "here you hare!" growled butts. i put down my make-up box, and faced him. "i should like to be friends with you, mr. butts," i said. "i dare say we shall be cast a good deal in each other's company. what do you say?" i offered him my hand. he grinned and took it. my apparent ingenuousness had melted him at once. he was not a bad hearted fellow, it seemed. "all right," he said. "what's yer name?" "brown." "what did yer think of 'im," he jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "a book-worm, isn't he--but what do you say if we discuss him over a glass of beer and some bread and cheese?" "good!" said butts, and with an alacrity that delighted me, he led the way by the servants' staircase to the pantry on the ground floor. for beer, however, he gave me port wine, and for bread and cheese a cold partridge. "you seem to live well here," i commented with my mouth full. "so so!" answered butts with a sigh. "tucker's all right--but it's so cursed lonely. master never goes out, except to meals, and it's very seldom he hever has any company here, honly about once a month." "oh! a bit of a hermit, eh?" "a bloomin' misanthrope--that's what i call him! he 'ates noise like poison. hif i was to drop a plate 'e'd ring to know what the devil i meant by it?" "married?" "no. he 'ates women wors'n noise, i believe." "how does he pass his time?" "reads all day--half the night too." "what does he want with a valet, then?" "you'll soon find out," said butts with a snort of contempt. "please tell me." butts wagged his head. "bar shavin' him you won't 'ave much to do, 'cept give him his medicines at the proper hours. he's a sick man is sir william dagmar! the last valet 'e had here, joe bates, was a real smart un he was. he'd done for lord x---and mr. francis, and a lot more tip-toppers. he was just celebrated for fixing hevenin' dress ties; and sir william always wears ready made ones to save trouble. bates got the miserables in a week, an' hup an' cleared out before the fortnight was up." "what is the matter with sir william?" "consumption! he's got it bad!" "oh! is he rich?" "rich as croesus." "any relatives?" "a cousin he 'ates wors'n noise and wors'n women. a young chap name o' sefton dagmar. he's heir to the title, but i'm not thinkin' he'll get much o' the splosh. sir william's got it all in government bonds and he can leave it as he likes." "what is this sefton dagmar like?" "not a bad sort. he's always haffable enough to me. he lives at newhaven, but he calls here once in a while to see how sir william is. but he hardly ever sees him. hi! there's master's bell--i'll be back in a minute." as soon as butts had disappeared i gave my appetite free rein and a very hearty meal i made. he was absent a quarter of an hour, and on his return he wore a look of annoyance. "nuisance!" he began. "he's halways worriting about this time. he's goin' to give a dinner party to-morrow night. he gives one every month. but he wants you! hurry up, he 'ates to be kep waitin'." i was up the stairs in a twinkle, and again standing before sir william. he looked bored to death. "some gentlemen will dine with me to-morrow night, brown," he drawled. "six in all. their names are on this paper, and their table places marked. i wish you to serve--butts is a clumsy waiter." i received the paper with a deferential bow. "very good, sir!" i murmured. "you will also see that card tables are arranged in the smoking room. butts will order the dinner, he knows my ways. but you will take charge of the arrangements. you seem a capable young fellow." "thank you, sir!" "and brown," he frowned heavily. "yes, sir." "don't fill my glass too often. i am an invalid, you know, and wine does not agree with me. that is all. i shall not want you again until seven o'clock this evening, when you may dress me for dinner!" butts and i studied the paper that sir william had given me, with the greatest attention. i soon gathered that the six gentlemen who were to dine with my master were not members of the smart set of society such as butts called "tip-toppers," but men of intellectual attainment, and leaders of thought, if not of fashion. butts knew them all. "they belong to sir william's club, the 'athenian,'" he remarked. "this here sir charles venner who's to take the seat of honour is a cove what cuts up dead dogs and such like while they are alive." "a vivisectionist?" i asked smiling. "don't know what you call 'em," responded butts. "but he's doctor, and so is mr. fulton, who is to sit opposite on master's left. the next chap on the right--luke humphreys--is a hauthor, on political economy. mr. husband is the chap who wrote that article in the _national review_ on the weakness of the navy, which kicked up such a blessed fuss a while since. you must have heard of him?" "oh, yes." "well, george cavanagh is an artist and a r.a. master has one of his pictures in the dining room--you'll see it presently: a naked woman with a chap--'love and death' it's called." i had much ado not to laugh outright. "i've seen prints of it," i muttered. "who is the last, mr. nevil pardoe, butts?" "he's a playwright," answered butts with a sigh. "they're playin' one of his pieces now at the kensington theatre. i went there the other night and got my pocket picked for my trouble." he kicked over a chair as he spoke, as if carried away by temper in remembering his misfortune. the bell rang on instant. "oh, lor!" groaned butts. "i'm in for it again, that man has the ears of a mole!" he came back a few minutes later looking very sour. "called me a clod hopper!" he growled in a low voice. "he's got a reptile tongue. but come upstairs, brown, and i'll show you his bedroom--an' where he keeps his clothes an' things!" it was an immense apartment, magnificently furnished. but it was very untidy and medicine bottles, some full, some empty, crowded the mantelpiece and dressing tables. the place smelt like a druggist's store. "i'll clear that rubbish away first thing," i declared. but the footman seized my arm as i caught up the first bottle. "he'd go ravin' stark starin' mad if one of them was shifted," he cried. "don't you touch 'em, lad." i shrugged my shoulders, and watched butts ransack our master's wardrobe, he explaining to me the while certain preferences in matters of taste and dress which sir william had always manifested. it appeared that he detested colours. all his suits were black, also his boots and gloves. "you seem to know him so well, butts," i remarked at last, "that i wonder more and more why he has not made you his valet." "it's my haccent!" sighed butts. "he can't abear it. whenever i drop a haitch, in his 'earing, he shrivels up." during the afternoon i borrowed half a sovereign from butts, and purchased some fresh linen. while dressing sir william dagmar later in the evening, i only spoke when he addressed me, and then in softest monosyllables. he seemed pleased with my attentions. but then i have frequently noticed that no man is hard to please whose idiosyncrasies are humoured when detected. he gave me a list of his medicines and the hours when they should be administered, after which he departed to dine at a neighbouring restaurant, in which his habit was to take most of his meals in a private room, perfectly alone. butts and i dined together in the pantry, and a merry time we spent, until our master's return, when noise was prohibited. on the morrow the house was more or less in the hands of a bevy of restaurateurs preparing for the dinner. sir william went out early in the morning, and he was absent all day, but he returned in time for me to dress him, and he appeared to be pleased with our arrangements. the table indeed looked magnificent, for i had taken care to deck it with flowers, and my taste in such matters is excellent. i did not see the guests until dinner was served, and they were all seated at the table. i wore an evening suit of my master's, which on butts' advice i had borrowed beforehand without the formality of asking permission, having none of my own. sir william was not an observant man, _grace au dieu_! i entered the room noiselessly, and slipped behind my master's chair. the table had been previously spread with oysters. no one spoke, until the shells were emptied; meanwhile i studied the six attentively. they were intelligent, but cold-faced men. sir charles venner had an enormous nose, and very small grey eyes. dr. fulton possessed a hare-lip. mr. humphreys rejoiced in a squint. george cavanagh might have stepped from a portrait by van dyck, but he had a trick of screwing up the tip of his nose under the influence of excitement, at intervals, as a rabbit does. mr. husband put out his tongue, to meet his fork as he ate, he possessed a prodigious chin; and mr. nevil pardoe had watchful heavy lidded eyes. these traits were their key-notes so to speak--their individual and predominant peculiarities, which distinguished them from each other and from other distinguished men. from the rest of the world, they were one and all distinguished by a common pallor of complexion, and a curious cough, which stamped them as consumptives. as i removed their plates, sir charles venner broke a silence that i at least was beginning to find oppressive. "i believe you will be the first to go after all, dagmar!" he remarked in french, casting a keen glance at my master. "pardoe seems picking up. he doesn't cough so much to-night." it was evident that no one suspected me of an acquaintanceship with french. sir william shrugged his shoulders. "i am ready," he returned. "but i don't think so. will you bet, or any one?" "i'll lay you even money that pardoe turns up his toes before you, dagmar!" cut in mr. husband. "very good," said sir william. "how much?" "a hundred!" "it is a wager!" sir william took out his pencil and scrawled some figures on his shirt cuff. "i'll take you too, husband," cried mr. cavanagh. "and i," chorused dr. fulton and sir charles. "no thanks," retorted mr. husband drily. "my book is full. how are you feeling yourself, venner?" "nice and poorly, thanks, but with care i'll out-last the lot of you!" he broke out into a fit of coughing as he finished speaking, and the others bending forward, watched him eagerly. their expressions reminded me of a lot of hungry carnivora eyeing a bone held just beyond their reach. they drank their soup in silence, but while i served to them the entrée, they conversed again. "i'm in the hands of a quack," began nevil pardoe. "the enterprising devil has agreed to cure me for the sake of an advertisement." "oh! how long?" "ten days now. upon honour i feel a little better already." "where is he to be found?" demanded my master suddenly. a roar of laughter drowned the reply. but sir william looked annoyed. "it's not that i want to live," he explained in tones of anger. "i know i'm doomed, but cavanagh stands to lose two thousand pounds--if i predecease pardoe, and as he is only a poor devil of an artist--i'd like to improve his chances!" "quite so," sneered sir charles. "we all know your affection for cavanagh. but my dear dagmar, fair play is a jewel you know. you must kill or cure yourself off your own bat, unless you choose to pair with pardoe and adopt his treatment altogether. those are the rules." "you need not remind me," said my master drily. "by the way, husband, what was the result of your last examination?" "two pounds short of my former weight, but the hole in my remaining lung has not sensibly increased. jackson gives me solid assurance of at least twelve months." "lucky devil!" sighed mr. cavanagh. "i'm booked in half the time, though i might drag on for a year or two if i were to try egypt!" "has your limit been changed since our last meeting, fulton," asked mr. pardoe. "only by effluxion of the intervening time. i'll feed the worms in just under ten months, unless a cab runs over me, or some other accident occurs." sir william raised his wineglass. "gentlemen," said he, "i drink to the tubercle bacillus!" "our master!" chorused the others, and every glass was drained. i quickly refilled all but sir william's, wondering the while whether i had fallen among an assembly of ghouls, or if i was not the victim of some ghastly joke. the _pièce de résistance_ of the dinner was a dressed calf's head, which sir william dagmar carved. not one of his guests began to eat until all were helped. but when that was done, my master suddenly ordered me to leave the room. butts regarded me enquiringly as i came out. "spoke some foreign lingo, didn't they?" he asked. i nodded. "they allers do," he went on. "why, i don't know, for the life o' me. a lot of death's heads i call them." "they look like consumptives," i suggested. "like as not they hare!" he returned. "look at this muss, brown! what do you make of it?" he held up a huge bowl of cream into which a hundred different species of nuts had been grated. "this is what they take for sweets," he said with a shiver. "it tastes 'orrible!" "perhaps it is medicine." "may be. i spose you didn't make out hanything they said, brown?" "they spoke in french, butts," i replied. he shrugged his shoulders, and we waited for the bell. when it rang i took in the bowl of nut cream. "do you understand french, brown?" demanded my master as soon as the door closed behind me. "not a word, sir." "very good. serve the sweets, please." a murmur of approval went round the table. the gentlemen ate their cream in silence, and washed it down with champagne. i refilled their glasses with the dexterity of an expert waiter, and i was about to resume my old place behind my master's chair, when he fixed me with his eyes, and addressed me suddenly in french. "brown!" cried he, "leave the room this instant!" i halted and looked at him with a stupid air. "beg pardon, sir. did you speak to me, sir?" he smiled and answered in english. "yes, brown, fill my glass please. i forgot that you do not understand french!" "you should have tested the fellow beforehand," said sir charles venner in french. "the closer you approach your tomb, dagmar, the more careless you become!" "what does it matter," said my master wearily. "pardoe, kindly present your report!" mr. pardoe got slowly to his feet, and i marvelled to see for the first time, his lean ungainly frame. a bag of skin and bone it was, no more. a frightful fit of coughing preluded his speech. when he had recovered, he put his right foot on a chair, and leaning on his bony knee, began as follows:-"gentlemen, this is our seventeenth monthly gathering since the initiation of our order, and we are all, seven of us, still above ground, although we were all condemned as incurable before we first foregathered. during the period i have indicated not one of us has flinched from his bargain, and as your latest secretary, gentlemen, i am pleased to announce that i have duly and regularly received from each member the weekly contribution fixed by our rules. the amount at present standing to my credit in trust for the order is £7,000." he took a small pass-book from his pocket, and handed it to his nearest neighbour, who glanced at its contents and passed it up the table to sir william. "you will find in that book, gentlemen, a cheque for the amount named marked 'good' by the bank. i have the honor now to tender you my resignation. mr. cavanagh should, i believe, be my successor." he sat down again, coughing terribly. sir william nodded. "it is your turn, cavanagh," he said quietly. "you will hold office for the current month." "very well," replied mr. cavanagh, tugging fiercely at his moustache as he spoke. "you fellows can forward your subs, direct to my studio, without waiting for notices. i never write letters." sir william arose, holding the cheque above his head. "whose shall it be this time, friends?" he demanded. "remember that i have won three times running. will any give me odds?" "i," cried dr. fulton sharply. "i'll lay you seven to one in hundreds, dagmar, that you do not win to-night." "done! come, gentlemen." they trooped out of the room, and i, ablaze with curiosity, made haste to follow them, carrying a silver tray of coffee and liqueurs with which butts supplied me. i found them standing around the larger card-table, watching, in perfect silence, mr. nevil pardoe shaking an iron dice-box. upon the middle of the cloth lay the cheque for £7,000 face upwards, which mr. pardoe had given to sir william. no one heeded me, so i put down the tray and watched them. presently mr. pardoe scattered the dice upon the cloth. "five," said mr. cavanagh, picking up the dice. "your turn, sir charles." sir charles took up the box, scarcely rattled it, and threw. "six," said mr. cavanagh. "dr. fulton." the doctor threw eleven; mr. husband five; mr. humphreys thirteen, and mr. cavanagh sixteen. when the latter's fortune was declared, dr. fulton rubbed his hands together. "he! he! he! beat that, dagmar!" he chuckled. sir william took up the box for half a minute, and scattered the pieces without looking at the board. "seventeen!" said mr. cavanagh in a stifled voice. the poor young man's face was a ghastly sight to witness. he had evidently made sure of winning, and the snatching of the cup from his lips had cost him a month of his fast dwindling life, or his looks belied him. he sank into a chair and began to cough so violently that a bloody foam soon stained the handkerchief he held before his mouth. sir william, with a curiously blank smile, took up the cheque and slipped it into his pocket. "i'll trouble you for seven hundred pounds at your leisure, fulton," he said quietly. "i'll post it," snapped the doctor. "may the furies seize your luck! that is the fourth time in succession you have fleeced us!" the others shrugged their shoulders, and sought chairs, which they drew about the board. i served them immediately with coffee. a moment later, each had a pile of bank-notes and gold before him, and at the centre of the table, in a little cup-like depression, lay a heap of sovereigns. the game was draw poker. it was a strange experience for me to watch them. all seven seemed gamblers born. all had death in their faces, and were living only by the grace of their disease. all were men of uncommon intellect. they played with a rigid affectation of indifference, that poorly concealed their underlying eagerness. they only spoke to bet, and the stakes ran high. from the first sir william dagmar won. his luck was marvellous. standing as i did behind his chair, i could see his cards and his opponents' faces. twice running, four queens were dealt him. each time he won a considerable sum, and each time six pair of wolfish eyes detested his good fortune. twice again he drew for a flush, and made it. on the latter occasion, two of his opponents held full hands--sir charles venner and mr. cavanagh. the others passed out, but venner and cavanagh bet to the limit, a hundred pounds. sir william called them, and with his customary blandness, scooped the pool. they arose, with muttered curses, to their feet, and became spectators. half an hour later the game broke up. sir william had despoiled the last of his guests, and his pockets simply bulged with money. "it is an omen!" he declared. "i now believe that i shall be the first to go! fate is fond of such little ironies! brown," he added in english. "help these gentlemen to don their cloaks. my friends, good-night." they replied with the curtest of nods, and i attended them from the house. while i was undressing my master i racked my brains to try to discern a means of turning to my own advantage what i had seen and heard that night. sir william seemed worn out, and he got into bed immediately. but as i was about to extinguish the gas, he called me to him. "well, brown," said he, "what do you think of my luck?" "wonderful, sir!" i replied, "simply wonderful." he nodded, and a sneer curled his lips. "in this life, brown," he muttered, "the things we neither need nor desire are oftenest showered upon us. be good enough to count my winnings." i obeyed, eyeing him covertly the while. but he had turned his back, and appeared to pay me no heed. "seven thousand six hundred and thirteen pounds," i announced at last. he glanced round at me, a smile upon his face. "i am glad to see that you are an honest man, brown," he said quietly. "that will do--you may go." i had been bitterly tempted, but, well he had turned his back upon me. charmed with the result of my astuteness, i left the room and sought my own. there i occupied myself for a few minutes with my make-up box, and when quite satisfied with my appearance, i tip-toed down stairs to the pantry. butts was seated before a dainty meal, and in the act of opening a bottle of champagne. "butts!" said i, "when did i give you permission to drink my champagne?" he sprang to his feet uttering a cry of terror, and the bottle toppled over the table. "sir william!" he gasped, "oh, sir; oh, sir!" "look at me!" i commanded. his eyes almost bulged out of his head. "is there anything in my appearance?" i demanded, "which might lead you to suppose that i am the sort of man to allow my servants such indulgence." "oh, sir. please forgive me, sir!" he mumbled, shaking like a leaf. "i--i----" "dishonest in one thing, then in another," i interrupted sternly. "how much did you steal in providing to-night's dinner? tell me the truth, or i shall send for the police!" "not a penny sir--so--help me! the wine man gave me two pounds commission on the order, that is all, sir--so help me!" "hand it over to me at once, and let this be a lesson to you!" i commanded. butts, trembling, placed two sovereigns in my outstretched palm. "was brown a partner in your rascality?" i demanded. "no--no, sir," he stammered. "oh! oh! please forgive me, sir. i'll never do it again, sir--so help me!" the fellow actually fell on his knees before me, and tears of entreaty rolled down his cheeks. "i'll forgive you this once!" i returned, and swinging on my heel, i left the pantry. ten minutes later butts poured into my ears a wild tale of how sir william dagmar had caught him opening a bottle of champagne, and of the row that they had had. but he told me nothing about the two sovereigns reposing that instant in my pocket. i went to sleep that night perfectly self-satisfied, and so reconciled with my position as sir william dagmar's valet, that i would not have changed places with dan leno himself. i had formed a fine plan to enrich myself, and i determined to abandon the stage for ever. ii the foundation of a fortune the next month passed very quietly. i got used to sir william and his ways, and so assiduously attended him that i had the satisfaction to perceive that my services were gradually becoming indispensable to his comfort. i studied him so closely that before long i was able almost to read his thoughts, certainly to anticipate his wishes. i waited upon him like a shadow, as silently, as faithfully. his life was for the most part of fixed habit. at nine o'clock he arose and breakfasted. he then repaired to his library where he read or wrote until noon. i found that he was engaged in compiling a compendium of philosophy, one volume of which had already been published and which had procured for him a great measure of literary fame. his heart was wrapped up in his work. it had more charms to him than the love of woman to an abandoned rake, or dice to a gambler. once seated there before his manuscript he permitted nothing to interrupt him, except noise--at which he raged like a madman. i have seen him bend murderous glances on butts--entering by chance with some persistent visitor's pasteboard. i, however, came and went as i pleased with his medicines, which i obliged him to take at the proper hours. for me he had always a smile, impatient truly, but a smile; for i wore shoes of felt, and from careful practice my voice became more softly modulated every day. at noon sir william went out for a walk in the park, and for lunch at his restaurant. he returned at three and worked steadily until seven, when i dressed him for dinner, for which he also went abroad. from ten o'clock until midnight he worked again, when i put him to bed. such was our daily round for six days in every week. on the seventh sir william arose an hour earlier than usual, and immediately after breakfast he left the house and seldom returned until past midnight. what he did or where he went on those occasions i could not by any means discover, for butts was as ignorant as i, and i dared not ask our master. i determined that one day in the near future i would follow him, but i could not do so immediately, because of butts. visitors came to the house at times, but he seldom received any, and if he saw his friends at all it must have been during meals. i directed my leisure hours to the perfection of the plan i had formed for my own aggrandisement. in that behalf i prosecuted diligent inquiries concerning the six gentlemen who were my master's monthly guests. i could learn very little of them it is true, try how i would, and nothing at all of the curious link of agreement which i knew bound them together. but i found that they were all men of private fortune and of great esteem in the world of learning; also that each of them, like my master, was passionately devoted to a particular intellectual hobby horse. sir charles venner, it seemed, had already spent ten years of research in extending the acquaintance of science with the functions of the thyroid gland. dr. fulton's ambition was to discover some great destructive to the bacillus of bubonic plague, yet otherwise harmless to the human system. mr. humphreys was engaged upon a propagandist mission to teach the masses the blessings of what he called "purer socialism." mr. cavanagh painted riddles of pictures for the academy, which his brother academicians wished, without daring, to reject. mr. nevil pardoe wrote problem plays, and mr. husband was a naval expert. like my master, all were confirmed bachelors who had acquired a reputation for misogyny because they remorselessly eschewed society. earnest workers and infernal idiots! so i came to regard them the more i heard of them. indeed, who but a fool would prefer to waste his life in barren study, when he might squire instead such exquisitely beautiful dames as i saw and coveted every time i wandered down piccadilly or the row? the secret of my master's monthly entertainments cost me many an unquiet night of puzzled thought and anxious contemplation. i tried to believe that he and his six fellow students had simply agreed to assemble periodically at sir william dagmar's house in order to enjoy a quiet gamble as a recreation from their ordinary and persistent labours, and also to gratify a morbid desire of marking the ravages which their common disease had made in each other since their last meeting. some instinct, however, forbade me to rest satisfied with an explanation so simple. why, i asked myself, should they always converse in french, if they had nothing better worthy of concealing? why, again, should they subscribe weekly to a common fund, the combined fruits of which evidently passed into one man's keeping at the dictation of the dice? that seemed a curious thing, and it was a circumstance all the more puzzling to account for, since they gambled at cards for high stakes as well. was it just possible that the winner of the cheque was bound, by rule, to apply the money to some esoteric purpose? i felt inclined to suspect it was! but what then? i watched sir william, the last winner of the cheque, as a cat might a mouse for three weeks--but i discovered nothing. i censored his correspondence with a like result. every monday morning he gave me a letter to post to mr. cavanagh. i opened those over a bowl of steam, but each only contained a crossed and unnegotiable cheque for £250, with never a line of explanation. as for the rest of his post budget, he received many letters, but he answered none, and his correspondents seemed to be for the most part beggars. the mystery irritated me so much that it began to trouble my sleep. butts also annoyed me. he developed such a fancy for my company that i was obliged to lock my door whenever i wished to be alone; and i frequently wished to be alone, for my great plan required that i should be able to imitate at will sir william dagmar's every look and gesture, his every tone and trick of speech. i foresaw that i should have to get rid of butts. he was a naturally inquisitive, interfering fellow. but i reflected that when i had got rid of him, it would be necessary for me to perform his duties as well as my own, if i wished to have a clear field for my designs. if sir william engaged another footman, i should have my work to do all over again. with that end in view, i persuaded butts to instruct me in the business of ordering and providing the monthly dinners, cleaning silver, and so forth. pride is not one of my weaknesses, as i have remarked before. i felt able to assume his post in a very few days, just two days indeed before the next monthly dinner was due. that very night i dressed myself up to resemble my master, and marched stealthily downstairs into the pantry about the hour when i knew, from experience, that butts enjoyed a first night-cap of port wine. there he stood, a bottle before him, glass in hand. "butts!" said i, without preliminary, "i was wrong to forgive you for stealing my wine. but i wished to give you a chance--no, don't speak to me, butts. you have had your chance and wasted it. if you are not out of my house before breakfast hour to-morrow, i shall give you in charge of the police. if, however, you make the least noise in taking your boxes downstairs, i shall prosecute you in any case. be careful, therefore! good night, butts!" i left him standing like a frozen image, staring after me. half an hour later he came to my room and poured the whole story into my sympathetic ears. he was almost drunk, and bitterly incensed with my master, also he was terribly afraid of the police. i sincerely commiserated with him, and earned his undying gratitude by forcing into his hand one of the sovereigns of which i had previously despoiled him, and which i had had no occasion to spend, for butts had put me in the way of replenishing my wardrobe on the credit system. i felt truly sorry for butts, but he had to go. he stood in my way. my philosophy is embraced in the maxim, "first person paramount." i may be thought inhuman by some of the people who read these memoirs, but i dare swear that none will consider me a fool. the surest way to succeed in life is to kick down as soon as may be the ladders by which one climbs. to do otherwise is to court disaster, for envy is the most powerful passion of the soul, and envy is inevitably excited by contemplation of the successes of our equals or inferiors. when i had half dressed sir william on the following morning, i broke my fixed habit of silence. "if you please, sir," i said very softly, "i have something to inform you which i fancy you should know." my master looked as much surprised as if he had previously considered me to be a dummy. "what is it?" he curtly demanded. "butts left this morning, sir, soon after daylight, in order to catch a train to the west. his closest living relative is dying, i believe; i persuaded him not to trouble you last night by asking your permission." "what a cursed nuisance!" cried sir william with a frown. "i expect guests to dinner here to-morrow night. when will butts return?" "i don't think he will come back, sir, he has expectations of inheriting a little fortune; he has, however, given me minute instructions regarding the dinner, and if you will be good enough to confide the matter to my hands, i think i can promise that you'll not be disappointed!" "you are an invaluable fellow, brown," said my master in tones of great relief. "certainly, take charge of everything. i know that i can trust you." "thank you, sir," i said demurely. "will your guests be the same as last time, sir?" "yes!" he shrugged his shoulders and slipped his arms into the coat i held out for him. "and will they be placed at table as before, sir?" "exactly. but what about my breakfast this morning, brown?" "it will be ready for you in five minutes, sir." i slipped out of the room and hurried down stairs. i had not studied my master's tastes for nothing. the breakfast i had prepared comprised every dainty that he cared about, and the look of surprise he cast about the table sufficiently rewarded my forethought. "why, brown," said he, as he sat down, "you are a perfect treasure. if butts does not return i shall feel inclined to double your duties and your pay. some years ago i had a valet who managed the whole house without assistance." "i could do that," i assured him quietly. "there is really only work here for one man, sir. pardon me for saying it, sir, but half my time so far has hung upon my hands, and i detest being idle, sir." "well, well, we shall see," he replied. i felt that i had gained my point and i said no more. i made four pounds in spot cash by way of commission in ordering the dinner. it was really very easy. the restaurateurs were so anxious indeed to secure my custom that i might have made more, but i am not a greedy man, and four sovereigns seemed a lot to me just then. the dinner passed off much as the first had done. similar grisly jokes were interchanged in the french tongue, and many bets were concluded between sir william and his guests. they toasted the tubercle bacillus again, and after i had served the nut cream mr. cavanagh handed a cheque for £7,000 to sir william and then resigned his office in favour of dr. fulton, just as mr. pardoe had done upon the former occasion. i noticed that mr. pardoe looked very ill, frightfully ill, in fact, and his cough was horrible to hear. it is true that all looked worse than they had before, but mr. pardoe had outstripped the others, and he was mercilessly rallied on his appearance. the most consequential wager was arranged between mr. humphreys and sir charles venner. the latter laid the former six to four in hundreds that mr. pardoe would die within the next month. i shall never forget mr. pardoe's face as he listened. its expression was indescribably vexed and full of despair, but the others roared with laughter to see it. as for me, i confess that their laughter sickened me, and i had to slip out of the room in order to recover my nerve. such monstrous disregard of a fellow creature's manifest anguish inspired me with dismay and something like terror. were these people men of flesh and blood, i asked myself, or ghouls? but my curiosity was so poignant that i soon returned, and when they trooped out to the card room i followed closely at their heels. the same formula was observed as upon the first occasion that i had witnessed. the cheque was placed upon the table and all gathered round to watch and throw the dice. sir charles venner was the first to cast. as he rattled the box he looked about him with a sort of snarling smile. "by all the laws of chance it should be my turn!" he declared. "i have never won the incubus yet!" he threw eighteen! the others exclaimed, but mr. cavanagh did more. he stepped back from the throng and gritting his teeth he threw out his clenched hands with a gesture of savage abandon. "there," said i to myself, "is a man who wishes more passionately to win than the rest, but why?" "cavanagh, your turn," said dr. fulton. the artist's face was chalk white as he took up the box. "you tremble!" cried sir charles in mocking tones. "you tremble!" "bah!" exclaimed mr. cavanagh, and he threw. "eighteen!" shouted dr. fulton. sir charles flushed crimson, and swore beneath his breath. but mr. cavanagh uttered a cry of triumph that had yet in it a note of agony. i watched him attentively thenceforward, because it suddenly occurred to me that he would better repay such trouble than the others. his passions were least well controlled of any there. his was the weakest face and most ingenuous. i determined that he should be my key to the mystery i wished to solve. he was a wonderfully handsome person, small, slight, elegant, exquisite. his hair was thick and black, but his moustache and pointed beard were of rich red gold. he had large and singularly soulful eyes, whose colour changed with light from black to amber. his mouth, however, though full and beautifully shaped, betrayed a vacillating and unstable disposition. i judged him for a man to trust, to admire, to like, but not to lean upon. he waited for his turn to throw again in a fever of inquietude. his hands clenched and unclenched. his features spasmodically twitched and the tip of his nose moved up and down with alarming speed. not any of the others was lucky enough to throw eighteen, so presently sir charles venner took up the dice again. he looked perfectly indifferent, but i saw his eyes, and they were gleaming. he allowed the dice to fall one by one. "seven!" announced dr. fulton. sir charles bit his lip and handed the box in silence to mr. cavanagh. the latter threw eight. dropping the box he darted forward and clawed up the cheque, with a strangled, animal-like cry. the others exchanged glances of disgust; all, that is to say, except my master. he shot a look of passionate menace at the artist and called him in a dreadful voice by name. mr. cavanagh stood erect, shaking and ghastly. he seemed convulsed with shame. "i--i--forgive me, i am not myself to-night," he muttered. "a fine, a fine," shouted mr. humphreys. "he has pleaded his ill-health." "ay, ay," cried the others, "a fine!" "twenty pounds!" said sir william dagmar. mr. cavanagh paid the money to my master without demur. sir william gave it to dr. fulton, and a second later all were seated at the table. i served them with coffee, and they began to play. my master had no luck that night--he lost about four hundred pounds. mr. cavanagh also lost rather heavily, and so did dr. fulton. the principal winners were mr. pardoe and sir charles venner; mr. humphreys left off as he commenced, while mr. husband disgustedly declared that he had won a paltry sovereign. as before, on the first stroke of midnight the game broke up and all arose. as before, no farewell greetings were exchanged, but the guests departed after curtly nodding to their host. my master looked more wearied than i had ever seen him. he retired at once to bed, and he was half asleep before he touched the pillow with his head. but i was more than pleased thereat, for the time was ripe to prosecute the first move of my plan. as soon as he dismissed me, i hurried to my room, and in less than twenty minutes i was sir william dagmar to the life, save for one tiny circumstance. my master, as i have previously mentioned, possessed a fine set of teeth, but his right incisor was lacking. when i had impersonated him for butts' benefit, that detail had not troubled me, for butts was a dull, unobservant creature. i reflected, however, that mr. cavanagh might be of a different calibre, and i dared run no risks. now every tooth in my head is false. moreover, i was wearing at that moment my stage set, which was so peculiarly constructed that with very little bother and a screw driver i might remove any tooth i pleased. i therefore whipped out the plate from my mouth, and with the aid of a penknife, i presently abstracted my right incisor. a glance in the mirror made me tingle with triumph. i believe that had sir william seen me at that moment he would have swooned with sheer shock at seeing so perfect a double of himself. having provided myself with a latch-key, i stole downstairs and abstracted from the hall my master's hat and cloak. a few minutes afterwards i was flying towards mr. cavanagh's studio and residence at st. john's wood, in a hansom, which i chose wisely, for the horse was a speedy brute, and he drew up at hamilton crescent in less than half an hour. in answer to my vigorous tug at the bell, the door opened quickly and a servant's face appeared. "be good enough to ask mr. cavanagh to let me see him for a moment, my name is dagmar," i said haughtily, "sir william dagmar," i added, for the fellow seemed to hesitate. he admitted me forthwith. "mr. cavanagh has not long come in," he volunteered in sleepy tones. "he is in the studio--step this way, if you please, sir." he yawned in my face and turned about. i followed him down a spacious dimly lighted hall, furnished with almost regal magnificence in the oriental style. he opened a door at the further end, announced me in quiet tones between two yawns and immediately withdrew. sir william dagmar would not have put up with such a servant for five minutes. evidently, thought i, mr. cavanagh is not a hard man to please. i entered the studio and shut the door behind me; but to my astonishment, i perceived mr. cavanagh, seated in a deep saddle-bag chair beneath an immense arc glow lamp, fast asleep. his chin was sunk upon his chest, his arms hung at his side, and he was breathing stertorously. i glanced about the room. it was rich and commodious, but conventional. priceless silks and satins covered the walls. rugs and skins from all parts of the world bestrewed the polished parquet floor. a large crimson curtained easel stood upon a daïs of carven oak beside mr. cavanagh's chair, and in a far corner glimmered an ebony framed grand piano. beyond a few pieces of rather fine statuary, a prodigious chesterfield, and half a dozen antique throne-shaped chairs, the place contained no other furniture of note. i had expected something out of the common rather than rich, and i felt keenly disappointed, for i had seen a dozen such studios pictured in the monthly magazines and fashionable periodicals. i marched straight up to mr. cavanagh and placed a heavy hand upon his shoulder. he opened his eyes and looked up at me in a dazed questioning fashion, but having grasped the situation as it was apparent to him, he sprang to his feet with a cry of consternation. "dagmar!" he gasped. "you--you--you!" his voice trailed off in an ascending inflection into a whisper of what i considered terrified amazement. i pointed to the chair he had just quitted, "sit down!" i commanded sternly. he obeyed limply; his eyes were dilated, fixed and staring. it was plain that he stood in real fear of me. i determined grimly to discover why. standing before him i folded my arms, and bending my brows together i surveyed him, as i had seen irving in some of his heavy parts confront a character he was destined by his playwright to subdue. this for two full minutes in a silence like that of the tomb. the wretched man began to shake and shiver. "for god's sake, dagmar," he stammered at last. his voice was as hoarse as a raven's croak. "cavanagh!" said i, "what are you intending to do with the money given you by the dice to-night?" to my astonishment he covered his face with his hands and his body began to heave with sobs. without stirring a muscle i waited for his explanation. i divined that to be my cue. he grew calmer by degrees, and at length with a sheer muscular effort he forced himself to look at me. he shivered as he met my eyes and groaned aloud. "woman!" i muttered cuttingly. "you--hard devil!" he hissed with sudden passion. he started forward, and our glances contended for a moment, but his quailed before mine. "answer me," i commanded. he bit his lips until the blood appeared, and he gripped the sides of his chair with all his energy. "answer me," i repeated. of a sudden he began to cough. he coughed so violently that the convulsions racked his frame, and at length he sank back in his chair half-fainting, with half closed eyes. i waited pitiless as fate. "answer me," i repeated. "must i wait for ever?" but the fight had gone out of him. he heaved a sigh, and two salt tears trickled down his cheeks. "you know," he muttered, in a low, heartbroken wail. "you know--you know!" "answer me," i thundered. sir william dagmar might have known, you see, but i was ignorant. "i am going to give it to her--to her," he murmured; his eyes were now quite closed and he seemed upon the verge of a collapse. this would never do! i strode forward and shook him roughly by the shoulder. "to whom?" i hissed. "to marion, marion le mar." he sat up and looked dazedly around. "oh, do what you please," he cried wildly, as he met my eyes. "what do i care--i have not long to live in any case. a few months more or less, what does it matter? and she--god help her, she needs it--needs it as well you know--you hard, inhuman devil!" "you are mad!" i hissed. "what claim has that woman upon you?" "the woman i love?" he sprang to his feet and faced me with just such a look as a tiger might defend his mate. "the woman i should have married, but for the accursed laws of the society which you enticed me into joining!" "you are a consumptive, a death's head!" i sneered. "a nice man you to marry any woman! fool that you are, ask yourself would she have married you?" he gave me a look of almost sublime contempt. "she loves me!" he said, and there was in his bearing a dignity so proudly self-conscious, yet compassionate, that my heart went out to the man; i began to pity him profoundly, ay, and wish to help him. i could hardly understand myself. i had never felt like that for any living creature prior to that instant. but i had work to do, pressing work, and i put my feelings resolutely aside. "george cavanagh," said i, "you reproach me with having bound you to a society whose laws forbid your marrying the woman you love. but it seems to me you aspire to break another of its laws in giving her this money. what of that?" "fear nothing," he replied in tones of ice. "i shall pay the penalty. when next the society foregathers at your house, fulton will announce your numbers lessened by one death." in spite of myself i started. aha! thought i--i grow hot upon the track. "you will kill yourself?" i demanded. he bowed his head, and sat down again. he had once more fallen to trembling. a curious man this, a mixture of strength and weakness. he was past redemption, wedded to the grave by his disease, and yet he shivered at the thought of death. and yet again, he could deliberately resolve to shorten his life. i frowned down at him. "cavanagh," said i, "i wish you to be good enough to repeat to me, word for word, the rule you dare to dream of breaking." "useless!" he retorted. "i have well considered it. for god's sake leave me, dagmar, i am done and desperate. i believe you mean me well, but you are killing me." i saw indeed that he was desperate, and straight away i changed my tactics. "george," i murmured in a soft and winning voice, "i have come here to-night to save you if i can, not to break you. listen to me--it has been well said that no rule or law was ever yet devised by human ingenuity which might not be evaded by a criminal with brains enough. you seek to be a criminal. well, well!" i nodded my head mysteriously. "it is a pity--but i like you, boy--i don't want you to die just yet. there may be a way out, in spite of all. now--trust me and obey me." a curious pang altogether strange to my experience shot through my breast, as i watched the glow of hope that flashed into the poor fellow's eyes, and the colour flame into his ashen cheeks. "dagmar!" he gasped, "dagmar!" and he stretched out his shaking hands as a child might do. "repeat it word for word!" i commanded. "come, calm yourself--that is better; now!" he could hardly articulate at first, but he grew calmer as he proceeded. "whosoever shall win!" he began, "shall win the proceeds of one completed month's joint contributions, shall--during--the succeeding month, apply the gold so gifted him by hazard of the dice unto the--the--purpose that--that is--is provided for by rule three. should he, on the contrary, apply it--to--to--ah! you know, dagmar, you know." "ay!" said i, "i know what follows--it spells suicide in brief. but, my dear george--there is hope for you in rule three." "impossible!" he gasped. "impossible!" i smiled. "there is no such word in my vocabulary," i answered firmly. "now, george, give me all your mind, every atom of your attention, and i shall show you a path from your dilemma--an honourable expedient. repeat rule three!" he knitted his brows together, and a curiously strained introspective look came into his eyes. "you are trying me!" he muttered. "dagmar--if you dared----" "fool!" i interrupted hoarsely--for my suspense was painfully intense. "what object could i serve? do as i bid you! do as i bid you!" i pressed his hands more tightly, and with all my strength i strove to subordinate his will to mine. i succeeded. "i'll trust you!" he muttered in a tense trembling whisper. "i'll trust you, dagmar. god forgive you if you play me false!" there was something so infectious in his emotion that i felt myself tremble too, and involuntarily i followed the terrified suspicious glances that he darted about the room. "amen!" i cried. "now cavanagh--" but he uttered an exclamation. "oh! you are hurting me!" he cried. in my excitement i had forgotten the man's womanish physique, and i had cruelly crushed his hands. upon such trifling incidents does an ironical malicious fate love to hang tremendous issues! i do not remember if i have previously mentioned the fact that the thumb of sir william dagmar's right hand lacks a joint. but such is the case. he had lost it through a gunshot when a lad. now this circumstance constituted the one flaw in my disguise, for my hands are perfect. in the earlier part of the interview i had been careful to conceal them from view, but startled by cavanagh's cry of pain and words of reproach i did an unpardonably foolish thing. i permitted myself, for one second, to be victimized by a human impulse. forgetting everything except that i had hurt him and was sorry, i opened my hands--and looked down at his delicate crumpled fingers from which my brutal grasp had driven all the blood. on the instant i realized my own fatuity and attempted to repair my error. it was, however, too late. mr. cavanagh staggered back a pace. at first he looked dazed, almost stunned, but his face turned livid as i watched it and his eyes filled with flame. they swept over me with glances that scorched, that wished intemperately to harm, to avenge--to kill! finally they met my eyes, and for a long moment we gazed into each other's souls. his was full of rage, despair and terror--mine of savage self-contempt and baffled hope, and fiery but impotent regret. "who are you?" he hissed. "curse you--who are you?" desperate diseases require desperate remedies. already there floated before my eyes visions of police, of handcuffs, courthouses and gaols. i saw myself a prisoner serving sentence for criminal impersonation. a shudder of horror shot through my frame. then came a blessed inspiration. "mr. cavanagh belongs to a society--" cried my thoughts--"which must have a criminal foundation, since its laws dare impose such a penalty as suicide for their infraction." i set my teeth together with a grim snap and hoarsely retorted to his question. "you wish to know who i am, sir. well, i shall answer you in part. i am a detective from scotland yard!" the effect of my announcement was completely terrible. mr. cavanagh threw up his hands, and with a deep groaning gasp sank limp and insensible to the floor. his face was so ghastly that i thought him dead. i sprang to his side, and kneeling down pressed my ear to his breast. i could not hear his heart beat. with a moan of agony i stood erect. i was shaking like a man in an ague--and for the first time in my life fear took hold of me, sharp, senseless fear. my mastering wish was to escape quickly and without being seen. darting to the door, i waited but to open it without sound, and then hurried through the hall, thanking providence in my heart that i still wore my felt-soled shoes. no one hindered, no one saw me. in another second i was out of the house, and seated in my waiting hansom. "marble arch!" i muttered to the driver, "and quickly man, quickly, if you wish to earn a double fare!" when i reached the marble arch i was still panic-stricken and incapable of coherent thought. i do not wish it to be supposed that i am in any sense a craven. but this was the first great crisis of my career, and, like certain brave soldiers i have read of who had fled from the field during their first battle at the first fire, i was governed by an overwhelming blind impulse impossible to withstand immediately. i believe now that my excited imagination convinced me that i stood in peril of being caught and hanged for murder. at any rate, it seemed terribly necessary to hide myself, and adopt every conceivable expedient to shake all possible pursuers off my trail. running down oxford street, i hailed the first cab i met and drove to london bridge. there i took another hansom and doubled back to piccadilly circus. a third took me to tottenham court road. a clock chimed two as i stepped upon the footpath. i was a good deal calmer then, although still in a wreck of jangling nerves. but i found that i could both control my thoughts and think. i set off at once at a brisk walk towards holborn, growing more tranquil at every step. i racked my brain for a plan of action. i felt that i must get out of england at once and start life anew in some foreign land. fear, you see, was still my tyrant. but how to effect my purpose? i had only three pounds in the world, for the cabs had run away with a sovereign. bitterly i cursed my folly and the panic which had prevented me from rifling mr. cavanagh's pockets. they would have yielded me a golden harvest i doubted not! of a sudden, as i strode along, i caught sight of my reflection in a tailor's window. i stopped short, shocked--horrified. i was still sir william dagmar to the life! for two minutes i stood there paralyzed in body and mind, then came a second inspiration. i swung on my heel and glanced about me. the street was almost deserted, but a belated hansom was approaching. i hailed the driver. "200 harley street," i cried and sprang inside. i had given the fellow sir charles venner's address. in a very few minutes i was ringing at sir charles venner's bell. after a long wait and three successive summons, the physician himself attired in an eiderdown dressing gown and slippers opened the door. "what, dagmar!" he cried, in great astonishment. "come in. whatever is the matter?" "a call of private urgency!" i replied. "the fact is, venner, you can do me a favour, if you will. a very dear friend of mine must get away from england before morning on a matter of life and death, and he needs more money in cash than i have by me in the house. if you'll be so good as to let me have three hundred pounds immediately, i shall post you a cheque within the next hour." we were standing confronting each other in the hall beneath a low turned swinging gas jet. he raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders. "will three hundred do?" he asked. "yes, thank you!" "then excuse me for a moment." i waited in breathless suspense, but he returned almost immediately, carrying a bag of gold and notes from which he counted three hundred pounds into my hand--you may be sure--into my left hand. i kept my right behind me. i curtly thanked him, begged him to excuse me, and hastily withdrew. but he stood at the door and watched me enter the cab. i was therefore obliged to give the cabby sir william dagmar's address. "back to curzon street!" i called out. as soon as we had turned the first corner, however, i redirected the driver to victoria station, and during the journey i set to work to alter my appearance as much as lay in my power. i tore off my false eyebrows, and with my kerchief i vigorously rubbed the paint from my cheeks and brow. a mirror set in an angle of the hansom showed me, by the light of a match, a blotchy nondescript face that nevertheless could not be mistaken for my master's. better satisfied, i began to reflect on my position, and to my intense gratification i found that i was no longer the slave of fear. arrived at the station, i discharged the cab and made inquiries for the trains to the south. i found that i should have to wait a great while. i therefore selected a dark corner and gave myself up to thought. in ten minutes i was wondering what on earth i had ever been afraid of--and calling myself moreover by very nasty names. even if mr. cavanagh were dead, and i began to doubt if my perturbed examination of his body had given me the truth, who could accuse me of his death? again, if he lived, he would infallibly, on his recovery, still believe me a detective. he had not remotely guessed at my identity. oh! the fool i had been! but what next? were i to fly to france, i should give myself away! my master would search my room and discover my make-up box and various disguises. were i to stay it would probably never enter his mind to suspect me! ai! ai! with patience, boldness, and a little luck, i might even yet convert the defeat i had sustained that night into a triumph. i felt the blood bound in my veins. waiting for no more i sprang to my feet and hurried from the station. ten minutes later i noiselessly inserted my latch-key into sir william dagmar's door, and gently as any burglar stepped into the house. the place was profoundly still. i hung up my master's coat and hat in the hall and crept upstairs. at sir william's bedroom door i stopped, and stooping pressed my ear to the key-hole. i distinctly heard him breathing. he was a heavy sleeper, and his respirations were deep and somewhat laboured. i passed on with a smile of purest joy. upon my dressing table stood my make-up box and a profusion of wigs, beards and moustaches. the sight gave me pause. "it is wise to be bold!" i thought, "but not rash. here is danger. when mr. cavanagh recovers and informs sir william of to-night's happenings--ah!--and when, moreover, sir charles venner discovers that he has been swindled! what then? it is unlikely, but at the same time just possible that my master's thoughts may turn to me!" i caught up the wigs and stuffed them into the box which i locked. where to hide it? not in my room, nor in the pantry! nor in any place under my control! search would reveal it there--infallibly. i must then dispose it in some place not likely to be searched. where then? for a third time in one evening i was suddenly inspired. seizing the box, i stole downstairs into my master's private study and, using the utmost caution, i bestowed it behind some mounds of books that were covered with many summers' dust. heaving a deep sigh of relief and satisfaction i returned to my little chamber and leisurely undressed. three o'clock chimed as i pulled off my boots. i then removed the last traces of my disguise with a lavish application of soap and water, and last of all i screwed back into its plate the tooth i had removed from my false set earlier in the evening in order more perfectly to resemble my master. after that i got into bed. i felt secure and almost happy--was i not a capitalist? under my pillow reposed three hundred pounds, and never in my life until then had i possessed more than a paltry fraction of that sum. i rejoiced in determining to bank it on the morrow, and i sleepily assured myself that i would make it the seed of a great fortune. i should have been quite happy, save for one thing. i was already beginning to repent the magnanimity or cowardice which had prevented me from asking sir william venner for six hundred pounds instead of three. i felt sure he would have given me six as readily as three, and it was a great opportunity wasted. wasted! it is terribly sad to look back upon wasted opportunities; a heartrending thing indeed. even now i recall that circumstance with melancholy. i dreamed of death and murders and shadowy unutterable horrors. soon after dawn i awoke, bathed in perspiration, and shivering in every limb. there was a sound of rushing waters in my ears, and i retained a shuddersome impression of a dark brooding figure bending over me. with a gasp of terror i plunged my hand beneath my pillow, but my three hundred pounds were safe. the delight of that discovery quickly dispelled the phantoms of my tired fancies, and i arose, with a glad heart, to begin the work of the day, by performing the work that i should have done on the previous night--the clearing up from the dinner party. iii the kingsmere hospital for consumptives i prepared a particularly tasty breakfast that morning for my master, and i took special pains to please him as i assisted him to dress. he was not a man given to paying compliments, but when he entered the dining-room, and was unable to discover a single trace of last night's feast, he did not dissemble his surprise. "you have re-established order very quickly--here at all events," he remarked, "butts always took a day or two to clear up." "that is not my way," i softly replied. "i could not sleep until i had cleared up everything. if you take the trouble to visit my pantry, sir, i will challenge you to find a stain on floor or wall, or a single speck on plate or cutlery." "you appear to know your business," he conceded. "from a to z, sir," i answered. "let me persuade you to try this omelette, sir william. i cooked it myself." a talent for making omelettes is one of the few accomplishments i had acquired from my father. my master nodded, and helped himself to a dainty little roll. he tasted it, and actually smacked his lips. "excellent!" he observed. "brown, i hope that butts will not return, for his own sake. i wish you to take charge of my household henceforth from to-day. your salary will be eight pounds a month." "thank you, sir," i murmured gratefully. "i shall do my best to please you, sir." the street bell rang as i spoke. i slipped out, and opened the front door. mr. george cavanagh waited upon the steps, and on either side of him stood sir charles venner and dr. fulton. well was it then that over my features i can exercise an admirable control, for at sight of that trio my heart felt like lead, and i shivered in my shoes. "we must see sir william dagmar at once!" said mr. cavanagh. "our business is of the utmost importance." i bowed and invited him to enter. "sir william is at breakfast, gentlemen," i muttered as i closed the door. "i shall warn him of your presence at once. in the meanwhile will you kindly step into this ante-room." "no!" replied sir charles. "we shall go directly to him. don't be alarmed, brown, we are sufficiently intimate with sir william to take such a liberty." i shrugged my shoulders, and deferentially preceded them. their faces were paste coloured and preternaturally solemn. i was, however, glad to see mr. cavanagh; i liked him, and it was a relief to be sure that he was still alive. tapping softly at the dining-room door, i opened it and entered, but i had no occasion to utter a word, for the others had trooped in on my heels. "excuse this intrusion, dagmar," began sir charles in the french tongue, "you may believe me when i tell you that nothing could have induced me so to invade you except necessity." my master leaned back in his chair, his mouth agape with astonishment. "necessity!" he repeated. "what the deuce has happened?" "nothing less than a calamity. but first dismiss your servant--we must run no risks, the matter is too serious." "brown," said my master in english, "kindly leave the room. i shall ring when i require you." i bowed and obeyed. i would have cheerfully given my three hundred pounds for an opportunity of listening unseen to their conversation. but my fate was in the balance, and i dared not play the spy. making a virtue of necessity i retired to the pantry, and tried to eat. but in truth i had no appetite. my nerves were on the jump. i lighted a cigarette, and consumed it in half a dozen puffs. i chewed another to pulp, but smoked the third. the sixth restored me to calm. i felt myself again, and began to polish the glassware. i postured my indifference to myself and experienced an itch to whistle, just to show myself how brave i was. needless to say, however, i suppressed the inclination. an hour passed so, and then the library bell smartly tingled. so they had left the dining-room. i hurried upstairs, smoothing my expression as i ran. my master met me at the door--a letter in his hand. "i wish you to go out at once, and post this at the nearest post-office--not in a letter box," he commanded. "it is an important missive." "certainly, sir!" i replied, and took the letter. he looked at me very keenly. his face was expressionless, but it bore traces of recent agitation. "i shall hurry back," i said. "not in a letter box!" he repeated. "remember, brown." i bowed deeply and departed. in half a minute i was out of the house, but not until i had turned the corner did i so much as glance at the "important missive." it was directed to mr. john brown, box 89, g.p.o. the envelope was of thin foreign parchment. i held it up to the sun and smiled. it contained a single sheet of blank paper. my message then was a ruse to withdraw me from the house while they searched my room. i felt so confident, however, that they would never discover my make-up box, that i smiled again, and to save myself the bother of walking, i took a cab. after posting the letter, i entered the first bank i came to, and requested the manager to allow me to make a deposit. he wished a reference, and i was bold enough to refer him to my master. i then paid into the credit of agar hume £290, and left the office. two minutes later, i returned and paid in nine pounds. i thus procured two deposit slips. the one for £290 i tore in very small pieces, which i scattered far and wide; i was not afraid that the bank would swindle me. but the other i treasured carefully. i walked home very leisurely, and i found my master alone in his study. he was pacing the floor, with an abstracted air, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. "i posted the letter, sir!" i announced. he stopped in his walk and frowningly regarded me. "very good, brown," he replied. "by the way, my man, i want you to be very careful in admitting visitors here again. i don't refer to the three gentlemen who came this morning, they are friends of mine. but strangers." "yes, sir." "above all, brown, permit no one, stranger or otherwise, to question you concerning me. if any one attempts to do such a thing, inform me at once!" "certainly, sir." "that will do, you may go." "i beg your pardon, sir," i muttered hesitatingly, "i hope you will forgive me, sir, but the fact is i have ventured to take a liberty with you this morning, sir." "ah!" he started and looked at me with piercing eyes. "it's this way, sir," i said quickly, "i'm a saving man, sir, and i've always wished to have an account at a real bank, sir, not a post-office. well, sir, i went into a bank while i was out just now, but they would not let me open an account without a reference. so--so i dared to give them your name, sir. i hope you'll excuse me, sir." his eyes bored through me like a pair of gimlets. "how much money have you saved?" he demanded. "nine pounds, sir. here is the ticket!" i eagerly handed him the slip. he glanced at it, and his face cleared immediately. "that is all right, brown!" he said, smiling slightly. "if they apply to me, i shall try to satisfy them that they have secured a worthy client. good luck to you, my man, i am glad to know you are thrifty." it is a curious thing how tenacious of life one's conscience is. my master looked at me so kindly, that i felt a perfect brute for having so mercilessly deceived him, and i vow that for one fateful moment i was on the point of voicing my compunction. "you are t--too kind, sir," i began. "i--i'm afraid i----" but he cut me short with a frown. "that will do, my man," he interrupted in harsh tones. "i am busy, and i wish to be alone." had he remained silent, or allowed me to proceed, it is just possible that these memories might never have had occasion to be written. as it was, i hastily backed out of the room, and my conscience yielded up its final spark in the passage. anxious to verify my suspicion, i proceeded to my bed-room. it appeared, at first glance, exactly as i had left it, but i am not a casual observer. the door of my wardrobe stood slightly ajar. i had latched it. my ready made evening suit was still lying neatly folded in its drawer, but the waistcoat occupied a different position from that to which i had formerly assigned it. finally the napped edge of my counterpane was tucked beneath the bed-tick. i had left it hanging, so as to curtain the iron rail. i noted these trifling discrepancies with all the pride of an explorer who has discovered a new territory. there is no experience more gratifying to one's vanity than to have successfully penetrated and prevised another man's intention. i began to believe myself a prodigiously clever fellow, and even yet i dare to boast with reason. i have no deep learning, indeed, my knowledge of the sciences might be scratched with a pin, but i have nevertheless not permitted the talents god has given me to rust, and there is one book with whose contents i am fairly well acquainted, the book of life. immediately my master had gone out to lunch, i repaired to his study, and repossessed myself of my make-up box. this i carried to my bed-room, and placed in the wardrobe. i did not, however, intend to leave it there very long. i did not anticipate another search party, it is true, but i thought it thoroughly advisable to have clean hands at home. my idea was (now that i had capital to work upon) to secure a private room somewhere in the neighbourhood, which i might use as a stronghold, and to which i might repair whenever i should desire to disguise myself. during the next few days i took frequent excursions abroad in my leisure hours, and at last i discovered exactly the place i wanted. it was on the top floor of a bachelor apartment house in bruton street. the chamber was small, but excellently lighted, and it had this advantage, it was disconnected by an angle of the building from its fellows; moreover its door faced the stairs, and was not overlooked by any other. on that very account, it had long been untenanted, but me it suited perfectly. after a good deal of haggling with the agent, i secured it on lease for £25 a year, and by paying six months' rent in advance, i persuaded him to dispense with references. i furnished it only with things i absolutely needed. a bed-chair, in case i might ever be obliged to sleep there, an oil stove, a thick rug for the floor, a fine three-fly-full-length mirror set upon a revolving stand, a dressing-table, and a large cabinet. i procured a locksmith to fit the door with a practically impregnable latch lock, and with the key upon my chain, i felt as proud as the most bloated land-holder in westminster. my next move was to purchase a fresh supply of paints, wigs and various other sartorial disguises including a number of new and second-hand character costumes. i have before remarked on the fact that every tooth in my head is false. now in all the paraphernalia of disguises, there is nothing so important as the item of teeth. teeth give expression to both mouth and voice. a difference of one twentieth fraction of an inch in their length for instance, will alter the voice beyond hope of recognition, even to a truly practised ear, however fine its sense of perception. as for the lips, they at once become drawn out, and utterly transformed in shape. my last and most tender care, therefore, was bestowed upon my teeth. i visited a dozen different dentists, and procured a dozen sets of varying shapes and sizes, whose only point of resemblance was, that they fitted my mouth. when all was done, my bank account was depleted by a hundred and fifty pounds, but i felt that i had acquired a first-rate stock-in-trade, and i did not repent of the expenditure. while i was busy with these arrangements, i by no means neglected my master. for a week or two after the disturbing visit paid by sir charles venner, mr. cavanagh, and dr. fulton, he remained in a preoccupied and gloomy mood, and seemed unable to settle down to work. i listened in my pantry by the hour, to his footsteps restlessly pacing the floor of his library above my head. he also went out more frequently than was his custom, and remained longer away from the house. he was irritable and hard to please. however quietly i entered any room where he was, he heard and anxiously confronted me. he seemed constantly to expect an unwelcome visitor. sometimes he swore at me for startling him, but he always apologised, and i saw that he was beginning to like me well. i longed for him to trust me, for i was burning with curiosity to know what determination his society had arrived at, regarding his daring impersonator. but that was out of the question, and i was obliged to content myself with guesses. gradually his alarm passed off, and he resumed his literary labours as of yore. that pleased me, for i felt that his attitude might be relied upon to reflect the feelings of his fellow conspirators. i began to consider what further step i should take in my campaign to elucidate the mystery surrounding that strange brotherhood. after a great deal of reflection, i resolved to shadow sir william on the next sunday excursion, for i could not help suspecting that his regular absences from home on that day in each week had something to do with the secret society to which he belonged. with that end in view, on the following saturday afternoon, i begged my master to allow me a holiday until the monday morning, pleading by way of excuse a dear friend's sudden illness. he graciously consented, upon my promising to prepare his breakfast beforehand. i left the house about nine o'clock, and repaired to my little stronghold in bruton street, where i spent the night. always an early riser, i arose at dawn, and made a hearty meal of the provisions which i had brought with me. i occupied the next few hours in selecting and perfecting a disguise. on this head, i may here remark, that i have never in my life committed a mistake of attempting to assume a character representative of a class. such an undertaking requires too great a strain upon the imagination, and however clever one may be, breeds mischievous errors of detail and anachronisms, so to say, which may readily be detected by a keen observer. my method has always been to impersonate, that is, to duplicate as closely as possible, some living person, with whose habits and idiosyncrasies i am familiar. on this occasion i chose for my model an old actor with whom i had once upon a time shared rooms in birmingham. his name was francis leigh. he was a tragedian of a bygone generation, and he had many tricks and mannerisms which i had delighted to imitate. when i had completed my make-up, i am sure that had francis and i chanced to meet in the street, he would have believed that he looked upon his own counterfeit presentment in a mirror. i wore a frock suit of shabby genteel respectability, a frayed topper, and well-worn shoes. the original character of my mouth was altered by a set of false teeth, much longer than those i ordinarily made use of. long iron-grey locks fell from my hat rim, to my collar, my nose was attenuated by skilfully-painted hollows, and a pair of heavily frowning false eyebrows cast my eyes into a natural and also a senna-tinted shade. i was quite ready by seven o'clock, but i occupied the hour i had to spare in practising gestures before the mirror. perfectly satisfied at last, i strolled to curzon street, and before many minutes had elapsed i was gratified to perceive sir william dagmar emerge from his house, and set off at a brisk walk towards park lane. i followed him at a reasonable distance, keeping all my faculties alert. entering park lane, he pursued his way towards marble arch, without once looking behind him. he was dressed in a sack suit of plain grey tweed, he wore a soft felt slouch hat, and he carried a stout walking stick, and a dark overcoat. convinced that he was not in the least mindful of my existence, i gradually diminished the distance between us, until i could distinctly hear his somewhat laboured breathing. when almost at the corner of oxford street, he paused suddenly, glanced about him for a moment, as though he had forgotten where he was, and then abruptly crossed the road to the cab stand. he chose a hansom, and ordered the driver to take him to hampstead heath by way of finchley road and frognal rise. i waited until he had disappeared, then followed in a second hansom, which bore me leisurely in his wake. he alighted and dismissed his cab at the gates of the heath. i did likewise. i had watched him enter the heath, and proceed in the direction of jack straw's castle, as my vehicle toiled up the hill. for a while i lost sight of him, but hurrying through the gates, i was just in time as i came to white stone pond, to perceive him enter the inn. he emerged as i approached, wiping his lips with his handkerchief. evidently he had partaken of refreshments. without wasting a glance at me, he turned down heath brow, and set off in a north-westerly direction, towards heath house and hendon. he descended the hill slowly, as though already fatigued, and often he rested in a musing fashion, looking steadily before him for a minute at a time. i lingered at a great distance, confident of overtaking him when i wished. it was a glorious morning, and the green sparkling heath was dotted with still and moving figures of men and women, taking advantage of the sunshine, in which i was revelling. sir william dagmar looked, however, neither to right nor left. either he was too bitter-minded to notice and rejoice in the beauties of the landscape, or he had some pressing business to perform, which absorbed his attention. crossing the valley he began to climb an opposing slope, and at length entered a long straggling thicket. from where i stood, i could see three different paths emerging from the thicket's further side, and as the country thereabouts was rugged and broken up with rocks and trees, i waited for some time in order to discover which path he might choose, lest i should lose him. ten minutes went by, however, and he did not appear. at the end of another five, i began to fear that he had given me the slip. hurrying down the hill, i crossed the slowly rising vale and cautiously approached the thicket, by the route that my master had taken. it was less dense than it appeared at a distance, but in places it was thick enough for a man to hide in. a hundred paces brought me to the edge of a small, clear patch of fresh green-sward, furnished with a couple of rustic benches, set fairly close together. upon the further bench, my master was seated, his face set towards me, in earnest converse with a woman. i almost cried aloud in my surprise. indeed, i must have in some fashion exclaimed, for he raised his eyes and surveyed me with an intolerant annoyed expression, as though to inform me that i intruded. on instant i pretended to be the worse for liquor. shambling forward, i sank down upon the first bench, stretched out my feet before me, and permitted my hands to fall limply by my sides. for three or four minutes a dead silence reigned. conscious of their examination, i kept my face set straight, and frowning heavily. i heard at length the mutter of exchanged whispers, and fearing to drive them away, i began to act. flinging out my right hand with a fiercely tragic gesture, i declaimed in a hoarse voice, broken with hiccoughs, portions of hamlet's immortal soliloquy. this gave me opportunity for an occasional glance at my quarry. sir william was very pale, and he looked weary. his companion was watching me, but her face was veiled. her figure was lithe, and beautifully shaped, and she was richly dressed. i knew she must be young. of a sudden i resolved upon a bold stroke. i rose up, and ceasing to declaim, staggered towards them. "friends!" i cried, "in me you behold a wreck of former greatness, a shattered hulk, cast by unkind fate on a lee shore of fortune. gaze on this battered form, this shrunken frame, these gaunt and famished limbs, and t--r--r--emble when i tell you that time was, when in happier hours, a shouting populace acclaimed their owner's frame immortal!" i paused, and swaying from side to side the while, i drew from my pocket a tattered kerchief. "sic transit gloria mundi--good friends," i wailed, "kind friends, if you have tears prepare to shed them now, for by'r lady do i swear to ye that nor bite nor sup has passed these parched and fever-smitten lips these four and twenty hours!" i put up my kerchief to my eyes, and sobbed aloud; but my hard-hearted auditors preserved a stony silence. without uncovering my face, i stretched out my left hand. "charity, friends, charity!" i muttered brokenly. "no, marion," said my master's voice. "cannot you see that the rogue is tipsy?" "true, but a small gift may induce him to depart." the woman's tones were of dulcet softness, but the accent was distinctly foreign. "charity!" i hiccoughed, "charity!" "be off with you, you rascal!" cried my master sharply. i clutched a shilling, and broke into a stream of drunken sobbing thanks. moving off i collided designedly with the vacant bench, and sprawled upon the ground. there i lay pretending to be senseless. they came up, and turned me over on my back; sir william dagmar also kicked my ribs, but i answered all attempts to revive me with snores. satisfied apparently with my condition, they presently returned to their seats and began to converse. the crown of my head was presented to their gaze, so i could not see them, but i could hear, and not a word escaped me. "i thought for a moment he was really hurt," said the woman. "he is half stunned and wholly asleep," replied my master, "nevertheless let us speak in french. we cannot be too careful, marion." "would it not be as well to move on?" asked the woman. "for you perhaps, my child. you are young and strong, but i am old, and my stroll has tired me out. let us rest yet a little!" "as you please, m'sieur." "you were describing the effects of the picra toxic solution," suggested my master. "that is true. alas! m'sieur, we have once more a failure to record--so many failures!" she replied drearily. "the operation is always so perfect, so perfect, and yet always the patients die,--of shock!" "ah! then the woman is dead." "there will be a funeral to-morrow, m'sieur. the failure is complete. sir charles is sad. he does not speak, but he shuts his mouth, so!" "and fulton?" "from the first he had no hope, m'sieur. he declared the drug a poison, a neurotic intoxicant--malignant, deadly. he smiles--so--like a dog, and shrugs his shoulders. but he too said little!" "what next marion?" asked my master in a hoarse hollow voice. "god knows, m'sieur. soon we shall have exhausted the pharmacopoeia. providence is very cruel to us, very cruel. we have been vouchsafed one half of the secrets of life, and it seems to me that in seeking the remainder we expand our energies in vain. meanwhile the hands of us all become more deeply dyed with blood! m'sieur, as god hears me, i sometimes think myself a murderess." "hush, marion!" "no, m'sieur, i shall speak what is in my heart. i cannot see these wretched creatures die, as day by day they perish, without often asking myself the question--are we justified? i have spoken to sir charles and dr. fulton, but they freeze me with their cold cold 'science.' i swear to you, m'sieur, that were it not for george, i would be tempted to break my oath!" "foolish child, you must not trifle with this weakness. crush it, subdue it!" "ah! bah! m'sieur. bid the breeze cease blowing. a woman's heart is weak!" "but not the heart of a woman who loves, my child. remember, this is george's life for which you are striving. and those others, what are they but worthless ones, condemned already past redemption. granted perhaps that our experiments may hasten the inevitable end. of what do we deprive them, but a few weeks or days of painful suffering. ah, no my child, you must not turn back now. any day the secret may be discovered, the door of life thrown open to us all. and that to you will mean the instant realizing of your dearest dreams. think of it, marion, your lover yours to wed, yours for long years of happiness." the woman answered in a sobbing voice. "george is so miserable, m'sieur." "does he yet know?" "yes, and he speaks of death, he is filled with despair!" "you must be firm with him, my child. i have discovered that he is in debt, deeply in debt. for that reason he most despairs, because he fears to leave you poor as well as desolate. i fear that he contemplates some desperate expedition. but you must persuade him to be patient. you know, marion, that we are all pledged not to assist each other financially. on that account i dare not help your lover, though i care for him as if he were my son. but with you it is different." "how, m'sieur?" "why, my dear--you are not of our order, being a woman, although you are attached to us by ties which may not be unravelled. take this package, child. it contains a great sum of money. ten thousand pounds. i shall not ask you to tell me what you do with it. no child, not a word." "m'sieur, m'sieur!" cried the woman. i was so amazed, so confounded with astonishment, that to have saved my life i could no longer have kept still. i sat up, and turned my head. the tableau is as clear to my remembrance now as though it had happened yesterday. my master was gazing at the woman, his companion, with a look of paternal tenderness. his countenance was transfigured beyond recognition, for in place of his half saturnine, half querulous aspect, i saw an expression of such holy and unselfish love, that in very wonder i caught my breath. the woman with both hands held the package he had given her, to her breast. her bosom heaved and fell with deep inarticulate emotion. moreover she had raised her veil. never had i seen a face one half so beautiful. her eyes were large and finely shaped, in colour a passionate red brown. her nose was straight, and cast in the grecian mould, with thin quivering curved nostrils. her mouth a perfect bow. the lips were tremulously parted. i have since seen the expression they wore then, perpetuated on the canvas of botticelli's most famous madonna. it was indescribably pathetic, full of both bliss and pain. her face was pure oval, and so delicately tinted was the skin, that i could have fancied that i looked upon an inspired painting, rather than a mere human woman. fortunately for me, neither had remarked my movement. as soon as i perceived the indiscretion of which i had been guilty, i turned about again, and bending my forehead to my knees, i groaned aloud. the sound broke the spell. i heard them mutter together, and a moment later their departing footsteps. i waited until all sound had died away, then rose hurriedly to my feet, and cautiously pursued them. shielded by the trees, i watched them from the edge of the grove take a north-westerly course, that seemed destined to lead them to a point between child's hill and hendon. i followed in a diagonal direction, taking advantage of every obstacle in the landscape to conceal myself from view, for the woman frequently looked back. quitting the heath at length, they entered a hedge-fenced road, full of twists and turns, which helped my purpose famously. at the angle of each curve, i waited until they had turned the next, and so on. soon, however, they abandoned the main road, in favour of a devious maze of lanes. at last i lost them; lingering over long at one bend, when i reached the next they had disappeared. they had been moving so slowly, that i knew very well that they must have entered some house. i retraced my steps, and searched the lane, which had evidently swallowed them up. only one house had a frontage to that spot. it was a large grey stone edifice, set back about a quarter mile from the road. the grounds were encompassed with a high stone wall, and planted thickly with beeches, chestnuts, and elm trees. i nodded and approached the gates, which stood wide open. upon one of the posts was fastened a small brass plate, inscribed with the following legend:--"kingsmere hospital for consumptives." i closed one eye slowly, and nodded again. as well as if sir william dagmar had informed me, i knew that before me lay the key to the mystery, which it was my self-constituted task to solve. in order to make assurance doubly sure, i passed through the gates, and with the cautious cunning of an indian, i approached the house. the path was wide and gravelled, but somewhat overgrown with weeds. it often bifurcated to surround a grove of shrubs, or shade trees. the whole garden wore a rank, uncared-for look. the plantations were thick with undergrowth. in certain beds the unpruned rose-bushes had become giants, and had grown into thickets, while in others grasses choked all memory of cultivation. the place was in fact a wilderness. the cover was so excellent, that i was able to insinuate myself within twenty paces of the building, without risk of discovery. striking aside from the road at that point, i sneaked into a grove of laurels, that commanded a view of two sides of the house. there i cast myself down upon the ground, and although perfectly defended from the keenest observation myself, by peering through the weeds and tree trunks, i could watch both path and house, as well as any spy could wish to do. the building was three storied, but of no great size. its front was ornamented with a doric porch; otherwise it was plain, square, and unpretentious. i judged it to contain a dozen large rooms at most. its windows were all shut, and covered with impenetrable green blinds, though the lattices stood open, perhaps for purposes of sanitation. at the rear i could see a line of straggling stone, slate roofed sheds, which seemed to have been recently erected, for their cemented walls had a fresh, unweathered look. i wondered what they contained, for they were too large and numerous to be assigned as stores for ordinary domestic uses. "morgues perhaps!" i thought, and shuddered. "by chance the dead patient, of whom the woman and my master had conversed, was even now lying in one of them!" the idea gave me the creeps, for i have a horror of death. i tried to forget the sheds, and resolutely watched the house. a soundless hour went by, and i was feeling hungry, but i did not think of departing. my waterbury told me it was half-past two o'clock. at three, i began to wonder at the silence of the place. at four, i was suspecting the place to be deserted. the shadows were lengthening to the day's close, and i was chewing my handkerchief to assuage my famished appetite when of a sudden i heard a curious noise. it was hoarse, guttural, chattering, and it seemed to issue from the sheds, which i had fancied to be morgues. i listened with every sense on strain. the noise increased, and subsided at intervals, sometimes it became a perfect babel, and harsh animal-like cries quivered through the din. my curiosity became a plague, but i no longer doubted that the place was tenanted, and i dared not explore. the queer sounds i have attempted to describe, lasted about twenty minutes, and then all was still again. i did not know what to think. were wild animals confined in those sheds? i was still wondering when i heard footfalls on the gravel path, rapidly approaching the house from the lane. a moment later i saw sir william venner striding through the twilight. his face was quite expressionless. he marched up to the porch, and disappeared. as i heard neither knock nor sound of bell, i concluded that he had entered with a latch-key. more than ever determined to remain, i fought my appetite as best i could for the next three hours. by then it was quite dark, and the glow of lamps appeared through the green blinds, covering the windows of the house. feeling wretchedly stiff and cramped, and cold to my bones, i stood up and rubbed my limbs. when the circulation was restored, i crept out of the covert, where i had lain so long and stealthily approached the line of sheds. their back walls were of blank stone, and showed me nothing; moreover, although of different size and height, all were attached together, and also to the house. i skirted the rear, and turned the corner. still no window, but before me stretched an asphalted court-yard. peering round the second corner, i saw into the hospital's kitchen, through the open back door. it was lighted up, and a comfortable fire burned in a large stove, before which stood a covered spit. a wrinkled old woman sat before a table kneading some pastry with her fingers. an old, grey-bearded man sat in a distant corner, his knees crossed, his arms folded. he was smoking a pipe, and the light glistened on his bald pate. it made rather a pretty picture, that kitchen, with its darby and joan interior. i considered it a while, and then glanced along the face of the mysterious sheds, only once more to be baffled. it consisted of a blank wall, pierced only with an occasional padlocked door. thoroughly disgusted i returned to the front of the house, and took up a position hard by the trunk of a fine old elm tree, that grew at the first branch of the path. there i waited for another hour, but at last my patience was rewarded. the door suddenly opened, a man came out, and approached me with a quick firm tread. it was too dark to see his face, but i guessed him to be sir charles venner. he passed me so closely, that by stretching out my hand i could have brushed his cloak. he had not taken another ten steps, however, before the house door was again thrown open, and another man issued at a run. "venner!" he shouted, "venner!" the voice was dr. fulton's. "what is it?" demanded sir charles, from behind me, coming to an abrupt halt. "one moment, venner, where are you?" "here!" sir charles venner returned towards the house, and the two men met at the very angle of the path, within six feet of my nose. i hugged the tree-trunk, and waited, hardly daring to breathe. "could you strain a point, venner, and operate to-morrow night?" asked dr. fulton in a pleading voice. "no, old chap, i can't. you know my rule. i must give myself three days between each, for the sake of my nerve." "just for once!" "impossible, fulton. i wonder that you ask me. i have myself to consider as well as the cause. we may succeed or we may not. but i am hanged if i deliberately risk destroying my own health for anything or anyone. i consider that i do quite enough for the cause as it is." "you do, venner, you do; but just for once do oblige marion. she begged me to ask you. you see, the fact is, cavanagh is cranky." "damn cavanagh!" "with all my heart, but then you see, there is marion. what should we do without her?" "that is all very well. but what should we do without me!" "the poor girl is half out of her mind worrying about cavanagh. he has not even had the grace to come here all day, though he promised." "he is an infernal young cad!" "i think so too, but it does not mend matters. the girl is crazily in love with him, and she thinks he will kill himself, if we can't do something for him soon." "puppy!" the tone was bitterly contemptuous. sir charles seemed to hesitate. "look here, fulton," he proceeded, "i am sorry for marion, of course; nevertheless, i cannot help her. tell her i am out of sorts, or make any other excuse you like. i shall not operate until tuesday evening. good-night to you!" "one second, venner, she begged me, if you refused her first request, to ask leave for cavanagh to be present at the operation. you'll have no objection to that i suppose!" "oh! curse the fellow," exclaimed sir charles very irritably. "he becomes the bane of my existence. if we admit him to the room, we are bound to have a scene. he will either faint or do something equally idiotic. you know very well that the least interruption may play the devil with my knife." "she has pledged his good behaviour, venner. besides, i'll promise to look after him. come, come, old chap, don't send me back to her quite empty-handed." "the consequences must be upon your own head then." "thank you, venner, you are a good fellow! good-night!" "i am, on the contrary, a soft-hearted fool. good-night!" they parted, and i heaved a sigh of relief. when the silence had resumed itself, i stole through the plantation to the gate, whence, after carefully fixing the locale of the hospital in my mind, i made a speedy return to civilization, and an hour later i was discussing a hearty meal in a private room at jack straw's castle. iv the operation tuesday arrived before i knew quite what to do. on that particular morning the postman handed me, amongst a sheaf of bills and circulars, a letter sealed with a peculiar signet, addressed like the others to my master. as it wanted an hour to sir william's waking time, i had plenty of leisure to investigate its contents. it puzzles me how any people can be foolish enough to imagine that a mere dab of wax, however cunningly impressed, can confer security upon their correspondence. in two minutes the seal was lying safe and uninjured upon my pantry table, and the detached envelope rested confidingly across the mouth of a bowl of boiling water. the letter ran as follows: "my dear dagmar,--whoever the rascal really is who imposed upon cavanagh and myself on a recent memorable evening, he lied in declaring himself an emissary of the police. i have just succeeded in establishing this fact, and take the earliest opportunity of reassuring you, while allowing detailed explanations to await until we meet. i have no longer any doubt but that our adversary is a blackmailer, and i feel sure that before long one or other of us will be approached. i sincerely trust that the fellow will turn out, as you suspected, to be your scapegrace nephew. in that case you, of course, must deal with him, but in any other event i am convinced that our best course will be to prosecute. this will notify you that i intend to propose such a resolution at our next conclave.--yours sincerely, charles venner. "p.s.--if you can, see cavanagh to-day. i have been weak enough to permit him to witness the operation. it is possible that you may dissuade him.--c.v." i carefully resealed the letter, and pressed the envelope with a heated flat-iron in order to remove all traces of my manipulations. all the time i was in a whirl of thought. for three days i had been wondering how i might get a footing inside the hospital and witness the operation which mr. cavanagh had extorted a privilege to see. after reading sir charles venner's letter i was more anxious than ever to do so, but the more determined i became the less hopeful seemed my prospects. if mr. cavanagh had been a bigger man i believe i should have resorted to some desperate expedient to get him out of the way, so that i might take his place. unhappily for me, however, he lacked full two inches of my stature, and i dared not attempt to impersonate him under the brilliant light which must necessarily pervade a surgeon's operating-room. i solved the problem that was troubling me, while preparing my master's breakfast, and when i proceeded to his room and handed him his letters, i knew exactly what to do. sir william dagmar had a scapegrace nephew--well, his scapegraceship should be my scapegoat. it is true that part of dr. venner's letter put the idea into my mind. i do not pretend to pose as a superhumanly clever person, but i am not without talent, and my genius is in my power to twist every accident to my own advantage. it was my master's custom to dispose of his correspondence while i prepared his bath after awaking him. as i re-entered his bed-chamber to announce his bath ready, i found him standing before the fireplace in his dressing-gown, watching the transmutation of sir charles venner's missive into ashes in the grate. "your pardon, sir," i murmured softly. "about a fortnight ago you commanded me to immediately inform you if any stranger should venture to question me concerning your affairs." he swung round on the instant and faced me, his lids narrowed over his eyes, and his lips compressed in a hard straight line. "well!" he grated. "well!" "this morning, sir, about two hours ago, a man came here and asked to see you----" "his name?" he interrupted harshly. "he would not give his name, sir, and for that reason i took the liberty of refusing to admit him." "you did well, brown. what had he to say?" "he left a message for you, sir. he asked me to tell you that mr. sefton dagmar wished you to meet him alone on the railway station at newhaven, at nine o'clock to-night precisely." butts had told me that sefton dagmar lived at newhaven. one of my greatest natural endowments is an almost perfect memory. my master's eyes glistened and his cheeks flushed. "oh, indeed!" he muttered. "anything else, brown?" "y--yes, sir!" i lowered my eyes and tried to look abashed. "i--i--scarcely like to tell you, sir," i stammered; "the messenger was--most--im--most impertinent, sir." "never mind, brown; tell me exactly what he said." "he declared, sir, that if you did not keep the appointment, you'd have leisure to repent your foolishness in gaol!" "what!" he thundered, and threatened me with his clenched hands. his face went purple, then pale as death, but his eyes glowed like coals. "i'm sure i beg your pardon, sir," i muttered, stepping back quickly and affecting to be terrified. "you--you made me tell you, sir." with a great and manifest effort my master recovered his composure. he even contrived to smile. "i--i--you must forgive me, brown," he muttered. "i--i could not for a moment conceive that--that my nephew would dare to send me such a message. mr. sefton dagmar is my nephew, brown, and i am sorry to say that----" i raised my hand and quickly interrupted him. "please, don't say any more, sir," i cried in tones of deep respect. "i am your servant, sir, and i hope i know my place. when you know me better, sir, you will find that i am not one of the prying sort, who is always trying to hear more than he should. it's likely that in your anger now you'd be telling me something that you'd afterwards regret, and if you'll forgive me for speaking plainly, sir, i like you too much, and i'm too happy in your service to want to risk losing your confidence and my place together! such a thing has happened to me before, sir, and without my seeking either." sir william dagmar was the most surprised looking man in the world at that moment. he seemed to have forgotten everything, but the enigma before him, and he stared at me as if he wished to read into my soul. "have you no curiosity?" he demanded at last. "none that i can't control, sir," i replied respectfully. "well, i'll be damned!" he muttered. "you are either a superlatively finished hypocrite or a philosopher of sorts. which is it, brown?" i looked into his eyes and sighed. "it's as you please, sir, and i won't pretend not to understand you," i answered mournfully. "but if i did act the hypocrite a bit in anticipating the occasion to speak as i did just now, where's the harm, sir? you are a rich gentleman, sir william, and you have no idea of what a cursed thing it is for a poor fellow like me to go about looking for employment, and eating up my little bit of savings, sir. last time i was out of a place it cost me six pounds for board, not to speak of the agent's fee; and i have been hoping that i was settled here for life, sir." "you may yet be, if you choose, brown. i am perfectly satisfied with you; and, upon my soul, i believe you are reliable." "just so, sir; but you won't continue to believe that long if you trust me with more than a servant should be trusted. it's not in human nature, sir!" "you mule!" he cried with a gesture of impatience. "but have your way, have your way! now return to the subject. what more have you to tell me?" "very little, sir, except that the man tried to pump me, but i gave him not a whit of satisfaction. oh, i beg pardon, sir. the postman came up while he was talking. i'd have shut the door on him before, only i saw the postman coming." "yes, yes." "well, sir, the man saw that letter, and he offered me five pounds for it--cash down, sir." "ah! what reply did you give him?" "i shut the door in his face, sir." my master nodded. "what sort of a man did he appear to you, brown. not exactly a gentleman, i suppose?" "no, indeed, sir. a low creature and poorly dressed. i was ashamed for the postman to catch us talking, sir." "would you recognize him again?" "among a thousand; he had a scar across his left cheek and half his left ear gone, sir." my master nodded, and, turning, walked thoughtfully into the adjoining bath-room. we did not converse upon the matter again, but all that day the poison i had instilled into his mind was working, working. i perceived its effects when he returned to the house somewhat late in the afternoon, doubtless after having paid a visit to mr. cavanagh, for he did not go abroad during the forenoon. he looked worried and distrait as i admitted him, and passing me without a word, he went straight up to his bedroom. ten minutes later his bell rang. i hurried up to find him standing in the hall, clad for the street, a heavy fur-lined overcoat across his arm and a bag in one hand. "i'll not be home until to-morrow morning," he said curtly, "so you need not wait up for me, brown; but, please, on no account leave the house." "very good, sir." "above all, admit no caller. you understand?" "yes, sir. shall i call a cab for you, sir?" "no." he pointed to the door, i opened it, and he went out. a cab was waiting for him beside the pavement. the clock struck five as i shut the door. at six o'clock i entered my little stronghold in bruton street. at eight i descended the stairs, in all things my master's double. in all things i declare advisedly, for warned by experience i wore upon the thumb of my left hand just such a little finger-stall of violet velvet as sir william dagmar used in order to conceal his deformity whenever he went abroad. this was secured around my wrist with an elastic band, and i took the precaution to stiffen its interior with a thin ferrule, so that no involuntary working of the thumb joint might betray me. for precaution's sake i carried a revolver, mastering by an effort of will my natural repugnance for such gruesome implements. i proceeded to the heath by three different hansoms, and a fourth conveyed me to my point of destination, a secluded little tree sheltered spot at an angle of a lane about a hundred yards from the gate of the kingsmere hospital for consumptives. there i alighted, and bidding the driver to await me, i hurried towards the hospital. the gate upon the occasion of my first visit stood open; now it was shut, but latched, not locked. i passed through and sought the house. it was my opinion, from what i had observed, that all welcome visitors to that building possessed master keys to the front door, and were accustomed to enter unceremoniously. unwilling to attract unnecessary attention to myself, since i had no latch-key, i decided upon a rear attack. i therefore passed down the side of the house and, flanking the sheds, approached the kitchen door. it was shut, the window blinds were closely drawn, but a light gleamed through the crevices. i rapped gently on the panels once, twice, thrice, at short intervals. upon the third summons i heard the sound of cautiously drawn bolts, and the door opened about four inches on a chain. a wrinkled grey-bearded face peered out at me. "_qui va là?_ who is dare?" demanded a cracked voice, its foreign accent in the english fairly rasping the evidently unfamiliar words. "it is i, my friend, sir william dagmar," i replied very softly in french. the old man immediately released the chain and threw the door wide. "enter, monsieur," he said politely. i did not require a second invitation, but before attending to me the old man refastened the door. he then turned and looked at me inquiringly. his expression was a curious combination of cunning and intelligence. i saw at once that he was astonished at the manner of my coming, and that he considered that he was entitled to an explanation. "i wish to see mademoiselle le mar, privately and quickly," i muttered in his ear. "but, monsieur," he began. i took a sovereign from my pocket and allowed him to perceive it. he stopped dead in his speech and a greedy look came into his eyes. "contrive to let her know that i am here," i said quietly. he nodded and hobbled out of the kitchen, making so little noise, however, in his exit that i guessed he wore rubber-soled boots. mine were shod with felt. my object in sending for marion le mar was to obtain a guide over the house, a very important desideratum, since i had never been inside its walls until that moment. i was kept waiting about ten minutes, when the old fellow suddenly reappeared. "monsieur! she comes," he muttered, and stretched out a skinny paw for the money. i let it drop into his hand, and turned at a sound to behold standing in the open doorway the woman i had seen in my master's company last sunday on the heath. i had thought her beautiful on that occasion, although her head and all the upper portion of her face were hidden with a veil. now i caught my breath, and for an instant dreamed i looked upon a spirit from some other world. her forehead was broad and low; her head, exquisitely shaped, was covered with a glory of gleaming gold which admirably contrasted with the dark and level pencilling of her brows, and the russet flashing of her wonderful red-brown eyes. the one weak spot in my composition is that i am the slave of female beauty wherever found, and yet until that moment i had been wise enough to worship the sex collectively. but standing in the doorway i recognized my fate, and i bowed my head before her. she advanced and offered me her hand. only then i perceived that she wore a uniform, a nurse's uniform; but that stiff apparel which makes most women appear unlovely could not deny the expression of her charms. "monsieur," she whispered, "you sent for me." "yes, my child," i answered in still lower tones. i pressed her hand, then let it fall, though i grieved to release it. "where is cavanagh?" "upstairs in the operating room with dr. fulton. i must be quick, for they are almost ready to begin. sir charles has just arrived." "ah! so cavanagh still persists. i had hoped to find it otherwise." "alas! monsieur. i have begged him to go, but he had determined to see all." "in that case, for your sake, my child, i shall bear him company." "what--you!" "yes, marion! you have work to do, and he may need my care!" she gazed at me a moment with a look of passionate gratitude, then of a sudden, stooping low, she caught and kissed my hand. it tingled for days afterwards. "heaven bless you, monsieur!" she cried, her whole face radiant. "come, then, and we shall go to them. sir charles will be enchanted, for he hates that george should be present, since we have no one to spare who might attend him if the poor boy should feel ill or swoon. if that should happen, monsieur, you will take him away at once; is it not so?" "immediately, my child." it seemed that there no longer existed any reason why we should converse in whispers, and we did not. indeed, my beautiful conductress filled the journey with gay chatter and musical ripples of laughter. evidently, thought i, she must love cavanagh already to distraction, when the small courtesy i have proposed can inspire her with such happy spirits. absurd as it may appear, i began to feel jealous of cavanagh already, although marion had never seen me in my proper person, and was no doubt unaware of my existence. she led me down a spacious hall carpeted with oil cloth, and up a staircase that was not carpeted at all, to the floor above. we passed down a corridor and stopped at the third closed door, from beneath which exuded a long narrow bar of brilliant white light. her manner while ascending the stairs had gradually calmed, but she was still excited, and she opened the door with a burst of informing words pouring from her lips. never shall i forget that moment. i glanced in with a face that i flatter myself was expressionless to the perfection of indifference, and i took care to make my lip curl in sir william dagmar's characteristic aspect of querulous cynicism. but in truth my every sense was awake and poignantly acquisitive. the apartment was large, full thirty feet square. it contained two operating benches placed within easy distance. the upper slab of one was absent; upon the other lay a squat, bulky figure, strapped into position and covered with a sheet. above each table depended from the ceiling a perfect swarm of incandescent lamps, each furnished with a powerful reflector which caught and cast the rays of light upon the bench beneath. tables stood about the walls of the room, at regular intervals, covered with all manner of basins, batteries, knives, forceps, scissors, and other surgical instruments. there was no other furniture except a solitary chair perched near the door, upon which mr. cavanagh was seated. sir charles venner and dr. fulton, clad in clean white aprons and overalls, with their sleeves rolled up and secured with bands above their bare elbows, stood beside one of the tables steeping some ugly looking knives in a basin of steaming fluid. at the end of the occupied operating bench stood two full blood african negroes. their appearance was not remarkable, and in the glance i flashed upon them i could discover no point in which they differed from any other negroes i had seen, except that like the surgeons they were both attired in white. mr. cavanagh got to his feet as we entered. his countenance was pale and tense. i perceived that he was nervous, but he had evidently wound himself up to the highest pitch of determination of which his nature was capable, and i thought it probable, whatever the others expected, that he would comport himself like a man. marion addressed her announcement to the surgeons, but her eyes were bent upon her lover, and to him in truth she spoke. she lauded what she called my devotion to the skies, and to my surprise the others appeared to accept me at her valuation. sir charles venner nodded commendingly. dr. fulton said, "it is confoundedly good of you, dagmar," and mr. cavanagh gave me a look of earnest gratitude. i dismissed the subject with a shoulder shrug, and asked dr. fulton to assign me a position. he directed me to stand near cavanagh until all was ready. i obeyed, and for a space of some minutes i watched marion, who flitted about the place arranging certain instruments upon the several tables, and wringing dripping sponges dry with antiseptic towels. when sir charles had completed his preparations, he turned to the nearest negro. "beudant," he said, "you may light the asbestos." he spoke in french. the fellow bowed and hurried to the fireplace. i saw a great flame rise, which flushed the negro's glistening forehead with a crimson glow. "jussieu," said sir charles, "it is time!" the second negro bowed and glided from the room, followed by dr. fulton. sir charles dipped his hands into a basin of fluid offered him by marion, and wiped his fingers with a towel. two minutes later a bell tinkled, "beudant," said the surgeon. the negro bowed again like a slave to a lamp, and noiselessly departed. very soon i heard the dull tramp of slippered feet on the corridor without. the door opened, and the negroes re-entered the room bearing between them a long slab, on which rested the inert figure of a young man. he seemed about twenty-two years of age. his face was extremely pale. his eyes were closed and his mouth was propped wide open with a curious spring wedge. he was nude to the waist, but thence downwards wrapped in an eiderdown shawl. his chest was narrow and his body hideously emaciated. as his chest moved up and down under his deep laboured breathing the ribs projected horribly, leaving dark hollows between. he was strapped securely to the slab and in such a thorough fashion that he could scarcely have moved a muscle howsoever much he had been minded. but he was evidently unconscious, doubtless in an anaesthetised sleep. this curious procession was followed by dr. fulton and a tall elderly gentleman similarly apparelled to the surgeons. i had never set eyes on him before. he had an eager, enthusiastic face. his nose was very long; he had high cheek-bones and prominent grey eyes full of a strange fanatical light. i put him down at one glance as a devotee of science. afterwards i discovered that his name was vernet, that he was a frenchman, and resident house-surgeon to the hospital, which in fact he owned. he was the last to enter, and he closed and locked the door behind him. the negroes advanced to the bench, and having deposited the slab with its senseless burden, they moved over to the other operating table. already the room had become oppressively hot, and i noticed beads of perspiration stand out on sir charles venner's forehead as he bent to examine his patient with a stethoscope. dr. fulton beckoned cavanagh and myself to approach, and by signs he directed us to stand at the feet of the young man upon whom sir charles was about to operate. we were thus quite out of the way of those who had work to do, but we could see everything, and i desired no better vantage post. dr. fulton stood behind the patient's head at the other end of the slab, holding in one hand a large rubber face mask, in the other a large stoppered phial, connected by a tube with the mask. sir charles venner stood beside the patient between the two operating benches; and beside him was dr. vernet. marion faced them from across the patient's body. she held in one hand a sponge, in the other a basin. sir charles venner lost no time in proceeding to business, nor did he give us the least warning of his intention. casting his stethoscope aside, he seized a small thin-bladed knife and applied its edge with a free sweeping stroke, as an accomplished artist might draw a freehand with a pencil, diagonally across the patient's third and fourth ribs, within an inch of the breast bone. a thin streak of blood followed the cut as quickly as thunder follows lightning. marion instantly applied her sponge to the wound, and the red line disappeared. the surgeon, without pausing, made another swift incision at right angles to the first along the third rib, and followed this with a third, parallel to the first, some six inches apart. marion pursued his cuts with her sponge, dipping it each time into her basin, which doubtless contained some powerful astringent drug, for the wounds once touched ceased to bleed. sir charles venner made some further rapid cuts, and with inimitable dexterity he presently raised the flap of flesh and muscle so detached by his knife from the patient's ribs, back across the chest, and secured it there with a dart attached by a string to a bandage passed about the subject's loins. with the speed of magic he applied half a dozen tiny silver spring clips to the dripping flesh, in order to secure the ruptured blood vessels. dr. vernet then handed him a tiny razor bladed saw, with which, to my horror, he immediately attacked the bared heaving ribs. the ghastly sight sickened me so much that i closed my eyes, and for some minutes i fought like a tiger with the weakness that threatened to undo me. the world was rocking, rocking, ay, and beginning to swing. i should in the end probably have fainted, but that my companion, mr. cavanagh, observing my condition of a sudden pressed his handkerchief to my nostrils. i inhaled an intoxicating, subtle, but most powerful reviving essence. afterwards i learned that marion had supplied him with several capsules of nitrate of amyl, of which he had himself already consumed more than one. i felt the blood rush to my head and swell out my cheeks and scalp and skin. the effect was magical. my weakness passed like a black dream, and with restored courage i opened my eyes. there was now a gaping cavity in the patient's breast, through which i could see at work the mysterious machinery of life. the inner flap of the exposed lung had been uplifted and secured aside with a ligature. below panted and pulsed a crimson and purple-coloured shapeless thing. it fascinated and at the same time terrified me. with a frightful effort i tore my eyes away and looked at sir charles. he was screwing a sharp-edged, curved hollow tube to the end of a long and curiously fashioned syringe. this syringe was furnished here and there with golden taps and tubes and tiny force pumps. one tube stretched beyond the operator and ran to the other operating table. i followed it with my eyes and saw that it terminated in a long, thick, hollow needle which reposed in the hands of the negro beudant. the other negro, jussieu, knife in hand, bent over an object lying on the slab before him--the squat, bulky figure which had excited my curiosity upon my entering the chamber, and which then had been covered with a sheet. but the sheet had now vanished, and before and exposed to my view lay an enormous ape, a chimpanzee i fancy, which was strapped to the bench exactly in the same fashion and attitude as sir charles venner's patient. the ape's huge hairy breast was disfigured with a square, bloody opening, but i saw that he was alive, for he breathed. the negro jussieu had evidently performed an operation on all fours with that executed by sir charles venner! the idea almost stunned me. jussieu was then a great surgeon, although a negro. next instant i considered the ape, and a panic horror almost overwhelmed me. george cavanagh was again my saviour. there came a sound of rushing waters to my ears, and the room began to whirl and sway. on the very threshold of oblivion once again the thin and penetrating flavour of the nitrate of amyl restored to me my faculties. i buried my teeth in my lower lip and cursed myself for a pitiful poltroon. i looked up to meet marion's eyes. she smiled at me so tender an encouragement that i turned cold with shame; that she, a delicate woman, could bear unmoved a sight that stole my manhood, fired my heart with more of rage than wonder, though i wondered too. i fiercely resolved not to be weak again. until that moment the silence had been absolute, but of a sudden sir charles spoke. "wait for the systole, vernet!" i glanced down and saw dr. vernet insert his right hand into the hole in the patient's breast. he was armed with a large, cup-shaped clasp. he fumbled for a moment, and then, nodding his head, he withdrew his hand. sir charles threw cavanagh a quick scornful glance. "attend, if you wish to understand," he commanded. "i'll try to be explicit!" i looked for the first time at cavanagh. he held a kerchief tightly to his face, but his eyes, which i alone could see, were simply lurid. "go on!" he muttered in a muffled voice. sir charles inserted the edged tube attached to the syringe with both hands into the patient's breast. "this is the right ventricle," he began, speaking in quick, disjointed sentences. "its function is to force the venous blood through the pulmonary veins to the right auricle; thence to be distributed over the body. i am now--about to--insert--a needle into the right ventricle through the pericardium and walls. how is the pulse, fulton?" "right, sir." "are you ready, beudant, jussieu?" "at the word, sir," replied the negroes. "good!" exclaimed sir charles. "i am too!" he withdrew one hand from the ghastly cavity and seized the syringe pump, which he began to compress. "i am now forcing into our subject's right ventricle the solution of my invention, which is destined to slay the tubercle bacilli. in two seconds the lungs will be suffused with the fluid, and in two minutes we shall have worked the miracle of absolutely destroying every bacillus contained therein. but we shall also have killed the patient's blood. see, it is already decomposing. mark how white the lung grows. to work, jussieu!" he cried. "to work!" "ready, sir!" cried back the negro. i could not see what he did, but i saw the tube connecting sir charles venner's patient with the opposite table suddenly rigidify as though a rod had been slipped down its hollow interior. "we are now correcting the solution's destructive action on our subject's blood by forcing into his heart a fresh supply of living arterial blood taken from the left auricle of the ape lying yonder," explained sir charles. "vernet is meanwhile extracting our subject's own decomposed and now useless blood, which is really blood no longer, from the greater artery in his right leg. you see, cavanagh, we have established a perfect system of drainage. we are supplying good blood and removing bad." "my god!" cried cavanagh. "it is white!" his exclamation referred to dr. vernet's work. the french surgeon had made a deep incision in the patient's right thigh, from which gushed a steady fountain of yellow fluid. "shout when it colours, vernet!" commanded sir charles. i looked on, speechless with amazement, i had no longer the least inclination to faint. indeed, my whole soul was so steeped in wonder, that i forgot i lived. i was merely a rapt acquisitive spirit being initiated into the fundamental mysteries of nature by a great, indeed, a giant intellect. sir charles venner appeared to me then something like a god. his left hand was plunged into the patient's breast, perhaps grasping the heart, that seat of life. his right compressed and controlled the movements of the syringe. his face gleamed like marble in the brilliant white light of the reflectors. it was pale, composed, expressionless, yet full of watchful intelligence and power. he stood upon his feet as steady as a rock. every moment he uttered some sharp, pregnant direction to one or other of his assistants, which was at once implicitly obeyed. "no greater man has ever lived!" thought i then, and i have not altered my opinion since. in about three minutes, though the period seemed longer to my electrified imagination, i saw a red light flash into the milky fountain that flowed under dr. vernet's guidance. "enough!" he cried. "good!" exclaimed sir charles. the fountain stopped flowing on instant, for dr. vernet had squeezed the artery between a pair of forceps, and with deft fingers he began to bind it with a ligature of golden wire. i glanced from him to sir charles. he was now bending closely above the cavity in the subject's breast; the syringe had disappeared. he seemed to be sewing something in the hollow, but i could distinguish nothing for blood. marion's sponge plied backwards and forwards with the regularity of a machine. "what are you doing now?" cried a voice beside me, so harsh and strained that i hardly recognized it. "sewing up the punctured ventricle," replied sir charles with a sort of chuckle. "some of your friends would be a bit surprised, eh, cavanagh, if you told them that you saw a doctor patch a man's heart with thread and needle, as a sempstress might a rent gown!" cavanagh uttered a hollow groan, and i turned just in time to catch him. he had swooned! i carried him to the other end of the room, where i laid him down upon the floor and hurriedly unfastened his collar and cravat. i was hot with rage, for i wished to witness the end of the operation; but i dared not leave him because of marion. even as i knelt to chafe his wrists, i heard sir charles address her sharply: "now then, marion, attend to me. the young fool is all right. dagmar will look after him." i managed to awaken cavanagh at last with a capsule i found clutched in his hand, but several precious minutes had been wasted, and we returned to the table only in time to see sir charles sewing up with golden wire the flap of muscle which had been the door of his more important work. the operation was over. the negroes were already starting to remove the carcase of the dead ape, whose life blood had been stolen to try and prolong the existence of its fellow creature, man! the other surgeons were grouped about the still living subject, but sir charles venner was no longer in command. dr. fulton now held supreme authority. he occupied venner's former post, and with one hand he fingered the subject's now unfastened wrists, while in the other he grasped a small hypodermic syringe. for some moments a deathly hush obtained, that was but intensified by the slow and stertorous breathing of the patient on the slab. dr. fulton's expression was strained and passionately anxious. it formed a curious contrast to sir charles venner's stolid immobility. the others watched him, not the patient. that is to say, all but marion. she had slipped an arm about george cavanagh, and she was tenderly supporting him, oblivious of everything else. "well?" asked sir charles at last. i gasped with relief to hear his voice. "weaker; curse it!" replied dr. fulton. "inject?" "no; last of all. the battery, quick, the glass stool!" sir charles and dr. vernet darted off. sir charles returned with a glass bench, which he placed upon the floor at fulton's feet, and upon which fulton immediately stepped. dr. vernet stopped beside a distant table and began to pull out something that looked like a cylinder from the side of a huge wooden box. we heard the rapidly intermittent clicking sound of the working battery at once. "stop!" shouted fulton. i saw the patient's legs twitch and draw up half way to his stomach, and his arms spasmodically jerk. this was repeated a dozen times in as many seconds, but gradually the motions ceased. "awaken him!" commanded dr. fulton. sir charles applied a small phial to the patient's nostrils. after a while the poor fellow turned his head aside as though unconsciously trying to escape a torture. but the phial followed him remorselessly, and presently he moaned. sir charles at once removed the spring wedge from his mouth. his teeth clicked, shut, and he uttered a heartrending gurgling groan. "more battery!" shouted fulton. "softly, softly!" the patient's muscles jerked again, but less violently than before. he tossed and turned his head, trying vainly to escape the phial; thus for a moment, then of a sudden his eyes opened and he gazed about him. "stop battery!" cried dr. fulton. "marion, come here!" the girl left her lover and hurried forward. she stooped over the patient and looked into his eyes. "ah, my poor fellow!" she murmured soothingly in english, "you are awake at last, i see. it is all over now--all over--nothing more to fear now. soon you will be well and strong. stronger than you have ever been in your life before--for you are cured." he looked up at her with a dull, vacant stare, then uttered a little gasp of pain, for dr. fulton had plunged the hypodermic needle in his arm. the injection's effect was miraculous. within three minutes his face flushed crimson, his dull eyes brightened, and he actually attempted to sit up. marion, however, gently pressed him back, but she allowed his head to rest upon her arm. "i--i--feel fine!" he gasped. "hush!" said marion; "you must not talk. you must be very good and keep still, for that is the only way you can get better." sir charles venner pressed a glass into her hand. "try and drink this," she proceeded. "it is not medicine, only a little brandy and water. ah! that's right. you'll do splendidly now. there, my boy, shut your eyes, and try to sleep. you'll soon sleep, and you'll wake well and strong." the poor lad obeyed her, and he seemed to sleep immediately, but marion's prophecy was not fulfilled. he never opened his eyes again. for a long hour we watched him, the hearts of us all racked with anxiety. every few minutes dr. fulton injected some drug into his arm, and by degrees the full force of the battery was applied. but all in vain. "he is dead!" said dr. fulton at last, stepping dejectedly from the glass stool. "turn off the battery, vernet, please." "our nineteenth failure!" observed sir charles venner, folding his arms and looking down at the corpse with a face of stone. "and they have all died of shock. nothing else." mr. cavanagh started forward. "how can you be sure of that?" he demanded. "how do you know that your accursed solution did not poison him?" the young man's face was the hue of ivory, but his big eyes were ablaze with passion. sir charles venner gave a wintry smile. "we have proved it beyond doubt," he replied. "we have tested the blood a hundred times." "bah!" retorted cavanagh with a savage sneer. "a fig for your tests. but even if they are reliable, how do you know that he did not bleed to death from the wound you made in his heart?" "test again, autopsy. would you care to see? look here!" he caught up a knife and approached the corpse. "i'm willing, cavanagh, to bet you a thousand pounds that not one drop of blood has passed my puncture in the ventricle!" "done!" "venner," cried dr. fulton, "venner, you are betting on a certainty." "then i'll pay the stake i win to any charity you like to name." sir charles venner bent over the body, but even as he poised the knife to cut, mr. cavanagh cried out in strangled tones: "stop! i--i withdraw." venner looked up with a cold sneering laugh. "then pay!" said he. "no--no! i--i--can't afford it." mr. cavanagh put his right hand into his breast pocket. his countenance was perfectly livid. he stepped back a pace and looked at marion. "george!" she cried, "what ails you, dear?" she was trembling like a leaf in the wind. "life!" he answered, and uttered a laugh that still echoes in my ears. next instant he produced a revolver and before our eyes put the muzzle to his mouth. there followed a click, a sharp report, and he fell at our feet a corpse. there are periods of crisis in human happenings when a cycle of years may be compressed into a few minutes of ordinary time, and such a period was that which succeeded the tragedy i have described. i felt my soul grow cold and hard and more old than all my previous life had made it. i stood like a frozen image gazing at the artist's clay, waiting in an agony of expectation for marion to scream. but she made no cry, and after a long, most dreadful pause, something impelled me to look at her. she was swaying to a fall and already insensible. i took her in my arms and bore her senseless body from the awful room. at the door, however, i was obliged to halt, for the threshold was occupied with the two negroes and the wrinkled old woman i had seen in the kitchen the first night i had visited the hospital. they were transfixed with horror, and i had to force a passage for my burden. in doing so, involuntarily i turned. dr. fulton was kneeling beside mr. cavanagh examining his wound. sir charles venner stood at a little distance puffing calmly at a cigarette. i shuddered and passed on. where i would have gone, providence alone knows. but the old woman followed me, crying out in a cracked voice in french: "but, m'sieur, why not come this way, to mademoiselle's own room." she led me to a prettily furnished little chamber at the very end of the corridor. i laid marion very gently down upon the bed, and turned to the old woman, who was already fussing at my side with salts and sal volatile. "don't touch her!" i commanded sternly. "let her sleep as long as god wills. she will awake too soon in any case to the misery this night has brought her." "as monsieur pleases!" replied the beldame, and with a look of ghoulish delight she hurried off, doubtless to gloat over the corpses in the operating room. left alone, i leaned over the unconscious girl, and softly pressed my lips upon her beautiful, but clay cold brow. an angel could not have been the worse for that caress, for in my heart there was no thought save of pitiful and tender reverence. a moment later i was traversing the passage, on my way to the staircase. someone called to me as i passed the chamber of death, but i paid no heed, and i descended the steps as quickly as i could. the hall door stood before me. the latch yielded to my touch. issuing forth i banged it shut, and ran out into the night as though i were pursued with furies. on alighting from my cab at the marble arch i glanced at my watch. to my astonishment it pointed barely to midnight. i thought it must have stopped, but the public-houses were still open. a second cab took me to bruton street, whence having changed my attire, i drove to my master's house. as i entered i noted upon the floor at my feet a paste-board visiting card, which had evidently been slipped beneath the door by a disappointed caller. i picked it up and held it to the light, uttering, as i read, a long, low whistle of surprise. it was inscribed with three printed words: "mr. sefton dagmar." v the campaign opens that paste-board gave me a shock; it sent a chill, creepy feeling down my spine. it smelt dangerous. i read the name again: "mr. sefton dagmar!" so, while my master was away journeying down to newhaven to keep the appointment, i had fabricated, with his nephew; by a snarl of chance, his nephew had called at his house in london. perhaps they had passed each other on the road. i turned over the card and received a second shock. across it was scrawled in pencil:--"will call to-morrow morning at 10. urgent." "curse the luck!" i muttered. "uncle and nephew will meet and my master will learn that, in spite of his injunction not to leave the house, i disobeyed him. subsequent discoveries will infallibly re-excite his first and easily smothered distrust of myself!" it seemed to be more than ever important that the secret of the identity of my master's impersonator should be preserved and that not the remotest breath of suspicion should attach to me. otherwise it would be impossible to improve my fortunes without assuming the naked and hideous character of a blackmailer, the very idea of which was bitterly repugnant to my disposition. i hurried into sir william dagmar's library, lit the gas and caught up a time-table. it informed me that the first passenger train from newhaven would arrive in london on the following morning at 10.15. i made a hasty calculation. it would take sir william fifteen minutes to drive from the station, and the train might be a little late, trains often are. if mr. sefton dagmar therefore might be relied on to be punctual, i should have at least half an hour wherein to smoothe out the snarl of fate arranged for my undoing. much might be done in half an hour! relieved by the reflection, i put out the light and went upstairs to bed. i was very tired, but i cannot truthfully declare that i slept. whenever my eyes closed i saw horrid visions. mr. cavanagh lying on the floor with his skull shattered and blood oozing from the hole in his head; or a white faced man stretched upon a marble slab with a dreadful bloody cavity in his chest; sometimes a hairy chested ape similarly situated! god defend me from such another night! at dawn i arose from my bed of torture and lay for an hour in a plunge bath filled with hot water. a subsequent ice cold shower and a careful toilet restored to my appearance its pristine freshness, but there were many grey hairs about my temples which i had never seen before. i am not a lover of wine, but i dared not face the day without support, and i derived the stimulus i needed from a bottle of my master's champagne. afterwards i felt better, but i also felt that i should never be able to smile light-heartedly again. the hours that followed i devoted to thoughts of marion le mar. i admitted to myself that i loved her, and deep down in my heart i knew that for her sake and at her bidding i would sacrifice, if need arose, anything, even my life. it was a strange conviction that, to be entertained by a man like me--a man whose motto had ever been--"first person paramount." and yet i speedily recognized that it was as much a part of me as my hand, and might only as easily be combated or parted with. i had no hope of winning her, however, no hope at all, hardly even a wish. she seemed set as far beyond my reach as the stars, and her contemplation inspired me with a realization of my unworthiness and her divinity which was neither humiliating nor discomforting. "for," thought i, "the stars shine upon us all, the noble and the base alike, and who shall say that they discriminate between the ardent looks of worshippers?" the bell rang and i opened the door for mr. sefton dagmar. in one second i comprehended why sir william disliked his nephew. my master, for all his faults, was a deep-natured man of large mental mould. before me stood his absolute antithesis. i saw a small, shallow, smiling, cunning face, that betrayed to the keen observer every emotion of the mind. the features were regular, even handsome, yet puny, and the soul that looked out of his eyes was facile, treacherous and sycophantic. he wore a slight yellow moustache, and his eyebrows were white. he looked too young. i judged him to be twenty-five. he was tall and very slight; he wore a pale brown overcoat and a suit beneath of tasteless checked tweed. "mr. sefton dagmar?" i asked with deference. he nodded, looking me swiftly up and down. "uncle in?" he airily demanded. "no, sir; but i expect him shortly. will you step inside?" "might as well," he drawled, but he entered with alacrity, and i led the way to the ante-chamber. "where is my uncle?" he enquired, as i removed his overcoat. "i do not know, sir?" "he got my card, i suppose?" "not yet, sir. he has been away." "all night?" "yes sir." he whistled then faced me with a cunning smile. "you are new," he began. "where is butts?" "he left a month ago." "what is your name?" "brown, sir?" he nodded, eyeing me as a cat might a mouse. "you look a good sort," he declared presently. "how do you get on with my uncle, brown?" i affected to hesitate. "fairly well, thank you, sir," i replied stammering a little. "that means damned poorly," he retorted, nodding his head again. "oh! i know him, brown; i know him, you need'nt tell me. why brown, i'm his only living relative, his sole heir, and how do you think he treats me?" "i'm sure i don't know, sir?" "he allows me a paltry three hundred a year, on the condition that i live in newhaven with a beastly solicitor fellow to whom he made me sign articles!" "that seems very hard, sir." "hard, brown," he cried, his eyes agleam, "hard! you call it hard! why the old monster is a millionaire, and as i told you before i am his only living relative!" i put on an expression of shocked sympathy. "it is almost incredible!" i gasped. he gave me a grateful look. "it is true, though!" he declared, "true as gospel. and the only excuse he could rake up for doing it was that i outran the constable a bit at oxford. he's the meanest old skin-flint in the united kingdom!" "i wish i could help you, sir," i murmured in my most reverential manner. "it seems very hard and really wrong, sir, that a nice handsome young gentleman like you, if you'll pardon me for speaking so, sir, to your face, should be tied up in a little village like newhaven when you might be enjoying yourself and seeing life in london and paris, sir!" "as i ought to be," he cried hotly, evidently stirred to anger at my picture of his misfortune. "it's a cursed shame, brown, a cursed shame!" "it is indeed, sir. i only wish i could help you, sir." he gave me a thoughtful look. "you never know," he muttered, "the mouse helped the lion!" i nearly laughed in his face, but controlling the impulse i said instead--"and with the best of good will, sir!" "you're a damned good fellow, brown!" he cried with energy. "and when i am sir sefton dagmar i shall not forget you." his voice sank into a low confidential key. "by the way, brown, there is a small service you might render me." "anything," i answered eagerly, "i'd do anything for _you_, sir!" he grinned with pleasure, the callow youth. "it's nothing much," he muttered. "only i want you to tell me exactly how your master is--the state of his health, i mean. i can never get any satisfaction out of him, and i have a lot of friends who want to know." he sighed and frowned. _post obit_ bond-holders--was my reflection. "i don't think he will live very long, sir," i whispered, looking nervously about me. "at night he coughs something dreadful, sir, and he just lives on medicines." mr. sefton dagmar's face looked for a moment like that of a happy cherub. "do you really think so, brown?" he cried excitedly. "i'm sure of it, sir." "well, see here, brown, when he dies, i'll make you my man, if you like!" "will you really, sir?" i tried to look extravagantly delighted. "yes--and i'll give you twice as much screw as you get now, whatever he gives you. but for that i'll expect you to do some things for me in the meanwhile." he looked me keenly in the eyes. "anything at all, sir," i protested. "very good. i want you to drop me a line every week to tell me how he is, and if he takes any sudden turn for the worse you may send me a telegram." "certainly, sir. is that all?" "no!" he glanced anxiously towards the door. "no one can hear us, can they?" "there's no one in the house, sir, but you and me." "that's famous; well, brown, see here, i'm heavily in debt and some of the beggars are pressing me into a corner. that's why i came up to town." "yes, sir!" "and--and--" his face changed colour, "there is a woman too!" he stammered, "an actress!" "there's always a woman, i should think, where a handsome young gentleman like you, sir, is concerned," i murmured with a sympathetic smile. his vanity was tickled, but the conceited grin my words had called to his lips quickly faded into a look of anxiety. the matter was manifestly serious. "they are the devil, brown," he solemnly assured me. "this one has got me into a dickens own mess, she's as pretty as a picture, brown, but a perfect brute all the same!" "breach of promise, sir?" he nodded, with a lugubrious frown. "i've been served with a writ," he muttered, "and there's nothing for it but to make a clean breast to the governor!" "can i help you in any way, sir?" "i thought you might have something to suggest as to how i should broach it to him, brown. when is he in the best humour--morning, afternoon or evening?" "if you'd take my advice, sir," i replied, "you'll not tell your uncle at all, sir. he can't last long, and i should think that, as you are a lawyer, you ought to be able to stave off the proceedings for a month or so. if you were to confess, he'd be bound to be terribly annoyed, and the odds are he'd do you some injury in his will. he knows he is dying, sir." mr. sefton dagmar turned quite pale. "i never thought of that!" he cried. "by jove, so he might. he might cut me off with a shilling. the entail is barred long enough ago." i was dying to get him out of the house, if only for half an hour. i had hit upon the tail end of a plan. "it would never do to run such a risk!" i assured him. "and if you'll allow me to guide you, sir, you'll run away at once. he will be here in a minute, and the odds are that he'll come in bad tempered." "i'll go!" he replied. "but, brown, i'd like to see him, just to be sure how he is looking." "then come back in an hour or two. but be sure, sir, and say nothing about your having been here before. he's a terribly suspicious man, and if he thought that you and i had been conferring, he would dismiss me straight off the reel!" "never fear, brown. i wouldn't have you sacked for the world. you'll be too useful to me here." "i really believe i shall, sir." in another moment he had gone, and i watched him walking up the street, through a slit in the blind, until he had disappeared. it was exactly twenty minutes past ten. i hurried to my master's study and, quick as thought, turned the whole place topsy turvy. i ransacked his private drawers and scattered their contents broadcast, i even overturned his heap of reference books. i heard the latch turn in the front door as i descended the stairs. "oh, it is you at last, sir. thank god!" i cried as sir william dagmar appeared. he was looking like a ghost, white and utterly wearied out, and his chin was sunk upon his chest; but my words startled him, and he turned on me with compressed lips, in sudden energy. "what is the matter, brown?" he demanded. "oh, if you please, sir, i have had a terrible night!" (i poured out the words in a perfect stream.) "just as i was going to bed, sir, it was about eight o'clock, sir, for i was uncommon tired, the bell rang. i went down to open the door and there you were standing, at least i thought it was you, sir. he looked exactly like you, and he spoke like you, sir, and he called me 'brown,' sir----" "great god!" exclaimed my master, and he fell to trembling like a leaf. "what is that you say, but wait! wait!----" he staggered into the dining room and clutched a decanter of spirit, which he held up with a shaking hand to his lips. he took a deep draught, and then broke into a frightful fit of coughing. i tended upon him as gently as a woman, and half led, half carried him to a sofa, where i forced him to lie down. but his anxiety was in flames, and as soon as he could he sat up and commanded me to proceed. "what did this--this double of me say and do?" he gasped. "tell me quickly!" "he went straight up stairs, sir. he was there about half an hour, and then your study bell rang. he was standing by your desk with your time-table in his hand, sir. he said to me--'i suppose, brown, you thought i had gone to newhaven!' "'yes, sir,' said i, and he laughed like anything, just as though he was very much amused about something, and all the while i thought he was you, sir. the only thing was, sir, that he wore a different overcoat, and i kept wondering what you had done with your fur coat, sir. he was searching the time-table, and presently, sir, he looked over at me and he said--'why, brown, if i'd gone to newhaven, i couldn't have got back until ten fifteen to-morrow morning.' "'indeed, sir!' says i. and at that he simply roared out laughing. 'brown,' he cries, 'you'll be the death of me!' i was very much astonished, sir, and i thought that you'd taken leave of your senses, sir, but after you--that is to say--_he_--after he'd got over his laughing--he looks me in the face and says--says he--'brown, you fool, 'can't you see i'm not your master! here look at my thumbs!' and sure enough, sir, he had both his thumbs quite complete, sir, and then i knew he couldn't be you, sir! i was that dumbfounded for a bit, sir, that i was ready to sink through the floor, and all i could do was just gape at his hands. then of a sudden he whips one of them into his pocket, sir, and he pulled out a pistol, which he clapped to my head. 'listen to me, brown!' says he, very quiet like, but in a terrible voice, sir, 'listen to me, brown!' says he. 'your master is in newhaven by now, and he can't get back till the morning. when he comes tell him from me, that his double will find out to-night all he wants to know, and that he'll hear from me within a week. tell him, too, that he needn't bother suspecting young sefton, i could have got the young ass to help me if i'd wanted, but he was too great a fool, and i scorn to have him blamed. tell sir william i'm playing a lone hand, and that it rests with him to keep it a lone hand. and now, brown, you just stay here for the next half hour, while i go through the house, and don't you budge, or as sure as death i'll plug a bullet through your brains!' "with that, sir, he dragged me into a corner, and put my face to the wall--and--and--i stayed there, sir!" "what!" thundered my master. "how long?" i began to whimper. "i--i--take shame to admit i played the coward, sir," i blubbed out. "but if--if you'd heard him--speak, sir--and seen the look in his eyes--sir--you--you--may be----'" "enough!" he interjected very sharply. "i'm not blaming you, my man, i'm asking for information. how long did you stay in the corner where he put you?" "a long while, sir." "how soon did he leave the house?" "i don't know, sir. i seemed to hear noises for hours and hours, sir--and--and--" here i broke down with a really artistic sob. "it's turned me quite grey, sir--all about the temples--and i was brown as brown--last evening, sir!" sir william got to his feet and placed a hand upon my shoulder. "there, there, brown, compose yourself!" he said in kinder tones. "i can see that you have had a great fright, and you were right to run no risks. but tell me did you send for the police after you discovered that the man had gone?" "i--no, sir," i stammered. "you told me on no account to leave the house!" "brown!" he cried indignantly. "well, sir--i--i--i--simply daren't venture outside the house, sir!" i blurted out. my master frowned and shook his head. "just as well, perhaps!" he muttered to himself. he added in a louder key. "well, my man, you have given me much to think over, and i have trouble enough upon my hands already." "trouble, sir!" i repeated. "a dear friend of mine is dead. you know him, brown, mr. george cavanagh. he shot himself last night in his studio!" it was on the tip of my tongue to scream out--"in his studio!" i was so surprised, but i restrained myself just in time and cried instead:-"good heavens! sir, how awful! why did he do it, sir?" sir william shrugged his shoulders. "they say that it was in a fit of despair, because the great picture he was painting was accidentally destroyed by fire. but you may read for yourself, brown, the morning papers are full of it!" the papers! i had never even thought to look at one. i had been so preoccupied. my master went on speaking. "i'll go upstairs, brown, and have a bath," he said, "after which i shall attend the inquest!" "but your double, sir!" i cried. "ought not we to tell the police at once about him, sir?" he shook his head. "no, no, brown. better not, better not. he is probably some friend of mine who has been playing a practical joke at my expense. keep what has happened to yourself, brown. i do not wish to be laughed at!" "very good, sir," i muttered dubiously. "but all the same i don't think he was joking, sir. i'll be bound you'll find he has robbed you. the study is just upside down! i have not tried to put it in order, sir, so that you might see it as he left it!" sir william gave me a wan smile. "i keep no valuables in the house, brown," he replied, "except my manuscripts, and they are worthless to anyone but myself." without another word he left the room, and i also hurried out in order to prepare his bath. i did not venture to converse with him again, for he had fallen into one of his impenetrable silent moods which inevitably stirred him to wrath against any interrupter. as soon as i had dressed him he left the house, still steeped in speechless thought. he looked ten years older than he had the previous day, and i felt really sorry to remember the additional cup of fear and horror he would be called upon to drink when he and the others had ascertained the full extent and import of my most recent impersonation. after he had gone, i snatched open the first paper that came to my hand. it was the _morning mail_. i discovered the black scare headline in a second. yes, sure enough it related how mr. cavanagh's valet had found his master lying on the studio floor a little after midnight, stone dead, with a revolver clutched in his right hand. the man had not heard the shot, but he had been awakened by some noise, and he had thought his master had called out to him. he admitted that he was a heavy sleeper, and he did not remember hearing mr. cavanagh enter the house. the artist's great picture upon which he had been working for a year, and which was almost finished, was half destroyed by fire, and it looked as though by accident, for a naked gas jet burned perilously close to the easel. the bullet which had killed mr. cavanagh had been found by the police embedded in the plaster of a distant wall, near the ceiling. the writer of the article had ingeniously concluded that the artist on entering his studio and observing the fruit of his ardent labours destroyed beyond repair, had, in the first sharp flush of his despair, committed suicide! as for me, when i scanned the page and considered one by one the circumstantial dove-tailing details of that ghastly history--i confess that for a moment i doubted my senses' evidence. a little reflection, however, brought me to a realization of the truth, and a greater respect than ever for a certain eminent surgeon--to wit--sir charles venner. i saw in everything i read, his calm, cold-blooded scheming. on my last glimpse he had been languidly smoking a cigarette, which he must have lighted before the breath had quite departed from poor cavanagh's mutilated corpse. perhaps nay, undoubtedly, he had even then been planning how to act, and so arrange matters that no scandal might be associated with the name of his accursed hospital. as clearly as though i had been present i saw him ordering that dreadful funeral; saw him take cavanagh's latch-key from his chain; saw him direct one of the negroes to prepare a conveyance; saw him lead the negroes carrying the body to a waiting vehicle--and that silent cortége move across the heath to st. john's wood. i saw him then open mr. cavanagh's door and noiselessly motion the negroes to bear the corpse within. i watched him dispose the body on the floor with scientific calculation as to the proper direction of the bullet, and then climbing upon a chair or perhaps on the negroes' shoulders force the bullet through the curtain into the plaster. perhaps that noise had awakened cavanagh's drowsy headed servant! i saw him approach the easel and set fire to the great picture, so as to supply the world with a motive for the suicide--and finally i saw him steal away with his ebony attendants from the house--three dark malignant spirits, veritable caterers of death! somehow i shuddered to think of sir charles venner. i felt him to be a foeman more worthy of my steel than all his fellows, and i half wished, half feared to cross swords with him. it is true that already i had twice managed to out-wit him, and he had not dreamed in either case of doubting my assumed identity. but i could not claim much credit in the latter bout, nor feel much satisfaction, since throughout that awful evening sir charles had been too occupied to do more than throw a hasty glance in my direction. what would happen, i wondered, in a real fair battle of wits, each of us forewarned of the encounter? i had profound faith in my powers and resources, but i dared not forecast that issue! twice we had met, and twice i had succeeded. would we strive again, and who would win on the third and fatal meeting? such were the questions i asked myself unceasingly; but i could answer none of them. it was not until almost four o'clock in the afternoon that my master returned home, and he was accompanied by sir charles venner and dr. fulton. i was at once called into the study and put through a rigid cross-examination, by all three, regarding my pretended visitor of the previous evening. but i had expected such an ordeal, and i came through with colours flying. i was much concerned, however, to perceive that sir william dagmar looked very ill. he coughed incessantly and so haggard and careworn was his visage that i believed he would presently collapse. my prognostications were justified by the event. soon after i had been dismissed the bell rang violently, and i hurried upstairs to see the two surgeons carrying my master's unconscious body to the bedroom. i undressed him there and put him to bed; whereupon they carefully examined him, and held a long and anxious consultation over his condition. an hour passed before he recovered from his swoon, but even when he awoke it was not to his proper senses, for he immediately began to babble a stream of meaningless nonsense. the surgeons looking very grave agreed to administer an opiate, and they injected some fluid hypodermically into his arm. sir charles then informed me that they feared a serious attack of meningitis, and he promised to send a trained nurse within an hour to look after the sick man. he left at once, but dr. fulton remained until my master went to sleep. the nurse arrived half an hour later, and i prepared one of the spare bed-rooms for her use. she was an angular hard-featured woman named hargreaves, but she had a soft voice and pleasing manners, and she seemed to know her business. mr. sefton dagmar arrived at about seven o'clock. as soon as he heard that his uncle was ill and likely to die, he went half crazy with joy and insisted upon staying in the house. i did not wish him to at all, but there was nothing for me to do except put up with the infliction, and prepare another bed-room. however, he sent me out soon after dinner to despatch a telegram to newhaven for his baggage, and for that little involuntary service that he did me, i became reconciled to his presence. the fact was, i needed an excuse to quit the house upon business of my own. ever since my master had swooned i had been thinking very hard, and it seemed to me that if i wished to improve my fortunes, i must strike at once before all the geese, whom i expected to lay me golden eggs, should die. having sent mr. sefton dagmar's wire, i took a cab to cheapside and sought out a cheap stationer's shop. i bought some common note paper and envelopes, and begging the loan of a pen, i scratched in straggling print the following epistle to sir charles venner:-"sir--if you will inquire at the colonnade hotel for mr. seth halford to-morrow evening at nine o'clock, you will be shown to a room, where you will find dagmar the second. kindly bring money and come alone!" i posted this letter at the g.p.o., and returned to curzon street. in the morning sir william dagmar was in a high fever and raving deliriously. as i had a houseful to provide for, and am not a lover of trouble, i went early abroad and arranged with a restaurateur to supply all our meals. i then drove in a cab to a post office in the old kent road and sent myself a telegram from my dying mother, which arrived at noon. sir charles venner visited his patient at one, and after he had gone i showed my telegram to mr. sefton dagmar and nurse hargreaves, both of whom urged me to attend the summons, assuring me that i was not needed at the house. i tearfully allowed their protestations to prevail, and betook myself to my little stronghold in bruton street. there arrived, i spent the rest of that day making myself up to represent the old actor whom i had impersonated on the occasion when i had shadowed my master to the kingsmere hospital for consumptives. for a purpose, to be afterwards explained, i furnished my pockets with a small assortment of wigs, beards and moustaches. when darkness fell i issued forth and rode in a cab to the colonnade hotel. the clerk stared at me rather haughtily when i asked for a room in so swell a place, but i satisfied his scruples with half a sovereign, which tip no doubt induced him to believe me an eccentric millionaire. i told him that i expected a visitor, my friend, sir charles venner, the great surgeon, at nine o'clock, and desired him to be shown up at once to my bedroom. after that he was all obsequiousness. i dined at the hotel, and to fortify myself for the fray i drank a small bottle of sparkling burgundy. at a quarter to nine i repaired to my room, which was situated near the first angle of the building on turning from the staircase, on the second floor. it was furnished in the ordinary style very plainly and simply. i quickly stripped the dressing-table of its contents and placed it in the middle floor. i set a chair on either side of the table, and i sat down upon the one that faced the door--which i had left unlatched--i then put on a pair of goggles and waited. sir charles venner was praiseworthily punctual. big ben was still chiming the hour when i heard his tap on the panel. "come in!" i cried. the handle turned and he entered, just pausing on the threshold to tip the waiter who had brought him up. "my dear old chap!" i exclaimed for the waiter's benefit, "this is good of you, as ever, punctual to the tick!" he closed the door carefully behind him, and advanced towards the table, pulling off his gloves as he did so. i, on the contrary, had been careful to keep my hands thickly gloved, for i wanted those keen eyes of his to have as few recognizing details as possible to remember, and hands are tell tale things, as i had proved sufficiently already. "i suppose i may be seated!" he began in steady tones. i nodded, eating him with my gaze. his countenance was perfectly impassive, but his eyes returned my stare with penetrating interest. he sat down and calmly crossed his knees. "my time is limited," he declared. "kindly proceed to business. you sent for me and i am here!" i bowed my head. "true, sir charles," i replied in an assumed voice. "i do not propose to detain you long. the kingsmere hospital for consumptives doubtless claims your care, so i shall be as brief as possible!" i watched him sharply, but he did not turn a hair nor move a muscle. "go on!" was all he said. "shall we avoid details?" i enquired. "unnecessary details, sir. but tell me all you know!" "not very much!" i said gently. "unlawful secret society! we'll call that number one, and bracket with it george cavanagh's death by suicide." a look of relief crossed his face at the word suicide. i smiled and proceeded. "number two: vivisection is unlawful--i fancy--and you might be convicted of murder on my showing. it would be for a jury to determine, for all the great surgeon that you are. i think that is enough sir charles!" "bah!" said he, and a curious gleam came into his eyes. "you can scandalize and perhaps destroy my practice, that is all. i admit you have me in a chain, but take care not to strain the bond too far. i do not depend upon my practice for a living, and in the cause of science i shall dare to face scandal, if you press me!" "i am glad to hear that you have a private fortune," i answered quietly. "i have the less compunction in asking you to contribute to another man's support. the world's wealth is distributed very unevenly, sir charles. do you not agree with me?" for the first time a shade of annoyance crossed his face. "i must decline to discuss abstractions with a blackmailer," he replied in irritated tones. "what is your name, and what is your price?" "my name for the present is seth halford, sir charles. i shall not deny that it is liable to frequent change--" i smiled--"but i defy you to detect its transmutations, sir, or follow its vicarious possessor to his lair. as for my price, i have no object in withholding that--it is ten thousand pounds!" "and is it not subject, like your name, to change?" "not by so much as one farthing, sir charles." he nodded and got languidly to his feet. "i came here prepared to sacrifice five hundred," he said quietly. "two in cash, the balance to-morrow. i am not sure that i am not pleased to save the money." "will you save it?" i asked. "unless you hedge immediately in your outrageously extravagant demand." "unhappily, sir charles, that is utterly impossible." "then i shall save it!" "how?" "by calling in the police and arresting you for attempted blackmail." i broke into a soft rippling laugh. "so--" i muttered, "you only value your neck at five hundred pounds! such fine and delicate vertebrae they are too!" the irony brought some colour to his cheek. "my neck is in no danger," he retorted angrily. "what can you prove against us you fool, except that i performed a wonderful operation in the cause of science, in the ardent hope of saving a man's life, and in the sure trust of benefitting the whole human race?" "but the man died, doctor, and he was one of nineteen! the coroner will shortly have a harvest, nineteen autopsies, sir charles! think of them! nineteen autopsies!" "you fool," he repeated in tones of repressed passion, "if there were even ninety--what of it? but enough of this! choose between five hundred pounds and the lock-up. choose quickly!" he turned as he spoke and strode to the door. his hand was already on the latch. in another second the door would have been thrown wide. perhaps there was a policeman in the passage, i thought it unlikely but still--possible! at all events it was time for me to cease trifling with my adversary. "you appear, sir charles venner, to have forgotten the matter of cavanagh's death!" i hissed out. "he killed himself at the hospital, and his body was discovered at the studio!" "that can be explained!" he retorted; but his hand fell softly from the latch. "we have plenty of witnesses who saw his suicide." "suicide!" i sneered. "what _of rule three, you one of seven murderers_!" sir charles venner re-crossed the room and quietly resumed his chair. his face was still as expressionless as a mask, but all the lustre had departed from his eyes. "what do you know of rule three?" he asked in lifeless tones after a long intense pause. i knew so little that it seemed necessary to lie. "enough to hang you," i murmured, smiling pleasantly. "i should tell you perhaps, my dear sir charles, that i have impersonated sir william dagmar more often than i have fingers and toes--during the past twelve months. ha! you start!" i laughed wickedly. "did you really permit yourself to dream that you have guessed the full extent of my depredations on your order--from your one or two chance and predestined discoveries. oh! oh! ha! ha! this is really too good!" he bit his lips and eyed me sternly. "i shall need better proof than your word," he said. i nodded, got to my feet and strode to the door. i threw it open and with an elaborate bow pointed to the passage. "you shall have it," i cried, "but only in the police court!" "bluff!" he sneered. "bluff!" he did not move from his chair. "oh!" said i, "you choose to pay yourself a compliment! so you think i would follow your example of a moment since? but you are wrong!" i walked to the electric bell and pressed the button. sir charles venner's impassivity disappeared like magic. his face turned scarlet and he sprang instantly afoot. "curse you!" he grated out, "what would you do?" "sir, our interview is at an end. my servant will show you to the street!" "the sum you ask is utterly beyond our means!" i shrugged my shoulders. "five thousand!" he hissed. i yawned. "seven then, though it will ruin us!" he cried distractedly. i took out a cigarette and struck a light. he watched me expel five puffs of vapour from my mouth, but i did not so much as glance at him. then a servant appeared in the doorway. "you rang, sir?" he enquired. "yes!" i looked at the fellow approvingly. he was a much stouter man and perhaps an inch taller than i, and he had large feet. he was attired in the hotel uniform. he wore a dragoon's moustache, and he looked like an old soldier. "i wish you to be good enough to show my dear friend, sir charles venner, to the street." i turned to sir charles and immediately perceived that my adversary had become my victim. "when and where shall we meet again?" he muttered hoarsely. "ten?" said i. he was grey, grey to his lips. his eyes shone like stars. "yes, ten!" he replied. "i'll drop you a line!" i said with a smile. "but how careless of me, i almost forget my hospital subscription list. how much may i put you down for? you know the cause is a deserving one. shall we say two hundred pounds?" "oh, i suppose so," he said. "cash, old chap? or will you send me a cheque?" i frowned as our eyes met, and he read my meaning. "i brought the money with me," he replied. "i may as well hand it over to you now. i shall thereby save a postage stamp!" he threw a bundle of notes upon the table. i smiled again and looking steadily into his eyes held out one hand. "well, good night to you, old boy--sleep well--and be good till we meet again!" i fancy sir charles venner had never been submitted to a more intolerable piece of degradation. to be commanded to shake hands with one's blackmailer! his eyes were simply murderous, but he obeyed. it was only a form of course, for our fingers barely touched, but his involuntary shiver of repulsion was communicated to my frame even in that swift contact, and i had enough fine feeling in me to appreciate his passionate disgust. to be candid, i liked him all the better because of it, for although there is not a spark of pride in my composition, a constitutional weakness obliges me to respect pride in other people. five minutes after he had gone, i left my room and strolled to the head of the stairs. as i had expected, a gentleman was seated upon the lounge that faced the door of the elevator, i could not see his face for it was concealed behind a newspaper. but i marked one incongruous circumstance in his apparel. he wore evening dress, and ordinary street boots of black leather. i am afraid i was so vulgar as to permit myself the indulgence of a wink. i passed him and leisurely descended the first flight of stairs. of a sudden i stopped, and turning about ran upstairs again at the top of my speed, taking three steps at a time. my gentleman had already begun to descend the stairs. i passed him without a glance, swearing in a low but audible key at my forgetfulness. in another moment i was back in my room pressing the electric button. "so!" thought i, "they have employed a detective to shadow me. well, we shall see!" presently a knock sounded on the door, and the waiter entered, who had shown sir charles out. "shut it," i said. he obeyed. "what is your name?" i demanded. "martin, sir." "well, look here, martin," said i, "my old friend sir charles venner has just bet me a hundred pounds that i cannot succeed in getting out of this hotel in some disguise, without his suspecting me, during the next half hour. now he is waiting in the vestibule, is he not?" the waiter grinned. "no, sir, just inside the coffee room door; i was wondering what he wanted. he gave me half a crown, sir." "half a crown!" i sneered. "look here martin----" i took sir charles' own roll from my pocket and selected two brand new five pound notes. "now sir charles thinks himself very smart, and he fancies he can see through a disguise in a second. but i reckon a bit on my smartness too, for when i was a young man before i made a fortune out of mining i was on the stage. with your help, my man, i'll do sir charles up, do him brown--and these notes will be yours for helping me!" martin's eyes almost burst out of their sockets. "all right, sir!" he cried excitedly. "what do you want me to do?" "exchange clothes with me for ten minutes. here are the notes, my man--i'll pay you beforehand. all i'll have to do to win my bet is to slip out of the house and return. hurry up, martin!" but martin had already begun to slip off his coat. the bank notes were tightly clutched between his teeth, so he could not reply, but i was rather glad of that. i induced him to remove even his boots, and in five minutes i was to all appearances a hotel waiter. a false moustache gave me a general look of martin, but a glance in the mirror showed me a bad fault, the long hair of my previous character, the old shakesperean actor, fell upon my collar, while martin's hair was cropped closely to his head. but i dared not exchange the wig i was wearing for another in martin's presence, for fear of exciting his distrust, neither dared i remove my false bushy grey eyebrows. difficulties, however, are made to be surmounted. whispering a word of warning in martin's ear, i opened the door, and in a loud voice commanded him to procure me a cab. martin cried out--"very good, sir!" and i slipped into the passage, banging the door behind me. my trick was successful, the corridor was deserted. in two seconds i had pulled off my wig and substituted another, also i tore off my false eyebrows and stuffed them into my pocket, that is to say, into martin's pocket. i then strode down the corridor and turned the corner with the brisk step and manner of a waiter going on an urgent message. my gentleman spy was again seated on the lounge that faced the elevator, and once more intrenched behind a newspaper. he threw at me one quick glance over the edge of the journal, and his face vanished. i had just time to photograph his features on my mind--no more. running down the stairs i reached the vestibule, which to my delight was thronged with guests. a moment later, having given the coffee room a wide berth, i passed through the open hall door and gained the street. a gentleman was standing on the footpath paying off a cab from which he had just alighted. i sprang into the vehicle and drove to piccadilly circus. a second took me to marble arch, and a third to bruton street. feeling assured that i had not been followed, i slipped upstairs and into my room. an hour later, brown, sir william dagmar's discreet valet, stepped out of an omnibus before the general post office, letter in hand addressed to sir charles venner. the letter, which was subscribed in printed characters, contained these words:--"to-morrow afternoon, at 4.30, inquire at bolingbroke hotel, piccadilly, for dr. rudolf garschagen. bank of england notes alone acceptable. dagmar ii." i slept that night at bruton street. vi a battle of wits at ten o'clock on the next morning, as i approached my master's house in curzon street, i saw sir charles venner's brougham waiting before the door. i thought it highly probable that sir charles would require me to give an account of my absence from duty, whether he suspected me or not, for he was in the position of a man obliged by circumstances to suspect everyone, even his nearest and dearest friend. nerving myself for the encounter, i assumed a dejected and lugubrious expression, and slowly mounting the steps, i inserted my latch-key in the lock. the hall was deserted, but i heard a mutter of voices in the ante-room, and thither i betook myself at once. "best get it over quickly," was my thought. the door was ajar, and peering through i perceived mr. sefton dagmar and sir charles venner in earnest converse. mr. dagmar's hat was lying upon the table. sir charles carried his in his hand. i rapped softly upon the panel and entered. "ah, brown!" exclaimed the younger man. "back, i see." "good morning, sir," i muttered, and turning to sir charles i anxiously enquired after my master. "your master is much worse!" he replied, looking at me very keenly. "i expect the crisis to-night!" "he will recover, sir, i hope. you will surely save him, sir charles!" "i don't know!" mr. sefton dagmar took up his hat and left the room, throwing me a wink as he passed. "i think it's up to me to take a constitutional," he observed, by way of excusing his departure. "au revoir, sir charles!" "au revoir!" returned the surgeon. his eyes had never left my face. he waited until we heard the street door close, then he said quietly: "and how is your mother, brown?" "she is dead, sir!" i spoke the words in a low, dull tone, but without attempting any exhibition of emotion. i knew better than to play such a game with the man before me. "i'm sorry to hear that," he observed. "you'll want to attend her funeral, i suppose. when is she to be buried?" "this afternoon, sir," i answered looking at the floor. he drew in a long, sharp inspiration, which said plainer than words: "i thought so!" i understood that he suspected me. i raised my eyes to his, however, with a worried melancholy expression, and i said in a hesitating way. "it's very good of you, sir, to sympathize with me--i'm sure--i--i--i--feel almost emboldened to take a liberty. i'm, i'm in great trouble, sir?" "well, brown?" his eyes were gleaming like drawn swords. "it's this way, sir," i muttered. "my mother's illness has run away--with my little bit of savings, sir--and--and--the undertaker wants spot cash for the coffin, sir. he won't trust me, and i don't know what to do, seeing master is so ill. it'd be all right, if he was well, for i haven't drawn my last month's wages, sir." "i see, you wish me to lend you some money." i hung my head in real artistic shame. "i'd never dare--ask--you, sir!" i muttered brokenly, "but since you've said it yourself, sir, i--i--" i paused as if unable to proceed. "how much do you need?" "five pounds would do, sir. master owes me eight, and i could make it over to you, if you'd only be so good. you see, sir, i'd hate"--i choked--"a--a--pauper funeral, sir." "naturally, my man," his voice was much kinder. "but there will be no need for that. i shall lend you the money with pleasure. let me see, it's ten now, i shall return to see your master again at twelve and bring the money with me. i have only a few shillings about me at this moment!" "thank you, sir," i stammered. "i'll never forget it of you, sir!" at that juncture i allowed a tear to roll down my cheek, as i raised my face to look at him, but i brushed it hastily away, as though ashamed. he did not appear to notice anything, however, and without another word he left the house. i considered that i had allayed his suspicions, but i dared not make too sure, for that man possessed a more admirable control of feature than any other i had ever known. i determined, therefore, to be careful and remit no precaution, however small or troublesome, in order to secure myself. to that end i took an early opportunity of confiding my trouble to nurse hargreaves, and i almost made her weep by the touching manner in which i described my mother's death. sir charles returned punctually at twelve o'clock and he put five sovereigns into my hand as i admitted him. he was also kind enough to tell me that i might leave the house at once, in order to conduct my mother's funeral arrangements. i took him at his word. my first thought as i stepped into the street was this:--"am i to be shadowed? and if so, how shall i discover the spy?" the pavement was dotted with pedestrians who all appeared to be minding their own business. i walked briskly towards piccadilly. before long i knew that i was followed, i cannot explain how i knew, for although i seized every opportunity i could to look back, i could not locate my shadower; but i felt that i was shadowed, felt it in my bones. i was thrilled, exhilarated! difficulties and dangers always delight me, and always call, as with a trumpet blast, my best faculties to action. i considered what to do. i might easily have shaken off my pursuer had i wished, but to even display such a desire would inevitably convert sir charles venner's suspicions into convictions. it was my ambition, on the other hand, to destroy his suspicions altogether. an inspiration came to me at piccadilly circus. i smothered a cry of delight, and entered an oxford street omnibus. the end seat was vacant. i took it, and gazed watchfully behind me. to even a trained observer like myself, it was no easy task to pick out of the great moving throng that followed my conveyance the man whose business was wrapped up in my own. but i did not despair, and set steadily to work. at oxford circus i was sure that he had not entered my 'bus. there i alighted and took another to london bridge. in which of the omnibuses and cabs trailing behind me was he then seated? nearest of all was a bank 'bus; i did not believe it contained him. beyond that an empty hansom rolled along, then a fourwheeler, then a greengrocer's cart, with a smart looking pony between the shafts. i thought he might be in the fourwheeler, but no, it turned down museum street. this brought the greengrocer's cart nearer to the empty hansom, and gave me a chance to examine some of the passengers on a chancery lane 'bus beyond. at red lion street we pulled up, and the bank 'bus passed us with a good start, also the empty hansom. i had now a good view of the chancery lane 'bus over the greengrocer's cart, and of another 'bus behind that, bound for gray's inn road. we soon passed chancery lane, and so lost one more 'bus. the pony drawing the greengrocer's cart was now almost touching our steps with his nose. not a soul of those who alighted from the chancery lane 'bus came our way. i examined the gray's inn road 'bus, but it contained only three women and a boy. two hansoms now joined the procession, but the first carried an eye-glassed snob, and the other an officer in uniform. i was beginning to feel very puzzled when it suddenly occurred to me to prospect the greengrocer's cart, which hitherto i had scarcely more than glanced at. two costers occupied the seat, but otherwise the cart was empty. the driver was a real unmistakable hall-marked coster, but his companion gave me a doubt. for one thing, he was smoking a cigar; for another, he held on to his seat in order to support himself; for a third, although he wore no collar, he had a remarkably white neck--for a coster. "there," said i, "is my man." i did not look at him again. there was no need. to kill time i bought a paper at the next corner, and diligently studied its contents, until we came to london bridge, where i alighted, and transferred myself to a new cross 'bus. i mounted to the top and began to scan the houses that we passed with the closest possible attention. it was not, however, until we left tabard street behind and had half traversed the old kent road, that i discovered what i was looking for. this was a "double event"--so to speak. an apartment house and an undertaker's establishment, situated within easy walking distance of each other. many a coffin shop did i see, and many an apartment house, but they were unhappily too separated for my purpose. the fortunate combination occurred between astley street and ossary road. first came the undertaker's shop, and then the apartment house. nothing could have been more suitable. opposite the latter i swung myself from the 'bus, and stepped upon the footpath. the greengrocer's cart passed me by some twenty yards at a smart trot, then slowed down to a walk. i strode up to the door of the apartment house, and rapped sharply on the knocker. it was a low, grimy, building, with many grimy windows, whose shuttered blinds had once been green, but now were grey with grease and dust. a card in either lower windows signified its calling: "apartments to let!" the door was opened by a greasy-faced woman, whose coal black oily locks were crimped in curl-papers. i pushed past her into the hall, without so much as "by your leave," and shut the door behind me. i acted so, lest my shadower should suspect that i visited the house for the first time. the woman at once began to protest at the top of her voice, against my cavalier behaviour. but i cut her short with a sovereign, which she bit, in the fashion of her class, eyeing me the while as though she expected me to snatch it back again. silence thus secured, i addressed her in this fashion: "madam, i am a woodcarver by trade, and a rich old gentleman has just commissioned me to carve a wonderful design upon a coffin in which he wishes to bury his wife who is lately dead. my master, however, jealous at my good fortune, has dismissed me from his employ, and as it is necessary for me to get immediately to work, i must hire a room in the neighbourhood without delay. if you have a front room on the ground floor which you can let to me, i shall be glad to pay you for it at the rate of one pound for every day i use it in advance, and give you the pound you are biting, into the bargain!" "lawks!" she cried, then uttered a croaking laugh. "you must be getting well paid for the job!" "a hundred pounds!" i replied. "no wonder you are in a hurry." "have you such a room as i require?" i demanded impatiently. she opened a door at her right hand, and showed me a musty guest chamber, which still smelt of its former occupant, who must have been a tanner, i should say. "it will do," i declared. "yes, but will you bring the coffin here?" "assuredly." "not for a pound a day, though, mister!" she retorted with a cunning smile. "why, all my boarders would clear out!" "how much do you want, then?" "two quid, not a penny less." i paid the money into her hand. her eyes glinted with rage and self-contempt, because she had not demanded three, but i did not choose to heed. "i shall return in ten minutes with the coffin!" i said quickly. "in the meanwhile that room is mine. please see that no one goes into it, and do not on any account open the window!" in another moment i was out of the house, and walking back briskly towards the city, followed at a distance by the greengrocer's cart. the undertaker's shop was half a mile away. i reached it in less than four minutes, and entered with the air of a busy bourgeois. "how much that box?" i asked of the proprietor, pointing to an imitation oak coffin that was half hidden behind several more showy constructions. "four pounds," said he. "could you deliver it at once?" "no, sir, my carts are all out." "you have attendants?" he scratched his head, "how fur?" he questioned. "only a few hundred yards down the street! i'm willing to pay an extra five shillings for promptitude." he stepped to an open glass door and shouted--"jim! frank!" two young men, evidently apprentices, answered his call. i put down four sovereigns and five shillings on the counter. the undertaker picked up the money, and pointed to my purchase. "pick out the plain oak and take it to this gentleman's house!" he commanded. "he'll show you the way! do you want a receipt, sir?" "i'll call back for it," i replied, and strode from the shop. the small procession that i headed occasioned a good deal of comment, and excited not a few grisly jests as we proceeded. but i paid no heed to any, and marched along with the expression of a lover lately bereaved of his sweetheart. one pitiful "poor chap, he looks down in the mug, bill, don't he?" more than rewarded me for all the honest effort i was putting forth, and compensated for the jokes besides. i looked neither to right nor left, and not once back; but i knew that the greengrocer's cart still steadily dogged my wanderings. my new landlady admitted us without a protest. i made my attendants place the coffin upon the bed, and dismissed them with a shilling apiece. i then locked the door and crept to the window. i was just in time to see, through a slit in the shutter, the greengrocer's cart set off at a swift trot towards london. cautiously raising the sash i pushed aside the blind and craned out my head. no, i had not been misled. the road ran straight, and although i watched the cart until it was swallowed up in a maze of other vehicles, near a thousand yards away, neither of the costers seemed to find it worth while to look back. i closed the window, and sitting down beside the coffin, laughed until my sides ached. once again i had crossed swords with sir charles venner, and once again the victory was mine. i did not respect him the less, but i admit that i glorified myself the more. i could not, however, afford much time for self-gratulation. i had a great deal to do, and it was already two o'clock. stepping into the passage, i shouted for the landlady, and made that astonished woman a present of my coffin. it is evident that she thought me a lunatic, but what cared i for that? in another moment i was hasting down the road, looking on all sides for a cab. an empty fourwheeler overtook me at last, and i drove like mad to london bridge, where i took a hansom to bruton street. i was very hungry by then, but i could not spare a minute for a meal, and i comforted myself with the reflection that, granted a little luck, i might dine that evening in absolute security on the fat of the land, a rich man in veritable deed. i had once known rather intimately a polish jew named kutnewsky, who had been my fellow lodger in a boarding-house at leeds. him i resolved to personate. he was a fat, podgy person, with a hook nose, and a long, thick black beard, and his voice was oily, his foreign accent hideous. all the while i dressed, i practised his voice and accent. i had it at last to a t. the wonderful development of my facial muscles enabled me to raise or depress the tip of my nose at will, so as to lend it either a pug, or a judaic cast, as i preferred. a false wig and beard with clothes in keeping completed my disguise. i was very soon a jew--in fact, the double of kutnewsky. i then packed a small valise with a complete suit of fashionable clothes, which had been originally made for a man of my size, by a bond street tailor, and which were still almost brand new, although i had bought them at a rag shop for a song. i included also in my bag, a travelling cap, a white shirt, a doubled linen collar, a smart tie, and a pair of light patent leather boots. the boots i wore were heavy hand-sewn bluchers, two sizes too large for me. i slipped into my pocket a black moustache and a pair of large black eyebrows. finally, i exchanged my ordinary set of false teeth for a plate planted with hideous yellow fangs, some of which protruded from my lip. at a quarter to four, i was ready to face the world. a glance at the window showed me that a fine rain was falling; i therefore put on a mackintosh, and cramming a glossy silk hat upon my head, i set out armed with my valise and an umbrella. a fourwheeler took me to oxford circus, whence a hansom brought me back to piccadilly and the bolingbroke hotel. i presented myself to the clerk, whom i informed in execrable broken english, that i was the famous german court surgeon, herr dr. garschagen, just arrived from berlin, to confer with my equally eminent colleague, sir charles venner, upon a case of great moment, in which my advice had been urgently demanded. i declared that i had telegraphed from berlin to secure apartments on the first floor, and i became very angry when the clerk protested that my message had not been received, and that there was not a single vacant apartment on the first floor. he, however, very deferentially led me himself to a room on the third floor, which i reluctantly engaged. i told him to send sir charles up immediately he arrived, and with a foreign boorishness i slammed the door in his face. my first act was to empty my valise and conceal its contents in a wardrobe. that effected, i arranged the dressing-table just as i had done on the previous day in my room at the colonnade hotel, and i set my empty valise thereon. i then removed my waterproof, and putting on a pair of goggles, i sat down to await my victim. as before he was prompt to the fraction of a minute. a small thin-featured waiter ushered him in. as before sir charles gave his attendant a shilling and entered the room; i, grinding out the while, a string of guttural, yet oily greetings in broken english. sir charles venner's face was pale, but icily composed. he eyed me for a full minute with a look of piercing hate, then, taking off his hat, he quietly sat down upon the chair i had provided. i followed his example. "is dr. rudolf garschagen identical with mr. seth halford?" he asked quietly. "undoubtedly, sir charles." "i stood in need of your assurance!" he muttered frowning. "but i confess i should like you to explain the meaning of your present mummery. you were excellently well disguised before!" i bowed profoundly. "thank you for the compliment, sir charles. i shall explain with pleasure. it is my custom to change my appearance as often as my clothes. the wisdom of this course will be apparent to you, when you consider that you have already confessed to a confused impression of me in your mind!" his frown grew more black. "you appear to be a confoundedly clever fellow!" he exclaimed in irritated tones. "i entertain such a lively respect for my opponent that i have tried to show you my best!" i replied, laying a gloved hand on my heart. "i did not come here to exchange compliments with you," he retorted coldly. "kindly get to business." "have you the money?" i demanded. "yes. but i shall not give you a solitary farthing until i am furnished with a substantial guarantee that this will be your last impertinence. my--er--friends and i do not propose to let you hold our souls in pawn." "what guarantee do you require?" he took a paper from his packet and tossed it carelessly upon the table. "read!" said he. the paper contained a confession that i--a blank was left for my name--on a certain night, stole from sir charles venner, by means of impersonation and fraud, the sum of three hundred pounds. "i suppose you wish me to sign this?" i asked. "certainly, and to disclose your identity besides!" i smiled grimly and tore the paper into shreds. "you must be satisfied with my oath, which i give you freely, that you will never hear from me again, sir charles. now, please, the money." "i am sorry," he said softly. "but we cannot do business on those terms!" i bowed and got at once to my feet. "then our interview is at an end!" i moved towards the bell, but i had not advanced two paces when he cried out, "stop!" i turned to look into the muzzle of a revolver. sir charles venner's right eye gleamed behind the sights, and his expression was diabolically wicked. i hate fire-arms. they make me nervous, especially when pointed in the direction of my vital organs, by a presumably desperate man. a cold shivering thrill quivered up my spine, and i felt my knee joints loosen. my eyes, however, did not cease to serve me, and with a gasp of reviving hope i noted that the pistol was not cocked. it, however, takes more than a second to recover from such a shock as i had received, and sir charles had only perceived my first sharp gush of fear. "remove your glasses and your wig!" he commanded in a low but terrible voice. my impulse was to obey unhesitatingly, but with an iron effort i subdued it. "be quick!" he cried. i smiled. it was a miserable grimace, i dare admit, nevertheless i smiled. "by the god above us you will die in your tracks, unless you are unmasked before i count six!" i said to myself--"oh, no, i shall not. sir charles venner is a consumptive, with at most a year of life before him. men cling to life most dearly when their days are numbered. moreover, well he knows, this surgeon, that if he kills me he must hang! and speedily." "one!" said he. i smiled again. "two!" "you are a great mathematician!" i sneered, and bowed to him. "three!" "murder me some other time, sir charles!" i muttered, "when you may do so with some hope of giving the penalty leg bail!" "four!" he cried, in a voice that froze my blood. and with his thumb he raised the hammer of the pistol. "you will hang!" i gasped. "you will hang, and we shall meet in hell!" "five!" he hissed. "fire!" i cried. it was the most courageous act of my life! sir charles venner let his hand fall, and his eyes. i heard a click, and i watched him restore the pistol to his pocket. in one second he had aged ten years. he was now an old man, haggard faced and trembling. i strode to the bell and pressed the button. i had won the battle well--woe to the vanquished! i stalked over to the door and threw it wide. "get out of this!" i grated. "get out of this and go--hang yourself if you want to cheat the hangman. you've had your fun, and now by heaven! i'll have my pound of flesh!" he raised to me the face of a panic-stricken craven. "for christ's sake!" he cried, and even pleaded with his hands. he was beaten indeed. not only his courage, but his pride was shattered into fragments. i surveyed the wreck i had occasioned, and relented. "well, then!" i said, "the money!" with feverish hands he tore from his coat a small bundle of notes and forced them upon me. "count them, count them!" he mumbled. "go!" i ordered sternly. "but, but--your oath!" "i'll keep it--go!" he uttered a hollow groan, and rushed out of the room. i looked at the notes. they were brand new, and ten in number. each represented one thousand pounds. hearing footfalls i concealed them, and a second later, there came to me the small thin-faced waiter who had conducted sir charles to my apartment. i gave him a florin, and said. "i want a man, big--my own size--just like me--to carry a box. you are too small. send me a man like i want at once, but he must belong to your hotel, i can trust no strangers!" the fellow bowed and promised, and hurried off. i put on my hat, and as soon as he had disappeared, i followed him. a gentleman stood by the elevator door, as though waiting for it to ascend. i passed him, and began to descend the stairs. he immediately rang the bell three times. was that a signal, i wondered. i returned very quickly, but he still stood there, and he did not seem to be aware of my existence. but he rang the bell _once_. i again began to descend the stairs. again the bell rang three times. i came to the lower floor, and there another gentleman was standing before the elevator door. i passed him and he rang the bell twice. "how curious!" thought i, "my room is on the third floor of the hotel. there the bell was thrice rung; but on the second floor only twice, and most remarkable coincidence of all, the elevator does not trouble to appear!" i had left the second floor--i returned to it! the waiting gentleman rang once! i was satisfied. "sir charles venner," said i, "has put at least three detectives on my trail!" i marched straight up to the elevator door and rang the bell myself--one long continued ring. it appeared at once. "ze third floor!" i muttered to the attendant. "ich haf forgotten zomding!" i gave the man a shilling, and a moment later i was back in my room with the door shut. i began to undress, and when the knock that i expected sounded, i stood in my socks and underclothes alone. "come in," i cried. a burly red face waiter entered. he wore a short black beard at the sight of which i rejoiced. "shut the door!" said i. he obeyed. "mein friendt!" said i, looking at him very keenly, "do you vish to earn a sovereign?" "rather!" he cried. "then vill you go a message for me!" "yes, sir--" "you see dose boots." i pointed to the pair i had removed. "yes, sir." "take off your own and put on dose. you are going to valk through some mud, and as it rains i do not vish you to catch cold. they will fit you!" i added, for he seemed to hesitate. he looked extremely astonished, but he sat down and did my bidding. i smiled upon him very genially. "if you do well, i shall double your reward!" i said. "what is your name, my man!" "clint, sir." "very good, clint. now i vant you to leaf zis hotel without any von knowing dat you go! i tell you vy ven you come back. here, take zis zovereign." he took it, but he frowned. "i'd get into a row, sir, if it was known," he muttered doubtfully. i gave him another sovereign. "don't you vorry apout dot row," said i. "i fix you wit your boss. i not vant you to do nozzing wrong, my boy, hein?" "no, sir, of course not!" he looked much happier. "zen put on zis waterproof of mine, so. button it opp to ze chin. ach, himmel, zat is goot! now mein friend, zis cap, so! button ze flap under ze chin! so, sehr goot, your mutter not know you now, hein!" he looked in the glass and laughed aloud at his reflection. i took off my goggles and handed them to him. "put on dose!" i said, "und dat is all!" he obeyed me, and i almost shouted out in my delight, he looked so very like a man disguised. "now mein friendt, you can go!" said i. "where to, sir?" he enquired. i gave him a handful of silver. "you take a cab," i began, "and you drive to ze marble arch, zere you get out, und you take a 'bus to cricklewood, you mind dat?" "yes, sir." "vell, ven you come to ze cricklewood terminus, you find a man zere vaiting for you--a big sherman gentleman, like me. you say to him: "doctor!" und he vill take you at once across a hill to his house, und he give you a small box! you bring that box back to me quick, und take care not to lose it--for it is vorth much geld--zat is money. you know now what you do? hein?" he assured me that he understood, and would follow my instructions to the letter, whereupon i dismissed him to his fate. in another moment i had changed my fang teeth for a more fashionable set, and ten minutes later i slipped out of the passage, locking my door behind me, as smart a dude as ever stepped from a bond street band-box. my facial disguise consisted of a monocle, a dark wig, black eyebrows, and a sweet little silky black moustache. i walked with mincing steps, and i screwed up my features till they looked as vacuous and expressionless as possible. i found on turning the corner that a gentleman, whose figure i recognized, was standing before the elevator door. for a second i went cold. "had my decoy then failed of its purpose?" i asked myself. in a fever of anxiety i began to descend the stairs, straining my ears to listen. no signal bell rang--but i heard swift footfalls in the passage. in a flash i understood. two of my three shadowers had followed the waiter, clint, but the third had remained behind to watch my room. he would certainly be furnished with a master key, and within a minute, he would open my door and discover my escape. moreover, he would know for certain whom he must thenceforth follow, for he had given me a sharp look as i passed him. instead of hurrying, however, i walked more leisurely than before. three spies would have been too much for me, but one i did not care for. i felt confident i would elude him as soon as i pleased. as it transpired we reached the ground floor almost together, for he descended in the elevator. i took a good look at him, and marched to the street door. beckoning to a porter, i directed him in mealy tones to fetch me a hansom. one stood already by the kerb, but instinct told me that it belonged to my spy. the porter blew his whistle, and a second hansom soon appeared. i threw the porter half a crown and sprang aboard. "streeters', bond street!" i cried, and we were off. my mission was to dispose of my bank-notes; for well i knew that their numbers would be noted, and that the longer they remained in my possession the more certainly would they provide a clue to the ultimate establishment of my identity. on the other hand, to pay them into my bank would have been equivalent to making a present of my secret to my enemy. i would, it is true, lose something by the exchange, but i could well afford to pay handsomely for my security. my shadower followed me so closely, that i perceived he was no longer anxious to conceal his occupation. we alighted from our cabs within ten paces of each other, and he trod upon my heels as i entered the great jewellers. i had a mind to turn and offer him my arm. i bought two magnificent necklaces, and a long string of splendid brilliants under his very nose, paying therefore my £10,000, and receiving two hundred pounds in change. i then purchased a little brooch for twenty guineas. as we left the shop, i nodded kindly to my shadower, and advised him in an underbreath to be careful. he made no reply, but he gritted his teeth together in the manner of a bull-dog. he looked rather like a bull-dog too, in other respects. he had a long forehead, great heavy jaws, and little watchful eyes. the clocks were striking a quarter to six as we resumed our hansoms. i drove to the alhambra music hall and purchased a stall. i then proceeded to verrey's restaurant and ordered a first-rate dinner. my spy took a seat at my table without asking my permission, and we gazed at each other steadily while we discussed the meal. but while i ate roast pheasant, he partook of beef, and while i drank sparkling burgundy, he absorbed a quart of bitter beer. i would have engaged him in conversation, for i am of a sociable disposition, and i bore him no ill-will, but the fact is, he was an extremely vulgar fellow, and if i had not been simply ravenous, his table manners must infallibly have destroyed my appetite. when i could eat no more, i bought from my waiter a sheet of note-paper, an envelope, and a lead pencil. i then smoked a cigar, and when eight struck, i drove to the theatre. my shadower secured a seat three rows behind me. i studied the programme, and discovered that the second succeeding item was to be a song dance performed by a lady named pearl glynn. i had never heard of her, but i know her class as well as any man that lives. taking out my pencil and paper, i scratched the following epistle: "dear miss glynn,--a humble adorer begs you to accept the enclosed, and to grant him a moment's interview, before your turn." i slipped this into the envelope together with the brooch i had bought at streeters' for twenty guineas; i addressed it and beckoned to an usher. i gave it to him together with a wink and half a sovereign. he returned in ten minutes and begged me to follow him. i got up and glanced at my spy. he also got up, looking horribly uneasy. but i knew the theatre and he did not. i fancied i could hear him gnash his teeth, in impotent rage, to see his quarry escaping under his nose. as i approached the wing door leading to the stage and dressing rooms with my conductor, i took care not to lose sight of him. oblivious of the comfort of those who obstructed him, he was toilfully climbing over empty fauteuils, or squeezing his way between rows of people in my wake. i feel sure that many of his victims thought him mad, but i heartily admired him for his energy and perseverance, and just before the door closed behind me, and upon him, i turned and kissed my hand to him in token of appreciation. i knew well what he would do. finding he could not pass the door, he would turn and rush out of the theatre to wait for me at the stage-door in the other street. i stopped dead and addressed the usher. "my man," said i, "i have changed my mind. i'll go back." he shrugged his shoulders. "just as you like, sir," he replied. in fact, we immediately returned into the auditorium, and two minutes later, i had traversed the promenade, descended the stairs, and was running like a hare across leicester square; alone, alone! a cab took me to bruton street, and nine o'clock had barely struck when i was once again plain brown, sir william dagmar's discreet and faithful valet. i have never been intoxicated in my life, but it is often wise to assume a virtue, though you have it not, as the old proverb advises. it seemed good to me to be drunk just then, and better still, the nearer i approached my master's house. as i mounted the steps i reeled. it cost me eighty seconds of painful effort to find the keyhole. i did not, as it happens, use it even when found, for the door opened suddenly, and i staggered forward into sir charles venner's arms. i had expected him to confront me, nevertheless, it shocked me to find my expectations realized, and to be convinced how tenaciously he had clung to his first suspicions. i picked myself up and stood before him, a swaying, blinking maudlin figure. with much circumstance and drunken gravity, i explained to him that i had buried my mother, and that to steady my nerves i had taken afterwards a single glass of wine, which must surely have been drugged. sir charles treated me as tenderly as any woman could have done. he pretended to believe my story, and he protested that the rascally landlord, who had drugged me, deserved richly to be prosecuted. he guided me to my bed-room, and assisted me to bed. he then declared that he would prepare me a reviving draught, and taking a tumbler from my dressing-table, he dissolved with water a couple of tiny white pillules, which mixture he persuaded me to drink. i knew his purpose, of course. he wished to search me. but i was in no wise alarmed nor unwilling, for i had left everything i possessed at bruton street, and my pockets contained only my keys, and half a handful of loose silver. saying to myself: "morphia!" i swallowed the draught, and even drained the glass. within five minutes i was sleeping like the dead, whereupon sir charles venner searched to his heart's content, poor man. vii a dream of love i awoke with a racking headache and an uneasy sensation that i had overslept myself. i sprang up and dipped my head into a basin of ice-cold water. that tranquillized the pain i suffered, yet my uneasiness continued, nay, it became intensified when i glanced at my watch, and saw that it was after nine o'clock. very hastily i began to dress, but ere i came to my collar i paused and reflected. i am not a particularly introspective man, nor more than a skin-deep psychologist, but it was not a difficult thing to trace to its source the cause of my uneasiness. it patently derived its origin from the habits of servitude to which i had submitted myself during the last three months. there suddenly occurred to me to ask myself this question: "agar hume, how long will you permit such habits to persist?" i answered at once: "why, a day or two, at most!" the fact is, i was a rich man, and the pride of purse, the first pride i had ever experienced, was beginning to swell my head already. in my room at bruton street i had almost five hundred pounds in cash, as well as jewels for which i had last night paid £9,800. i possessed, moreover, a credit balance at my bank of exactly one hundred and forty-two pounds. i considered therefore that it would be absurd for me to continue playing the lackey to my master for a beggarly eight pounds per month, when a sufficient capital was ready to my hands, with which, and one or two smiles of the fickle goddess, i could make myself a millionaire. i forthwith determined to quit sir william dagmar's service as soon as possible. yes; that very morning i would leave! why linger, when every day now spent in curzon street postponed my advancement in life, and perhaps wasted opportunities for self-aggrandisement that might never return. such a course would certainly awaken and fortify sir charles venner's suspicions, but what cared i for that. he could prove nothing against me, and, besides, i would soon be utterly beyond his reach. it was my idea to go to france; there realize upon my jewels, and with the proceeds speculate upon the bourse. if i won, well and good! if i lost, also well and good, there was always england and the blackmailing business to fall back upon! my only regret in departing was contained in this fact. although i had met with marvellous success in exploring the secrets of my master's ghastly society of consumptives, i had by no means plumbed all its depths. the mystery of the monthly dicing by the members for the £7,000 cheque was still unexplained, and i could not think of it without tasting something of the torture that afflicted tantalus. it was not only curiosity that plagued me. i am a good workman and, like every other really conscientious artisan, it distresses me to see a job blotched or scamped for the lack of a little skill or perseverance. for that reason in particular i hated the thought of leaving any part of the task which i had set myself to perform unfinished. nevertheless, i felt that i should be standing in my own light if i allowed personal vanity to prevent me from seizing the earliest opportunity to improve my fortunes. "yes; i'll go!" said i aloud at last; and i leisurely completed my toilet. i then packed into a bag my few belongings, and proceeded noiselessly downstairs, resolved to enjoy a last breakfast at my master's expense, and thereafter bid the place a long farewell. the house was very silent. sir william's door was shut, and no one appeared to be awake. so much the better, thought i, and having arrived upon the ground floor, i pushed open the pantry door and entered. to my surprise, nurse hargreaves was standing before the table, with her back to me, doing something; but what, i could not see. she had not heard my approach, that was evident, for she did not turn her head. the stove was ablaze and the kettle was merrily singing. perhaps its song had drowned my footfalls. "making a poultice, nurse?" i asked, stepping forward. she started at my voice and turned. i uttered a little cry, then with a curious heart thrill i caught my breath and paused, transfixed, overwhelmed! i looked not at nurse hargreaves, but into the eyes of marion le mar. "ah!" she murmured, "you thought i was nurse hargreaves?" "my name is le mar!" she went on, turning calmly to her work again. "nurse hargreaves has gone to another case. i have taken her place!" she was just as beautiful, nay, rather more beautiful than ever, in spite of her expression of deep melancholy and the dark sleepless hollows that undercast her eyes. i watched her--dumbstricken, but with all my heart in the looks with which i worshipped her--and through the while i gladly wondered how for one instant i could have forgotten that incomparable woman. i had forgotten her! i had coldly purposed to leave england and her. but already that resolve was dead and buried. not even to make myself a millionaire could i forego the rapture i discovered in gazing on her face; and to remain now, meant that i should dwell under the same roof! i forgot my life governing maxim at that moment: "first person paramount!" i was the slave of a woman, who had never seen me in my proper person until then, and who seeing me at last had turned carelessly away, after one swift unlingering regard. it was a galling thought, but it possessed no influence except to wound. i loved her and i knew it. i knew besides that her heart was buried in a dead man's grave. and yet i, the most selfish wretch alive, there and then bowed my head to fate, and in sad humility determined to sacrifice my fortunes to the uncertain chance of serving her and the sure bliss of seeing her and breathing the air she breathed. life is a very marvellous affair, and so too is love. i have never professed to understand either. therefore i shall make no pretence to explain nor even speculate upon my strange experience. i shall merely relate what passed as best i may. marion's interest in her occupation was sincere, but it did not prevent her mentally remarking on my silence. i saw her brows contract at length, and soon afterwards she spoke, but without looking up. "you are brown, i suppose?" "yes--at--at least," i stammered, "that is how sir william dagmar calls me." "indeed! what then is your name?" "agar hume, madam." she gave me a glance of nascent curiosity, and asked me to pour some boiling water in a bowl. i complied, and she prepared to leave the room. her poultice was made. "pardon me," i said. "how is sir william this morning?" "still very low, although sensible. his crisis is past, however, and sir charles venner feels confident he will recover." "thank you!" i bowed gravely. "permit me, madam, to relieve you of that burden." "please do not trouble." "madam, pardon me, but i insist!" she raised her eyebrows, but she gave me the bowl. i read her thoughts; they said: "this valet has borrowed manners from his master. he might almost pass for a gentleman." my cheeks burned. i followed her upstairs and into my master's room. sir william dagmar was awake. he looked a mere skeleton, and his transparent face was as white as the coverlid. he greeted me with a wan smile and a hoarse whisper: "it is good to see you again, brown," he muttered. "it proves to me that i am on the mend." i took his feeble hand and pressed it gently. at the bottom of my heart i really liked the man. "you must make haste and get well, sir," i said softly. "the world grows impatient for your book." ah! vanity! sir william's cheeks flushed, and a warm light flashed into his deep thoughtful eyes. "i'll not keep it waiting a minute longer than i can help!" he cried. but at that marion stepped forward and compelled me from the room. it was a keen pleasure to prepare her breakfast. i gave her the things that i myself liked best, and half an hour later it fed my vanity to watch her eat. i waited upon her, but she did not speak to me throughout the meal. nurse hargreaves had once insisted upon my sitting down with her to table. but somehow i preferred to serve marion as a flunkey, rather than dine with any other woman in the world. presently she gave me instance of her spirit. mr. sefton dagmar entered the room when she had almost finished. "ah, brown!" said he, "i'm late as usual. good morning, miss le mar; you are looking rather pale. did the old buck give you a bad night?" the vacuous puppy! marion blushed and her eyes glittered. "do you refer to your uncle?" she asked in freezing tones. "well, now," he replied with a leer of admiration, "who else would you suppose? much better have taken my tip and gone with me to a music-hall, my dear. you are too doocid pretty a girl to be tied up by a sick bed. waste of charms, and all that sort of thing." marion arose from her chair, and with a curling lip, swept out of the room. i darted forward to open the door for her, but she passed me in disdain, without a glance. mr. sefton dagmar laughed loud and long. but i was mad with him, and malice prompted me to cut his laughter short. "sir," said i, "have you seen sir william this morning?" "no!" he cried, "have you?" "yes--he has rounded the corner. he is sensible again, and sir charles venner declares that he is on the high road to recovery!" "hell and curses!" gasped mr. dagmar. "is that true?" "too true!" i heaved a sigh, but in truth his despairing rage had thoroughly delighted me. he had insulted marion. "what in blazes am i to do?" he muttered, pushing his plate aside with savage gesture. his appetite had incontinently vanished. "if i were you, sir," i ventured gently, "i should return at once to newhaven. if your uncle knew you were here, who knows what he might say?" "be damned if i do!" he snapped. "it may be only a flash in the pan. curse me, if i don't go up and have a look at the old boy myself." i began to protest at once, but he hurled an oath at my head and rushed out. desperation had lent him a rat's courage. i followed quickly, but he was already in the sick-room before i reached the door. there i paused and silently surveyed the scene. marion, as though conscious that her patient would dislike to see his visitor, had swiftly interposed herself between mr. sefton and the bed, and by signs she now forbade the young man to advance. sir william was asleep. "kindly stand aside," muttered mr. sefton dagmar; "i intend to see my uncle, and you won't prevent me!" "another time," whispered marion, whose eyes were simply ablaze. "you cannot see him now; he is asleep!" what wild fancy possessed the young man i do not know. perhaps the fool imagined that his uncle was dead, and that for some base, esoteric purpose marion wished to hide his death. at all events, he suddenly stepped forward and thrust her brutally aside. the noise of that scuffle, slight as it was, awakened the sick man. his eyes opened and he looked up to gaze upon his nephew's rage-distorted visage. "you here!" he gasped. mr. sefton dagmar turned grey. "i--i--i--hope--i hope you're feeling better, sir!" he stammered. "why are--you--in london?" whispered sir william. "i--i--your illness, sir." "when did you come up?" "last night, sir," lied the nephew. the uncle closed his eyes, and appeared to reflect. a moment passed and then very silently he opened them again. "marion!" he said. she stepped to his side. she still seemed greatly agitated. "make him go!" whispered the sick man very faintly. "make him leave my house at once. tell brown!" the words died in a sigh. he closed his eyes once more and to all appearances he slept. marion turned to mr. sefton dagmar with the imperial manner of a queen. "you heard, sir!" she said coldly. the young man for a moment made no reply; then he broke into a snarling stream of words. "i see how it is," he hissed. "you are using your infernal prettiness to cheat me out of my inheritance. i've heard of your sort before. 'marion' he called you--'marion!' perhaps you've wormed a will out of him already. perhaps you want to marry him on his death bed! oh! i know your sort. of course, you'd like to turn me out of the place neck and crop; i might interfere with your precious scheming, hey? but i'm not going to let you fleece me. not much. here i am, and here i stay! do your damndest----" what further insults the vulgar ruffian might have heaped upon the beautiful woman he confronted i cannot guess. but at that juncture marion threw me a glance of passionate entreaty, and my heart leaped to answer her appeal. in another second i had him by the throat, and in still another i had hurled him sheer across the room and through the door. before he could arise i was at his throat again. no man was ever nearer death than he, for i am physically strong, and at that while i was fairly lunatic with passion. it was sir charles venner that saved his life. the surgeon, who, it seems, had possessed himself some time since of my master's latch-key, entered silently in the midst of the fracas, and he pulled me from my already black-faced prey. i got to my feet, shaking like a leaf, and hardly conscious where i was. my master's door was shut, and marion stood against it, her two great eyes burning out of her sheet-white face. she too was trembling violently. "what is all this?" demanded sir charles, stirring the insensible sefton dagmar with his foot. "brown is not to blame," muttered the girl. "sir william ordered him to make mr. dagmar leave the house. he--he had forced his way into the sick-room!" she gave me once more an appealing glance, as though asking me to substantiate her story. "that--that is all!" she concluded with a sob. "mr. dagmar resisted me," i added quickly. "he made a dreadful scene in the sick room. upon my soul, sir, i believe he wished to kill his uncle!" sir charles nodded. "not unlikely," he remarked indifferently enough. "carry the blackguard downstairs, brown. now, marion, by your leave i'll see my patient." they disappeared, and i, stooping, lifted young dagmar in my arms and carried him below. when he recovered he gave me a look of murderous malignity, got silently to his feet, and staggered to his room. ten minutes later he departed from the house without sparing a word to me or any other there. i was glad to see his back, for although i bore him no ill-will, i had no longer any manner of use for him. sir charles venner soon afterwards was good enough to pay a visit to my pantry. "was that mr. dagmar who went out a while ago?" he demanded. "yes, sir charles." "did he take his traps?" "yes, sir." "don't admit him again, brown. he has upset your master very much. by the way, i am pleased with you brown; you acted very properly. you need not repay me the money that i lent you, my man. i wish you to keep it as a little present--from me." "oh, sir!" i cried, "i could not think of doing that. i shall always be indebted to you by the memory of your kindness and glad to be, sir charles. but you must let me pay you back the money." "well, well; i'm not sure but what i like you the better for that spirit, brown. yet i think you are a fool." "it is the way i was made, sir," i murmured apologetically. "thank you kindly all the same." he nodded and left. his suspicions were dead, that was evident. i thought it very funny, but i was less pleased than i might have been. my unwavering run of success, god knows why, was beginning to give me a dead sea flavour in the mouth. perhaps marion had something to do with it. indeed, i could not drive her from my thoughts, except to con my own rascality. whereon this wonder speedily arose: what would she think of me if she could know? at about eleven o'clock she appeared in the door armed with her inevitable bowl. "i must make another poultice!" she announced. i begged her to take a seat and direct me. she was so weary that it was easy to persuade her. and thus i entered upon her service and became a nurse. she spoke never a word of that which had happened over stairs, but i thought i detected in her bearing a growing, if melancholy, tolerance, and perhaps some small faint trace of interest in myself. at any rate, she watched me at her work, and that was something benedictive to my mind. silent was her mood, however, and silence suited her. it ever seemed a pity that speech should be allowed to mar the perfect calm of her reposeful countenance--until she spoke--when instantly one lost regret in wonder at the new and unexpected graces so called into existence. during the next few days the world dealt kindly with our household. sir william's strength very gradually improved; marion relaxed a little of her habitual sadness, and as for me, i had never been so happy in my life. i only left the house on one occasion, in order to convey my valuables from bruton street to the bank. after that was done, i felt minded never to quit curzon street again so long as our then manner of living might continue. i spent my time between the sick room and the pantry; relieving marion of every trouble that i could, and waiting on her with the noiseless patience of a shadow. in this i was wise, without other intention than to please her. my silence began to appeal to her imagination even more than my ceaseless studied courtesies. and in this behalf i would remark my faith that no woman lives, howso preoccupied with grief or other interests, who can long remain impervious to persistently considerate devotion. i often caught her watching me with grave, inquiring eyes. on such occasions it was i, not she, who exhibited confusion. i could not act to her. sometimes feeling her power i grew quite terrified. did she study me? i wondered, and what was her opinion? i was soon to know. one evening sir william dropped into a deep slumber far sooner than his wont. the room adjoining his i had converted from a dressing-chamber into a boudoir for marion's convenience; and there she had become accustomed to retire, when circumstances permitted, to rest and dream perhaps, within his call. there it was i found her, replying to the summons of her bell. "you rang, madam?" i asked in a low voice. she was reclining in a lounge. she had discarded her nurse's costume for a wrapper, and she looked the better for it; more softly lovely and more human, too, i think. she pointed to a chair. "will you not talk to me a while?" she asked. "i feel lonely to-night." i felt my face burn as i bowed and sat down--upon her bidding. i could hardly credit my good fortune, and i lacked breath to reply. "you have been very good to me," she murmured. "why was it, brown?" still i could not reply. i dared not even look at her. she did not, however, appear to notice my confusion, or else my eyes played false. her voice was just as even as it wandered on at the impulse of her rambling fancy, as i thought. "i have been thinking, brown, that you were not born a servant," she said quietly. "will you tell me if i guessed aright?" no prescience warned me of a snare. had any other woman asked me such a question i should have smiled and lied, knowing well that woman's deepest policy is to persuade with flatteries. but marion questioned, and i answered from my heart. "my father was a gentleman by birth, madam." "ah!" she sighed. "he met with some unhappiness, no doubt?" "he lies in a pauper's grave. he was a great musician." "and have you inherited his talent?" "i play the flute and violin indifferently well, madam." "and you are educated too, for i have marked your speech?" "my father did his best for me, madam, though i was slow, i fear, to learn. he was the wisest man, and yet the most unfortunate, whom i have ever known." "some day i may ask you to give me his history." she sighed again, and for a time was silent, but at length she fixed her eyes upon my face and said: "you have a foreign 'air,' monsieur; i, who am french, as you certainly must have guessed, have marked it. is it possible that your father was my countryman?" "he had not that honour, mademoiselle." she gave a little frown. "and yet your name, hume--i think you said it might be french?" "no, mademoiselle; but my mother was a parisienne. that will account to you perhaps for the foreign 'air' you have marked in me." she nodded her head, and half closing her eyes she began in a low voice of melting sweetness to hum to the tune of a famous little chansonette, whose refrain is inexpressibly mournful and pathetic, maeterlinck's exquisite little poem, "et s'il revenait un jour!" knowing well the sadness in her which the sadness of her song expressed, i felt my heart ache and my eyes grew strangely blurred. of a sudden she stopped and, leaning forward, gave me a look which seemed to reveal a longing to be comforted. "ah, sir!" she said in french. "i see you have a heart that might vibrate to woman's tears. and yet you cannot know how sad i am, how very, very miserable!" and as she gazed at me her eyes overflowed with two such tears as she had spoken of. there are times when a passion of insensate anger seizes me to look back upon my folly. ah! woman's wiles, woman's wiles! the greatest and the least of us have been their victims. and who am i to rave of my undoing, when a sampson, a nelson, and even a napoleon, that man of iron, shared my fate. but i was blind, blind! pierced by the sight of those tears to the very fibres of my being, i sprang up, then falling on my knee before her, i seized and passionately kissed her hand. "mademoiselle, you spoke justly," i cried in french. "here is a heart that only beats to serve you, without seeking, ay, even without desiring a reward, except that which you must give me of your pleasure or without, when i shall see upon your face some promise of your happiness repaired!" the glance of involuntary horror that she gave me, and the swift withdrawal of her hand from my embrace, should have warned me of my fatuous self-betrayal. but there is no limit to the errors of a truly clever mind astray in seeking to retrieve itself. i thought that i had angered her in venturing to hint that her disease of sorrow might be cured. "pardon me," i pleaded earnestly, "i have offended you with words. if any part of me could so offend, that member i would straightaway destroy." she looked at me more kindly, and even now i believe that she was touched by the sincerity and singleness of my devotion. "rise, monsieur!" she murmured with an effort. "i thank you for your sympathy, but it is not seemly that you kneel to me." i obeyed, and at her nod resumed my chair. she closed her eyes, and for a long period was deathly still. her lovely face was extraordinarily pallid and she scarcely seemed to breathe. then i thought her in the throes of reawakened grief for cavanagh's death, and my pain to watch her was intense. now i know that in her silence she was struggling with herself. or rather that pity in her, a woman's unfailing pity for a loving being, however wretchedly unworthy of compassion, was striving to silence her ideas of duty. at last her eyes opened and she looked at me. her regard was mysteriously wistful, cold, and it seemed to me a little self-ashamed. indeed, she faintly blushed. "sir william dagmar does not know that you can speak french!" she murmured. "you have deceived him, monsieur! that is wrong. i think that you should go away." thrice triple fool i was. her pity had cajoled her conscience and she was offering me a chance to escape. i, in my infatuation, only thought that she chided me for my deceit. "ah! mademoiselle," i muttered. "it is true that i deceived him, but when i did so i was penniless and starving. i pray you from my soul that you will not bid me leave you nor inform sir william dagmar of my sin." "you do not wish to go?" "mademoiselle!" i cried, "not though it were to paradise assured!" she blushed deeply, nevertheless her eyes hardened and she frowned. she was doubtless thinking-"he has had his opportunity. his fate henceforth must be upon his own head! i wash my hands of it!" i dreamed she was offended at my too ardent gaze. i lowered my eyes at once in sad humility. "stay then!" she said, and her voice assumed a tone of witching tenderness. i looked up in quick delight to meet a dazzling smile. with such a smile judith lured holofernes to destruction. but it needed not that with me; i was destroyed already. "my friend," she said, and she extended me her hand. "i thank you for your company, but, alas! the hours speed, and i have much to do. good night!" i tried to reply, but i could not. she permitted me to kiss her hand, however, and even smiled again. i left the room in a delirium of happiness, poor fool, and not one of my enraptured dreams that night disclosed to me the precipice upon whose brink i stood. the days that followed were over full of strange, untried experiences for me to properly describe them. marion was by my side whenever chance allowed. but every hour she showed to me a different mood, a varied and elusive distortion of her inmost self; so that i came to wonder more and more whether i knew truly aught of her except that she was beautiful in all her moods, and that i loved her irretrievably. one moment she was sad and steeped in cold unbending gloom. the next she was a gay companion, chattering of this and that as lightly and as brightly as a bird on sunlit bough. again she was both grave and friendly at a time, and we conversed together of men, and books, and serious philosophies like two grey-haired, sober-minded savants. sometimes, yet more infrequently, she forced upon me quarrels in caprice, to give her opportunity to scorch me with her scorn. and yet, again, more rarely still, she led me on with shy, alluring glances, or even bolder looks, provocative of passion, to woo her as i could; whereon, her will too readily achieved, she swiftly changed from melting fire to ice, and i was left in agonized confusion, swung like mahommed's coffin between despair and hope. so another week elapsed, and a third began. my master's life no longer stood in any danger, and his health and strength slowly but steadily improved. sir charles venner still paid him daily visits, but they were more to satisfy the claims of friendship than of need. the great surgeon had always a smile and kindly word for me. it seemed that his suspicions had long ago been utterly eradicated, and that a liking had usurped their place. sometimes i wondered if his penetrating insight had remarked my love for marion. but he was far too profound an enigma for me to solve; and in any case marion engrossed my life and mind so utterly that i had neither room nor inclination for any other problem. a sort of madness had come over me. apart from her i dreamed; standing, sitting, or reclining as the case might be, idle and immovable as stone. i awoke to look upon her face, or listen to her voice, on instant a creature of pulsating passion; yet her humble and devoted slave, responding to her slightest will, as swiftly and obediently as a needle to the pole. and slowly but surely hope grew stronger in my breast. a thin wild hope it was at first, the veritable offspring of despair. but fostered by my passion and her wayward moods, it developed force and form, and i could at last no more deny it place in my imaginings. i hoped to win her. yes; i hoped to win her! there were times when i forgot the gulf dug between us by her purity and my too criminal unworthiness, and i remembered only that she was a woman and i a man. the law of sex is hard to supersede. it recognizes neither morals nor conventions. it despises ethical distinctions, and it laughs with love at every human effort to confine its boundaries. at its command i began not only to hope, but to aspire. one morning marion came to me and said: "monsieur, sir charles venner, who has just departed, has ordered me to take a holiday to-morrow. he says that i am looking pale, and that i need a little open air and sunshine. i think that he is wise, and i shall comply with his command!" "but," i stammered, for the thought of losing her even for a day was a torture hardly to be borne, "what of sir william dagmar? how will he get on without you?" "sir charles has promised to send another nurse this evening, who will take my place." "i trust, mademoiselle, that you--that you will enjoy yourself," i muttered in a trembling voice. "the house will be dull without you, though--for me." she gave me a swift, shy glance, then cast down her eyes, folding and unfolding her hands before her. "how could i enjoy myself--do you think--alone?" she whispered. "it will be a sad day also for me." "let me go with you," i blurted out. "i am not needed here. ah! i am mad to dream that you would condescend so far. forgive me of your pity, and forget the insolence of my presumption!" but she clapped her hands and laughed as blithely as a child. "will you come?" she cried. "but that will be magnificent. ah! let us see!" she darted across the room and perched herself upon the dresser. "come here, monsieur, quite close to me. nay, not too close. so! now we shall plan our day. at sunrise we shall wake and dress, and we shall have an early breakfast here, so as not to waste a single moment of our day, our day!" i gazed at her as a peri might at paradise, and she rippled on. "afterwards we shall drive to the station, and take a train to somewhere in the country, where we may wander through green fields and flower-scattered meadows, hand in hand like children. shall we not, monsieur?" i nodded, lost in a perfect dreamland of delight. "but, no!" she cried quite suddenly. "it is beautiful, that picture, yet not so beautiful as this. listen, monsieur--but you can row a boat, of course." i nodded again. "then, listen! we shall go by train to hampton, and there we shall take boat. the river is most lovely thereabouts, and you shall slowly row me up the stream towards staines and windsor through the hottest hours; slowly, slowly past the green-lawned banks and pretty houses, and among the darling little osier islets. and as you row i'll sing. and we'll forget our cares and open wide our hearts to the sunshine and to happiness without an afterthought. and when the noon comes we shall eat our lunch upon an island; a merry interlude between two golden dreams. for afterwards we'll float upon our way again. and when the day is done and twilight falls we shall land at the loveliest place of all. i know it well. it is an old, old park garden, thick planted with many great solemn trees. a private park, but lonely, for the house is haunted, so they say. and there i shall lead you by the hand into a little marble, many pillared temple, open to the stars, wherein a tiny spring is born within a pool, a wishing well. and you shall look therein and i, and we shall see fresh mirrored on its surface--the faces of our loves. shall we do all this, monsieur?" i could but bend my head, for her siren voice had woven round my faculties a spell of charmed silence, and not one of circe's victims was ever more powerless than i was then. when i looked up she had gone. how i lived through that day and night i scarcely know. i can in fact remember nothing clearly of the hours that followed until the moment came when i saw her seated before me in the boat, the rudder lines slipping slowly through her folded hands. it was early in the morning of an absolutely perfect day. of the river, the witching scenery, i knew but noted little, for i looked only upon her face. she was simply and yet elegantly clad in some rich clinging stuff of purest white; her loveliness it is beyond me to portray. but this i know--she seemed to love me, and her mood was yielding and submissive to the point of tenderness. very generously did she fulfil her promise. as i rowed, she sang to me the sweetest songs of france, and italy, and love songs all. it was indeed a rapturous, golden dream. when at times she ceased to sing we neither of us spoke, but gazed silently into each other's eyes, until the music in her woke to song again. we came at noon to the pretty little island she foretold; and i made her sit upon a rug while i prepared our lunch. it was strange indeed how truly all her prophesies came true. the lunch was a very merry interlude. we both ate heartily, and we pledged each other often in champagne. afterwards we started on our way again, and only when we came upon a lock did i remember that there was a world of living people near us. so slow and idle was our journeying that twilight had already fallen as we passed by staines. about that time i noticed that marion maintained a longer silence than her wont, and a little later i felt a sudden thrill to see her shivering. she was looking over the side of the boat, gazing sadly on the rippled surface of the stream. "are you cold, dear one?" i asked, and i paused to watch her, leaning on the sculls. she shook her head. "then you shivered at a thought," i ventured. "please to tell me what it was?" "i thought of death," she said, and turning, looked into my eyes. her own were alight with a rich sombre glow. "of death! and why of death--to-day?" "death, agar, my friend," she answered--she had named me so since morning,--"is never long a stranger from my thoughts." "what! and you so young, so beautiful," i cried. "it is because i fear death, agar. i have seen him in a thousand forms, and each form was more dreadful than the last. there are some who grow familiar with his face and finish by despising him. i, on the contrary, fear him more and more. but you, my friend, how do you regard him?" "i have never asked myself the question." "then ask it now!" "a morbid fancy, marion!" "yet humour me, my friend; i wish to know." to me her eyes seemed passionately curious, and i marvelled at her mood. but i answered gravely. "i neither despise nor fear him, marion. when in the press of time he calls for me, i shall bow to the inevitable with what dignity i can." "i think you are a brave man, agar," she replied. "you must be indeed, yet it is a thing that puzzles me." "why?" i questioned with a smile. "because a brave man should be honest too, and you are not." "you are remembering the deceit i practised on sir william dagmar?" "yes; and other happenings." "what else?" "i am remembering the night my lover died!" she bent a little forward as she spoke, and her eyes burned into mine. i caught my breath, and i felt my hand gripped as with a hand. "you bore me from the room of death," she proceeded in a tense passionate whisper, "and you laid me down upon my bed, and then you kissed my brow. i did not know you at the time, for you were very cunningly disguised--but now i know." it never occurred to me to deny, or even to demand the origin of her discovery. indeed, incredible as it may appear, i experienced some sort of delight to learn that she was thoroughly acquainted with my villainy. quick as a flash i said to myself: "she knows, and yet she has not turned from me. it must be that she loves!" "i believed that you were utterly insensible," i gasped. she sighed and leaned back in her seat. a long silence fell between us. my thoughts were in a tangled whirl. i could not grasp the skein of them, and i seemed to be plucking helplessly after a dozen elusive phantom-like ideas. at last i heard her say: "it was for me he died, agar!" she was alluding to the dead man, george cavanagh, and her tones were full of bitterness. i waited with my eyes upon her averted face. "he died in vain," she went on presently. "ah, but doubtless you already know." "nothing!" i muttered. "nothing." "he was ruined," she said sadly, "and he wished his death to profit me--with money. money! as if money could atone!" "then he was dishonest too, as well as i," i muttered, trying hard to smoothe all triumph from my tones. she uttered a low moan of pain, and wrung her hands together. "no, no," she wailed. "he wished to be perhaps, but i gave the money back to them." "i am glad of that," i cried. she threw at me a look of fiery scorn. "you!" she hissed; "you! get to your work and row." in mournful humility i immediately obeyed, and we glided on our way again. for a long while i dared not look at her, and when i dared i could not see for the dark. but i knew that she was weeping, and though i longed to comfort her, i set my teeth and kept resolutely to my work, rowing hard in an effort to forget. it was she who interrupted me. i saw her white figure start suddenly erect. "stop!" she cried; "we have passed the place. go back!" i put the boat about, and slowly we returned. soon at her word i shipped the sculls and allowed the craft to drift. the silence afterwards was full of brooding melancholy. the long, dark shadows on the river were interspersed with flecks of shapeless mist, which fancy shaped to spirit forms, and ghostly arms outstretched to beckon or to wave forbiddingly. how marion fared i cannot guess, but i was wretched and sunk deep in gloom. it was a miserable ending to so glorious a day, and my heart ached strangely as i thought of it, although i did not reckon all my pain until i found relief at last in her command to seek the shore. we landed upon a long green sloping bank, fringed heavily with willows, to one of which i moored the boat. she left me at that occupation, and slowly climbed the bank. but her white dress shone out through the shadows of the grove, and soon i stood before her. she laid her hand upon my lips and drew me then into a very gloomy little dell entirely girt with trees. i wondered vaguely at her action and her cautious silence, yet as always i obeyed her wish, and waited on her mood. for a moment she kept very still, and then she put her hands upon my breast. "you love me," she said simply. i clasped my hands on hers and answered, "yes." "how much?" she whispered--very low. "more, marion, than life." "and you respect me?" "more reverently than death." "what do you wish of me?" "your love!" "what will you give for it?" "all that i can." "and will you suffer for it? what?" "all that you ask." "then kiss me, agar." i bent my head and pressed my lips to hers. her lips were very cold. but the contact set my blood on fire and i caught her in my arms, and strained her to my breast. she shivered in my clasp and deeply sighed, but i rained hot kisses on her cheeks, and eyes, and lips passionately, striving to warm her with my passion, for i knew that she was cold, and unresponsive too, in spite of her surrender. but of a sudden she tore herself from my embrace and fled. i caught her on a stretch of lawn and held her close again. to my dismayed astonishment she was weeping wildly. i kissed the tears away and frantically implored her for their reason. and yet she would do nought but sob, and gaze around her like one distraught and terrified. "oh, my god!" she cried at last; "i cannot, i cannot! i was mad to undertake this thing--mad--mad!" "what thing, my sweetheart?" i demanded in amazement. for answer she threw herself into my arms and kissed me with all the passion of her soul, once, twice. then drawing back, she caught my hand in one of hers, and with the other pointed towards the river, trembling violently the while. "ask me nothing now," she panted; "but let us go--quickly, quickly. this place is haunted! see, i am half sick with terror." i passed my arm about her waist and would have led her to the boat, but at that moment a short shrill whistle sounded from the willows, and was answered by two others from the wood. the first, however, had hardly pierced the air, when marion uttered a frightful scream, and sank swooning at my feet. i understood then that the woman i loved had in some fashion betrayed me. for one desperate second i stood listening for sounds and thinking of escape. then anguish overwhelmed me. the transition from my paradise of beliefs to the hell of certainties was too rapid, for hope to spring readily therefrom, and i thought to myself-"let even death come, for what is there good in life when love is wrecked and ruined!" uttering a groan, i fell on my knee beside her, not knowing what i did, not caring what might happen. next instant i dimly heard a rush of feet upon the grass, a cry of rage from right to left. a sharp pain quivered through my brain. i saw a blaze of light that faded quickly into unalleviated blackness. i felt the world swing with a sickening revolution round, and then came sweet encompassing oblivion. viii torture i dreamed that my nostrils were being tickled with a straw. after awhile the sensation became intolerable. i knew that i was dreaming, yet i wished to wake up. sleep, however, pressed with a heavy hand upon my eyelids, and i contended long and desperately without at all persuading him to go. at last a voice said, "that will do, jussieu, he is coming round." i opened my eyes at once, with extraordinary ease, considering my long struggle, and i looked up into the impassive countenance of sir charles venner. i was seated upright in a high-backed chair, strapped securely in position, strapped in such a way indeed that i could move only my fingers and my toes. the negro surgeon, jussieu, whom i had last seen at the kingsmere hospital for consumptives, was standing to the right of sir charles, and three of us were grouped about the centre of a small uncarpeted brick-floored room scarce twelve feet square, that was furnished only with the chair i occupied and a bracket oil lamp whose wick was smoking. there was one other person in the room. the negro, beudant, stood near the closed door, wiping upon a cloth a blood-smeared lancet. i noticed that my left sleeve had been ripped open, and that my arm was bandaged just above the elbow. evidently they had bled me. but why? and where was marion? of a sudden i remembered all. marion had lured me to this river park and betrayed me with a judas kiss into the hands of my enemies. too late she had repented of her treachery and tried to save me. she had swooned; i had knelt beside her body, and someone had stunned me with a club. it was all very simple. i had been a contemptible fool, and now i must pay the price of my folly. what price would they exact? i wondered. but i most wondered at my indifference. they can only kill me, i reflected, and the thought scarcely disturbed me. yet i was curious. there were many things i wished to know. "where am i?" i asked, looking at sir charles. "you are in the cellar of my private house at staines," he answered civilly enough. "i may inform you that i keep no servants except these men you see, and the house is set in the middle of a small park some hundred and fifty yards distant from the river and at least a quarter mile from any other building. you may therefore spare yourself the useless trouble of shouting for help, should you have been so minded." "thank you!" said i. "question me further, if you wish, mr. hume. it will be my turn soon to play inquisitor, when you are stronger." "where is marion le mar?" "she returned to london, this morning. you have been four and twenty hours insensible." "a clever woman that," i muttered coolly. "you may congratulate yourself, sir charles, on her assistance. but for her i would long ago have been in france." he smiled ironically. "you praise her too much!" he replied. "she has served me well, it is true; but for the last fortnight you have been practically my prisoner." "what do you mean?" i demanded. "what i say. do you remember miss le mar calling you to her room one certain evening and asking you questions of your race and parentage?" "yes." "had you left the house that evening, even the very second she dismissed you, and indeed at any moment since, you would have been arrested on the instant." "by whom?" "by my detectives!" "what, did you commit yourself with the police?" he smiled again. "oh, no! nevertheless, you would have been arrested, mr. hume, and you would have thought--by the police!" "i--see; but--but--how could you have known, i mean, how could you have been sure that i was i--until you had communicated with--with her?" for a third time he smiled, and when he spoke it was in a tone of genuine admiration. "you are an able man, mr. hume!" said he, "but no chain is stronger than its weakest link, and your weakest link was revealed to me that very morning!" "ah! what was it?" "an advertisement in the personal column of the _daily mail_." "you deal in mysteries!" i cried impatiently, "i never inserted such an advertisement in my life." "it ran like this"--replied sir charles. "if the gentleman who left a plain, oak coffin in the front room of number 904 old kent road on the morning of the ---day of ----, does not claim it within fourteen days from date, it will be sold to pay expenses. sarah rosenbaum!" "the idiot!" i gasped. "i gave it to her!" sir charles burst out laughing. "did you?" he cried--"did you indeed? well luckily for me she could not have understood you!" "do you mean to say, sir, it was only that advertisement which put you on my track?" "that, and only that. i suspected you before, but i confess that you were adroit enough to allay my suspicions and hoodwink me completely!" "oh! lord," i groaned. "to think that a frowsy, oily haired jewess should be the cause of my undoing. why in the name of goodness was she not satisfied to take the coffin for a gift!" "perhaps she was afraid to sell it, or perhaps she tried to sell it and could not show a title to its would-be purchaser. you should not condemn her, hume, upon _ex parte_ evidence. pardon me for saying it, but the fault was yours. you should not have given her the coffin at all. you should have got rid of it by other means!" "too true!" i groaned. "but i only wanted a day's grace then, or i'd not have been so careless!" "you had seven!" he exclaimed. "the advertisement did not appear for a week!" i felt my cheeks crimson. "after all," i muttered, "you owe everything to marion." "were you really such a fool," he cried. i nodded. "give me to drink!" i said. "i'm feeling weak and sick." he made a sign, and one of the negroes hurried out. i was very near swooning, when i felt my chair tipped back, and something was forced between my teeth. i drank and was revived. then one of the negroes fed me with a bowl of soup and soon my strength was perfectly restored. sir charles venner waited all the time before me, occasionally feeling my pulse. he seemed satisfied at last that my condition warranted his promised inquisition, and he proceeded straight away to business. "where are the jewels?" he demanded. "the jewels you purchased with the ten thousand pounds that you extorted from me?" "in a safe place." i replied. "but you must tell me where, mr. hume," he said, in a pleasant but determined voice. "ah, but you must first tell me what you intend to do with me, sir charles." he shrugged his shoulders. "what can i do but kill you?" he replied. "i dare not let you go, and you are too infernally adroit to keep a prisoner! come, hume, i'll make a bargain with you. give me the jewels, and i'll promise you your choice of deaths." "done with you!" i cried. "i choose old age!" "senility is not for you, my friend; i spoke of sudden deaths." "then we can't trade, sir charles!" "let me remind you that i am a surgeon, hume. some deaths are extraordinarily painful. you, who are no anatomist, i think, would be surprised to learn how tenaciously the soul may cling to its clay casket, and how deep are the wells of agony that it will often plumb before it can be prevailed upon to seek another sphere of usefulness. now i am not a cruel man, and i should not like to see you suffer too protractedly. let me persuade you not to force my hand." "give me a night to think it over," i replied. "why delay? no, hume, i cannot grant your wish in any case. i have to perform a difficult operation to-morrow, and if my mind were occupied with doubts, i might not do my patient justice. if i left you here alive i should be uneasy, my knife might slip--a thousand accidents might happen. improbable as it seems, you might escape." "you have determined then to murder me tonight?" i gasped. "yes." "but, you fool!" i cried, seeing one gleam of hope. "how then can you be sure of getting the jewels. i have only to tell you a lie in order to rob you of them for ever!" the man positively started; nor did he attempt to conceal his mind. "hum!" he muttered. "that is a point i had overlooked." of a sudden, however, his lips parted in a smile and his eyes gleamed. "well, well," he said. "since there's no help, i needs must let you live a day or two. but in order to save time, hume, be good enough to tell me your first lie at once?" "you mean?" "i'll be quite frank with you, my man. this is my meaning. you will presently mention a place where the jewels may be but are not. i shall prove during to-morrow that you have lied. and to-morrow night we'll speak again--and you will then tell me the truth. you understand?" "you mean, that to-morrow night you will torture me?" "just so." "and if i refuse to speak to-night?" "you will sleep poorly, i'm afraid, my friend. but come, be reasonable. you pleaded for a night's reflection. i offer it to you." "but with a sure prospect of torture on the morrow." "unless you speak the truth to-night." "then i shall!" i cried with a shudder. "better death than torture!" "well?" "the jewels are in sir william dagmar's house. you will----" "you lie," he interjected sharply. "i drugged and searched you the night that you returned from robbing me." "i know that, sir; but the very next day i went out and brought them to the house, i couldn't bear to have them any longer out of my reach." "ah!" his looks pierced me, but i did not flick an eyelash as i steadily returned his stare. "go on!" he said at length. "where are they hidden, then?" "marion le mar has them, sir charles. i gave them to her when we left the house last morning?" "what?" he shouted. "what?" "it is true," i answered glibly. "i gave them to her wrapped up in a small sealed parcel, which i asked her to keep for me in her box until we had returned. i acted so for this reason. it occurred to me that you or someone might take a notion to search my room while i was away, but i felt pretty sure you'd never dream of searching marion's box." it were as well for me perhaps to explain straight away the monstrous falsehood last recorded. an instinct taught me that sir charles venner entertained but small respect for women. i saw that he wanted the jewels very badly, and i fancied that if i could make him believe the story i had so readily invented, i might still live for many days. his natural course would be at once to demand from marion the packet which i declared that i had given her. as i had given her nothing, she would truthfully repudiate his claim. but sir charles venner's want of respect for women would immediately induce him to doubt the honesty of marion's denial. he would think, "she has opened the packet, and the jewels--treasures so dear to women's eyes--have stolen her honour." i would act thereafter so as subtly to foster his suspicions, and i hoped that at last, in order to satisfy himself whether marion or i spoke true, he would confront me with the beautiful woman, for love of whom i had to die. i felt that i would be content to perish, given in exchange one opportunity to hurl at her my hate. as deep and tender as had been my love, so bitter and so ardent was my hate! sir charles eyed me for a moment in thoughtful silence. then very slowly he nodded his head. "did you tell her what it was you gave her?" he demanded. "no." "why do you tell me now? it will cost you a day of life if you spoke the truth." i permitted myself a show of passion. "a life of which i am weary, weary! have you ever loved, you man of ice? have you ever been betrayed by the creature you adored?" i cried. "i would to god that you had killed me as i knelt beside her body in the park. i had then hardly realized her treachery!" i closed my eyes and shuddered, straining my muscles as though in a paroxysm of mental agony, the while. "hume!" said sir charles, "if you are not acting, you are desperate, and you have not lied to me. take my advice and die while you are desperate! a pin prick and all will be over. i can promise you no pain." the fact is i had acted far too well. it was necessary then to surpass my former effort in order to save my life, and at the same time make him continue to believe in me. i opened my eyes and looked up at him, at first with a vacant stare. "she sold me with a judas kiss!" i muttered, "a cursed traitress--with a judas kiss. you've promised me my choice of deaths. you'll keep your word, sir charles, or by the god above us--you'll die a fouler death than i." i gave him a look of such concentrated rage as i concluded, that, bound though i was, he started back a step and bit his lip. "well, well!" he exclaimed, "i'll keep my word, you need not fear." "then bring me a cross, and nail me to it--in my senses while i live, and while i bleed to death--you'll drag her here to see me--so that i may curse her as i die!" "the man is mad!" he gasped, "mad as a march hare!" "keep your word!" furiously i hissed. "i bind you to your word!" sir charles exchanged fearful glances with the negroes. i watched him, frowning like a thunder-cloud. "come, come!" he said at last. "you must sleep over this, hume! you must not set me a task beyond my power--i----" but i broke in upon him with a curse. "what!" i shrieked. "you bragged and bleated of the torture you had in store for me--and when i bid you kill me as i wish to die, you shrink and blanch and mouth your feminine humanity. but you've given me your promise--and you'll keep it or by--" i finished with a storm of maledictions so blasphemously horrible, and which i delivered with such wild and awful force, that even the stolid negroes staggered back and rolled their eyes. as for sir charles, he turned sheet white before i was half through, and with a look of something marvellously resembling terror, he turned and simply rushed out of the room. i screamed my curses after him, straining and tugging at my bonds like one possessed. but at length, thoroughly outworn with the exertion, i stopped and feigned to swoon. next moment the cellar was in darkness, and i heard the negroes stumble out and bolt the door behind them. i'll not relate the anguish i endured that night, more than to say it made an old man of me--in mind, if not in body. i did not sleep. i could not if i would, for i was companied with memories sharp enough to sting a soul from torpor deep as death. and i would not, if i could, because i feared that those were by me who might take advantage of my slumber to extend my sleep beyond mortality. but none came near me, and through the dragging hours i heard no sound. morning came without the black dark lessening one whit, until the negro, beudant, brought a candle with some breakfast. he was plainly afraid of me at first, and without doubt i was not a pleasant thing to gaze upon. but his fears faded as he fed me and saw me grateful for the food. "you are in a gentler mood, monsieur, than overnight," he presently remarked. "it is better so, believe me. if i were you, i would not die upon a cross." "just so," i answered quickly. "i do not wish to die at all, would you like to make yourself a rich man, m. beudant?" "why, yes, monsieur." "then help me to escape, and i shall fill your hands with gold." "but in that case i should incur my patron's enmity." "and in the other you will run a very certain risk of being hanged." "even so, monsieur." "you fear your patron more keenly than the law!" i cried. "believe me, you are wrong." "pardon!" he interrupted, "you mistake, monsieur. i fear no man. sir charles venner is my patron and my teacher. but he is also my friend. i would suffer death for him, if need arose." i sighed. "will he really kill me, do you think?" i asked. the negro pursed out his thick, black lips. "i feel sure of it," he muttered. "as soon as once the jewels that he seeks are in his hands, you'll die." "then my hours are numbered," i said gloomily, "for that will be to-day." "but then, can it be, you told him truly, yesternight, monsieur?" "i was mad!" i groaned aloud. "mad. last night i cared for nothing! i was torn apart with rage and with despair. but now it is different." i groaned again. "ah! m. beudant, is there no hope for me? you do not look inhuman! would you have the murder of a fellow being on your soul. help me to live, if only for a little while--a few short hours? one other day? i am not fit to die, beudant. great god, no! i am not fit to die!" "what can i do for you, monsieur?" "oh! it is not much i ask. go to your patron and persuade him that i lied last night." "impossible, monsieur! he has already left the house." "then follow him, beudant. i am bound or i would beseech you on my knees. beudant for the love of god----" "monsieur, monsieur!" "kind, sweet beudant!" i wailed. "beautiful, excellent beudant, do this little thing for me. see it is a dying man entreats you. sweet beudant, pretty beudant." the poor negro looked the picture of distress. his eyes rolled in his head, and he knew not what to do or say. "i cannot deceive my patron!" he cried at last. but at that i shrieked aloud and drove him from the room with venomous blood-curdling curses. in his agitation he forgot to take with him the candle, which he had set upon the floor, and that circumstance gave me an occupation for some hours which in some degree alleviated my dark mood of bitterness. i thought that by dint of great stress and labour i might work my chair beside the flame and sear through some or other of my bonds. in four hours of constant effort i had moved a foot perhaps, but then i gave up in despair, for i had still a yard to go and already the candle guttered in its socket. jussieu was the next to visit me, bearing on a tray my mid-day meal. after eating heartily, i tested him in much the fashion i had tried on beudant. he gave me similar replies, and i rewarded him with similar maledictions. but instead of flying from my oaths as the other negro had, to my astonishment, he quelled me with a rolling sermon, delivered in the finest lutheran style. texts quivered from his tongue, like shafts of lightning in a storm, and the black canting hypocrite, who was ready at his master's nod to murder me, dared preach to me of penitence, and summoned me in thunderous tones to prepare my soul for death. at first rage and indignation held me speechless; but when the humour of the situation struck me properly, i yelled with laughter, and laughed and laughed until my ribs ached and the tears trickled down my cheeks. when i had sobered he was gone, and i was glad, despite the dark. i am too good a hypocrite myself to endure a man whose hypocrisy may be pierced with a pin. and though i had laughed at him, too much of jussieu would have made me sick. seven hours later sir charles venner entered my prison cellar with his ebony attendants, who bore between them a small table spread with lamps, and one or two strange ugly looking implements. the surgeon wore a gloomy look, and he made no answer to my courteous greeting. but bidding beudant shut the door, he turned to me and said:-"hume, after all you lied to me!" "what!" i cried as if dumbfounded. then quickly recovering my countenance, i exclaimed. "oh, yes, yes. you have discovered it. yes, yes, i lied to you. the jewels are really hidden behind the second volume of bruton's "anatomy of melancholy" in the bookshelf on the eastern wall of sir william dagmar's library." sir charles favoured me with a black frown. "you are such an accomplished liar!" he said coldly, "that i can no longer rely upon your unsupported word." "what would you do?" i cried. "persuade you to be honest with a foretaste of damnation!" at that i felt my blood turn cold within me, and yet strange to say a hot sweat broke out on my forehead and my face. "you monster!" i gasped. "you would really torture me?" "i shall," he retorted. "jussieu, will you please to operate." "but certainly, monsieur," replied the brutal preacher, with a grin of malice which showed me that my laughter had not failed to prick his vanity. he seized one of the implements that i had noted and immediately approached my chair. in another moment my left hand was encased in a curious steel glove, which held the fingers widely separated in rigid iron stalls. i tremulously assured myself this was a farce to try my nerve; and resolving not to watch the leering villain at his work, i looked up at sir charles, who met my eyes as impassively as ever. "a test?" i sneered. "yes, a test," said he. next instant i uttered a scream of agony, for a burning pain had suddenly pierced my thumb. i looked at it and saw that a long needle had been inserted down the joint between the nail and quick. jussieu was already busy at my forefinger. "mercy mercy," i shouted. "i'll tell you the truth, the truth!" "then speak!" "she has them, marion!" "once more, jussieu?" said sir charles. again that penetrating agony. again i raved and screamed. again i swore i'd tell the truth. "speak!" cried sir charles. "they are in sir william dagmar's library, where i said before, behind----" "once more, jussieu!" interrupted the surgeon. i lost sight of the agonizing periods. i fainted more than once and was restored to life by pain. sometimes i lied, more often still i shrieked aloud the truth, and was not credited. but at last growing wise under the torture, i perceived what my inquisitor wished me most to say, and i vowed time after time that marion possessed the jewels, and marion alone. at last sir charles decided to believe me, and my mangled hand was grudgingly released. i was by then well-nigh incapable of feeling, and they might have murdered me without exciting in my breast one added solitary pang. i fell into a heavy sleep before they left the room, and when i awoke i was benumbed and very listless. i became, however, gradually aware that much had been done during my unconsciousness which must have lasted hours. the table remained in the room, and a lamp thereon cast a yellow glitter round the plastered walls. to the left of my chair there yawned a deep hole in the floor, something coffin shaped, with bricks and earth and stones heaped against the wall behind. two spades were sticking in the rubble, and a pick. very patently it was a grave, my grave! i gazed at it with a sort of solemn wonder, but i thought it might prove a friend, if it would only save me from such horrors as i shuddered to remember i had lately undergone. after a time i realized that i was listening to a faint bubbling sound that seemed to issue from my grave. then i noted in the shadowy depths a whitish froth, and understood! my grave promised me, as well as death, obliteration, nay, absolute annihilation. it was partly filled with seething quicklime! beudant came and made me eat and drink. i was very faint and only asked him for the time. he told me it was two o'clock upon the fourth day of my imprisonment. while wondering at the news, i fell asleep. beudant awoke me with more food and drink. again i fell asleep, and again i awoke to find myself being softly carried from the cellar of my grave, into an adjoining room that was also situated underground, for it, too, was plastered walled and windowless. it contained, however, a long rack furnished with some dozens of champagne, neck downwards, and most carefully bestowed. "a good vintage! i should say," i said to beudant. satan himself could not have made me to speak to jussieu, except with sneers. "you shall judge, monsieur!" replied the negro, and when he set me down, he took a bottle from the rack and proceeded to unfold the cork. "why this sudden kindness to an _ame damnée_!" i asked indifferently. "has my last hour come?" "god knows, monsieur; but you are, i think, to have a visitor, and i have orders! kindly drink!" he poured out a full cup of the frothy nectar, and held it to my lips. i quaffed it slowly, and felt the life blood surge anew along my veins. also i felt my lacerated hand begin to pain, and soon i groaned aloud. beudant on instant was a kind physician, and i blessed him as he poured some warm and grateful balsam on the wounds, and bound my injured fingers in a swathe of silk. "beudant." said i, "whichever takes me, beelzebub or satan, when i go, i'll sing your praises to him as a man of heart." "peace, blasphemer!" grated jussieu. "peace yourself, you canting hound!" i cried. for answer he smote me on the mouth. but that was too much even for me, who till that moment honestly believed that i was destitute of pride. i discovered at the touch of a blackfellow's paw that, at all events, i had a pride of race. i filled my lungs with air and shouted like a stentor: "help! help! murder! murder!" jussieu shook like a leaf. "you blasted pig!" he muttered--very low. "god strike you dead!" truly his religion, for all his preaching, was not deep. but sir charles venner's voice answered at once, in very angry tones: "beudant, jussieu, what the devil are you doing?" next instant the door opened. i saw the tail end of a flight of brick steps, and into the room rushed marion le mar, followed less quickly by the surgeon, who stopped to lock the door behind him. the girl stopped midway on the floor. but i did not look at her. i was too deeply agitated, and i wished to gather up my strength for later use. i heard sir charles repeat his question. jussieu replied--"master, he blasphemed, and i struck him on the mouth." pride of race is a curious thing. i found i could not argue with the negro, though he had lied. the surgeon whipped his servant with a dozen scorching words, then strode beside my chair. "for this insult, hume," he said, "i offer you my sincere apologies. such a thing will not occur again!" "give me another cup of wine," i cried, "and i'll forgive you." within a moment it was held up to my lips, and i drained it at one draught. i was passionately craving strength to show my hate to marion. heaven! how i hated her! "more?" asked sir charles. "no," i answered sullenly; my eyes fell upon the floor. "mademoiselle le mar denies that you gave her any packet, hume?" "does she?" "yes, and she is here to confront you?" "why?" "to induce you to confess your falsehood!" "and if i don't?" "it will go harder with you than before!" i ground my teeth. "bah!" i snarled, "you doubt her word, or you'd not have brought her here. i see your game, you wish to make her own her theft by witnessing my torture. but you will fail, you fool. do you forget that she betrayed me? she'll laugh to hear my screams!" marion spoke for the first time. "sir charles," she began, in low vibrating tones, "this man looks very ill. what have you done with him, and what is the matter with his hand?" "he will tell you," said the surgeon curtly. i looked up at her for the first time. her eyes were dilated, and full of passionate questioning. "you pretty actress!" i sneered, "you know nothing, oh, of course, you know nothing!" "miss le mar knows nothing, hume," said sir charles, in tones of ice. "but it is time she knew. you will tell her, or shall i?" "you," i muttered. i was a little dazed. marion had not thought to have me tortured then. i had to readjust my mind, concerning her. sir charles nodded, and the girl and he gazed into each other's eyes. "tell me!" she cried. "his fingers have been pierced with frozen probes between the nail and quick!" it seemed to me that an hour passed before their glances parted. but at last marion uttered a little gasping sigh and slowly turned to me. her face was very pale. "how you must loathe me!" she muttered. "yes!" i answered simply. "but you will better understand how much, if you will trouble to explore the room i lately occupied!" "come!" said sir charles, at once, and he strode across the cellar. they were not absent long, yet when they returned marion had some colour in her face. it seemed they had been talking, but i heard the end of their discourse. "you should have known it, child," sir charles was saying. "i did not use bald words, because i trusted your intelligence. 'a long voyage' was the term i used. it bore one application only in my mind. you must perceive how utterly impossible it is that he should live. why, if we kept him prisoner, he might escape--ten, twenty years hence even, and yet he still could ruin us!" "but you spoke also of an island?" "an island of dreams, marion!" he replied impatiently. "come, come, we waste time. you must be sensible!" she bowed her head before him and appeared to think. "come, come," he said again, still more impatiently. "wait!" she replied. "i begin to understand." "well!" "mr. hume spoke truly, monsieur, you doubted my word, and that is why you brought me here. you think it possible that i have the jewels. is it not so?" "yes to all your questions!" "and unless m. hume confesses that he lied about the packet, i must behold his torture and listen to his screams!" "unhappily, my child!" "why should you doubt my word, monsieur? have i ever in my life deceived you?" he shrugged his shoulders. "how can i tell!" he sneered. "perhaps, perhaps, m'sieur--if he withstands the torture and persists to lie, you will then torture me? you do not see, though i see. he has planned that you should bring me here for his revenge. therefore, he will not tell the truth! will you torture me, m'sieur?" "my child, you are a fool. it is the truth that i am seeking. i would give you the jewels, if you needed them. but this i shall not do--permit that man to triumph over me, in one iota! why, marion"--his voice broke--"he once obliged me to shake hands with him!" i thrilled to hear him, for i saw he spoke the truth, and i understood at last how bitterly he had brooked the way that i had used him. i could write a sermon here on pride and vanity, if i had a mind. good heavens! to what heights will they not drive, to what depths will they not drag their victims! but let another pen than mine essay the task. it is homeric and beyond my powers to do it justice. marion left the surgeon's side, and came very close to me. "agar hume," she murmured, "i have used you ill, but how ill i did not dream till now. as god hears me i would never have betrayed you, if i had known it could have meant, what it has meant, and means!" "go on!" said i, "your voice is very sweet." "you loved me once," she whispered. "i did indeed." "by the memory of that love i implore you now to speak the truth and forfeit your revenge. i am only a woman, monsieur, surely my punishment is great enough in knowing that i have brought you to your death!" "i'm not dead yet, mademoiselle. you reproach yourself too soon." "but you will die!" she cried. "when it is written." she clasped her hands and gazed at me beseechingly. "i want you to look back into a night, one night," she muttered very low, "i asked what would you give me for my love, and you replied, 'all that i can!'" "too true. i was sincere as well in what i said." "then give to me the memory of a man!" "and you will keep the bargain, how? by worshipping that memory?" she gave a little moan. "for god's sake," she pleaded, "for god's sake, m. hume." "for man's sake," i retorted, "i shall speak the truth," and looked beyond her. "sir charles," said i, "i thought myself a liar till i met this woman--and selfish too beyond comparison. did you ever hear the maxim i invented for the ruling of my life? it was this:--'_first person paramount!_' but look at her! she dwarfs and shadows me so much, without a maxim but her womanhood, that i can only keep my dignity by noising my defeat. here am i, bound, helpless, ill, and threatened with a painful death, because of her. but she has jewels which she sets before my agony, and she would spare herself the shame of witnessing that agony. wherefore she tries to fool me to the end, not caring what i suffer, so that her eyes and ears are not offended." sir charles nodded his head, and it is very likely he believed me, for his eyes gleamed scorn at marion. "it is your turn," he said coldly. "my turn, monsieur," she shuddered and turned crimson, it seemed to me with passion. "your turn," he repeated. "very well!" she cried in a voice grown hoarse and desperate. "torture him! torture him! that is all i have to say!" sir charles glanced from her to the negroes. "light the stove," he said. the wretches disappeared behind my chair, and i heard one strike a lucifer. "what is the bill of fare?" i jauntily inquired. the surgeon smiled evilly. "i am too good a host to keep you in suspense!" he said. "for hors d'oeuvre, jussieu will stroke your soles with red hot needles. potage--we'll fill you palms with boiling oil. the entrée----" "hold, monsieur!" i cried. "you go too fast. you'll spoil my appetite!" "your nerve is excellent!" he grudgingly admitted. "but how long will it last? beudant, be good enough to bare our patient's feet." beudant obeyed. i have well-shaped feet, with not a blemish upon either. i was not ashamed to have them publicly exhibited. i could not see them myself because of my position, but marion looked at them, and her glance was quickly riveted. her lips were moving, and she seemed to be muttering to herself, although i heard no sound. god in heaven! how beautiful she was, and how i hated her! within a few minutes, jussieu re-appeared, bearing an iron plate, upon which was arrayed a brace of steel awls, set in wooden handles. the points glimmered blue and red. at a nod from sir charles venner, my chair was tipped back in order to raise the soles of my feet. my ankles were strapped securely to the legs of the chair. jussieu set his plate upon the floor, and taking one of the awls in his hand, glanced up at his master. "one moment!" cried marion. she darted to the rack and seized the half-emptied champagne bottle which beudant had opened for my benefit. disdaining the cup, whose rim my lips had touched, she raised the bottle to her mouth and bending back her head drank deeply. sir charles and i exchanged glances of amusement. a little later marion recovered her position, but she continued to hold the bottle. the wine had produced an instantaneous and curious effect. she was snow white, and her eyes were dull and turgid. "i am ready!" she declared. the surgeon stepped to the side of my chair, and presenting his back to marion put his fingers on my right wrist. jussieu kneeled upon the floor, and passed his accursed awl across my instep. the pain was so exquisite that, although i fought like a tiger for control, i writhed and groaned. the torture seared again, and then i shrieked. but marion glided forward, and raising the heavy bottle that she held on high, she brought it down with a crashing blow upon sir charles venner's undefended head. the glass shivered into fragments, and the surgeon fell without groan or cry, unconscious at my feet. my chair was unexpectedly released. i swung forward, seated erect again, helpless and suffering intensely, but uplifted to a mental contempt of pain in a sudden rapture of astonishment. marion, who had stepped back almost to the farthest wall, faced the negroes with a little cocked pistol, which did not waver in her grasp. her face was still ashen coloured, but her eyes were simply on fire. "m. jussieu!" said she, her voice was like a silver bell, "take up your master, if you want to live, and carry him into the other cellar!" the negro did not move. he glared at her from where he kneeled, like a frozen image. "in five seconds i shall kill you!" said the girl. "one--two--" jussieu uttered a raucous cry, and scrambled to his feet. stooping quickly he seized the body of sir charles and staggered off. "beudant," said marion, "lock that door quick!" beudant sprang to obey. i heard him slam the door and shoot home the bolts. "now," said the girl, "release m. hume and take care not to hurt him." in a moment i was free. but i could not move so much as a muscle. i had been four days in the chair, and i was not only cramped, but ill, frightfully ill. there was not an organ in my body that did not begin to give me agony immediately the supporting straps relaxed. even as i swayed forward, i shrieked with pain and swooned. when i awoke i was stretched out at length upon the floor, and beudant was kneading my half-naked limbs and body with all the strength and science of a skilled masseur. marion, seated at a little distance on the chair, kept the muzzle of her pistol pointed at the negro's head. from the adjoining chamber a curious babel of sounds proceeded. sir charles venner's voice, raised in passionate entreaties and commands, mingled with the noise of continual digging. was jussieu trying to dig a way out? for a moment i wondered why he did not attack the door with his pick, but then i remembered it was thick and stout and heavily bound with iron. for another hour beudant continued his massage, and marion uttered no word nor made one move. i could not speak, because the pain i suffered obliged me to lock my teeth to keep from shrieking, and even as it was i often groaned. beudant paused at last in sheer fatigue, and marion permitted him to rest. afterwards the negro dressed me, and bound up my wounded foot. he also gave me more champagne and assisted me to rise. i found that i could stand, but my muscles were flaccid and unstrung, while every nerve was raw and quivering. i could not move without assistance. at marion's command beudant took me in his arms. he was very strong, that negro, and he bore me as easily as i might have done a child. she opened the door, and we passed out before her, and mounted a flight of brick steps into a kitchen above. marion bolted the door and followed us like a shadow. i was carried thence out into the night, across a long flagged yard into a stable, marion always close behind us, with a lanthorn in her hand. i was deposited upon a truss of straw, from which vantage post i watched beudant, under the guidance of the pistol, harness a quiet-looking horse, and attach it to the shafts of a small basket phaeton. the negro then lifted me into the body of the vehicle, and mounting to the box took up the reins. marion climbed in and sat beside me. "drive to london, beudant," she said quietly, "and if you value your life keep your eyes before you!" heaven preserve me from the horrors of such another drive. at every jolt and rumble of the phaeton i felt as though i were being torn apart upon a rack. my moans made such hideous music for the road, that often we were stopped by travellers with courteous questions of my state. marion addressed me several times with the same request: "for god's sake, monsieur, let me give you an injection of morphia. it will ease your pain!" but i loathed her, and distrusted her. "better the pain," was my invariable response. "better the pain!" "how you hate me," she would cry. "how you hate me!" sometimes i felt her shiver, but not often, for i kept as closely to my corner as i could, and if by chance she touched me, curses trembled to my lips which i had work to stifle. we drove so slowly that morning had already dawned before we reached the outskirts of the city. we stopped then at an inn, where beudant's shouts procured a flask of spirits, which i drank to drug my suffering. afterwards i did not groan, for though the brandy scarcely eased my pain, it gave me strength to smother its expression. marion put away her pistol soon, for the road was full of vehicles, and beudant was no longer to be feared. the girl's face in the early morning light was pitifully lined and haggard. i watched her, but she kept her gaze set straight before, as though conscious of my stern regard. every now and then too, she caught her breath, and shuddered as though she were remembering. our silence lasted until we came to notting hill, when i became aware of a certain chilling curiosity concerning her. "now that you have broken with your friends," i muttered suddenly, "what will you do?" she did not move, yet she answered at once in tones of deep humility. "whatever you wish, monsieur!" "whatever i wish," i sneered. "what has my wish to do with you?" she turned her head and looked into my eyes. "i have used you very ill, monsieur! i would make atonement, though, if you will let me!" "how?" "in any way you please." "would you marry me, mademoiselle?" "yes, monsieur." "you conceive then that you owe me extraordinary reparation?" "the greatest possible," she answered very softly. i knew then that i loved her still, in spite of better cause for hate than love; but so deep was my bitterness and sense of injury against her, that i felt perfectly incapable of magnanimity. "your penitence is of sudden growth," i sneered. "it is none the less sincere, monsieur!" "and your humility?" "that too, monsieur." "i need a wife less than a servant who will nurse me!" i said coldly. "i will serve you, monsieur." i looked away and reflected deeply on her words. but though i tried, i could not understand her, and ignorance intensified distrust. yet i foresaw that a period of sickness lay before me, and i could not believe that she had saved me to again betray me. some one i must lean upon--it was imperative. she watched me in most evident anxiety, scarcely breathing the while. i turned at last, and said: "have you money?" "none, monsieur." i felt my lip curl. it was, then, poverty which had inspired her abject self-surrender--and perhaps, too, fear. no doubt she relied upon my aid to escape sir charles venner's vengeance. she read my thought, and murmured very low: "as god hears me, you are unjust, monsieur!" "we shall see!" i sneered. "stop the phaeton!" we had come upon a cab-stand. beudant transferred me into a fourwheeler, and marion thereupon commanded him to return to staines. when he had departed, i gave her my bruton street address, and thither, in perfect silence, we proceeded. my gaolers had disdained to rob me, but my pockets contained less than four pounds, and it was necessary to provide immediately against the illness i anticipated. when we had arrived, i explained to her the situation of my room, and bade her bring me down my cash-box, in which reposed my cheque-book and all my bank receipts. the box i knew was locked, but, in order to ensure its privacy, i obliged her to detach my latch-key from the others and give me back the bunch. she obeyed me with a sigh, and in five minutes she placed the cash-box in my hands. "where to now, monsieur?" she asked humbly, with downcast eyes. "to the colonnade hotel." she spoke to the driver and resumed her seat. upon arriving at our destination, two porters carried me within, and i engaged two adjoining rooms on the third floor, to the larger of which i was carefully transported. to all seeming, i was a wounded man in charge of a nurse, for marion wore her uniform, and i explained to the clerk that our luggage would presently follow us from the station, where we had left it. we were thus able to circumvent mother grundy's spirit of conventionality without the necessity of answering a single question. with marion's assistance i got to bed, where i lay for some time convulsed with agony. as soon as i could, however, i wrote a cheque for £100, which i gave to her for our joint use. my last recollection is of enjoining upon her a course of conduct designed to secure us from the persecution of our enemies, and directing her to purchase certain trunks and clothes so that our want of luggage might not be evilly construed. before i had finished, however, i had to spur my wits with brandy, and within an hour i was tossing in a high fever, to all intents and purposes a helpless raving lunatic. ix "the anglo-american hotels limited" i was dying, so they said: two physicians and my nurse--marion le mar. they informed me, very gravely and gently, and the explicit motive of their confidence was that i might have time to make my peace with heaven, and settle my affairs with men. it was easy to believe them. i was so feeble. when the men of medicine had gone, marion surprised me by throwing herself down upon her knees beside my bed and bursting into the most passionate fit of weeping i have ever witnessed. as i could not calm her, i occupied the time of her abandonment in considering how i might provide best for her future. i thought of a will, but dismissed the idea, because of its publicity. marion could not afford to advertise her whereabouts to our enemies. i decided at last to withdraw all my money and the jewels from the bank and give them to her while i lived. when, therefore, she grew tranquil, i made her write a letter and a cheque, both of which, with exhausting effort, i contrived to sign. but she resolutely declined to leave me for a moment, so i was compelled to send a waiter on the errand. he was, by good chance, an honest man, and an hour later my bed was strewn with bank-notes and with flashing gems. but marion would not take them. she implored me, for my soul's sake and her satisfaction, to make full restoration to the man i had blackmailed, and so vehemently and persistently did she entreat me that, in very weakness, i at length gave way, only stipulating that she should retain sufficient money to pay the debts my illness had incurred, and to keep her for a little while till she should find employment. while she was packing up the jewels to send to sir charles venner, i fell asleep, and when i awoke i was once more a pauper. it was very curious. from that instant i grew better, and hour by hour my strength increased. on the evening of the fourth day, thereafter, i arrived, after much reflection, at the conclusion that marion had prevailed upon the physicians to pretend that i was dying in order to rob me of the jewels. i also believed her story that she had restored them to sir charles to be a falsehood, and i entertained no doubt whatever but that she would presently desert and leave me to my fate. naturally, i kept these opinions to myself. it was useless to discuss them, and i told myself that such a course would only hasten her departure. i thought her something like a fiend in human form, but she was very beautiful, and i loved her so madly that all i wished for in the world was to retain her by my side as long as possible. with that end in view, i played the hypocrite, and let her think me every simple kind of fool she wished. i derived a bitter-sweet satisfaction from the game, for on her part she pretended to be ardently attached to me. we spent the hours building castles in the air, weaving pretty fancies of love in a cottage, and a long life shared together. she said she had a friend, an old kind-hearted gentleman, whom she could depend upon to find me some employment, as soon as i was perfectly restored to health. i was then to turn over a new leaf, and live an honest, hard-working life, and she would be my wife, my comforter, my devoted helpmate, to the end. it was a very pretty dream, but the strange and bitter feature of it was that i sighed for it to come true. i was tired of my rascality. my long illness had made a changed man of me, and if i could have believed in marion's avowals, i would have been as happy as a king to mend my ways for her sweet sake, and never do a shady thing again. once or twice i tried my best to induce her to explain to me the mysteries connected with sir charles venner's secret society of consumptives which i had been unable to fathom. on that subject, however, she maintained an adamantine reticence, and when i ventured to press her in love's name, she entreated me in tears to forbear, saying that she was bound by an oath which she could not break. her art was perfect, for she used to add: "how, dear agar, could you trust me, if you proved me capable of breaking a solemn oath, sworn to god?" i could only have effectually answered her by voicing my convictions of her baseness, and that would have driven her away. on the contrary, i praised her constancy, and received my reward from the exquisitely assumed love-light in her glorious brown eyes. the drama took another week to play out. by that time i was quite out of danger, and, although still painfully feeble, my physician assured me that i should soon be able to leave my bed. marion's joy at that knew no bounds. she covered me with kisses, and insisted that she should write forthwith to her old friend, to inform him of her whereabouts, and the hopes she reposed in him for our happiness and welfare. "what is his name, sweetheart?" i asked. i had not troubled to inquire before. she gave me a bright smile. "i'll tell you on our wedding-day," she replied. "it is a little surprise that i am keeping for you, dear." my thought was: "she is, after all, a poor hand at invention!" i felt convinced that she was simply paving the way with her letter for her escape, and when she went out to post it, i cried aloud in my bitterness of spirit--"to-morrow morning there will come a telegram, and she will leave me!" so it happened! she was seated by my bed, reading me the morning journals, when, of a sudden, a knock sounded on the door, and a waiter entered with a wire upon a salver. "for nurse hampton!" he announced. such was the name she had assumed when first we came to the hotel. marion started up with a little cry of delight that echoed itself in anguish in my heart. i knew what that envelope contained as well as she. holding my breath, i watched her with critical intentness. but i had no fault to find. to the very last she maintained her part, playing it like the unimaginably perfect actress that she was. tearing it open, she read its contents with an expression of happy expectation, which quickly changed before my eyes to fear and passionate concern. "mon dieu!" she gasped, and crushing up the paper in her hand, she turned to me. "agar!" she cried, "he is very ill, dying they say, and he needs me. i must go to him at once!" i had expected it, expected it for days, and yet, none the less, the blow was stunning when it fell. indeed, in my experience, it is always the long-prevised calamity which causes most dismay. for a while i could not speak, and turning my head i weakly closed my eyes in an effort to conceal the tears which sprang unbidden there. but when she stooped and tried to kiss me, her falseness roused a sudden madness in my breast. flinging her aside, i started upright in the bed, and all my pent-up scorn found vent. passion lent me strength to strip her baseness bare, and no whit did i spare her. "go, you jade!" i muttered at the last, for i was failing. "go! and take with you my curse! it is years since i have breathed a prayer--but now i pray to god that never may i see your traitoress face again!" she stood before me, pale as death, her great eyes blazing in her head. but not one word did she reply, and when i fell exhausted on the pillows, she turned with one long glance, and slowly glided from the room. five minutes later, she returned, gowned for the street, but i merely glanced at her, then closed my eyes in icy scorn. in perfect silence she approached the bed and placed some parcel lightly on the cover-lid. i heard her steps retreat, and presently the door was very softly closed. sure that she was gone, i started up in order to investigate her latest act. the parcel contained an account sheet covered with her writing, which showed me that my debts to date approached one hundred pounds. within the cover were banknotes for two hundred. it seemed that my vituperations had stung to life in her some lingering spark of shame. drearily i congratulated myself, and tried to find comfort in the thought that, at all events, i should not be obliged to recommence my battle with the world entirely penniless. but i was sick at heart, sick and absolutely hopeless. the next week passed and left me more pronouncedly improved in health, but desperate in mind; so desperate that i was fit for any villainy. for still another week i nursed myself, hating to see my little stock of money dwindle, but not daring to begin the struggle without a stock-in-trade of strength. with that at length acquired, i quitted the hotel and went to bruton street, where i resolved to take up my abode until, by dint of luck or craft, i might repair my scattered fortunes. my first act was to disguise myself as a professional and somewhat portly gentleman. for a model i took the physician who had recently attended me, and as i had closely and frequently remarked his ways, i was able to reproduce him with nice enough fidelity. having armed myself with a revolver, i employed a cab and drove straightway to sir charles venner's residence in harley street, fiercely determined to settle my account with him at once, for good and all. to my astonishment, however, i found the place in the hands of another surgeon, who curtly informed me that sir charles venner, several weeks ago, had sold his practice, and gone abroad to parts unknown. i drove thence to dr. fulton's house, and a similar story was related there. thoroughly enraged, i went to my old master's place in curzon street. the lackey, who opened the door, seemed much astonished at my question. "why, sir," said he, "lady farmborough lives here now. sir william dagmar sold his lease to her before he went abroad, more than a month ago!" i turned away in growing despair, beginning at last to perceive that the whole of the secret society must have fled from england as soon as they had heard of my escape from venner's hands. but i determined to leave no point of hope untried, and my next visit was to the kingsmere hospital for consumptives. it was shut up, and the walls were plastered over with placards--"to let." i then successively attacked the houses of the remaining members still unaccounted for, and ere the day was done, i discovered that mr. humphreys had set out upon a tour of asia, and that mr. nevil pardoe had died suddenly upon the morning after my escape from staines. my occupation was gone--reft from my hand! as a blackmailer, i might as well incontinently close my shutters, for there was not a soul left in great britain upon whom i could levy for either money or revenge, and i had no funds to pursue them on a wild-goose chase abroad. i felt that the world was going very badly with me when i reached the end of my discoveries, but my cup was not yet full. while waiting for my dinner, at a restaurant in jermyn street, i picked up, by chance, the _daily chronicle_, to while away the time and rid my mind of its unwelcome thoughts. it was neatly folded in a small square compass, and as i smoothed it out to turn the page, a poignantly familiar name that was planted in the marriage column caught my eye. a second later, trembling with passion, i read the following announcement:-"dagmar--le mar. on the -instant, at the bridegroom's residence, cairo, by the rev. françois long, s.j., william dagmar, of flag hill park, newhaven, fourth baronet, to marion, only daughter of the late colonel comte hypolite le mar, huitième régiment, chasseurs d'afrique." i tore the paper into shreds, and in the act i fatuously thought that i had torn the image of that false fair woman from my heart. at all events, i contrived to eat a very hearty dinner, and before i came to coffee, i had already formed a plan to make myself a millionaire. i should explain that at the time of which i now write, the historical american financial invasion of great britain was in full blast. the billionaire yankee magnate, j. stelfox steele, at the head of his omnivorous trust, had already succeeded in enfolding within his octopus-like tentacles an alarming number of england's richest commercial industries. not content with having secured our railways, tramways and shipping, his latest achievement had been to form a "combine" of hotel and brewery proprietaries, with the result that two-thirds of the breweries, and almost every important and fashionable hotel within the confines of the kingdom were conducted under his direction, while the entire liquor traffic was absolutely in his grip. this prodigious organization mr. stelfox steele had named--"the anglo-american hotels limited," probably in a spirit of derision, for although all the property was english, the major portion of the profits were designed to travel into yankee pockets. it had scarcely been registered a company before the british public began to regard it with both fear and loathing, for its first and immediate work of consequence had been slightly to raise the price of beer, and at the same time largely to increase the cost of living in hotels. in palace, public-house and thoroughfares, it constituted the topic of the hour. the fact is, it affected everyone, the highest and the lowest in the land alike, and very seldom could two men foregather for longer than five minutes without the exciting subject being introduced. as the "combine" had, to some extent, victimised me during my residence at the colonnade hotel, i shared in the popular indignation, and during my convalescence i had taken pains to make myself thoroughly acquainted with its construction, policy and aims, and i had carefully digested everything that had been published concerning its promoters. mr. stelfox steele's sudden and brilliant appearance in the financial firmament, and his consequent magnificent and uninterruptedly successful career, had, moreover, completely captivated my romantic fancy, and i was quite anxious to hear as much about him as i could. for that reason i became speedily interested in the conversation of two gentlemen who sat at the adjoining table while i dined. they were of interesting appearance, certainly; portly, conventional, bald-headed souls, both; typical men of business, in a large way--perhaps stockbrokers; but the matter of their talk was decidedly exciting and suggestive to a person like myself. "what is this stelfox steele like to look at, gregson? you know him, don't you?" were the first words that attracted my attention, and thereafter i did not lose a syllable. "well!" replied the other, "i know him in a way. that is to say, i have met him once or twice in business, though i don't suppose he would recognise me if we passed each other in the street ..." "oh! he is that sort, is he?" "now, scott, you go too fast. i did not mean you to infer he is a snob. but he must meet a lot of people, don't you know, and they say his memory for faces is not excellent." "is he like his photographs?" "he is their living image." "then he is no adonis, greg." "n--no," said gregson, rather doubtfully. "but i'd not call him an ugly man, scott. there is an air of quiet force about the fellow that marks him from the crowd. and he has some quaint mannerisms, too, that are not unpleasing." "for instance?" "well, he grips your hand very hard and looks very straight into your eyes, when he meets you. it quite startles one at first, but, for my part, i don't dislike it. it seems honest, if it isn't. then again, when he talks, he invariably drops his voice and half closes his eyes, no matter what the subject is, just as though he were making you an important confidence. in my opinion he owes a good deal of his success to those two apparent trifles. there's a lot in manner, scott; more than most people imagine, and his manner simply provokes trust." "good lord, gregson, you don't mean to say you like the beast!" "like him!" echoed the other, raising his glass. "why, here's to his confusion. we'll soon be all his bond-slaves, if he has his way! you've heard about his latest scheme, to corner wolfram, haven't you?" "please the pigs," muttered scott, "something will break him before he brings that off. fancy the villain daring to even dream of interfering with the working of our arsenals. it's bounce, of course, but what tremendous bounce!" "if he succeeds," said gregson, gloomily, "the whole world might as well become american citizens at once. without wolfram we'll not be able to provide our ships with armour-plate, nor manufacture a single big gun, except by the gracious favour of j. stelfox steele." "is it as bad as that?" "very nearly. it is impossible to harden steel properly without wolfram. professor bryant told me so to-day!" "the fellow is a public danger--by jove!" "say, rather a national menace, and you will not overstate the case. i tell you what, scott, whoever tripped him up would deserve well of his country." "i'd subscribe to a monument for such an one--by gad!" i felt inclined to cry out at this juncture: "sirs, look at me, the man is found!" but i restrained the impulse, despite the fact that i was thoroughly elated, and perfectly persuaded too that i had a mission to fulfil in life to save my country. an hour later, i returned to bruton street, burdened with a large bundle of photographs, which i had purchased on the road. they represented j. stelfox steele, and in every conceivable posture and attitude which a human being can assume. i set them about my room and began earnest study. the head was large, and yet rather brainy than intellectual, and the face argued a mind rather active than reflective. the eyes were well-shaped and neither prominent nor deep-set. the nose was straight and shapely, like my own. several photographs smiled. these evidenced him to possess a long, white set of teeth. the upper lip was long and hairless, ergo a tenacious disposition. the lower was thin and compressed--it helped his square, clean-shaven chin to express a powerful determination. for the rest he wore a short, thick, grizzled crop of hair. a strong, well-balanced countenance upon the whole, and eminently easy to impersonate. indeed, fortune favoured me more than her wont, for my ears and shape of face resembled his in an extraordinary degree. i spent two hours, however, in careful thought and anxious contemplation before i allowed my wish to have its way. i even tried to catch his bent of mind from his counterfeit presentments, so that nothing might be lacking in my intended effort. at last i arose, and opening a drawer, examined my collection of false teeth. i soon found the set i wanted, and in a trice made change with those i wore. i wanted to surprise myself, so i rigidly refrained from glancing at a mirror. my next act was to explore my wig-box, and presently my head was clothed. closing my eyes, i spurred my will, and twisted suddenly the features that required such exercise. finally, i stepped before the glass. j. stelfox steele looked back at me--and that result i had obtained without having employed either paint, grease-pot, or other artifice than those i have described. i almost wept with joy, i felt so gratified, for already, in my dreams, i saw myself a millionaire. my next week was a very busy one. i procured two suits of clothes, such as it was notorious that the great magnate always wore. i practised half-a-dozen hours each day before my mirror, until i had his face by heart and could imitate it swimmingly. and last, but not least, i purchased several piles of newspapers that had recorded j. stelfox steele's doings and sayings, manners and habits of life, over which accounts i pored like an ardent student in my leisure hours. at the end of that period i was perfectly self-confident and anxious to commence my task. i was compelled, however, by force of circumstance, to postpone the battle for awhile, because mr. stelfox steele had unexpectedly arrived in london. he came, according to the papers--which were full of him--to instal one of his co-adjutor millionaires, named sampson y. may, as supreme head of the anglo-american hotels limited, during his temporary absence in south america, whither he proposed to proceed immediately, in order to purchase some large tracts of wolfram-bearing territory, whose control he needed for the perfection of the trust he was then engaged in forming. i was at first disgusted at the delay, but not for long. something caught me by the throat and said to me: "you fool, here is the opportunity of your life. contrive to see the man, and then you will be better able to secure your chances of impersonating him successfully." to think was to act. it was then early morning. by ten o'clock i would have passed muster anywhere as a good-looking, languid, idle, elderly clubman. i wore a grey moustache, and side levers; a slightly darker wig and a monocle. i was, in fact, lord algernon darnley. a "while you wait" printer inscribed the name upon some pasteboards, armed with which, i drove to the office of the anglo-american hotels limited. my card was deferentially received, but a polite secretary informed me that it would be impossible for the magnate to see me without a prearranged appointment. "i have one," i drawled, unabashed by the rebuff, "mr. steele particularly requested me, through a common acquaintance, to call." the secretary departed and returned. "mr. steele is exceedingly busy," he declared. "he will be glad if you will state your business to me." "it's private," i said calmly. "i won't keep him long. i have a document to give him, that's all, but it's got to be placed in his hands." i was requested to wait five minutes. i waited an hour, and was at last ushered to the great man's presence. my first thought was: "how like his photographs!" but he was a taller man than i by a good two inches. gregson was quite right. he looked me in the eyes very straight and keenly, and he gave my hand an energetic squeeze. "are we acquainted?" he demanded, in sharp, incisive tones, and he immediately sat down, pointing briskly to a chair. "now, what's your business?" his voice was almost free from twang, but peculiar, all the same. i had to pinch my leg to keep from mimicking it to his face. "i fibbed," i began coolly, drawling my words to suit my character. "i could have got an introduction easily, but what's the use when a fib would do the trick as well, and quicker, probably. i wanted to see you, don't you know!" he gave a quick smile, and a quicker, though slighter frown. "well," he said, "you are here, what can i do for you? i can only spare you sixty seconds!" he took out his watch. "i've a hundred thousand lying idle," i drawled. "pounds or dollars?" he half-closed his eyes, and his tones, though rapid, dropped to a murmur. "pounds." "well, sir, that is, lord darnley?" "i thought of anglo-american hotels?" said i. "you could not do better," he declared. "thanks!" i stood up. "i'm much obliged to you. good-day!" a bell tinkled, we shook hands, and i marched off thoroughly delighted. i had his voice now, and i knew his height;--my two weak points were remedied. on the following sunday evening, at midnight, he set out for new york, and i was one of the crowd that watched him catch his train at euston station. next morning i searched the papers through and through, but all they had to say of mr. steele was that he had sailed. after breakfast i packed my trunk and drove to a little unfrequented hotel in lambert road, where, _in propriâ personâ_, i engaged a bedroom and a sitting-room upon the first floor, in my own name--agar hume. about an hour later a well-dressed elderly gentleman slipped out of my bedroom, and, descending the stairs, stepped into the street. this person ordered a hansom to take him to the city, giving the driver the address of a substantial firm of stockbrokers--named ducker and sims. i had previously taken care to ascertain that the firm in question had never been in any way connected with j. stelfox-steele. upon arrival i begged to be allowed an immediate private interview with one of the partners, pretending that my business was of the utmost urgency. my prayer was granted, and i was conducted into a massively furnished office, where a hawk-faced man, of about forty years of age, was seated at a desk dictating letters to an ancient shorthand writer. "mr. ducker?" i asked, as he glanced up. "mr. ducker is at present in chicago. my name is sims." he replied. "kindly take that chair. by the way, have i the honour of your acquaintance?" "no, mr. sims; my name is brown." "ah! and you wished to see me----" "on private business, extremely important business, mr. sims." i glanced suggestively at the ancient shorthand writer, who appeared to be dozing. "my confidential clerk, mr. brown," explained mr. sims. "you may speak before him." "excuse me," said i, "i am merely a messenger, and my directions are particular." mr. sims raised his eyebrows, and curtly commanded his satellite to leave the room. the ancient awoke with a start, and nervously departed. "may i lock the door?" i asked. "your business must be mighty curious, mr. brown," he replied, looking utterly astonished. "it is," i answered simply, looking straight into his eyes. he sprang to his feet, crossed the room, and locked the door. "now?" said he, returning. "thank you, mr. sims." "well?" "it is my province to convince you, sir, that by momentarily disregarding the ordinary rules of courtesy which hold in your profession, you may secure a client whose business will yield you greater profit than that of any dozen others whom you have. nay, sir, i speak on hearsay, but advisedly, for my master is well aware of the substantial undertakings of your firm." "your master must be a large operator," he muttered with a gasp. i smiled. "he is, indeed." "and his name?" "i am forbidden to relate it, sir." he frowned and gazed at me, the most puzzled and astonished man in london. "what do you want, then," he demanded. "my master wishes you to call upon him, mr. sims. he is unable to visit you, for reasons which he will personally explain if you will comply with his request!" "this is most unusual!" he replied. "where is he to be found?" "i can only tell you, sir, if you consent to give me your word, as a man of honour, that you will go to see him at three o'clock this afternoon. i should tell you, mr. sims, that if you refuse, your own will be the only disadvantage." "i--i--i never heard of such a thing in my life!" he stammered. "but--but--in any case, i cannot go--at three o'clock. i have a pressing business engagement." i got to my feet, smiling contemptuously. "then i have only to thank you for your patience, mr. sims," i said, with an expressive shoulder shrug. "good-morning, sir!" "i could go at four!" he cried, of a sudden. i glanced at him, and perceived that the day was mine. curiosity was simply eating the man. i smiled and, shook my head. "my master said three!" "with a great effort, i could make it half-past. what do you say, mr. brown; shall we split the difference?" "i cannot, mr. sims. i would be dismissed at once." "then, three." "and your word of honour, sir?" he nodded. i liked that nod. "you will find my master at the golden grove hotel, in lambert road," i said. "kindly ask for mr. agar hume." his face fell, and he looked absurdly disappointed. "agar hume! lambert road!" he muttered in amazed disgust. "believe me, sir, it is unwise to judge men by the sounds of names, which may or not belong to them. stelfox steele imparts a strangely furtive signification to the ear, and yet its owner is about the richest man and biggest operator on our little globe. i congratulate you upon your determination. a little later you will congratulate yourself. but in the meanwhile, let me recommend you to keep our interview a secret even from your partner. my master will be best pleased so. good-morning, mr. sims!" "one second!" he gasped. "am i to understand--er--that--er--mr. stelfox steele----" "is on his way to america," i interrupted sharply. "good-morning, sir!" whereupon, hastily unfastening the door, i made my escape before he had time to say another word. after bolting an apology for a lunch, i drove back to lambert road in a fourwheeler. during the journey, i contrived to become agar hume again, for i did not wish the people in my little inn to see a dozen different persons using my room as if it belonged to them. the driver stared at me aghast when i alighted. he had taken up an old man, and he put down a young one. i detest sharp-eyed cab-drivers, they are a public nuisance. it was striking two as i entered my bedroom. at half-past, i resembled j. stelfox steele as closely as i wished. in order to make up the difference in our heights, i was obliged to resort to a rather inconvenient trick. i took off my bed-clothes and spread them doubled on the floor of my sitting-room, at my own side of the table. these i covered with mats, and set my chair over all. i sprang thus two inches, in as many minutes, whether seated or erect, but i could not leave my pedestal, without losing those same inches; wherefore the inconvenience. i dislike tricks of that sort, but it is my rule never to neglect any detail that i am aware of, and as my pedestal was hidden by the table-cloth, and, moreover, i could not perceive any necessity to walk about during the forthcoming interview, i had really very little to grumble at. my last act was to don a huge brown beard, and a pair of goggles. these made me look like an old hayseed farmer, but j. stelfox steele was underneath the disguise waiting to disclose himself. when it wanted ten minutes to the hour, i left my bedroom, the door of which i locked, entered my sitting-room, and, mounting my pedestal, i sat down to wait. i had previously arranged a screen before the outer door, so that the servant who would show up mr. sims might not look in and remark my latest transformation. i mention these details, not because they were of any urgent moment, but to evidence the amount of attention and forethought which i had bestowed upon the business in hand. the fact is, in my experience, it is always some absurdly finicking trifle, which, when neglected, brings disaster to the greatest undertakings. i was once hissed off the stage at newcastle-on-tyne, when attempting to impersonate mr. gladstone, because, forsooth, although my disguise was elsewise perfect, i had not remembered to change a pair of sharp-toed boots which i had worn a few minutes earlier while imitating mr. greatorex, a dandified celebrity of local fame. that failure had been a very bitter pill to swallow at the time, but it was of more real use to me than all my triumphs put together, and i never forgot the lesson that it inculcated. mr. sims was only two minutes late. in answer to my brisk "come in, and shut the door behind you!" he entered silently, but as he turned the corner of the screen and caught sight of my bearded face, he uttered an unpremeditated little nervous laugh. "just such a laugh any man might involuntarily utter, who had been wishing, but not expecting, the improbable to happen!" thought i. his laugh, translated into words, said this--"i never really believed you could be stelfox steele, mr. agar hume, in spite of what your wily secretary tried to hint!" i stood up, and glared at him through my goggles. "mr. sims?" i demanded. he bowed, measuring me with a sweeping hawk-sharp glance. "shake!" i said, of a sudden, after a full minute's silence, and briskly extended my hand. he responded somewhat slowly and doubtfully to my invitation. but i tore off my goggles, and looking him straight and keenly in the eyes, seized his hand. i squeezed it with all my strength, then pointed to a chair. he obeyed with a wince, wringing his hand the while. "really, mr. hume," he began, with a deprecating frown, "i am at a loss----" "one second!" i interrupted, and deftly removed my beard. he gave me one quick astonished look, then sprang to his feet, his eyes alight, his face flushing with excitement. "is it possible?" he cried. "you know me," i demanded. "why sir, of course!" "but we have never met!" i cried, frowning blackly. "no, sir, no," he responded, hastily. "but mr. stelfox steele's face is as familiar to the public as that of mr. chamberlain. i am glad to meet you, sir." i nodded and sat down. "pray resume your seat, mr. sims." he obeyed. i leaned across the table and beckoned with my hand. next moment our heads were almost touching. "you are wondering," said i. "yes," he answered frankly. "i am supposed to be on my way to new york," i went on, in very low tones. "i am being impersonated on the steamer by one of my clerks, who will keep his cabin all the way. before he arrives at the other side--all will be over. i have taken every precaution against failure. i cannot, shall not fail, mr. sims, unless you fail me." "some big coup on exchange, i presume?" he muttered, "and a lone hand, too--eh?" "exactly! but you are still wondering--speak!" he bit his lips. "it--is the honour you have paid me--me!" he stammered. "messrs. max and humphreys are your brokers, i believe." "and i have no fault to find with them," i answered quickly, "except that sampson may, vanderwill, and most of my other associates also deal with them. you understand?" "ah!" he cried, "i see! you'll be wanting me to bear stocks, eh, mr. steele?" i smiled in commendation of his shrewdness. "well, mr. sims," i muttered, "may i depend on you?" "most certainly. i am deeply----" i waved my hand. "money talks," i interrupted drily. "i require no assurances. serve me well, and i'll make your fortune. fail me, and by the god above us, i'll break you, mr. sims. those are my terms." "agreed!" he cried, his eyes shining like stars. "now, sir, your instructions. what am i to bear?" "anglo-american hotels," i murmured softly. he started upright, and gazed at me like one confounded. "anglo-americans," he gasped. "listen," said i. "to-morrow morning you will sell one hundred thousand shares--cash-on-delivery--to be handed over on saturday. the market is at present steady at forty shillings. your first operation will not affect it one iota. in the afternoon you will sell another hundred thousand--same terms. you'll get the same figure, for, although my associates will be nervous, they are too deeply involved to dare let the price fall, till they are sure, and they'll buy at evens, never dreaming that they are bucking-up against a stone wall. next morning sell two hundred thousand. that will turn the balance. the price will probably drop a bit. in the afternoon sell three hundred thousand. you'll find by then the market in a panic, for my pals will have smelt a big rat, and they'll no longer show fight. indeed, i expect they will follow my lead, and to save themselves, start selling too. however, keep on selling a hundred thousand each half-day, till the absolute slump. that will arrive on friday morning at latest. i reckon the shares should by then reach bottom, say from three to seven shillings. you will then buy scrip against deliveries on your former sales and report to me here at 11 a.m. on saturday morning, with the transfers for signature. by the way, agar hume is a good name, and will look fine on the transfers. stick to it! that is all i need say, i think, except that i advise you to follow my lead as far as your means allow. the transaction will enrich you. your commission will, of course, be at the ordinary rate." mr. sims had fallen back in his chair. his eyes were as round as marbles, and his mouth gaped ajar. "you looked surprised!" i observed, with an indulgent smile. he passed his hand nervously across his brow, and gave himself a little shake. "it's colossal--but immoral!" he gasped. "colossally immoral! your associates----" he stopped short, lacking words. "my associates are men of business," i said, coldly. "and they would be the first to tell you that there is no morality involved in business transactions. i propose to treat them as they would treat me, if they were clever enough to perceive a way. but we waste time, sir. the question is, are you the man to handle the affair?" "yes," he cried. "indeed, yes." i nodded and stood up. "then adieu till saturday. my secretary, brown, in the meanwhile, will wait upon you every afternoon. good-day, mr. sims!" he bowed, and, stammering some form of farewell, took his departure. a moment later i locked the door behind him, and, retiring into my inner room, threw myself down upon the bed--to think. i had succeeded beyond my dreams. the stockbroker had swallowed both bait and hook like the greediest of gudgeons. he had not asked me one difficult question, and, whether from diffidence or obsequiousness, he had neglected to demand the slightest proof of my _bona fides_. concerning the latter point, however, i thought it possible that he might, after reflection, return and try to repair his folly. i therefore postponed changing my disguise for several hours, so that i might not be caught unawares. but mr. sims did not venture to come back, and when night fell, i felt safe. i had only ten pounds left in the world at that juncture, but i considered my future so brilliantly assured, and i felt so satisfied with myself, that, as agar hume, _in propria personâ_, i treated myself to dinner at the trocadero, and afterwards to a music-hall. i passed the next day reading a french novel, until three o'clock in the afternoon, when i assumed the form of brown, mr. stelfox steele's fictitious lackey. at a little after four o'clock i entered mr. sims' office, and was immediately ushered into the stockbroker's private sanctum. mr. sims began to greet me with great effusiveness, but i cut him short, and even refused to sit down. "excuse me," i said, quickly, "a certain gentleman is very anxiously expecting my return to lambert road, and i simply dare not keep him waiting an unnecessary second. did you sell the shares, sir?" "yes--two hundred thousand!" "and the figure, mr. sims?" "forty shillings, mr. brown; just as he predicted!" "is the market at all upset?" "excited rather, i should say. mr. sampson y. may, the manager of the trust, came to see me, and tried to pump me, but naturally, i kept a close mouth." "good," said i, "my master will be pleased." "has he any further orders for me, mr. brown?" "only to carry on. good-afternoon, sir! i must hurry back." "good-afternoon, mr. brown; pray give mr.--er--hume--my kind regards." i nodded and withdrew, happy as a king. but until the same hour on the following day i suffered the most poignant anxiety. it was relieved, however, on the way to the stockbrokers' office. as i drove over the bridge, the newsboys were crying at the top of their voices: "great fall in anglo-american hotels. panic on the stock exchange!" i bought a paper and, trembling with delight, was speedily convinced of the truth of their assertions. the shares in the great trust, which yesterday had stood firm at forty shillings, had already fallen to twenty, and the market was in a state of collapse. the journal had devoted its leading article to the affair and, voicing the popular attitude, was mildly jubilant at so severe a check having been given to american enterprise. i found mr. sims in a state of rapturous excitement. as soon as i had entered the room, he locked the door, and, seizing both my hands, he wrung them as warmly as though i had been his dearest friend, new met after years of separation. "to think that i almost drove you away from my door the other day!" he cried in a whirl. "mr. brown, what don't i owe you. what don't i owe you?" "you owe me nothing," i replied. "your gratitude is entirely due to mr. agar hume, sir; i was merely his messenger." "messenger or not," he retorted warmly, "you brought me a message which has made my fortune, and when this business is over i shall insist upon making you a handsome present, mr. brown." i waved my hand and shrugged my shoulders. "my master does not allow me to accept presents," i said, with dignity. "but that reminds me, i am keeping him in suspense. how many shares did you sell to-day?" "five hundred thousand!" "and the figure?" "forty shillings for the first hundred; thirty-five for the second; thirty for the third, and twenty for the last two. the price dropped like a rocket in the last half-hour, and now the whole exchange is full of bears; there is scarcely a single buyer offering. i have no doubt but that to-morrow there will be a further heavy fall." "hum!" said i. "let me see, you have now in credit for my master one million one hundred and twenty-five thousand pounds. that is to say, of course, on settlement. am i right?" "perfectly, mr. brown. and for that sum i have disposed of seven hundred thousand shares. i hope that mr.--er--ah--hume--will be satisfied." "i am sure he will be." i put on my hat. "keep on selling till they reach five shillings, please, then buy scrip through another broker, or more, as fast as possible, until we stand even. those are my master's latest orders, mr. sims." "very good, mr. brown. anything else?" "not at present, sir. good-evening!" next day "anglo-american hotels" fell as low as four shillings, and continued at that price until the following afternoon, when they began to rise, owing to the heavy purchases made on my account by the brokers employed in that behalf by mr. sims. on this point i need only remark that my agents, during that period, bought shares to replace the fictitious ones which had been sold at my behest for a little over £450,000. on saturday morning, promptly at the appointed hour, mr. sims came to me, at the golden grove hotel. as may be readily imagined, i received him in the guise of mr. stelfox steele, and i took every conceivable care that he should still persist in his delusion. he brought with him a large bundle of transfer forms, which it took me an hour to sign, writing at the top of my speed, for not many of the shares were in larger parcels than a thousand. i subscribed them all with my own name--agar hume. mr. sims meanwhile watching my flying pen in respectful silence. when i had finished, i pushed aside the papers towards him, and heaved a deep sigh. "never mind details, mr. sims," i said, wearily, "brown has bored me with them through the week. he tells me that when your commission is deducted i am to receive £650,000?" "yes, sir. a splendid week's work, mr. steele." i shrugged my shoulders. "not too bad, since i was pressed for time, but a bagatelle, mr. sims, to the business we shall yet do together. by the way, i leave london to-night, but brown will stay behind me to receive the money. when can you be ready to settle?" "on monday, at noon, if that will suit you, mr. steele?" i nodded. "it will do. make out an open bank-cheque and hand it to brown, who will give you a receipt signed by agar hume. you will understand that i cannot discharge you in my own name?" "certainly, sir." "well, sims, i hope that you have profited by my example and advice?" he gave me a look of deep gratitude. "thanks to you, sir," he cried. "i am a rich man to-day, that is to say, from my point of view--not yours, sir." "how much have you made?" "seventy thousand, commission included. i cannot sufficiently express my obligation to you, mr. steele. there are not many operators who will allow their brokers to follow their lead. but you, sir, were more than generous!" i smiled. "i can afford such a pastime occasionally, sims. besides, i liked your face. ah! well. i shall not detain you now, for i am very busy myself. good-bye!" he stood up, and we shook hands. "we'll meet again, sir, i hope," he cried. "you were good enough to hint a moment since----" "yes," i interrupted, "we'll meet again. but our acquaintanceship must necessarily be preserved a secret from the world. therefore be good enough not to feel offended should we by any chance encounter in public, and you receive no recognition at my hands. when i want you, my secretary, brown, will let you know. until then, farewell!" he bowed deeply, and respectfully retired. as for me, i removed my disguise as quickly as i could, and changed my clothes. i then paid my reckoning at the hotel, and set off for bruton street, with exactly three pounds in my pocket. there i remained until monday afternoon, sunk in a veritable debauch of dreams. the time passed on the wings of brilliant fancies, and not an hour appeared too long, despite my natural anxiety to finger the money which my audacious dexterity had won. my extraordinary success had, in fact, turned my head a little, and had swelled my vanity to proportions so magnificent that i fell into a stupor of self-reverence, and often even forgot to eat. i awakened at length, however, to thoughts of revenge. somewhere hiding from me in the world was a certain great surgeon--named, sir charles venner--who had inflicted on my body inhuman tortures. he had driven needles into my fingers, and he had seared my feet with branding-irons. i had been obliged by poverty temporarily to relinquish all idea of vengeance. but now i was rich! rich! i sprang to my feet with a sudden cry of rage and exultation, savagely resolved to repay my enemy with interest for every pang that i had suffered at his hands. after that i dreamed no more. my final interview with mr. sims was brief, but eminently satisfactory. in exchange for a receipt which i had written out beforehand, he handed to me, as he thought to mr. brown, an open cheque, drawn in favour of mr. agar hume on the bank of england, for £650,000--which was marked "good." he then shook me warmly by the hand and begged me to allow him to make me a present. that, however, i refused, and half-an-hour later i was again in my room at bruton street, stripping off for the last time my disguise as "brown," the secretary. i then repaired to my bank, and, much to the old manager's astonishment, re-opened my account there with the cheque that represented my princely and strangely-gotten fortune. the manager did not ask me for a reference on that occasion. indeed, he nearly fell over himself in his anxiety to be polite, and he personally conducted me when i departed to the outer door. truly, money makes the man. two days afterwards, i set out for paris on my way to cairo, my pockets full of foreign gold, and armed besides with letters of credit for large amounts. my intention was to find, first of all, my false love, marion le mar, now lady dagmar. and through her, if possible, my enemy--sir charles venner. x the house among the pines clever rascals are of necessity friendless and incomparably lonely men. prudence prevents them from confiding their affairs to any other, even their nearest and dearest; therefore they are obliged to lead self-centred and segregated lives in the truest sense of the term, and are absolutely prohibited from tasting that greatest of luxuries, human sympathy. since my last embarkation upon a career of villainy, i had so far escaped the pangs of ennui, because my mind had been always occupied with my ambition, and action had followed mercifully fast upon design. the mere fact, however, of having succeeded in making myself a rich man, robbed me of that precious concern for the future which had hitherto been my refuge from reflection. it is true that considerations of vengeance partially supplied its place, but as i had yet to find my enemy before i could exchange purpose for practice, i began to realize the utter isolation of my state. i arrived at paris in a desolate and listless mood, and so wearied with my own companionship that i was ready to make friends with a dog. for that reason, while sipping coffee after dinner in the saloon of the hotel de louvre, where i had put up, i by no means disdained the overtures of an old and weazened little frenchman, who appeared to be as lonely as myself. he was a curious looking creature: grey, grizzled, and stooped of shoulder. his face was seamed with a thousand wrinkles, that even overspread his long melancholy nose. but his eyes, although small, were very bright, and his mouth was that of a humourist. he sidled up to me by degrees, evidently wishful to make my acquaintance, and yet a little nervous of the first step. but i met him half way with an observation on the weather, and presently we were seated before the same table in close and animated conversation. "life is for the most part a dull and dreary affair, monsieur," said he. "the remark of an intelligent and experienced man, monsieur," said i. he bowed and smiled. "that is true, monsieur," he returned, "but your discernment proves that you also possess the qualities which you have mentioned." "yet in an inferior degree, for i take it that i am your junior, and you have the air of a man who has improved his opportunities to the utmost." the compliment delighted him. "monsieur," he cried, "i am fortunate to have encountered you. i desire to know you better. permit me! i call myself--bertrand du gazet. i am a native of paris, but i have spent half my life in america, where i acquired a certain fortune. i have but just returned to france, to find my relatives and old friends dead and widely scattered, and myself utterly forgotten. it is a sad home-coming." "truly," i said politely. "my name, monsieur, is henri belloc, and, strange to say, i too have long been a stranger to my country. this very day i have come back to paris after an absence of many years. and, like you, i have none to welcome me." "we are then comrades in misfortune," he declared, beaming upon me the while. "i drink, monsieur, to our better acquaintance." "and i," said i, raising my _petit verre_ to my lips. "i drink to its speedy ripening into friendship." he put one hand upon his heart and extended to me the other, which i warmly pressed. "i am a bachelor," he observed. "i, too, monsieur." "of all the things in this world, i like the gaming table," said he. "the dice are fine thought killers, monsieur." "i loved once a beautiful woman, and she betrayed me." "it is a habit of the accursed sex, from which i also have suffered." "monsieur!" he cried, "i perceive well that we are destined to be friends. we have not only a similarity of thought and sentiment, but also of experience." "garçon," i shouted, "a bottle of champagne and two glasses." the wine was brought and we pledged each other with effusion. "i made my fortune out of oil," said du gazet. "i made mine upon the stock exchange," said i. "mine is so great that i could not spend it in ten years, though i lost a thousand francs a night." "mine is even more considerable, m. du gazet." he nodded and gave me a beaming smile. "have you any plans for the evening, m. belloc?" "none," i replied. "then allow me to be your mentor. i know a place not far from here where one may woo the goddess fortune to be kind. it is true that last night i lost five thousand francs by hazard of the wheel, but i would like well to recoup myself, and shall do so, as you shall see--if you will be so good as to come with me." "with pleasure," i cried, and sprang to my feet. i suspected by then that my new friend was nothing more or less than the tout of some gaming house. but i was reckless, and the companionship of any rascal seemed preferable to being left alone. a moment later we were strolling arm in arm down the rue st. germain l'auxerrois. chatting amiably together, we came, at the end of some few minutes, to the rue st. denis, up which we turned. shortly after passing the rue mauconseil, we entered a narrow unnamed side-street, which was nevertheless flanked with respectable-looking houses of antique but substantial architecture. before the door of one of these m. du gazet stopped, and giving me a meaning glance, he proceeded to scratch upon the panels with his ring. the signal was immediately responded to. the door opened a few inches, and a voice from the interior darkness demanded our business. "montereau," replied my guide. "enter!" cried the voice, and the door swung wide. m. du gazet took my arm and conducted me in silence down a dark, thickly carpeted hall. we had barely half traversed it, however, when the door keeper suddenly turned on an electric lamp, and i perceived before us a wide staircase, supported on double rows of marble columns, that led to the floor above. "good!" exclaimed my mentor. "i detest gloom. come, my friend." nothing loth, i followed him up the stairs, and a moment later we reached a landing-stage that was filled with huge palms growing in tubs of earthenware. a liveried attendant guarded a closed door that was half screened with fronds. he looked at us inquiringly, but m. du gazet muttered some pass-word in his ear, and he ushered us forthwith into an immense brilliantly illuminated apartment, which was sparsely thronged with well-dressed men and women, and furnished in imitation of the casino at monaco. one table was devoted to roulette, a second to rouge et noir, and a third to baccarat. all were occupied, but, because perhaps of the earliness of the hour, there were not many onlookers. m. du gazet led me to the second named, and after watching the game for about a quarter hour, we were both able to secure chairs at the board, owing to the evil fortune of the individuals we displaced. like most other votaries of chance, i had and have a method. it is simple if unscientific, and it consists in backing each colour alternately seven times in succession. i at first contented myself with small stakes, being anxious to watch my mentor. m. du gazet, however, much to my surprise, for i still believed him to be a tout, began to gamble in earnest from the moment he sat down, and each time he staked five hundred francs. "truly," thought i, "if he is a tout, he must have an interest in the bank, or he would not be trusted with so much money." after i had seen him lose four thousand francs, i ceased to doubt his honesty, for his appearance was transformed. the born gambler's spirit gleamed out of his eyes. his face had assumed a warm fixed flush, and he was absorbed in his game to the absolute oblivion of every other circumstance. i spoke to him in order to make sure, but he cursed me in an undertone without turning his head. he had in fact forgotten my existence. feeling more at ease, i immediately increased my stakes, betting on the red. luck favoured me, and i won steadily; on the red five times out of seven, on the black almost without a break. at the end of an hour, so large a heap of gold and notes had accumulated on the table before me, that it interfered with my elbow room, and i was obliged to stand up in order to make my game. the room had by then become filled with people, and an interested crowd had assembled to watch me play. success had made me excited, and given me a measure of the gambling fever. i increased my stakes to the limit and won again and again. the exclamations of the onlookers became each moment more loud and unrestrained, so that the croupier's directions could only be heard at intervals: "faites vos jeux, messieurs et mesdames. faites vos jeux! rouge perd. noir gagne! faites vos jeux!" i was in the act of stretching out my hand to place a large sum upon the black for the seventh time in succession, when some inexplicable instinctive feeling compelled me to look up from the board and into the face of a new-comer who stood watching the game from behind the chair of my immediate _vis-à-vis_. the man was a negro. with a queer thrill of apprehension i looked at him more closely, and then for a second i was almost stunned with surprise. he was jussieu, the infernal canting negro surgeon, who at the instance of his master, sir charles venner, had inflicted upon my bound and defenceless body tortures which made me shudder to remember, and who on his own account had dared to lecture and insult me. before i could collect my scattered wits our eyes met, and the recognition became mutual. the villain started back a pace and glared at me, his eyes rolling in his head. he was attired in a fashionably cut evening suit, in which he tried to ape the gentleman, but his immaculate linen threw out his broad black face and hands into bold and hideous relief, and he looked like nothing but a monster. for a moment i shook with rage, and a murderous impulse almost overwhelmed me. then came a wiser thought, and i grew calm. i said to myself: "since the jackal is here, the lion cannot be far away. i shall make this scoundrel lead me to his master's lair!" holding him with my eyes, i fumbled with my hands upon the table, and began to stuff my winnings into my pockets. the crowd exclaimed in astonishment, but i paid them no heed. before, however, i was half through with my business, jussieu tore his eyes from mine and hurried towards the door. i sent my chair crashing behind me with a backward kick and seized du gazet by the shoulder. "look after my money!" i cried. "i shall see you later at the hotel." without awaiting a response, i broke through the crowd and darted after jussieu. he had already passed the door, but i caught up with him half way down the stairs, and, seizing him by the shoulder, obliged him to pause. "what, monsieur jussieu!" i snarled, "would you run away from an old friend? that is not kind in you." "you mistake, m'sieur!" he cried. "that is not my name." "perhaps not," i muttered. "it will, however, serve my turn. come, monsieur!" i slipped my arm through his and urged him down the stairs. although a larger man than me, he yielded like a coward to my imperious demand, protesting volubly the while, however, that i had made a great mistake, that his name was grenier, and that he had never set eyes on me. he was still protesting when we reached the street. but as soon as the door of the gambling house had closed behind us i cut him short. "look you, jussieu!" i growled, "i have in my pocket a revolver that is loaded in every chamber. take me at once to your master, sir charles venner, or, by the lord, i shall put a bullet through your head!" "monsieur," he began, "i assure you----" "silence!" i interrupted. "another word and you are a dead man!" a hasty glance had shown me that the street was deserted. i produced my pistol, therefore, as i spoke and presented it to his breast. the negro started back, rolling his eyes like a maniac, but he spoke no word. he was shivering with fear. i smiled and returned the weapon to my pocket. thereupon i gripped his arm and muttered in his ear: "proceed!" uttering a sort of groan, he set off slowly for the rue saint denis. "quicker!" i commanded. he increased his pace. we turned the corner, and a smart walk brought us quickly to the rue d'enghien. turning into that street the negro stopped presently before the door of a large three-storied house, whose every window was closely shuttered. "we have arrived, monsieur," he muttered in a hollow voice. "you have a latch-key, perhaps?" i asked. "yes." i looked steadily at the house for a moment or two, then curtly ordered my companion to proceed, still, however, retaining a firm hold of his arm. five minutes later we came to the faubourg poissonnière. hailing a _fiacre_, i invited jussieu to enter, and quickly took a seat beside him. "the hotel de louvre!" i shouted to the driver, and we were off. the negro was so still and docile that i began to suspect him of meditating some plan of escape. producing my pistol, i thrust the muzzle into his side and cocked it with a loud click. "death is very near to you, jussieu!" i said. "for god's sake, monsieur!" he groaned. "sit very still, jussieu. it has a hair trigger, and my hand is trembling. i am remembering that it was you who pierced my fingers with needles and seared my foot with branding irons!" "mercy, mercy! forgive!" he wailed. his terror was so sharp and evident that i could not withstand the temptation to play upon it. "why should i pardon you?" i demanded. "what mercy did you show to me--you infamous wretch?" "m'sieur, i was but the tool of others. do not kill me. for christ's sake put up your pistol." "on the contrary, jussieu," i said in a terrible voice. "unless you consent to obey me implicitly, you shall die this instant, like the dog you are!" "mercy, mercy!" he cried. "i shall do anything you require--anything." "will you betray your master?" "yes, yes; only, for god's sake, put up your pistol!" for answer i thrust the muzzle even harder into his side. "now," said i, "tell me!" but he uttered a strangled cry. "m'sieur--i--i--i faint, i die," he gasped, and to my astonishment he lurched forward and fell in a limp heap at my feet. i thought at first it was a trick, and held myself in readiness for a desperate struggle, for in good truth i dared not use my pistol. but the passing lamps showed me jussieu's black face turned almost grey, and his staring eyes hideously upturned. the craven had swooned. i fell back chuckling with delight, for i had been until that moment wondering how on earth i could possibly contrive to force the brute into my hotel in case he should turn rusty and decline to accompany me. as it eventuated, jussieu was carried, still unconscious, to my room by two burly porters, whose garrulous surprise, occasioned by so strange a service, i reduced to speechlessness with gold. it was five minutes to eleven when i got rid of them. i locked my door and approached the couch on which the negro lay. he was beginning to wake up. hastily tearing a linen sheet into strips i succeeded in securely binding his hands and feet before he had properly regained his consciousness. i then fastened him to the couch and stood over him with my pistol cocked. he opened his eyes and blinked up at me. "in what pocket is the key of your master's door?" i demanded. "in the right hand side trouser pocket," he answered with a shudder. "where is sir charles venner at this moment?" "at home, monsieur, in bed, i think." "does he know that you are out?" "yes, m'sieur." "where does he sleep?" "upstairs, m'sieur, on the second floor, the second room on the left from the head of the staircase." "thanks. and who else is there in the house?" "no--one, m'sieur." he closed his eyes. "think, jussieu!" i growled. "where is beudant, your brother negro?" he did not reply. "my hand is getting tired," i said coldly. "let me remind you, jussieu, that the pistol is furnished with a hair trigger." the threats galvanised him. "beudant sleeps downstairs, on the ground floor," he cried. "and the others?" "there are no others, m'sieur." "you do badly to lie to me, jussieu. say your prayers, my man; you have just a minute to live." his face went grey, and his eyes almost started from his head. "mercy, mercy!" he groaned. "i shall tell you the whole truth." "quickly, then!" "a lady occupies the third floor with her servants--while my master, beudant, and i dwell on the second floor----" he paused. "and the ground floor, jussieu?" i cried impatiently. "it contains only living rooms, m'sieur. no one sleeps there." i nodded, for i saw that he had told me the truth. uncocking the revolver i seized it by the barrel and, bending forward, before he could guess of my intention, i struck him a violent blow over the temple with the butt. a white man's skull would have been shivered into fragments. jussieu merely sighed, but a second blow, more powerfully delivered still, rendered him insensible. forcing his jaws agape, i gagged him with a towel, and afterwards ransacked his pockets. they contained a bunch of keys, a few gold pieces, and a handful of silver. i had scarcely bestowed his possessions about my person when a knock sounded on the door. "who is there?" i demanded, striding forward. "it is i, monsieur, bertrand du gazet," answered a muffled voice. cautiously opening the door i peered out, and saw standing in the passage without the little old man who had taken me to the gambling house. his hands were full of notes and gold. "it is your money i have brought you as you requested," he observed, smiling genially. "you were foolish to leave so soon, monsieur. fortune does not often so bountifully confer her favours. see, here are more than seven thousand francs. indeed, you were wrong to run away, monsieur." i was in a quandary. i could not admit my unwelcome visitor, and i did not like to drive him away, since he had come to do me a kindness. putting on a fine air of frankness, i said to him in low tones: "my dear du gazet, i cannot thank you as i ought just now--because i have a visitor, you understand." an expression of disgust crossed his face. he thought, it seemed, that my visitor was of the fair sex. "i would not disturb you for the world," he muttered with sarcasm, "but what of your money?" "oblige me by keeping it until to-morrow." "as you will; good-night, monsieur." he shrugged his shoulders and departed, his whole bearing expressive of contempt. no doubt he considered me a liar, since i had railed against womankind quite as bitterly as he had done not many hours before. i could not, however, afford to waste thought on him, for i had much to do. stripping off my evening clothes, i speedily changed into a suit of dark brown tweed, and drew on my feet a pair of felt-soled shoes. having armed myself with a large sum of money and a loaded revolver, i stole softly out of the room. while locking the door behind me i heard a distant sigh. swinging round i peered in the direction of the sound, and for a fleeting fragment of a second saw a face at the far end of the corridor. it vanished so swiftly, however, that i had no time to register its impression on my mind, and a moment later i doubted that i had seen anything. the corridor was deserted absolutely save for myself. i waited for a few silent minutes, then, reassured, made my way to the street. a _fiacre_ drove me to the boulevard poissonière, where, having alighted, i walked to the rue d'enghien, and as the clocks were chiming the hour after midnight, i arrived before my place of destination, the house that contained my enemy. without pausing an instant, i climbed the steps and noiselessly inserted jussieu's latch-key into the lock of the front door. it yielded, the door opened with a slight creak, and i crossed the threshold. i found myself in a wide but dimly lighted hall. it was carpeted with cocoanut matting. doors crowded its sides, all closed. before me was a staircase, whose steps were composed of slate, which had been worn away in the middle, as if by centuries of footfalls. i was about to mount when of a sudden a strange wonder caught me and i paused. until that moment blind hate had controlled my actions and carried me where i stood. but now i asked myself the question: "agar hume, what will you do? is it murder that you contemplate?" it was a fearful thought, and i shuddered as it came. but i could not answer it. i had never known so little of myself. in mind and body i was alert, expectant, calm. but there was that in me which i could not understand, a malignant remorseless spirit which had possession of my faculties, and which declined to be questioned or displaced. at its command i ceased to speculate, and began instead to listen. the house was as silent as a tomb. some power beyond my cognizance presently plucked at my feet, and i found myself mounting the stairs. i remember passing one door and turning the handle of a second. then i was in a room, dark as erebus, creeping towards a bed, upon which lay an unseen sleeper, whose long, deep respirations guided my stealthy movements. what ensued appeared even then like nothing so much as the happenings of some wild and fevered dream. i paused beside the bed and my hands, drawn by an irresistible power, glided light as feathers across the coverlid, across a man's sleeping form, unto his throat. there they settled and took hold. i heard a strangled groan. a sudden bright light filled the room, and sir charles venner's livid outstarting eyes glared into mine. his arms encircled me. with an almost super-human strength he writhed beneath me from the bed, and we fell together with a full but heavy crash upon the floor. with a fierce and terrible satisfaction i watched his face blacken and swell, his tongue thicken and protrude from his ghastly open mouth. before, however, i could kill him, a warning step and a loud cry sounded from the door. quick as lightning i sprang erect and turned. the negro surgeon, beudant, jussieu's companion, was rushing towards me, an uplifted bar of iron in his hand to strike. i eluded him, and, springing to the fireplace, seized a poker. i had quite forgotten my revolver. for a moment we fenced like swordsmen with our curious weapons, speaking no word, but striking heavily and warding, filling the place with the loud clang of steel. he played so well that i could not reach his skull. but soon i remembered having read in some old book of travel that a negro's vulnerable point is his shin. clenching my teeth i made a ferocious feint at his head. he riposted, as with a rapier, at my shoulder, but i disregarded utterly so poor a thrust, since his bar was blunt, and i brought my weapon down with a sweeping swish across his outstretched knee. he uttered a wild shriek and, dropping his bar, sank to the floor, howling dismally. only then i remembered my pistol. snatching it forth i held it to his head. "stop that noise, or die!" i muttered savagely. he obeyed, but not for longer than a second was i permitted to remain master of the situation. "drop that pistol, villain," cried a voice from the doorway. two men had entered the room before i was aware of it, dr. vernet and dr. fulton. dr. vernet wore a shortish nightgown, from beneath which his lean, attenuated shanks humorously twinkled. he seemed extremely excited, and he moved the weight of his body from one foot to the other constantly and very quickly. dr. fulton was attired in a suit of pyjamas, and he too was excited, though he showed it less reservelessly. both men were armed with revolvers, which they pointed at my breast. glancing down the muzzles of their weapons, i allowed my own to drop to the floor. it would have been madness to do otherwise. strange to relate, at that instant, i became once more my own master. the malignant spirit of unreasoning hate, which had so far governed my conduct, of a sudden left me, and i was able to realize to the full the mad folly into which it had driven me. my captors had only to hand me over to the police as an apprehended housebreaker--an attempted assassin, and nothing that i might do could save me from a long term of imprisonment. my very spine went cold at the idea. i looked hard at dr. fulton, and saw that he was on the point of recognizing me. "why, it's brown, dagmar's valet!" i had an inspiration. "better any fate," thought i, "than a french prison." "detective hume of scotland yard!" i cried. "dr. fulton, i arrest you in the king's name! better put down that pistol, sir, your game is up. the street is full of my men. and if i do not go out to them in the next few minutes they will come for me." "liar!" gasped a choking voice. sir charles venner had spoken. he had recovered consciousness, and as he uttered the word he struggled to his feet. "liar yourself!" i retorted desperately. "if you don't believe me, look out of the window." i had a wild hope that the noise of my struggle with beudant might have attracted the attention of some chance wayfarers, whom my enemies might perhaps mistake for police. sir charles caught up my revolver, cocked it leisurely, and pointed it to my head. "look out of the window, fulton," he said quietly. dr. fulton crossed the room and, drawing aside a corner of the curtain, peered through the shutter into the street below. while i waited for dr. fulton's pronouncement, i had a moment of grace in which to think and pull myself together. the latter i effected fairly well, but the knowledge of my recent madness obsessed my mind to the exclusion of every other thought and filled my soul with bitter self-contempt. i felt that i did not deserve to escape. dr. fulton presently let the curtain fall and turned to sir charles. "there are four men standing on the pavement looking up at the top windows," he announced. sir charles venner nodded, and for a few seconds stood blinking his eyes in earnest thought. "beudant!" he cried at last. "monsieu!" replied the negro. "where is jussieu?" "he has not yet returned, monsieur." "ah, ha! i see! he has either betrayed us or been victimised. beudant--a rope." beudant bowed and hurried from the room. "what would you do?" demanded dr. vernet. sir charles shrugged his shoulders and cocked his revolver. "we must quit paris, or die in the attempt," he replied. "mr. hume, if you wish to live, you will be silent. fulton, look out of the windows again." dr. fulton obeyed. "i can no longer see any one," he reported. sir charles suppressed a curse. "they must be on the steps, perhaps entering," he muttered. "ah, beudant! thank heaven! bind him, beudant. wait, my friends." even while speaking he left the room. the negro passed a rope around my arms and in a trice i was secured. i was wondering keenly what next would happen, when of a sudden i heard a loud swishing, creaking sound, as though a crane were at work in the corridor without. the groaning of wheels and chains was succeeded swiftly with a dull, muffled crash, and a second later sir charles returned. "dress quickly!" he cried to his friends. "we have not a minute to lose. i have settled some of them by springing the staircase trap, but the street door is open, and there may be others." he set the example himself by pulling on his clothes with extraordinary rapidity. vernet and fulton darted off, and i was left in the care of beudant, the only one who was completely attired. if my arms had been free, i would have tried conclusions with the negro. as it was, i helplessly waited, gnawing my lip and silently cursing at my folly. at the end of a few minutes a bell began to tinkle in a distant portion of the house. sir charles venner started at the sound, and paused for a moment, intently listening. the bell rang again. sir charles threw a cloak across his shoulders and tip-toed to the door. "hola! within there," cried a raucous voice in french. "all right!" shouted sir charles. "we'll be with you in a moment; wait!" i smiled grimly. for i understood, while my enemy did not. some passing policeman, observing the street door open, had rung the bell in order to inform the household of its carelessness. sir charles vernier, however, believed that one of my agents had called out to his _confrères_, who had already entered. a moment later vernet and fulton reappeared, dressed as though for a journey. sir charles then stepped behind me and put his pistol to my ear. "allons!" he muttered, "and tread softly, if you wish to live." obeying the guidance of a heavy hand that gripped my shoulder, i marched from the room and began to climb the staircase towards the third storey. the whole house was now wrapped in impenetrable darkness. my captors, however, appeared to know the way very well, and i was forced without a pause along a maze of corridors, until we were brought up by a wall. a match was cautiously struck, and we entered a small unfurnished room, the door of which was locked behind us. in the middle of this apartment was a ladder that communicated with the roof. beudant climbed it with the agility of a monkey and raised a trap in the skylight, through which we all passed in quick succession. as i emerged and stood erect, i saw a sight i shall not easily forget--the magnificent panorama of sleeping paris. and yet paris did not seem to sleep. true, the night was dark, but in whatever direction i glanced, i was confronted with myriads of twinkling lamps that gleamed at me like so many intelligent and baneful little eyes. i was given but little time to digest the picture. before the muzzle of sir charles venner's revolver i crossed a slightly sloping roof of lead, and stepped over a knee-high parapet of stone. thence we traversed the tops of three other houses and came at length to a slightly lower edifice, which required some care to reach. beudant slipped over first, and i was bodily lifted up by fulton and venner and dropped into his arms. the roof perilously sloped, and the journey filled me with tremors, for a mis-step meant such a destruction as is entailed by a fall of sixty feet upon a line of iron-spiked railings. but death faced me on every side, so i set my lips and strode forward. by great good hap i negotiated the pass in safety, and came to a small, square ledge that was faced with an attic door, covered with a tiny gabled roof. a moment later we were all standing in a long low ceiled chamber, into which we had been admitted by a hideous old beldame. this creature received us with chuckles of sardonic satisfaction, and at once began to haggle with sir charles venner for a large sum of money which she claimed to be her due. he tried to silence her by offering half the amount demanded, but she indignantly declined and threatened to scream. he therefore yielded and gave her his purse. but while she counted the money he turned his back, and taking a phial from his pocket poured its contents on his handkerchief. at a sign beudant took the handkerchief, and, throwing himself upon the old hag, pressed it tightly to her nostrils. she struggled like a fury, but the negro mastered her, and very soon afterwards she was lying insensible upon the floor. i was watching sir charles wrest from her clenched hand his purse, when a terrible blow on my skull deprived me of consciousness. when i awoke i thought at first i must have died in my sleep and have been thrust into hell. every fibre of my being was racked with pain. darkness encompassed me. with every breath i drew i was sickened with noxious odours, and i could not move a muscle. i tried to cry out, but could not utter a sound. an iron wedge had been driven deep into my mouth. my limbs were bound, and i was tightly enclosed, in a doubled-up position, in a square box. i lay upon my back and my knees were trussed up across my chest so that my chin almost touched them. i discovered these details slowly, one by one, and gradually awoke to the fact that i was still alive. for a little while i was glad to know that, but with the passing hours i prayed for death to end my tortures. sometimes i swooned. on awakening i invariably heard a monotonous rumbling sound that was occasionally relieved by long, shrill screams. it occurred to me at last that i was being borne along upon a cart, the axles of which badly needed oiling. i had at first mistaken their screaming for the lamentations of lost souls. thirst was my greatest agony. it always increased, while my other pains with time grew numb. each time i fainted i hailed the swoon as kindly coming death, and for a brief moment i was happy. my recoveries were accursed periods of anguish. but i think my trances of insensibility grew ever longer as my strength wore out. however that may be, i began at length to dream, and i ceased to be able to distinguish between sleeping and waking or even to feel much pain. then all of a sudden i felt a rush of cool air on my brow, and i looked up into a sky full of stars. water was dashed on my face. the gag was taken from my mouth and i was given to drink. someone clutched my arm and i shrieked aloud. i was forced, still shrieking, to my feet, and dragged by those i could not see through a plantation of tall and stately pines. i swooned again. and once more i awoke to find myself lying fully dressed, but free, upon a bed of down in a cool and pleasant room. it was morning. through an open window near my couch i could see a wilderness of distant tree tops, larches, pines, and firs, and more dimly between and above their branches a range of hills beyond. a slant bar of sunlight streamed into my chamber and, falling on the floor a dozen feet away, marked out a golden pattern on the carpet. against the farther wall was a book-case filled with volumes and an escritoire. a comfortable lounge chair stood near the bed. i saw also a heavy mahogany clothes press that was furnished with mirror-backed doors. so totally unprepared was i to encounter so gentle an experience that i rubbed my eyes to make sure that i was not still dreaming. the exercise obliged me to discover that my limbs were frightfully stiff and cramped. i was not long content, however, to allow my curiosity to remain unsatisfied. by dint of a good deal of exertion, and at the expense of many a sharp thrill of pain, i climbed from the bed and essayed to rise. after a few thoughts i succeeded, and then feeling dizzy, i managed to totter to a chair. i had hardly sat down when the door opened and sir charles venner stood before me. "good morning, mr. hume," said he, in quite a genial voice. "i am glad to find you so much better after your distressing journey here!" "are you?" i muttered stupidly. i was overcome with surprise at his curious change of manner. "indeed, yes," he replied, and he smiled. "do you feel well enough for breakfast?" i nodded. "then permit me to assist you. ah, good! now take my arm." he helped me, dumb with astonishment, out of the room and along a passage into a fine old dining-hall, that might have been part and parcel of some medieval chateau, so quaintly and elegantly was it furnished. i could afford it no more than a glance, however, for seated at table there were dr. fulton, dr. venner, and marion le mar, now lady dagmar. at the sight of the beautiful woman whom i had so passionately loved, i cried out loudly, and stood still. her face was pale. she was attired in deep mourning, and her eyes were resolutely downcast. sir charles venner uttered a low, cynical little laugh. "quite a meeting of the clans!" he remarked. "but come, hume, i am certain you are hungry." leaning heavily on his arm, i staggered to the table and sank into a chair. "marion!" i gasped, looking at her straight and full. very slowly she raised her eyes, and returned my glance with a look of cold disdain. i thought her a thief and a traitress, and yet my eyes fell before her gaze. "will you try some oatmeal, hume?" asked sir charles venner, who had taken the head of the table. "no, thank you." "then, some ham and eggs?" "please." beudant entered the room. "the grave is dug, master," he announced. i looked at sir charles. he was biting his under lip, and curiously regarding me. "whose?" i demanded. "yours and lady dagmar's!" he replied with a sneer. i looked at marion. she was calmly eating her breakfast. "this is some ghastly joke!" i cried. marion glanced up and smiled. "say cynical, monsieur," she murmured quietly. "my good friend, sir charles venner, persists in believing that we love each other--you and i--in spite of the fact that scarcely a month ago i deserted you in order to marry sir william dagmar." "on his death-bed, madame!" cut in sir charles, in tones of ice. "you forget that you are now a rich young widow." "well, sir?" "and that you have steadily refused to account to me for his money, which should have been placed, long ere this, at the disposal of our order." "sir william dagmar bound me with an oath as he lay dying----" "you have told me that story before," interrupted sir charles. marion shrugged her shoulders, and put into her mouth a morsel of bread. "go on someone!" i cried impatiently. "see! i am utterly in your power. why not enlighten me? surely you are not afraid!" beudant placed beside my plate a cup of coffee. sir charles coughed behind his hand. "i am only afraid that your appetite may be spoiled," he observed. "not at all," i retorted. "watch me!" i began to eat, for in truth i was very hungry. "we shall see," he rejoined. "you have a nerve, i know, but keep on eating while i talk--if you can!" i nodded. "jussieu was released last evening by a friend of yours, a little man named du gazet, who induced the manager of your hotel to break into your room." "well?" i gasped. sir charles laughed. "jussieu is here," he said. "he arrived two hours ago, and we know now that you have no connection with the police. we were fools indeed to allow you to frighten us away from the rue d'enghien. but then everything always happens for the best. we could hardly have disposed of you properly in the city, unless we prosecuted you for burglary, and such a course would not have suited me." "do you intend to kill me?" "yes." "when?" "after breakfast." "in broad daylight?" i asked, much astonished. "ah! mr. hume," he replied, "i read your mind. but this chateau is placed in a wood, and is distant seven miles from the nearest human habitation, and as for the rest i had as lief destroy an enemy by day as by night." "then i have not long to live?" "as one measures time." "and--mar--lady dagmar?" "you will die together. in each other's arms, if you choose to be romantic." i turned to marion, to find her eyes fixed upon my face. we gazed at each other for a long silent minute, and then, overcome by some strange emotion, i muttered brokenly, "is it possible, after all, that i have wronged you?" "you have," she replied. "can you forgive me?" i asked hoarsely. "it is late to make amends." "i was mad to doubt you. but, god knows, i suffered for it, marion." "venner!" said dr. fulton suddenly, "can i have a word with you?" "certainly. vernet, beudant, i leave our guests to you." sir charles got up from the table and walked to the farther end of the room. "they will not kill you, marion?" i asked in english. "surely they are jesting." "yes--and no," she said. "last night they forced me to make a will leaving them my money. they tortured me." "how?" i gasped. "they dragged me to the room where you lay bound and senseless. if i had refused to obey they would have cut you into pieces before my eyes." "my god!" i cried. "and that broke your will. but i would have deserved it all for doubting you." "not quite," she answered, and she smiled in exceeding sadness. "marion, dear marion," i whispered, "you love me still." she looked up at me and her eyes filled with tears. "how could you treat me so?" she muttered. i felt the blood rush of a sudden through my veins, singing a veritable poem of joy and triumph. we were both about to die, but marion loved me, and by that knowledge i was transformed on the instant from a weak half-broken creature into a life-loving and most desperate man. i glanced quietly about me. while dr. vernet ate his breakfast he watched me, but without manifesting suspicion. beudant stood behind his chair. sir charles and fulton were in earnest converse twenty paces off. i thought to myself: "i may never get a better chance. only a coward will permit himself to be slaughtered unresisting. "beudant," said i aloud, "will you be good enough to get me another cup of coffee." the negro nodded, and started to come round the table. "dr. vernet," i said as carelessly as possible, "may i trouble you for the pepper-pot beside you?" he bowed, and stretched out in order to render me the indicated service. in a flash i had caught his wrist in my left hand, and with my right i seized a heavy carafe of water and hurled it at his head. next second i leaped across the table, caught him in my arms, when, guided by vernet's own instinctive clutch to arm himself, i plunged my hand into his breast pocket and found a revolver. i slipped to the floor and held the stunned and senseless body of dr. vernet before me as a shield. sir charles venner and dr. fulton were already advancing towards me with drawn pistols. "stop!" i shouted. sir charles venner answered me with his revolver. the bullet crashed into dr. vernet's brain and i felt my face spattered with blood. i fired in return, and dr. fulton, uttering a frightful scream, pitched headlong on the floor. it was a bad shot, for i had fired at sir charles venner. for a moment thereafter the latter stood still, and we stared into each other's eyes across the trail of smoke. i became conscious that dr. vernet's dead body was too heavy for me to support longer. it was slipping from my grasp, slipping, slipping. i realized that very soon i should be without my shield. as at last it fell, i fired, twice in quick succession. i heard an answering shot, then a woman's piercing scream. i fired again. the room was by then full of smoke; i could see nothing, but i heard someone rushing towards me shouting and cursing. for a fifth time i fired. there followed the sound of a fall, then a deep and dreadful silence. i waited with my revolver at full cock, not daring to breathe, my every nerve on strain, listening and peering vainly through the pall of smoke. very slowly and gradually the white mist lifted. at my feet the woman i loved was lying very still. blood was welling in a rich crimson stream from a wound in her breast. beyond her sir charles venner lay face downwards on the floor. both his arms were extended at full length, and at a few inches from his clenched right hand was his revolver. beudant and dr. fulton lay beside sir charles venner's body. all seemed dead. oppressed with a wild and hideous sense of unreality, i stared stupidly before me. a smoke wreath, growing transparent, showed me at length a living face. jussieu stood within the room, a black statue of horror. scarcely conscious of what i did, i raised my pistol and pointed it at his breast. he did not move. i fired and he fell. at the sound marion's eyes opened. she looked up at me. i uttered a cry of agony and, throwing away my smoking weapon, i sank on my knees beside her. "are you hurt?" she breathed. "no--no--but you--you are wounded--you are dying," i wailed. [illustration: "jussieu stood within the room, a black statue of horror." _first person paramount_] [_page 318_] she gave me a most wonderful and tender smile. "for you," she gasped. "to save you! he would have killed you--but his bullet is--here." with a great effort she raised one hand and caught at her breast. "oh, god! oh, god!" i groaned. "marion, you will not die and leave me! tell me what to do." "kiss me," she whispered. but even as i stooped to obey, her spirit fled, and i kissed the lips of a corpse. no other kiss shall my lips know while i have life. at the fall of noon i carried her from the house of death and buried her in the grave which sir charles venner had destined for us both. it was in the middle of a pine forest, and perhaps that is why the saddest sound on earth to my ears is still the sighing of pines. i left the bodies of my enemies where they had fallen--accursed carrion! i would not have touched them if i could. they were not discovered until more than a week had passed, and by then i was a thousand miles away, a desolate and broken-hearted wanderer on the face of the universe. many years have passed and i am now a millionaire, accounted by the world a hard-headed, flinty-hearted financial magnate, and also something of a misogynist. but i have recorded these chapters of my history to show those who come after me, when i am dead, that, rascal as i was, and abandonedly selfish, i was yet capable of passion and of constancy, and that no deep-seated hatred of the softer sex has inspired the invincible solitariness of my life. finis. butler & tanner, the selwood printing works, frome, and london. * * * * * * * ward, lock & co.'s popular fiction stanley weyman my lady rotha. a romance of the thirty years war. the saturday review says:--"no one who begins will lay it down before the end, it is so extremely well carried on from adventure to adventure." anthony hope comedies of courtship. the speaker says:--"in this volume mr. hope is at his happiest in that particular department of fiction in which he reigns supreme." half a hero. the athenæum says:--"mr. hope's best story in point of construction and grasp of subject. his dialogue is virile and brisk." mr. witt's widow. the times says:--"in truth a brilliant tale." a. e. w. mason lawrence clavering. sir a. conan doyle a study in scarlet. with a note on sherlock holmes by dr. joseph bell. illustrations by george hutchinson. h. rider haggard ayesha. the sequel to "she." thirty-two full-page illustrations by maurice greiffenhagen. s. r. crockett joan of the sword hand. _the daily mail_ says:--"a triumph of cheery, resolute narration. the story goes along like a wave, and the reader with it." strong mac. the morning post says:--"at the very outset the reader is introduced to the two leading characters of what is truly a drama of real life. so vividly is the story told that it often reads like a narrative of things that have actually happened." little esson. the scarborough post says:--"one of the most popular of mr. crockett's books since 'lilac sunbonnet.'" the newcastle journal says:--"the book is one to read with great enjoyment. it is a true crockett in every respect." max pemberton pro patria. the liverpool mercury says:--"a fine and distinguished piece of imaginative writing; one that should shed a new lustre upon the clever author of 'kronstadt.'" christine of the hills. the daily mail says:--"assuredly he has never written anything more fresh, more simple, more alluring, or more artistically perfect." a gentleman's gentleman. the daily chronicle says:--"this is very much the best book mr. pemberton has so far given us." the gold wolf. the illustrated london news says:--"from the beginning mr. pemberton weaves his romance with such skill that the tangled skein remains for long unravelled ... marked by exceptional power, and holds the attention firmly." the lodestar. the standard:--"'the lodestar' impresses us as an exceedingly poignant and effective story, true to real life. written with cleverness and charm." e. f. benson limitations. james blyth a hazardous wooing. the morning leader says:--"a rattling good yarn of a kind which many writers of historical novels might envy." the scotsman says:--"delightful reading from beginning to end." e. phillips oppenheim conspirators. with illustrations by a. wallis mills. the secret. the standard says:--"we have no hesitation in saying that this is the finest and most absorbing story that mr. oppenheim has ever written. it glows with feeling; it is curiously fertile in character and incident, and it works its way onward to a most remarkable climax." a lost leader. the daily graphic says:--"mr. oppenheim almost persuades us into the belief that he has really been able to break down the wall of secrecy which always surrounds the construction of a cabinet, and has decided to make an exposure on the lines of a well-known american writer. he also touches upon the evils of gambling in society circles in a manner which should be applauded by father vaughan, and, in addition, treats us to a romance which is full of originality and interest from first to last." mr. wingrave, millionaire. the british weekly says:--"like good wine, mr. oppenheim's novels need no bush. they attract by their own charm, and are unrivalled in popularity. no one will read this present story without relishing the rapid succession of thrilling scenes through which his characters move. there is a freshness and unconventionality about the story that lends it unusual attractiveness." a maker of history. the standard says:--"those who read 'a maker of history' will revel in the plot, and will enjoy all those numerous deft touches of actuality that have gone to make the story genuinely interesting and exciting." the master mummer. the dundee advertiser says:--"'the master mummer' is a remarkable novel, such as only e. phillips oppenheim can write. no other author could make the wildly extravagant not only natural, as make-believe goes, but actually moving. it is a beautiful story that is here set within a story." the betrayal. the dundee advertiser says:--"mr. oppenheim's skill has never been displayed to better advantage than here.... he has excelled himself, and to assert this is to declare the novel superior to nine out of ten of its contemporaries." anna, the adventuress. the globe says:--"the story is ingeniously imagined and cleverly wrought out. mr. oppenheim has the gift of invention, and keeps his readers on the tenter-hooks of suspense." the yellow crayon. the daily express says:--"mr. oppenheim has a vivid imagination and much sympathy, fine powers of narrative, and can suggest a life history in a sentence. as a painter of the rough life of mining camps, of any strong and striking scenes where animal passions enter, he is as good as henry kingsley, with whom, indeed, in many respects, he has strong points of resemblance." a prince of sinners. vanity fair says:--"a vivid and powerful story. mr. oppenheim knows the world and he can tell a tale, and the unusual nature of the setting in which his leading characters live and work out their love story, gives this book distinction among the novels of the season." the traitors. the athenæum says:--"its interest begins on the first page and ends on the last. the plot is ingenious and well managed, the movement of the story is admirably swift and smooth, and the characters are exceedingly vivacious. the reader's excitement is kept on the stretch to the very end." a millionaire of yesterday. the daily telegraph says:--"the story abounds in dramatic situations, and there is more than one note of pathos which at once captures our sympathies. we cannot but welcome with enthusiasm a really well-told story like 'a millionaire of yesterday.'" the survivor. the nottingham guardian says:--"we must give a conspicuous place on its merits to this excellent story. it is only necessary to read a page or two in order to become deeply interested. a story marked by brilliant and terse narration, vivid touches of characterization, and a plot that is consistent and yet fruitful in surprises." the great awakening. the yorkshire post says:--"a weird and fascinating story, which, for real beauty and originality, ranks far above the ordinary novel." as a man lives. the sketch says:--"the interest of the book, always keen and absorbing, is due to some extent to a puzzle so admirably planned as to defy the penetration of the most experienced novel reader." a daughter of the marionis. the scotsman says:--"mr. oppenheim's stories always display much melodramatic power and considerable originality and ingenuity of construction. these and other qualities of the successful writer of romance are manifest in 'a daughter of the marionis.' full of passion, action, strongly contrasted scenery, motives, and situations." mr. bernard brown. the aberdeen daily journal says:--"the story is rich in sensational incident and dramatic situations. it is seldom, indeed, that we meet with a novel of such power and fascination." the man and his kingdom. the freeman's journal says:--"it is high praise to say that in this novel the author has surpassed his previous thrilling and delightful story, 'the mysterious mr. sabin.' yet that high praise is eminently deserved. the story is worthy of merriman at his very best. it is a genuine treat for the ravenous and often disappointed novel reader." the world's great snare. the world says:--"if engrossing interest, changing episode, deep insight into human character, and bright diction are the sine qua non of a successful novel, then this book cannot but bound at once into popular favour. it is so full withal of so many dramatic incidents, thoroughly exciting and realistic. there is not one dull page from beginning to end." a monk of cruta. the bookman says:--"intensely dramatic. the book is an achievement at which the author may well be gratified." mysterious mr. sabin. the literary world says:--"as a story of interest, with a deep-laid and exciting plot, this of the 'mysterious mr. sabin' can hardly be surpassed." l. g. moberly that preposterous will. the daily graphic says:--"we could wish that every novel were as pleasant, unsophisticated and readable as this one." hope, my wife. the gentlewoman says:--"miss moberly shows the same nice skill in sketching character in 'hope, my wife' as in her earlier novel, 'that preposterous will.' she interests us so much in her heroine, and in her hero, that we follow the two with pleasure through adventures of the most improbable order." diana. the scotsman says:--"so cleverly handled as to keep its interest always lively and stimulating; and the book cannot fail to be enjoyed." dan--and another. _the daily news_:--"must be considered one of the best pieces of work that miss moberly has yet produced." justus miles forman journeys end. the court journal says:--"surprisingly fresh, abounding in touches of observation and sentiment, while the characters are drawn with exceptional skill, the 'red-haired young woman' being a haunting figure." monsigny. the daily telegraph says:--"the novel is admirable, the idea is very cleverly worked out, and is of an interesting character. the book is worthy of much praise." the garden of lies. the daily news says:--"this novel is far in advance of anything that mr. forman has hitherto accomplished. 'the garden of lies' belongs to that class of story which touches the heart from the first. it contains scenes which are alive with real passion, passages that will stir the blood of the coldest, and whole chapters charged with a magic and a charm. it is a real romance, full of vigour and a clean, healthy life." tommy carteret. the daily chronicle says:--"this is a fine book, thoroughly fine from start to finish. we willingly place our full store of compliments on mr. forman's splendid and successful book." buchanan's wife. the daily telegraph says:--"'buchanan's wife' may be regarded as another success for an already successful author. it contains all the reader is to attract, and is written in such a graceful manner that the elements held delighted and enthralled to the end." a modern ulysses. people's saturday journal says:--"full of exciting incidents, handled in a bright, crisp style." george frederic turner frost and friendship. the pall mall gazette says:--"a tale one reads without effort and rises from with brightened wits. it is good and original. king karl, with the steel hand in a velvet glove; miss anchester, an enigma of love and duty; and the hero himself, a typical englishman, are personages who make a sharp impression of reality." the conversion of claud. the daily graphic says:--"a well-written book, the characters are natural and amusing." the toad and the amazon. arthur w. marchmont when i was czar. the freeman's journal says:--"a very brilliant work, every page in it displays the dramatic talent of the author and his capacity for writing smart dialogue." by snare of love. the outlook says:--"as a writer of political intrigue, mr. marchmont has scarcely a rival to-day, and his latest novel worthily upholds his reputation." the queen's advocate. the liverpool courier says:--"mr. marchmont's narrative skill is at his best in this tale. one has sometimes wondered in reading this author's works when his invention will give out. but his resource seems inexhaustible, and his spirits never flag." a courier of fortune. the dundee courier says:--"the author has succeeded in producing a most thrilling and romantic tale of france, which has the advantage of being exciting and fascinating without being too improbable. an additional feature of the book is the amount of wit that runs throughout the story." by wit of woman. the leicester post says:--"the novel rivets the deep interest of the reader, and holds it spellbound to the end. mr. marchmont, accordingly, must be complimented on making a very welcome and notable addition to the library of fiction." in the cause of freedom. the daily telegraph says:--"a well-sustained and thrilling narrative." the daily express says:--"it is sure to have a great success." the little anarchist. george horton a fair insurgent. the daily telegraph says:--"mr. george horton has given us a most thrilling romance which, both in invention and workmanship, should take high rank among books of adventure. the author has the power of exciting real interest in the puppets of his capital book, and the art of telling an exciting story thoroughly well." princess romanova. the dundee advertiser says:--"a stirring tale of the far east, full of adventures, narrated in an impressive style." the monk's treasure. fred m. white the crimson blind. the sheffield telegraph:--"'the crimson blind' is one of the most ingeniously conceived 'detective' stories we have come across for a long time. each chapter holds some new and separate excitement. the pace is kept with such vigour that the reader arrives breathless at the last page." the cardinal moth. the british weekly:--"a brilliant orchid story, full of imaginative power. this is a masterpiece of construction, convincing amid its unlikeliness, one of the best novels of the season." the corner house. the western morning news:--"the secret of 'the corner house' is kept until the closing chapters, and it is impossible to lay the book aside until the secret is discovered. it is an excellent romance which will be eagerly read." the weight of the crown. the dublin daily express:--"mr. f. m. white is one of the princes of fiction. a stirring tale full of the spice of adventure, breathless in interest, skilful in narrative.... who could refrain from reading such a story?" the slave of silence. the sheffield telegraph:--"attention is arrested at the outset, and so adroitly is the mystery handled that readers will not skip a single page." a fatal dose. irish independent:--"a work in mr. white's best style, so brimful of action and excitement that the reader would fain finish it at a sitting if possible." archibald eyre the trifler. the daily express:--"a most cleverly contrived farcical comedy full of really fresh incidents, and a dialogue that is genuinely amusing; there is not a character who is not always welcome and full of entertainment." the custodian. the morning post:--"an exceptionally clever and entertaining novel; the reader is compelled to finish the book when he has once taken it up.... it is impossible to resist its attractions." the girl in waiting. the daily mail:--"this is quite a delightful book. the note is struck ingeniously and hilariously on the doorstep. it is a most enjoyable comedy, which must be read to be appreciated. we can cordially recommend it." headon hill a race with ruin. the morning advertiser says:--"a book by headon hill may always be relied on to provide good reading with plenty of incident. in 'a race with ruin' he fully maintains his reputation. a good, stirring story with an admirable and well-worked-out plot." millions of mischief. the stage says:--"not even the late guy boothby imagined anything more magnificently preposterous than the motive of mr. headon hill's 'millions of mischief.'" the avengers. the tribune says:--"mr. hill's new book, 'the avengers,' has not a dull line, and one's pulse is kept on the jig all the time." unmasked at last. the sheffield telegraph says:--"the story is in the author's most approved style, one of those alluringly audacious plots that headon hill revels in." the hidden victim. sir wm. magnay, bart. the red chancellor. lloyd's news says:--"a story full of action, with its characters strongly drawn. the book altogether is one that can be most heartily recommended." the man of the hour. the pall mall gazette says:--"of sterling merit. the plot of the book is as well contrived as in any tale of the kind we have read." count zarka. the world says:--"clever and entertaining. the narrative is brisk; it affords us glimpses of forest scenery which we like, and one remarkable departure from beaten tracks, a woman's duel in earnest. this feat of arms forms the subject of an illustration in his best manner by maurice grieffenhagen." fauconberg. the field says:--"the book has a grip, and should be a success. the ultimate fate of fauconberg is always in doubt from the beginning to the unexpected ending." the master spirit. the court journal says:--"a capital story. the intensely interesting situation is developed with much ingenuity and power.... a really fascinating novel." the mystery of the unicorn. guy boothby the race of life. the english review says:--"ahead even of mr. cutcliffe hyne and sir conan doyle, mr. boothby may be said to have topped popularity's pole." for love of her. the court journal says:--"the many admirers of mr. guy boothby will welcome another volume from his pen, and will not be disappointed in their expectations. the book shows vivid imagination and dramatic power. moreover, sketches of australian life, from one who knows his subject, are always welcome." a crime of the under seas. the speaker says:--"is quite the equal in art, observation, and dramatic intensity to any of mr. guy boothby's numerous other romances, and is in every respect most typical of his powers." a bid for freedom. the sheffield telegraph says:--"as fascinating as any of its forerunners, and is as finely handled. 'a bid for freedom' discloses a powerfully written romance, which bristles with thrilling passages, exciting adventures, and hairbreadth escapes." a two-fold inheritance. punch says:--"just the very book that a hard-working man should read for genuine relaxation. this novel is strongly recommended by the justly appreciating 'baron de bookworms.'" the glasgow herald says:--"contains all the elements that have made mr. boothby's works popular the world over, and it will be read with zest by thousands of his admirers." connie burt. the birmingham gazette says:--"one of the best stories we have seen of mr. boothby's." the glasgow herald says:--"contains many stirring scenes of life in the bush, and some really clever and attractive sketches of australian character." the kidnapped president. public opinion says:--"brighter, crisper, and more entertaining than any of its predecessors from the same pen." my strangest case. the yorkshire post says:--"no work of mr. boothby's seems to us to have approached in skill his new story. it is worked out with real ingenuity, and written with so much skill that the reader's attention is from first to last riveted on the narrative." farewell, nikola. the dundee advertiser says:--"guy boothby's famous creation of dr. nikola has become familiar to every reader of fiction." my indian queen. the sunday special says:--"'my indian queen' shows mr. boothby at his best. a vivid story of adventure and daring, bearing all the characteristics of careful workmanship." long live the king. the aberdeen free press says:--"it is marvellous that mr. boothby's novels should all be so uniformly good. the story is written in mr. boothby's best style, and is full of interest from start to finish." a prince of swindlers. the scotsman says:--"of absorbing interest. the exploits are described in an enthralling vein." a maker of nations. the spectator says:--"'a maker of nations' enables us to understand mr. boothby's vogue. it has no lack of movement or incident." the red rat's daughter the daily telegraph says:--"mr. guy boothby's name on the title-page of a novel carries with it the assurance of a good story to follow. this sprightly imaginative writer's latest romance is a clever and fascinating narrative." love made manifest. the daily telegraph says:--"a powerful and impressive romance. one of those tales of exciting adventure in the confection of which mr. boothby is not excelled by any novelist of the day." pharos the egyptian. the scotsman says:--"this powerful novel is weird, wonderful, and soul-thrilling. there never was in this world so strange and wonderful a love story, and mr. boothby's admirers will probably agree that the most marvellous fiction he has ever produced is 'pharos the egyptian.'" across the world for a wife. the british weekly says:--"this stirring tale ranks next to 'dr. nikola' in the list of mr. boothby's novels. it is an excellent piece of workmanship, and we can heartily recommend it." a sailor's bride. the manchester courier says:--"few authors can depict action as brilliantly and resourcefully as the creator of 'dr. nikola.'" the lust of hate. the daily graphic says:--"mr. boothby gives place to no one in what might be called dramatic interest, so whoever wants dramatic interest let him read 'the lust of hate.'" the fascination of the king. the bristol mercury says:--"unquestionably the best work we have yet seen from the pen of mr. guy boothby.... 'the fascination of the king' is one of the books of the season." dr. nikola. the scotsman says:--"one hairbreadth escape succeeds another with rapidity that scarce leaves the reader breathing space.... the interest of their experience is sufficient to stay criticism, and carry him through a story ingeniously invented and skilfully told." the beautiful white devil. the yorkshire post says:--"a more exciting romance no man could reasonably ask for." a bid for fortune. the manchester courier says:--"it is impossible to give any idea of the verve and brightness with which the story is told. mr. boothby may be congratulated on having produced about the most original novel of the year." in strange company. the world says:--"a capital novel. it has the quality of life and stir, and will carry the reader with curiosity unabated to the end." the marriage of esther. _the manchester guardian_ says:--"a story full of action, life, and dramatic interest. there is a vigour and a power of illusion about it that raises it quite above the level of the ordinary novel of adventure." bushigrams. the manchester guardian says:--"intensely interesting. forces from us, by its powerful artistic realism, those choky sensations which it should be the aim of the human writer to elicit, whether in comedy or tragedy." sheilah mcleod. mr. w. l. alden in the new york times, says:--"mr. boothby can crowd more adventure into a square foot of canvas than any other novelist." dr. nikola's experiment. illustrated by sidney cowell. joseph hocking roger trewinion. t. p.'s weekly says:--"it is a foregone conclusion that mr. hocking will always have a good story to tell. 'roger trewinion' can stand forth with the best, a strong love interest, plenty of adventure, an atmosphere of superstition, and cornwall as the scene. and the scenes of lawlessness, the curse of hatred between two brothers, the greed of a selfish mother, and the steadfastness of a sweetheart withdrawn from a grave, all serve to lead, in a series of graphically and finely written scenes, to the conclusion that 'there's no curse can stand against love.'" the coming of the king. the glasgow herald says:--"mr. hocking's latest romance exhibits no diminution of ability, and is marked by insight and dramatic power. his imagination is fertile, and his skill in the arrangement of incident far above the average, and there is an air of reality in all his writing which is peculiarly charming. the author steadily but surely engages our attention, and we pass from episode to episode with a deepening sense of the reality of the tale. this is art of no common order." esau. the outlook says:--"remarkable for the dramatic power with which the scenes are drawn and the intense human interest which mr. hocking has woven about his characters. 'esau' is sure to be one of the novels of the season." the british weekly says:--"a brilliant, exciting narrative by a writer who has never penned a dull page." greater love. the newcastle chronicle says:--"though of a totally different character from 'lest we forget,' mr. hocking's latest story is entitled to take rank along with that fine romance. the story arrests the attention from the first chapters, and soon becomes highly dramatic." lest we forget. public opinion says:--"his story is quite as good as any we have read of the stanley weyman's school, and presents an excellent picture of the exciting times of gardiner and bonner." and shall trelawney die? the british weekly says:--"we can strongly recommend both stories as healthy and hearty tales, sensational but not incredible." the weekly sun says:--"an engaging and fascinating romance. the reader puts the story down with a sigh, and wishes there were more of these breezy cornish uplands, for mr. joseph hocking's easy style of narrative does not soon tire." jabez easterbrook. the rock says:--"real strength is shown in the sketches, of which that of brother bowman is most prominent. in its way it is delightful." the record says:--"a book that can be read with interest and with profit. a clever tale, cleverly told." the weapons of mystery. "weapons of mystery" is a singularly powerful story of occult influences and of their exertion for evil purposes. like all mr. hocking's novels, "weapons of mystery" has an underlying religious and moral purpose, but merely as a story, and quite apart from the purpose which was in the mind of the author, the tale has a curious fascination for the reader. the cleverly conceived plot, and the strange experience of the hero and heroine make "weapons of mystery" a story which it is not easy to put down when once commenced. zillah: a romance. the spectator says:--"the drawing of some of the characters indicates the possession by mr. hocking of a considerable gift of humour. the contents of his book indicate that he takes a genuine interest in the deeper problems of the day." the monk of mar-saba. the star says:--"great power and thrilling interest.... the scenery of the holy land has rarely been so vividly described as in this charming book of mr. hocking's." the manchester guardian says:--"the author has turned his visit to palestine to good account.... his descriptions of the wild scenery of different parts of the holy land are both vigorous and graphic, and the stories themselves are interesting." the purple robe. the queen says:--"mr. hocking's most interesting romance. it is exceedingly clever, and excites the reader's interest and brings out the powerful nature of the clever young minister. this most engrossing book challenges comparison with the brilliance of lothair. mr. hocking has one main fact always before him in writing his books--to interest his readers and he certainly succeeds admirably in doing so." the scarlet woman. the methodist recorder says:--"this is mr. hocking's strongest and best book. we advise every one to read it. the plot is simple, compact and strenuous; the writing powerful. it brings out sharply the real character of the typical jesuit, his training, motives, limitations, aims." all men are liars. the christian world says:--"this is a notable book. thoughtful people will be fascinated by its actuality, its fearlessness, and the insight it gives into the influence of modern thought and literature upon the minds and morals of our most promising manhood." the standard says:--"a striking book.... it is strong and earnest and vigorous; it shows knowledge of the lower class, and impatience and contempt of shams of all sorts." ishmael pengelly: an outcast. the record says:--"as a story this book is a splendid piece of writing; every detail is interesting, and the situations it creates are novel and striking." the athenæum says:--"the book is to be recommended for the dramatic effectiveness of some of the scenes. the wild, half-mad woman is always picturesque wherever she appears, and the rare self-repression of her son is admirably done." the story of andrew fairfax. the manchester examiner says:--"rustic scenes and characters are drawn with free, broad touches, without mr. buchanan's artificiality, and, if we may venture to say it, with more realism than mr. hardy's country pictures." the liverpool mercury says:--"beautifully told. there are few books better adapted to widen the mind and discipline the judgment than this noble story." the birthright. the spectator says:--"this volume proves beyond all doubt that mr. hocking has mastered the art of the historical romancist. 'the birthright' is, in its way, quite as well constructed, as well written, and as full of incident as any story that has come from the pen of mr. conan doyle or mr. stanley weyman." mistress nancy molesworth. the scotsman says:--"'mistress nancy molesworth' is as charming a story of the kind as could be wished, and it excels in literary workmanship as well as in imaginative vigour and daring invention.... it would hardly be possible to tell a story of its kind better, or to leave the reader better pleased at the end." fields of fair renown. the scotsman says:--"mr. joseph hocking's 'fields of fair renown' is a novel with a purpose, and the theme is worked out with a good deal of force and effective power.... it is both interesting and powerful." the dundee advertiser says:--"mr. hocking has produced a work which his readers of all classes will appreciate.... there are exhibited some of the most beautiful aspects of disposition." louis tracy a fatal legacy. the scotsman says:--"in all the annals of fiction a more ingenious or startlingly original plot has not been recorded." rainbow island. the literary world says:--"those who delight in tales of adventure should hail 'rainbow island' with joyous shouts of welcome. rarely have we met with more satisfying fare of this description than in its pages." the albert gate affair. the birmingham post says:--"an excellent detective tale, brimful of adventure. told in mr. tracy's best style." the pillar of light. the evening standard says:--"so admirable, so living, so breathlessly exciting a book. the magnificent realism of the lighthouse and its perils, the intense conviction of the author, that brings the very scene he pictures before the reader's eyes with hardly a line of detached description, the interest of the terrible dilemma of the cut off inhabitants of the 'pillar' are worthy of praise from the most jaded reader." heart's delight. the dundee advertiser says:--"the name of louis tracy on the covers of a volume is a sufficient guarantee that the contents are worthy of perusal. his latest novel, 'heart's delight,' establishes more firmly than ever the reputation which he founded on 'the final war'; like that notable book it has a strong martial flavour." a. c. gunter 'twixt sword and glove. the manchester evening news says:--"it is with the utmost suspense that the reader will follow the adventurous and perilous career of comte bertram de conflans.... a cleverly written book." doctor burton. the tribune:--"a series of exciting escapades and amateur detective work, eminently compelling and full of interest." marion bowers the wrestlers. the nottingham guardian says:--"a skilfully presented study of the subtle moods of a woman's heart. the picture of muriel attledon's subjection to a husband who slights and neglects her while he flirts with another woman, and covers his disloyalty with a specious cloak of solicitude, is finely sketched." recollections of the private life of napoleon, complete by constant premier valet de chambre translated by walter clark 1895 preface. though this work was first published in 1830, it has never before been translated into english. indeed, the volumes are almost out of print. when in paris a few years ago the writer secured, with much difficulty, a copy, from which this translation has been made. notes have been added by the translator, and illustrations by the publishers, which, it is believed, will enhance the interest of the original work by constant. "to paint caesar in undress is not to paint caesar," some one has said. yet men will always like to see the great 'en deshabille'. in these volumes the hero is painted in undress. his foibles, his peculiarities, his vices, are here depicted without reserve. but so also are his kindness of heart, his vast intellect, his knowledge of men, his extraordinary energy, his public spirit. the shutters are taken down, and the workings of the mighty machinery are laid bare. the late prince napoleon (who was more truly "the nephew of his uncle" than was napoleon iii.), in his napoleon and his detractors, bitterly assails this work of constants attacking both its authenticity and the correctness of its statements. but there appears no good reason to doubt its genuineness, and the truthfulness of many of its details is amply supported by other authorities. notwithstanding its excesses and follies, the great french revolution will ever have an absorbing interest for mankind, because it began as a struggle for the advancement of the cause of manhood, liberty, and equal rights. it was a terribly earnest movement; and, after the lapse of a century, interest continues unabated in the great soldier who restored order, and organized and preserved the new ideas by means of his civil code and a firm government. countless memoirs have been published by those who lived in those heroic times. yet everything which will cast new light upon the chief actors in that great drama of humanity is still seized upon with avidity, especially whatever concerns the emperor. this is not merely because he was a great conqueror; for such were, after their fashion, genghis khan and timour, and hundreds of others. but it is because of the human interest which attaches to the wonderful career of napoleon and the events of which he was the central figure. never did poet or novelist imagine scenes so improbable. the son of an obscure lawyer in an unimportant island becomes emperor of the french and king of italy. his brothers and sisters become kings and queens. the sons of innkeepers, notaries; lawyers, and peasants become marshals of the empire. the emperor, first making a west india creole his wife and empress, puts her away, and marries a daughter of the haughtiest and oldest royal house in europe, the niece of a queen whom the people of france had beheaded a few years before. their son is born a king--king of rome. then suddenly the pageantry dissolves, and emperor, kings, and queens become subjects again. has imagination ever dreamed anything wilder than this? the dramatic interest of this story will always attract, but there is a deeper one. the secret spring of all those rapid changes, and the real cause of the great interest humanity will always feel in the story of those eventful times, is to be found in napoleon's own explanation--"a career open to talents, without distinction of birth." till that day the accident of birth was the key to every honor and every position. no man could hold even a lieutenancy in the army who could not show four quarterings on his coat of arms. it was as the "armed apostle of democracy" that napoleon went forth conquering and to conquer. he declared at st. helena that he "had always marched supported by the opinions of six millions of men." the old woman who met him incognito climbing the hill of tarare, and replying to his assertion that "napoleon was only a tyrant like the rest," exclaimed, "it may be so, but the others are the kings of the nobility, while he is one of us, and we have chosen him ourselves," expressed a great truth. as long as napoleon represented popular sovereignty he was invincible; but when, deeming himself strong enough to stand alone, he endeavored to conciliate the old order of things, and, divorcing the daughter of the people, took for a bride the daughter of kings and allied himself with them--at that moment, like another samson, "his strength departed from him." disasters came as they had come to him before, but this time the heart of the people was no longer with him. he fell. this man has been studied as a soldier, a statesman, an organizer, a politician. in all he was undeniably great. but men will always like to know something about him as a man. can he stand that ordeal? these volumes will answer that question. they are written by one who joined the first consul at the hospice on mt. st. bernard, on his way to marengo, in june, 1800, and who was with him as his chief personal attendant, day and night, never leaving him "any more than his shadow" (eight days only) excepted until that eventful day, fourteen years later, when, laying aside the sceptre of the greatest empire the world had known for seventeen centuries, he walked down the horseshoe steps at fontainebleau in the presence of the soldiers whom he had led to victory from madrid to moscow, once more a private citizen. that men of anglo-saxon speech may have an opportunity to see and judge the emperor from "close at hand," and view him as he appeared in the eyes of his personal attendants, these volumes have been translated, and are now submitted to the public. though the remark of frederick the great that "no man is a hero to his valet" is not altogether borne out in this instance, still it will be seen that there is here nothing of that "divinity which doth hedge a king." in these volumes napoleon appears as a man, a very great man, still a mere man, not, a demigod. their perusal will doubtless lead to a truer conception of his character, as manifested both in his good and in his evil traits. the former were natural to him; the latter were often produced by the exceptional circumstances which surrounded him, and the extraordinary temptations to which he was subjected. certainly a truer and fuller light is cast by these volumes, upon the colossal figure which will always remain one of the most interesting studies in all human history. the translator. introduction. by constant. the career of a man compelled to make his own way, who is not an artisan or in some trade, does not usually begin till he is about twenty years of age. till then he vegetates, uncertain of his future, neither having, nor being able to have, any well-defined purpose. it is only when he has arrived at the full development of his powers, and his character and bent of mind are shown, that he can determine his profession or calling. not till then does he know himself, and see his way open before him. in fact, it is only then that he begins to live. reasoning in this manner, my life from my twentieth year has been thirty years, which can be divided into equal parts, so far as days and months are counted, but very unequal parts, considering the events which transpired in each of those two periods of my life. attached to the person of the emperor napoleon for fifteen years, i have seen all the men, and witnessed all the important events, which centered around him. i have seen far more than that; for i have had under my eyes all the circumstances of his life, the least as well as the greatest, the most secret as well as those which are known to history,--i have had, i repeat, incessantly under my eyes the man whose name, solitary and alone, fills the most glorious pages of our history. fifteen years i followed him in his travels and his campaigns, was at his court, and saw him in the privacy of his family. whatever step he wished to take, whatever order he gave, it was necessarily very difficult for the emperor not to admit me, even though involuntarily, into his confidence; so that without desiring it, i have more than once found myself in the possession of secrets i should have preferred not to know. what wonderful things happened during those fifteen years! those near the emperor lived as if in the center of a whirlwind; and so quick was the succession of overwhelming events, that one felt dazed, as it were, and if he wished to pause and fix his attention for a moment, there instantly came, like another flood, a succession of events which carried him along with them without giving him time to fix his thoughts. succeeding these times of activity which made one's brain whirl, there came to me the most absolute repose in an isolated retreat where i passed another interval of fifteen years after leaving the emperor. but what a contrast! to those who have lived, like myself, amid the conquests and wonders of the empire, what is left to-day? if the strength of our manhood was passed amid the bustle of years so short, yet so fully occupied, our careers were sufficiently long and fruitful, and it is time to give ourselves up to repose. we can withdraw from the world, and close our eyes. can it be possible to see anything equal to what we have seen? such scenes do not come twice in the lifetime of any man; and having seen them, they suffice to occupy his memory through all his remaining years, and in retirement he can find nothing better to occupy his leisure moments than the recollections of what he has witnessed. thus it has been with me. the reader will readily believe that i have had no greater pleasure than that of recalling the memories of the years passed in the service of the emperor. as far as possible, i have kept myself informed as to everything that has been written of my former master, his family, and his court; and while listening to these narrations read by my wife and sister at our fireside, the long evenings have passed like an instant! when i found in these books, some of which are truly only miserable rhapsodies, statements which were incorrect, false, or slanderous, i, took pleasure in correcting such statements, or in showing their absurdity. my wife, who lived, as i did, in the midst of these events, also made her corrections, and, without other object than our own satisfaction, made notes of our joint observations. all who came to see us in our retreat, and took pleasure in having me narrate what i had seen, were astonished and often indignant at the falsehoods with which ignorance or malevolence had calumniated the emperor and the empire, and expressing their gratitude for the correct information i was able to give them, advised me also to furnish it to the public. but i attached no importance to the suggestion, and was far from dreaming that some day i should be the author of a book, until m. ladvocat came to our hermitage, and urged me earnestly to publish my memoirs, offering himself to become the publisher. at the very time my wife and i received this unexpected visit, we were reading together the memoirs of bourrienne, which the ladvocat publishing-house had just issued; and we had remarked more than once how exempt these memoirs were from both that spirit of disparagement and of adulation which we had noticed with disgust in other books on the same subject. m. ladvocat advised me to complete the sketch of the emperor, which, owing to his elevated position and habitual occupations, bourrienne had been able to make only from a political point of view; and in accordance with his advice, i shall relate in simple words, and in a manner suited to my relations with the emperor, those things which bourrienne has necessarily omitted, and which no one could know so well as i. i candidly admit that my objections to m. ladvocat's advice were entirely overcome when he called my attention to this passage in the introduction to bourrienne's memoirs: "if every one who had any relations with napoleon, whatever the time and place, will accurately and without prejudice record what he saw and heard, the future historian of his life will be rich in materials. i hope that whoever undertakes that difficult task will find in my notes some information which may be useful in perfecting his work." having re-read these lines attentively, i said to myself that i could furnish memoranda and information which would refute errors, brand falsehoods, and bring to light what i knew to be the truth. in a word, i felt that i could give in my testimony, and that it was my duty to do so, in the long trial which has been held ever since the overthrow of the emperor; for i had been an eye-witness, had seen everything, and could say, "i was there." others also have been close to the emperor and his court, and i may often repeat what they have said, for the feats which they describe i had the same opportunity of witnessing; but, on the other hand, whatever i know of private matters, and whatever i may reveal which was secret and unknown, no one till this time could possibly have known, or consequently have related. from the departure of the first consul for the campaign of marengo, whither i went with him, until the departure from fontainebleau, when i was compelled to leave him, i was absent only twice, once for three days and once for seven or eight days. excepting these short leaves of absence, the latter of which was on account of my health, i quitted the emperor no more than his shadow. it has been said that no one is a hero to his valet de chambre. i beg leave to dissent from this. the emperor, as near as i was to him, was always a hero; and it was a great advantage also to see the man as he was. at a distance you were sensible only of the prestige of his glory and his power; but on getting closer to him you enjoyed, besides, the surprising charm of his conversation, the entire simplicity of his family life, and i do not hesitate to say, the habitual kindliness of his character. the reader, if curious to learn beforehand in what spirit these memoirs are written, will perhaps read with interest this passage of a letter that i wrote to my publisher: "bourrienne had, perhaps, reason for treating napoleon, as a public man, with severity. but we view him from different standpoints, and i speak only of the hero in undress. he was then almost always kind, patient, and rarely unjust. he was much attached to those about him, and received with kindness and good nature the services of those whom he liked. he was a man of habit. it is as a devoted servant that i wish to speak of the emperor, and in no wise as a critic. it is not, however, an apotheosis in several volumes that i wish to write: for i am on this point somewhat like fathers who recognize the faults of their children, and reprove them earnestly, while at the same time they are ready to make excuses for their errors." i trust that i shall be pardoned the familiarity, or, if you will, the inappropriateness of this comparison, for the sake of the feeling which dictates it. besides, i do not propose either to praise or blame, but simply to relate that which fell within my knowledge, without trying to prejudice the opinion of any one. i cannot close this introduction without a few words as to myself, in reply to the calumnies which have not spared, even in his retirement, a man who should have no enemies, if, to be protected from malice, it were sufficient to have done a little good, and no harm to any one. i am reproached with having abandoned my master after his fall, and not having shared his exile. i will show that, if i did not follow the emperor, it was because i lacked not the will but the power to do so. god knows that i do not wish to undervalue the devotion of the faithful servants who followed the fortunes of the emperor to the end. however, it is not improper to say that, however terrible the fall of the emperor was for him, the situation (i speak here only of the personal advantages), in the island of elba, of those who remained in his service, and who were not detained in france by an inexorable necessity, was still not without its advantages; and it was not, therefore, my personal interests which caused me to leave him. i shall explain hereafter my reasons for quitting his service. i shall also give the truth as to the alleged abuse of confidence, of which, according to others, i was guilty in respect to the emperor. a simple statement of the mistake which gave rise to this falsehood, i trust, will clear me of every suspicion of indelicacy; but if it is necessary to add other proofs, i could obtain them from those who lived nearest to the emperor, and who were in a condition to both know and understand what passed between us; and lastly, i invoke fifty years of a blameless life, and i can say: "when i was in a situation to render great services, i did so; but i never sold them. i could have derived advantages from the petitions that i made for people, who, in consequence of my solicitations, have acquired immense fortunes; but i refused even the proper acknowledgment which in, their gratitude (very deep at that time) they felt compelled to offer me, by proposing an interest in their enterprises. i did not seek to take advantage, for my own benefit, of the generosity with which the emperor so long deigned to honor me, in order to enrich or secure places for my relatives; and i retired poor after fifteen years passed in the personal service of the richest and most powerful monarch of europe." having made these statements, i shall await with confidence the judgment of my readers. recollections of the private life of napoleon chapter i. i shall refer to myself very little in these memoirs, for i am aware the public will examine them only for details concerning the great man to whom fortune attached me for sixteen years, and whom i scarcely quitted during the whole of that time. notwithstanding, i ask permission to say a few words as to my childhood, and the circumstances which made me valet de chambre of the emperor. i was born dec. 2, 1778, at peruelz, a town which became french on the annexation of belgium to the republic, and which then belonged to the department of jemmapes. soon after my birth at the baths of saint amand, my father took charge of a small establishment called the little chateau, at which visitors to the waters were boarding, being aided in this enterprise by the prince de croi, in whose house he had been steward. business prospered beyond my father's hopes, for a great number of invalids of rank came to his house. when i attained my eleventh year, the count de lure, head of one of the chief families of valenciennes, happened to be one of the boarders at the little chateau; and as that excellent man had taken a great fancy to me, he asked my parents permission that i should become a companion to his son, who was about. the same age. my family had intended me for the church, to gratify one of my uncles, who was dean of lessine, a man of great wisdom and rigid virtue; and thinking that the offer of the count de lure would not affect my intended destination, my father accepted it, judging that some years passed in a family so distinguished would give me a taste for the more serious studies necessary to fit me for the priesthood. i set out, therefore, with the count de lure, much grieved at leaving my parents, but pleased also at the same time, as is usual with one at my age, with new scenes. the count took me to one of his estates near tours, where i was received with the greatest kindness by the countess and her children, with whom i was placed on a footing of perfect equality. unfortunately i did not profit very long by the kindness of the count and the lessons. i was taught at his house, for hardly a year had passed at the chateau when we learned of the arrest of the king at varennes. the count and his family were in despair; and child as i was, i remember that i was deeply pained at the news, without knowing why, but doubtless because it is natural to share the sentiments of those with whom you live, when they treat you with as much kindness as the count and countess had treated me. however, i continued to enjoy the happy freedom from care natural to youth, till one morning i was awakened by a loud noise, and was immediately surrounded by a great number of people, none of whom i knew, and who asked me countless questions which i could not answer. i then learned that the count and his family had emigrated. i was carried to the town hall, where the same questions were renewed, with the same fruitless result; for i knew nothing of the intentions of my late protectors, and could only reply by a flood of tears when i saw myself abandoned and left to my own resources, at a great distance from my family. i was too young then to reflect on the conduct of the count; but i have since thought that his abandonment of me was an act of delicacy on his part, as he did not wish to make me an emigre without the consent of my parents. i have always believed that, before his departure, the count had committed me to the care of some one, who subsequently did not dare to claim me, lest he should compromise himself, which was then, as is well known, exceedingly dangerous. behold me, then, at twelve years of age, left without a guide, without means of support, without any one to advise me, and without money, more than a hundred leagues from my home, and already accustomed to the comforts of a luxurious life. it is hardly credible that in this state of affairs i was regarded almost as a suspect, and was required each day to present myself before the city authorities for the greater safety of the republic. i remember well that whenever the emperor was pleased to make me relate these tribulations of my childhood, he never failed to repeat several times, "the fools," referring to these same city authorities. however that may be, the authorities of tours, coming to the conclusion, at last, that a child of twelve was incapable of overthrowing the republic, gave me a passport, with the injunction to leave the city within twenty-four hours, which i proceeded to do with a hearty good-will, but not without deep grief also at seeing myself alone, and on foot, with a long journey before me. after much privation and many hardships i arrived at last in the neighborhood of saint-amand, which i found in the possession of the austrians, and that it was impossible for me to reach the town, as the french surrounded it. in my despair i seated myself on the side of a ditch and was weeping bitterly, when i was noticed by the chief of squadron, michau, [i afterwards had the happiness of obtaining for him, from the emperor, a position he wished, as a place of retirement, having lost the use of his right arm.--constant.] who afterwards became colonel and aide-de-camp to general loison. michau approached me, questioned me with great interest, and made me relate my sad adventures, which touched him deeply, while he did not conceal his inability to send me back to my family. he had just obtained leave of absence, which he was going to spend with his family at chinon, and proposed to me to accompany him, which invitation i accepted with gratitude. i cannot say too much of the kindness and consideration shown me by his household during the three or four months i spent with them. at the end of that time he took me to paris, where i was soon after placed in the house of m. gobert, a rich merchant, who treated me with the greatest, kindness. i lately visited m. gobert; and he recalled to me that, when we traveled together, he gave up to me one of the seats of his carriage, upon which i was permitted to stretch myself out and sleep. i mention this circumstance, otherwise unimportant, to show the kindness he always showed me. some years later i made the acquaintance of carrat, who was in the service of madame bonaparte while the general was absent on the egyptian expedition. before relating how i came to enter her household, it is proper to mention how carrat himself came into her service, and at the same time narrate some anecdotes in regard to him, which will show what were the pastimes of the inhabitants of malmaison at that date. carrat happened to be at plombieres when madame bonaparte [madame bonaparte, nee marie joseph rose tascher de la pagerie, was born in martinique, 1763; became the widow of viscount alexander de beauharnais, 1794; married napoleon bonaparte march, 1796; became empress may 18, 1804; was divorced dec. 16, 1809; died at malmaison, may 20, 1814.--trans.] went there to take the waters. every day he brought her bouquets, and addressed to her little complimentary speeches, so singular and so droll, that josephine was much diverted, as were also the ladies who accompanied her, among whom were mesdames de cambis and de criguy, and especially her own daughter hortense, who was convulsed at his oddities. the truth is, he was exceedingly amusing, by reason of a certain simplicity and originality of character, which, however, did not prevent him from being a person of intelligence; and his eccentricities did not displease madame bonaparte. a sentimental scene took place when this excellent lady left the springs. carrat wept, bemoaned himself, and expressed his lasting grief at not being able to see madame bonaparte daily, as he had been accustomed; and madame bonaparte was so kind-hearted that she at once decided to carry him to paris with her. she taught him to dress hair, and finally appointed him her hair-dresser and valet, at least such were the duties he had to perform when i made his acquaintance. he was permitted a most astonishing freedom of speech, sometimes even scolding her; and when madame bonaparte, who was extremely generous and always gracious towards every one, made presents to her women, or chatted familiarly with them, carrat would reproach her. "why give that?" he would say, adding, "see how you do, madame; you allow yourself to jest with your domestics. some day they will show you a want of respect." but if he thus endeavored to restrain the generosity of his mistress towards those around her, he did not hesitate to stimulate her generosity towards himself; and whenever he took a fancy to anything, would simply say, "you ought to give me that." bravery is not always the inseparable companion of wit, and carrat gave more than once proof of this. being endowed with a kind of simple and uncontrollable poltroonery, which never fails in comedies to excite the laughter of the spectators, it was a great pleasure to madame bonaparte to play on him such pranks as would bring out his singular want of courage. it should be stated, first of all, that one of the greatest pleasures of madame bonaparte, at malmaison, was to take walks on the road just outside the walls of the park; and she always preferred this outside road, in spite of the clouds of dust which were constantly rising there, to the delightful walks inside the park. one day, accompanied by her daughter hortense, she told carrat to follow her in her walk; and he was delighted to be thus honored until he saw rise suddenly out of a ditch; a great figure covered with a white sheet, in fact, a genuine ghost, such as i have seen described in the translations of some old english romances. it is unnecessary to say, that the ghost was some one placed there by order of these ladies, in order to frighten carrat; and certainly the comedy succeeded marvelously well, for as soon as carrat perceived the ghost, he was very much frightened, and clutching madame bonaparte, said to her in a tremor, "madame, madame, do you see that ghost? it is the spirit of the lady who died lately at plombieres."--"be quiet, carrat, you are a coward."--"ah, but indeed it is her spirit which has come back." as carrat thus spoke, the man in the white sheet advanced toward him, shaking it; and poor carrat, overcome with terror, fell backwards in a faint, and it required all the attentions which were bestowed upon him to restore him to consciousness. another day, while the general was still in egypt, and consequently before i was in the service of any member of his family, madame bonaparte wished to give some of her ladies an exhibition of carrat's cowardice; and for this purpose there was concerted among the ladies of malmaison a plot, in which mademoiselle hortense [hortense beauharnais, born at paris, 1783, was then just sixteen years of age. married louis bonaparte and became queen of holland, 1806. died 1837. she was the mother of napoleon iii. --trans.] was chief conspirator. this incident has been so often narrated in my presence by madame bonaparte, that i am familiar with the ludicrous details. carrat slept in a room adjoining which there was a closet. a hole was made in the wall between these rooms, and a string passed through, at the end of which was tied a can filled with water, this cooling element being suspended exactly over the head of the patient's bed. this was not all, for they had also taken the precaution to remove the slats which supported the mattress; and as carrat was in the habit of going to sleep without a light, he saw neither the preparations for his downfall, nor the can of water provided for his new baptism. all the members of the plot had been waiting for some moments in the adjoining closet; when he threw himself heavily upon his bed, it crashed in, and at the same instant the play of the string made the can of water do its effective work. the victim at the same time of a fall, and of a nocturnal shower-bath, carrat cried out against his double misfortune. "this is horrible," he yelled at the top of his voice; while hortense maliciously said aloud to her mother, madame de crigny (afterwards madame denon), madame charvet, and to several others in the room, "oh, mamma, those toads and frogs in the water will get on him." these words, joined to the utter darkness, served only to increase the terror of carrat, who, becoming seriously frightened, cried out, "it is horrible, madame, it is horrible, to amuse yourself thus at the expense of your servants." i do not say that the complaints of carrat were entirely wrong, but they. served only to increase the gayety of the ladies who had taken him for the object of their pleasantries. however that may be, such was the character and position of carrat, whom i had known for some time, when general bonaparte returned from his expedition into egypt, and carrat said to me that eugene de beauharnais had applied to him for a confidential valet, his own having been detained in cairo by severe illness at the time of his departure. he was named lefebvre, and was an old servant entirely devoted to his master, as was every one who knew prince eugene; for i do not believe that there has ever lived a better man, or one more polite, more considerate, or indeed more attentive, to those who served him. carrat having told me that eugene de beauharnais [born 1781, viceroy of italy 1805. in 1806 married the daughter of the king of bavaria. died 1824. among his descendants are the present king of sweden and the late emperor of brazil.--trans.] desired a young man to replace lefebvre, and having recommended me for the place, i had the good fortune to be presented to eugene, and to give satisfaction; indeed, he was so kind as to say to me that my appearance pleased him, and he wished me to enter upon my duties immediately. i was delighted with this situation, which, i know not why, painted itself to my imagination in the brightest colors, and without loss of time, went to find my modest baggage, and behold me valet de chambre, ad interim, of m. de beauharnais, not dreaming that i should one day be admitted to the personal service of general bonaparte, and still less that i should become the chief valet of an emperor. chapter ii. it was on oct. 16, 1799, that eugene de beauharnais arrived in paris on his return from egypt; and almost immediately thereafter i had the good fortune to be taken into his service, m. eugene being then twenty-one years of age. i soon after learned a few particulars, which i think are little known, relative to his former life, and the marriage of his mother with general bonaparte. his father, as is well known, was one of the victims of the revolution; and when the marquis de beauharnais had perished on the scaffold, his widow, whose property had been confiscated, fearing that her son, although still very young, might also be in danger on account of his belonging to the nobility, placed him in the home of a carpenter on the rue de l'echelle where, a lady of my acquaintance, who lived on that street, has often seen him passing, carrying a plank on his shoulder. it seems a long distance from this position to the colonelcy of a regiment of the consular guards, and the vice-royalty of italy. i learned, from hearing eugene himself relate it, by what a singular circumstance he had been the cause of the first meeting between his mother and his step-father. eugene, being then not more than fourteen or fifteen years of age, having been informed that general bonaparte had become possessor of the sword of the marquis de beauharnais, took a step which seemed hazardous, but was crowned with success. the general having received him graciously, eugene explained that he came to beg of him the restoration of his father's sword. his face, his bearing, his frank request, all made such a pleasant impression on bonaparte, that he immediately presented him with the sword which he requested. as soon as this sword was in his hands he covered it with kisses and tears; and the whole was done in so artless a manner, that bonaparte was delighted with him. madame de beauharnais, being informed of the welcome the general had given her son, thought it her duty to make him a visit of gratitude. bonaparte, being much pleased with josephine in this first interview, returned her visit. they met again frequently; and as is well known, one event led to another, until she became the first empress of the french; and i can assert from the numerous proofs that i have had of this fact, that bonaparte never ceased to love eugene as well as if he, had been his own son. the qualities of eugene were both attractive and solid. his features were not regular, and yet his countenance prepossessed every one in his favor. he had a well-proportioned figure, but did not make a distinguished appearance, on account of the habit he had of swinging himself as he walked. he was about five feet three or four inches [about five feet six or seven inches in english measurement.--trans.] in height. he was kind, gay, amiable, full of wit, intelligent, generous; and it might well be said that his frank and open countenance was the mirror of his soul. how many services he has rendered others during the course of his life, and at the very period when in order to do so he had often to impose privations on himself. it will soon be seen how it happened that i passed only a month with eugene; but during this short space of time, i recall that, while fulfilling scrupulously his duties to his mother and his step-father, he was much addicted to the pleasures so natural to his age and position. one of his greatest pleasures was entertaining his friends at breakfast; which he did very often. this amused me much on account of the comical scenes of which i was often a witness. besides the young officers of bonaparte's staff, his most frequent guests, he had also frequently at his table the ventriloquist thiemet, dugazon, dazincourt, and michau of the theatre francais, and a few other persons, whose names escape me at this moment. as may be imagined, these reunions were extremely gay; these young officers especially, who had returned like eugene from the expedition to egypt, seemed trying to indemnify themselves for the recent privations they had had to suffer. at this time ventriloquists, among whom thiemet held a very distinguished position, were the fashion in paris, and were invited to private gatherings. i remember on one occasion, at one of these breakfasts of eugene's, thiemet called by their names several persons present, imitating the voices of their servants, as if they were just outside the door, while he remained quietly in his seat, appearing to be using his lips only to eat and drink, two duties' which he performed admirably. each of the officers called in this manner went out, and found no one; and then thiemet went out with them, under the pretext of assisting them in the search, and increased their perplexity by continuing to make them hear some well-known voice. most of them laughed heartily at the joke of which they had just been the victims; but there was one who, having himself less under control than his comrades, took the thing seriously, and became very angry, whereupon eugene had to avow that he was the author of the conspiracy. i recall still another amusing scene, the two heroes of which were this same thiemet, of whom i have just spoken, and dugazon. several foreigners were present at a breakfast given by eugene, the parts having been assigned, and learned in advance, and the two victims selected. when each had taken his place at table, dugazon, pretending to stammer, addressed a remark to thiemet, who, playing the same role, replied to him, stammering likewise; then each of them pretended to believe that the other was making fun of him, and there followed a stuttering quarrel between the two parties, each one finding it more and more difficult to express himself as his anger rose. thiemet, who besides his role of stammering was also playing that of deafness, addressed his neighbor, his trumpet in his ear: "wha-wha-what-do-does he say?"--"nothing," replied the officious neighbor, wishing to prevent a quarrel, and to supply facts while defending the other stammerer.--"so-so-he-he-he-he's mamaking fun of me!" then the quarrel became more violent still; they were about to come to blows, when each of the two stammerers seizing a carafe of water, hurled it at the head of his antagonist, and a copious deluge of water from the bottles taught the officious neighbors the great danger of acting as peacemakers. the two stammerers continued to scream as is the custom of deaf persons, until the last drop of water was spilt; and i remember that eugene, the originator of this practical joke, laughed immoderately the whole time this scene lasted. the water was wiped off; and all were soon reconciled, glass in hand. eugene, when he had perpetrated a joke of this sort, never failed to relate it to his mother, and sometimes to his stepfather, who were much amused thereby, josephine especially. i had led for one month a very pleasant life with eugene, when lefebvre, the valet de chambre whom he had left sick at cairo, returned in restored health, and asked to resume his place. eugene, whom i suited better on account of my age and activity, proposed to him to enter his mother's service, suggesting to him that he would there have an easier time than with himself; but lefebvre, who was extremely attached to his master, sought madame bonaparte, and confided to her his chagrin at this decision. josephine promised to assist him; and consoled him by assurances that she would suggest to her son that lefebvre should reassume his former position, and that she would take me into her own service. this was done according to promise; and one morning eugene announced to me, in the most gratifying manner, my change of abode. "constant," he said to me, "i regret very much that circumstances require us to part; but you know lefebvre followed me to egypt, he is an old servant, and i feel compelled to give him his former position. besides, you will not be far removed, as you will enter my mother's service, where you will be well treated, and we will see each other often. go to her this morning; i have spoken to her of you. the matter is already arranged, and she expects you." as may be believed, i lost no time in presenting myself to madame bonaparte. knowing that she was at malmaison, i went there immediately, and was received by her with a kindness which overwhelmed me with gratitude, as i was not then aware that she manifested this same graciousness to every one, and that it was as inseparable from her character as was grace from her person. the duties required of me, in her service, were altogether nominal; and nearly all my time was at my own disposal, of which i took advantage to visit paris frequently. the life that i led at this time was very pleasant to a young man like myself, who could not foresee that in a short while he would be as much under subjection as he was then at liberty. before bidding adieu to a service in which i had found so much that was agreeable, i will relate some incidents which belong to that period, and which my situation with the stepson of general bonaparte gave me the opportunity of learning. m. de bourrienne has related circumstantially in his memoirs the events of the 18th brumaire; [the 18th brumaire, nov. 9, 1799, was the day napoleon overthrew the directory and made himself first consul.--trans.] and the account which he has given of that famous day is as correct as it is interesting, so that any one curious to know the secret causes which led to these political changes will find them faithfully pointed out in the narration of that minister of state. i am very far from intending to excite an interest of this, kind, but reading the work of m. bourrienne put me again on the track of my own recollections. these memoirs relate to circumstances of which he was ignorant, or possibly may have omitted purposely as being of little importance; and whatever he has let fall on his road i think myself fortunate in being permitted to glean. i was still with eugene de beauharnais when general bonaparte overthrew the directory; but i found myself in as favorable a situation to know all that was passing as if i had been in the service of madame bonaparte, or of the general himself, for my master, although he was very young, had the entire confidence of his stepfather, and, to an even greater degree, that of his mother, who consulted him on every occasion. a few days before the 18th brumaire, eugene ordered me to make preparations for a breakfast he wished to give on that day to his friends, the number of the guests, all military men, being much larger than usual. this bachelor repast was made very gay by an officer, who amused the company by imitating in turn the manners and appearance of the directors and a few of their friends. to represent the director barras, he draped himself 'a la grecque' with the tablecloth, took off his black cravat, turned down his shirt-collar, and advanced in an affected manner, resting his left arm on the shoulder of the youngest of his comrades, while with his right he pretended to caress his chin. each person of the company understood the meaning of that kind of charade; and there were uncontrollable bursts of laughter. he undertook then to represent the abbe sieyes, by placing an enormous band of paper inside of his neckcloth, and lengthening thus indefinitely a long, pale face. he made a few turns around the room, astraddle of his chair, and ended by a grand somersault, as if his steed had dismounted him. it is necessary to know, in order to understand the significance of this pantomime, that the abbe sieges had been recently taking lessons in horseback, riding in the garden of the luxembourg, to the great amusement of the pedestrians, who gathered in crowds to enjoy the awkward and ungraceful exhibition made by this new master of horse. the breakfast ended, eugene reported for duty to general bonaparte, whose aide-de-camp he was, and his friends rejoined the various commands to which they belonged. i went out immediately behind them; for from a few words that had just been dropped at my young master's, i suspected that something grave and interesting was about to take place. m. eugene had appointed a rendezvous with his comrades at pont-tournant; so i repaired to that spot, and found a considerable gathering of officers in uniform and on horseback, assembled in readiness to escort general bonaparte to saint-cloud. the commandant of each part of the army had been requested by general bonaparte to give a breakfast to their corps of officers; and they had done so like my young master. nevertheless, the officers, even the generals, were not all in the secret; and general murat himself, who rushed into the hall of the five hundred at the head of the grenadiers, believed that it was only a question of exemption, on account of age, that general bonaparte intended to propose, in order that he might obtain the place of director. i have learned from an authoritative source, that when general jube, who was devoted to general bonaparte, assembled in the court of the luxembourg, the guard of the directors of which he was commander, the honest m. gohier, president of the directory, put his head out of the window, and cried to jube: "citizen general, what are you doing down there?"--"citizen president, you can see for yourself i am mustering the guard."--"certainly, i see that very plainly, citizen general; but why are you mustering them?"--"citizen president, i am going to make an inspection of them, and order a grand maneuver. forward--march!" and the citizen general filed out at the head of his troop to rejoin general bonaparte at saint-cloud; while the latter was awaited at the house of the citizen president, and the breakfast delayed to which general bonaparte had been invited for that very morning. general marmont had also entertained at breakfast the officers of the division of the army which he commanded (it was, i think, the artillery). at the end of the repast he addressed a few words to them, urging them not to alienate their cause from that of the conqueror of italy, and to accompany him to saint-cloud. "but how can we follow him?" cried one of his guests. "we have no horses."--"if that alone deters you, you will find horses in the court of this hotel. i have seized all those of the national riding-school. let us go below and mount." all the officers present responded to the invitation except general allix, who declared he would take no part in all this disturbance. i was at saint-cloud on the two days, 18th and 19th brumaire. i saw general bonaparte harangue the soldiers, and read to them the decree by which he had been made commander-in-chief of all the troops at paris, and of the whole of the seventeenth military division. i saw him come out much agitated first from the council of the ancients, and afterwards from the assembly of the five hundred. i saw lucien bonaparte brought out of the hall, where the latter assembly was sitting, by some grenadiers, sent in to protect him from the violence of his colleagues. pale and furious, he threw himself on his horse and galloped straight to the troops to address them; and when he pointed his sword at his brother's breast, saying he would be the first to slay him if he dared to strike at liberty, cries of "vive bonaparte! down with the lawyers!" burst forth on all sides; and the soldiers, led by general murat, rushed into the hall of the five hundred. everybody knows what then occurred, and i will not enter into details which have been so often related. the general, now made first consul, installed himself at the luxembourg, though at this time he resided also at malmaison. but he was often on the road, as was also josephine; for their trips to paris when they occupied this residence were very frequent, not only on government business, which often required the presence of the first consul, but also for the purpose of attending the theater, of whose performances general bonaparte, was very fond, giving the preference always to the theatre francais and the italian opera. this observation i make in passing, preferring to give hereafter the information i have obtained as to the tastes and habits of the emperor. malmaison, at the period of which i speak, was a place of unalloyed happiness, where all who came expressed their satisfaction with the state of affairs; everywhere also i heard blessings invoked upon the first consul and madame bonaparte. there was not yet the shadow of that strict etiquette which it was necessary afterwards to observe at saint-cloud, at the tuileries, and in all the palaces in which the emperor held his court. the consular court was as yet distinguished by a simple elegance, equally removed from republican rudeness and the luxuriousness of the empire. talleyrand was, at this period, one of those who came most frequently to malmaison. he sometimes dined there, but arrived generally in the evening between eight and nine o'clock, and returned at one, two, and sometimes three in the morning. all were admitted at madame bonaparte's on a footing of equality, which was most gratifying. there came familiarly murat, duroc, berthier, and all those who have since figured as great dignitaries, and some even as sovereigns, in the annals of the empire. the family of general bonaparte were assiduous in their attentions; but it was known among us that they had no love for madame bonaparte, of which fact i had many proofs. mademoiselle hortense never left her mother, and they were devotedly attached to each other. besides men distinguished by their posts under the government or in the army, there gathered others also who were not less distinguished by personal merit, or the position which their birth had given them before the revolution. it was a veritable panorama, in which we saw the persons themselves pass before our eyes. the scene itself, even exclusive of the gayety which always attended the dinings of eugene, had its attractions. among those whom we saw most frequently were volney, denon, lemercier, the prince of poix, de laigle, charles baudin, general beurnonville, isabey, and a number of others, celebrated in science, literature, and art; in short, the greater part of those who composed the society of madame de montesson. madame bonaparte and mademoiselle hortense often took excursions on horseback into the country. on these occasions her most constant escorts were the prince de poix and m. de laigle. one day, as this party was reentering the court-yard at malmaison, the horse which hortense rode became frightened, and dashed off. she was an accomplished rider, and very active, so she attempted to spring off on the grass by the roadside; but the band which fastened the end of her riding-skirt under her foot prevented her freeing herself quickly, and she was thrown, and dragged by her horse for several yards. fortunately the gentlemen of the party, seeing her fall, sprang from their horses in time to rescue her; and, by extraordinary good fortune, she was not even bruised, and was the first to laugh at her misadventure. during the first part of my stay at malmaison, the first consul always slept with his wife, like an ordinary citizen of the middle classes in paris; and i heard no rumor of any intrigue in the chateau. the persons of this society, most of whom were young, and who were often very numerous, frequently took part in sports which recalled college days. in fact, one of the greatest diversions of the inhabitants of malmaison was to play "prisoners' base." it was usually after dinner; and bonaparte, lauriston, didelot, de lucay, de bourrienne, eugene, rapp, isabey, madame bonaparte, and mademoiselle hortense would divide themselves into two camps, in which the prisoners taken, or exchanged, would recall to the first consul the greater game, which he so much preferred. in these games the most active runners were eugene, isabey, and hortense. as to general bonaparte, he often fell, but rose laughing boisterously. general bonaparte and his family seemed to enjoy almost unexampled happiness, especially when at malmaison, which residence, though agreeable at that time, was far from being what it has since become. this estate consisted of the chateau, which bonaparte found in bad condition on his return from egypt, a park already somewhat improved, and a farm, the income of which did not with any certainty exceed twelve thousand francs a year. josephine directed in person all the improvements made there, and no woman ever possessed better taste. from the first, they played amateur comedy at malmaison, which was a relaxation the first consul enjoyed greatly, but in which he took no part himself except that of looker-on. every one in the house attended these representations; and i must confess we felt perhaps even more pleasure than others in seeing thus travestied on the stage those in whose service we were. the malmaison troupe, if i may thus style actors of such exalted social rank, consisted principally of eugene, jerome, lauriston, de bourrienne, isabey, de leroy, didelot, mademoiselle hortense, madame caroline murat, and the two mademoiselles auguie, one of whom afterwards married marshal ney, [michel ney, styled by napoleon the "bravest of the brave," was born 1769, at sarre-louis (now in prussia), son of a cooper. entered the army as a private 1787, adjutant-general 1794, general of brigade 1796, general of division 1799, marshal 1804, duke of elchingen 1805, prince of moskwa 1812, and commanded the rear-guard in the famous retreat from russia. on the return from elba he went over to napoleon; was at waterloo. was afterwards taken, and in spite of the terms of the surrender of paris was tried for treason, and shot in the gardens of the luxembourg, dec. 8, 1815.--trans.] and the other m. de broc. all four were very young and charming, and few theaters in paris could show four actresses as pretty. in addition to which, they showed much grace in their acting, and played their parts with real talent; and were as natural on the stage as in the saloon, where they bore themselves with exquisite grace and refinement. at first the repertoire contained little variety, though the pieces were generally well selected. the first representation which i attended was the "barber of seville" in which isabey played the role of figaro, and mademoiselle hortense that of rosine--and the "spiteful lover." another time i saw played the "unexpected wager," and "false consultations." hortense and eugene played this last piece perfectly; and i still recall that, in the role of madame le blanc, hortense appeared prettier than ever in the character of an old woman, eugene representing le noir, and lauriston the charlatan. the first consul, as i have said, confined himself to the role of spectator; but he seemed to take in these fireside plays, so to speak, the greatest pleasure, laughed and applauded heartily, though sometimes he also criticised. madame bonaparte was also highly entertained; and even if she could not always boast of the successful acting of her children, "the chiefs of the troupe," it sufficed her that it was an agreeable relaxation to her husband, and seemed to give him pleasure; for her constant study was to contribute to the happiness of the great man who had united her destiny with his own. when the day for the presentation of a play had been appointed, there was never any postponement, but often a change of the play; not because of the indisposition, or fit of the blues, of an actress (as often happens in the theaters of paris), but for more serious reasons. it sometimes happened that m. d'etieulette received orders to rejoin his regiment, or an important mission was confided to count almaviva, though figaro and rosine always remained at their posts; and the desire of pleasing the first consul was, besides, so general among all those who surrounded him, that the substitutes did their best in the absence of the principals, and the play never failed for want of an actor. [michau, of the comedie francaise, was the instructor of the troupe. wherever it happened that an actor was wanting in animation, michau would exclaim. "warmth! warmth! warmth!" --note by constant.] chapter iii. i had been only a very short time in the service of madame bonaparte when i made the acquaintance of charvet, the concierge of malmaison, and in connection with this estimable man became each day more and more intimate, till at last he gave me one of his daughters in marriage. i was eager to learn from him all that he could tell me concerning madame bonaparte and the first consul prior to my entrance into the house; and in our frequent conversations he took the greatest pleasure in satisfying my curiosity. it is to him i owe the following details as to the mother and daughter. when general bonaparte set out for egypt, madame bonaparte accompanied him as far as toulon, and was extremely anxious to go with him to egypt. when the general made objections, she observed that having been born a creole, the heat of the climate would be more favorable than dangerous to her. by a singular coincidence it was on 'la pomone' that she wished to make the journey; that is to say, on the very same vessel which in her early youth had brought her from martinique to france. general bonaparte, finally yielding to the wishes of his wife, promised to send 'la pomone' for her, and bade her go in the meantime to take the waters at plombieres. the matter being arranged between husband and wife, madame bonaparte was delighted to go to the springs of plombieres which she had desired to visit for a long time, knowing, like every one else, the reputation these waters enjoyed for curing barrenness in women. madame bonaparte had been only a short time at plombieres, when one morning, while occupied in hemming a turban and chatting with the ladies present, madame de cambis, who was on the balcony, called to her to come and see a pretty little dog passing along the street. all the company hastened with madame bonaparte to the balcony, which caused it to fall with a frightful crash. by a most fortunate chance, no one was killed; though madame de cambis had her leg broken, and madame bonaparte was most painfully bruised, without, however, receiving any fracture. charvet, who was in a room behind the saloon, heard the noise, and at once had a sheep killed and skinned, and madame bonaparte wrapped in the skin. it was a long while before she regained her health, her arms and her hands especially being so bruised that she was for a long time unable to use them; and it was necessary to cut up her food, feed her, and, in fact, perform the same offices for her as for an infant. i related above that josephine thought she was to rejoin her husband in egypt, and consequently that her stay at the springs of plombieres would be of short duration but her accident led her to think that it would be prolonged indefinitely; she therefore desired, while waiting for her complete recovery, to have with her her daughter hortense, then about fifteen years of age, who was being educated in the boarding-school of madame campan. she sent for her a mulatto woman to whom she was much attached, named euphemie, who was the foster-sister of madame bonaparte, and passed (i do not know if the supposition was correct) as her natural sister. euphemie, accompanied by charvet, made the journey in one of madame bonaparte's carriages. mademoiselle hortense, on their arrival, was delighted with the journey she was about to make, and above all with the idea of being near her mother, for whom she felt the tenderest affection. mademoiselle hortense was, i would not say, greedy, but she was exceedingly fond of sweets; and charvet, in relating these details, said to me, that at each town of any size through which they passed the carriage was filled with bonbons and dainties, of which mademoiselle consumed a great quantity. one day, while euphemie and charvet were sound asleep, they were suddenly awakened by a report, which sounded frightful to them, and caused them intense anxiety, as they found when they awoke that they were passing through a thick forest. this ludicrous incident threw hortense into fits of laughter; for hardly had they expressed their alarm when they found themselves deluged with an odoriferous froth, which explained the cause of the explosion. a bottle of champagne, placed in one of the pockets of the carriage, had been uncorked; and the heat, added to the motion of the carriage, or rather the malice of the young traveler, had made it explode with a loud report. when mademoiselle arrived at plombieres, her mother's health was almost restored; so that the pupil of madame campan found there all the distractions which please and delight at the age which the daughter of madame bonaparte had then attained. there is truth in the saying that in all evil there is good, for had this accident not happened to madame bonaparte, it is very probable she would have become a prisoner of the english; in fact, she learned that 'la pomone', the vessel on which she wished to make the voyage, had fallen into the power of the enemies of france. general bonaparte, in all his letters, still dissuaded his wife from the plan she had of rejoining him; and, consequently, she returned to paris. on her arrival josephine devoted her attention to executing a wish general bonaparte had expressed to her before leaving. he had remarked to her that he should like, on his return, to have a country seat; and he charged his brother to attend to this, which joseph, however, failed to do. madame bonaparte, who, on the contrary, was always in search of what might please her husband, charged several persons to make excursions in the environs of paris, in order to ascertain whether a suitable dwelling could be found. after having vacillated long between ris and malmaison, she decided on the latter, which she bought from m. lecoulteux-dumoley, for, i think, four hundred thousand francs. such were the particulars which charvet was kind enough to give me when i first entered the service of madame bonaparte. every one in the house loved to speak of her; and it was certainly not to speak evil, for never was woman more beloved by all who surrounded her, and never has one deserved it more. general bonaparte was also an excellent man in the retirement of private life. after the return of the first consul from his campaign in egypt, several attempts against his life had been made; and the police had warned him many times to be on his guard, and not to risk himself alone in the environs of malmaison. the first consul had been very careless up to this period; but the discovery of the snares which were laid for him, even in the privacy of his family circle, forced him to use precautions and prudence. it has been stated since, that these pretended plots were only fabrications of the police to render themselves necessary to the first consul, or, perhaps, of the first consul himself, to redouble the interest which attached to his person, through fear of the perils which menaced his life; and the absurdity of these attempts is alleged as proof of this. i could not pretend to elucidate such mysteries; but it seems to me that in such matters absurdity proves nothing, or, at least, it does not prove that such plots did not exist. the conspirators of that period set no bounds to their extravagance; for what could be more absurd, and at the same time more real, than the atrocious folly of the infernal machine? be that as it may, i shall relate what passed under my own eyes during the first month of my stay at malmaison. no one there, or, at least, no one in my presence, showed the least doubt of the reality of these attempts. in order to get rid of the first consul, all means appeared good to his enemies: they noted everything in their calculations, even his absence of mind. the following occurrence is proof of this: there were repairs and ornamentations to be made to the mantel in the rooms of the first consul at malmaison. the contractor in charge of this work had sent marblecutters, amongst whom had slipped in, it seems, a few miserable wretches employed by the conspirators. the persons attached to the first consul were incessantly on the alert, and exercised the greatest watchfulness; and it was observed that among these workmen there were men who pretended to work, but whose air and manner contrasted strongly with their occupation. these suspicions were unfortunately only too well founded; for when the apartments had been made ready to receive the first consul, and just as he was on the eve of occupying them, some one making a final inspection found on the desk at which he would first seat himself, a snuff-box, in every respect like one of those which he constantly used. it was thought at first that this box really belonged to him, and that it had been forgotten and left there by his valet; but doubts inspired by the suspicious manner of a few of the marble-cutters, leading to further investigation, the tobacco was examined and analyzed. it was found to be poisoned. the authors of this perfidy had, it is said, at this time, communication with other conspirators, who engaged to attempt another means of ridding themselves of the first consul. they promised to attack the guard of the chateau (malmaison), and to carry off by force the chief of the government. with this intention, they had uniforms made like those of the consular guards, who then stood sentinel, day and night, over the first consul, and followed him on horseback in his excursions. in this costume, and by the aid of signals, with their accomplices (the pretended marble-cutters) on the inside, they could easily have approached and mingled with the guard, who were fed and quartered at the chateau. they could even have reached the first consul, and carried him off. however, this first project was abandoned as too uncertain; and the conspirators flattered themselves that they would succeed in their undertaking more surely, and with less danger, by taking advantage of the frequent journeys of the first consul to paris. by means of their disguise they planned to distribute themselves on the road, among the guides of the escort, and massacre them, their rallying-point being the quarries of nanterre; but their plots were for the second time foiled. there was in the park at malmaison a deep quarry; and fears being entertained that they would profit by it to conceal themselves therein, and exercise some violence against the first consul on one of his solitary walks, it was decided to secure it with an iron door. on the 19th of february, at one in the afternoon, the first consul went in state to the tuileries, which was then called the government palace, to install himself there with all his household. with him were his two colleagues; one of whom, the third consul, was to occupy the same residence, and be located in the pavilion de flore. the carriage of the consuls was drawn by six white horses, which the emperor of germany had presented to the conqueror of italy after the signature of the treaty of peace of campo-formio. the saber that the first consul wore at this ceremony was magnificent, and had also been presented to him by this monarch on the same occasion. a remarkable thing in this formal change of residence was that the acclamations and enthusiasm of the crowd, and even of the most distinguished spectators, who filled the windows of rue thionville and of the quai voltaire, were addressed only to the first consul, and to the young warriors of his brilliant staff, who were yet bronzed by the sun of the pyramids or of italy. at their head rode general lannes and murat; the first easy to recognize by his bold bearing and soldierly manners; the second by the same qualities, and further by a striking elegance, both of costume and equipments. his new title of brother-in-law of the first consul contributed, also, greatly to fix upon him the attention of all. as for myself, all my attention was absorbed by the principal personage of the cortege, whom, like every one around me, i regarded with something like a religious reverence; and by his stepson, the son of my excellent mistress, himself once my master,--the brave, modest, good prince eugene, who at that time, however, was not yet a prince. on his arrival at the tuileries, the first consul took possession at once of the apartments which he afterwards occupied, and which were formerly part of the royal apartments. these apartments consisted of a bed-chamber, a bathroom, a cabinet, and a saloon, in which he gave audience in the forenoon; of a second saloon, in which were stationed his aides-de-camp on duty, and which he used as a dining-room; and also a very large antechamber. madame bonaparte had her separate apartments on the ground floor, the same which she afterwards occupied as empress. beneath the suite of rooms occupied by the first consul was the room of bourrienne, his private secretary, which communicated with the apartments of the first consul by means of a private staircase. although at this period there were already courtiers, there was not, however, yet a court, and the etiquette was exceedingly simple. the first consul, as i believe i have already said, slept in the same bed with his wife; and they lived together, sometimes at the tuileries, sometimes at malmaison. as yet there were neither grand marshal, nor chamberlains, nor prefects of the palace, nor ladies of honor, nor lady ushers, nor ladies of the wardrobe, nor pages. the household of the first consul was composed only of m. pfister, steward; venard, chief cook; galliot, and dauger, head servants; colin, butler. ripeau was librarian; vigogne, senior, in charge of the stables. those attached to his personal service were hambard, head valet; herbert, ordinary valet; and roustan, mameluke of the first consul. there were, beside these, fifteen persons to discharge the ordinary duties of the household. de bourrienne superintended everything, and regulated expenses, and, although very strict, won the esteem and affection of every one. he was kind, obliging, and above all very just; and consequently at the time of his disgrace the whole household was much distressed. as for myself, i retain a sincerely respectful recollection of him; and i believe that, though he has had the misfortune to find enemies among the great, he found among his inferiors only grateful hearts and sincere regrets. some days after this installation, there was at the chateau a reception of the diplomatic corps. it will be seen from the details, which i shall give, how very simple at that time was the etiquette of what they already called the court. at eight o'clock in the evening, the apartments of madame bonaparte, situated, as i have just said, on the ground floor adjoining the garden, were crowded with people. there was an incredible wealth of plumes, diamonds, and dazzling toilets. the crowd was so great that it was found necessary to throw open the bedroom of madame bonaparte, as the two saloons were so full there was not room to move. when, after much embarrassment and difficulty, every one had found a place as they could, madame bonaparte was announced, and entered, leaning on the arm of talleyrand. she wore a dress of white muslin with short sleeves, and a necklace of pearls. her head was uncovered; and the beautiful braids of her hair, arranged with charming negligence, were held in place by a tortoise-shell comb. the flattering murmur which greeted her appearance was most grateful to her; and never, i believe, did she display more grace and majesty. talleyrand, [charles maurice de talleyrand-perigord, born at paris, 1754, was descended from the counts of perigord. rendered lame by an accident, he entered the clergy, and in 1788 became bishop of autun. in the states-general he sided with the revolution. during the reign of terror he visited england and the united states. recalled in 1796, he became minister of foreign affairs under the directory, which post he retained under the consulate. in 1806 he was made prince of benevento. he soon fell into disgrace. sided with the bourbons in 1814, and was minister at the congress of vienna, president of the council, and minister under the king. died 1838. --trans.] giving his hand to madame bonaparte, had the honor of presenting to her, one after another, the members of the diplomatic corps, not according to their names, but that of the courts they represented. he then made with her the tour of the two saloons, and the circuit of the second was only half finished when the first consul entered without being announced. he was dressed in a very plain uniform, with a tricolored silk scarf, with fringes of the same around his waist. he wore close-fitting pantaloons of white cassimere, and top-boots, and held his hat in his hand. this plain dress, in the midst of the embroidered coats loaded with cordons and orders worn by the ambassadors and foreign dignitaries, presented a contrast as striking as the toilette of madame bonaparte compared with that of the other ladies present. before relating how i exchanged the service of madame bonaparte for that of the chief of state, and a sojourn at malmaison for the second campaign of italy, i think i should pause to recall one or two incidents which belong to the time spent in the service of madame bonaparte. she loved to sit up late, and, when almost everybody else had retired, to play a game of billiards, or more often of backgammon. it happened on one occasion that, having dismissed every one else, and not yet being sleepy, she asked if i knew how to play billiards, and upon my replying in the affirmative, requested me with charming grace to play with her; and i had often afterwards the honor of doing so. although i had some skill, i always managed to let her beat me, which pleased her exceedingly. if this was flattery, i must admit it; but i would have done the same towards any other woman, whatever her rank and her relation to me, had she been even half as lovely as was madame bonaparte. the concierge of malmaison, who possessed the entire confidence of his employers, among other means of precaution and watchfulness conceived by him in order to protect the residence and person of the first consul from any sudden attack, had trained for the chateau several large dogs, among which were two very handsome newfoundlands. work on the improvements of malmaison went on incessantly, and a large number of workmen lodged there at night, who were carefully warned not to venture out alone; but one night as some of the watchdogs were with the workmen in their lodgings, and allowed themselves to be caressed, their apparent docility encouraged one of these men to attempt the imprudence of venturing out. believing that the surest way to avoid danger was to put himself under the protection of one of those powerful animals, he took one of them with him, and in a very friendly manner they passed out of the door together; but no sooner had they reached the outside, than the dog sprang upon his unfortunate companion and threw him down. the cries of the poor workman brought some of the guard, who ran to his aid. just in time; for the dog was holding him fast to the ground, and had seized him by the throat. he was rescued, badly wounded. madame bonaparte, when she was informed of this accident, had him nursed till perfectly cured, and gave him a handsome gratuity, but recommended him to be more prudent in the future. every moment that the first consul could snatch from affairs of state he passed at malmaison. the evening of each decadii [under the republic, sunday was abolished. a decade of ten days was substituted for the week; and the decadi, or tenth day, took the place of the sabbath.--trans.] was a time of expectation and joy at the chateau. madame bonaparte sent domestics on horseback and on foot to meet her husband, and often went herself, accompanied by her daughter and her malmaison friends. when not on duty, i went myself and alone: for everybody felt for the first consul the same affection, and experienced in regard to him the same anxiety; and such was the bitterness and boldness of his enemies that the road, though short, between paris and malmaison was full of dangers and snares. we knew that many plans had been laid to kidnap him on this road, and that these attempts might be renewed. the most dangerous spot was the quarries of nanterre, of which i have already spoken; so they were carefully examined, and guarded by his followers each day on which the first consul was to pass, and finally the depressions nearest the road were filled up. the first consul was gratified by our devotion to him, and gave us proofs of his satisfaction, though he himself seemed always free from fear or uneasiness. very often, indeed, he mildly ridiculed our anxiety, and would relate very seriously to the good josephine what a narrow escape he had on the road; how men of a sinister appearance had shown themselves many times on his way; how one of them had had the boldness to aim at him, etc. and when he saw her well frightened, he would burst out laughing, give her some taps or kisses on her cheek and neck, saying to her, "have no fear, little goose; they would not dare." on these "days of furlough," as he called them, he was occupied more with his private affairs than with those of state; but never could he remain idle. he would make them pull down, put up again, build, enlarge, set out, prune, incessantly, both in the chateau and in the park, while he examined the bills of expenses, estimated receipts, and ordered economies. time passed quickly in all these occupations; and the moment soon came when it was necessary to return, and, as he expressed it, put on again the yoke of misery. chapter iv. towards the end of march, 1800, five or six months after my entrance into the service of madame. bonaparte, the first consul while at dinner one day regarded me intently; and having carefully scrutinized and measured me from head to foot, "young man," said he, "would you like to go with me on the campaign?" i replied, with much emotion, that i would ask nothing better. "very well, then, you shall go with me!" and on rising from the table, he ordered pfister, the steward, to place my name on the list of the persons of his household who would accompany him. my preparations did not require much time; for i was delighted with the idea of being attached to the personal service of so great a man, and in imagination saw myself already beyond the alps. but the first consul set out without me. pfister, by a defect of memory, perhaps intentional, had forgotten to place my name on the list. i was in despair, and went to relate, with tears, my misfortune to my excellent mistress, who was good enough to endeavor to console me, saying, "well, constant, everything is not lost; you will stay with me. you can hunt in the park to pass the time; and perhaps the first consul may yet send for you." however, madame bonaparte did not really believe this; for she thought, as i did, although out of kindness she did not wish to say this to me, that the first consul having changed his mind, and no longer wishing my services on the campaign, had himself given the counter orders. however, i soon had proof to the contrary. in passing through dijon, on his way to mt. st. bernard, the first consul asked for me, and learning that they had forgotten me, expressed his dissatisfaction, and directed bourrienne to write immediately to madame bonaparte, requesting her to send me on without delay. one morning, when my chagrin was more acute than ever, madame bonaparte sent for me, and said, holding bourrienne's letter in her hand, "constant, since you have determined to quit us to make the campaign, you may rejoice, for you are now about to leave. the first consul has sent for you. go to the office of maret, and ascertain if he will not soon send a courier. you will accompany him." i was inexpressibly delighted at this good news, and did not try to conceal my pleasure. "you are very well satisfied to leave us," said madame bonaparte with a kind smile. "it is not leaving madame, but joining the first consul, which delights me."--"i hope so," replied she. "go, constant; and take good care of him." if any incentive had been needed, this injunction of my noble mistress would have added to the zeal and fidelity with which i had determined to discharge my new duties. i hurried without delay to the office of maret, secretary of state, who already knew me, and had shown his good-will for me. "get ready at once," said he; "a courier will set out this evening or to-morrow morning." i returned in all haste to malmaison, and announced to madame bonaparte my immediate departure. she immediately had a good post-chaise made ready for me, and thibaut (for that was the name of the courier i was to accompany) was directed to obtain horses for me along the route. maret gave me eight hundred francs for the expenses of my trip, which sum, entirely unexpected by me, filled me with wonder, for i had never been so rich. at four o'clock in the morning, having heard from thibaut that everything was ready, i went to his house, where the post-chaise awaited me, and we set out. i traveled very comfortably, sometimes in the postchaise, sometimes on horseback; i taking thibaut's place, and he mine. i expected to overtake the first consul at martigny; but his traveling had been so rapid, that i caught up with him only at the convent of mt. st. bernard. upon our route we constantly passed regiments on the march, composed of officers and soldiers who were hastening to rejoin their different corps. their enthusiasm was irrepressible,--those who had made the campaign of italy rejoiced at returning to so fine a country; those who had not yet done so were burning with impatience to see the battlefields immortalized by french valor, and by the genius of the hero who still marched at their head. all went as if to a festival, and singing songs they climbed the mountains of valais. it was eight o'clock in the morning when i arrived at headquarters. pfister announced me; and i found the general-in-chief in the great hall, in the basement of the hospice. he was taking breakfast, standing, with his staff. as soon as he saw me, he said, "here you are, you queer fellow! why didn't you come with me?" i excused myself by saying that to my great regret i had received a counter order, or, at least, they had left me behind at the moment of departure. "lose no time, my friend; eat quickly; we are about to start." from this moment i was attached to the personal service of the first consul, in the quality of ordinary valet; that is to say, in my turn. this duty gave me little to do; hambard, the head valet of the first consul, being in the habit of dressing him from head to foot. immediately after breakfast we began to descend the mountain, many sliding down on the snow, very much as they coast at the garden beaujon, from top to bottom of the montagnes russes, and i followed their example. this they called "sledding." the general-in-chief also descended in this manner an almost perpendicular glacier. his guide was a young countryman, active and courageous, to whom the first consul promised a sufficiency for the rest of his days. some young soldiers who had wandered off into the snow were found, almost dead with cold, by the dogs sent out by the monks, and carried to the hospice, where they received every possible attention, and their lives were saved. the first consul gave substantial proof of his gratitude to the good fathers for a charity so useful and generous. before leaving the hospice, where he had found tables loaded with food already prepared awaiting the soldiers as soon as they reached the summit of the mountain, he gave to the good monks a considerable sum of money, in reward for the hospitality he and his companions in arms had received, and an order on the treasury for an annuity in support of the convent. the same day we climbed mount albaredo; but as this passage was impracticable for cavalry and artillery, he ordered them to pass outside the town of bard, under the batteries of the fort. the first consul had ordered that they should pass it at night, and on a gallop; and he had straw tied around the wheels of the caissons and on the feet of the horses, but even these precautions were not altogether sufficient to prevent the austrians hearing our troops. the cannon of the fort rained grape-shot incessantly; but fortunately the houses of the town sheltered our soldiers from the enemy's guns, and more than half the army passed without much loss. i was with the household of the first consul, which under the care of general gardanne flanked the fort. the 23d of may we forded a torrent which flowed between the town and the fort, with the first consul at our head, and then, followed by general berthier and some other officers, took the path over the albaredo, which overlooked the fort and the town of bard. directing his field-glass towards the hostile batteries, from the fire of which he was protected only by a few bushes, he criticised the dispositions which had been made by the officer in charge of the siege of the fort, and ordered changes, which he said would cause the place to fall into our hands in a short time. freed now from the anxiety which this fort had caused him, and which he said had prevented his sleeping the two days he had passed in the convent of maurice, he stretched himself at the foot of a fir-tree and took a refreshing nap, while the army was making good its passage. rising from this brief interval of repose, he descended the mountain and continued his march to ivree, where we passed the night. the brave general lannes, who commanded the advance guard, acted somewhat in the capacity of quartermaster, taking possession of all the places which barred the road. only a few hours before we entered he had forced the passage of ivree. such was this miraculous passage of st. bernard. horses, cannon, caissons, and an immense quantity of army stores of all kinds, everything, in fact, was drawn or carried over glaciers which appeared inaccessible, and by paths which seemed impracticable even for a single man. the austrian cannon were not more successful than the snow in stopping the french army. so true is it that the genius and perseverance of the first consul were communicated, so to speak, to the humblest of his soldiers, and inspired them with a courage and a strength, the results of which will appear fabulous to posterity. on the 2d of june, which was the day after the passage of the ticino, and the day of our entrance into milan, the first consul learned that the fort of bard had been taken the evening before, showing that his dispositions had led to a quick result, and the road of communication by the st. bernard was now free from all obstructions. the first consul entered milan without having met much resistance, the whole population turned out on his entrance, and he was received with a thousand acclamations. the confidence of the milanese redoubled when they learned that he had promised the members of the assembled clergy to maintain the catholic worship and clergy as already established, and had compelled them to take the oath of fidelity to the cisalpine republic. the first consul remained several days in this capital; and i had time to form a more intimate acquaintance with my colleagues, who were, as i have said, hambard, roustan, and hebert. we relieved each other every twenty-four hours, at noon precisely. as has always been my rule when thrown into association with strangers, i observed, as closely as circumstances permitted, the character and temper of my comrades, so that i could regulate my conduct in regard to them, and know in advance what i might have to fear or hope from association with them. hambard had an unbounded devotion for the first consul, whom he had followed to egypt, but unfortunately his temper was gloomy and misanthropic, which made him extremely sullen and disagreeable; and the favor which roustan enjoyed perhaps contributed to increase this gloomy disposition. in a kind of mania he imagined himself to be the object of a special espionage; and when his hours of service were over, he would shut himself up in his room, and pass in mournful solitude the whole time he was not on duty. the first consul, when in good humor, would joke with him upon this savage disposition, calling him mademoiselle hambard. "ah, well, what were you doing there in your room all by yourself? doubtless you were reading some poor romances, or some old books about princesses carried off and kept under guard by a barbarous giant." to which hambard would sullenly reply, "general, you no doubt know better than i what i was doing," referring in this way to the spies by which he believed himself to be always surrounded. notwithstanding this unfortunate disposition, the first consul felt very kindly to him. when the emperor went to camp at boulogne, hambard refused to accompany him; and the emperor gave him, as a place of retreat, the charge of the palace of meudon. there he showed unmistakable symptoms of insanity, and his end was lamentable. during the hundred days, after a conversation with the emperor, he threw himself against a carving-knife with such violence that the blade came out two inches behind his back. as it was believed at this time that i had incurred the anger of the emperor, the rumor went abroad that it was i who had committed suicide, and this tragic death was announced in several papers as mine. hebert, ordinary valet, was a very agreeable young fellow, but very timid, and was, like all the rest of the household, devotedly attached to the first consul. it happened one day in egypt that the latter, who had never been able to shave himself (it was i who taught him how to shave himself, as i shall relate elsewhere at length), called hebert to shave him, in the absence of hambard, who ordinarily discharged that duty. as it had sometimes happened that hebert, on account of his great timidity, had cut his master's chin, on that day the latter, who held a pair of scissors in his hand, when hebert approached him, holding his razor, said, "take care, you scamp; if you cut me, i will stick my scissors into your stomach." this threat, made with an air of pretended seriousness, but which was in fact only a jest, such as i have seen the emperor indulge in a hundred times, produced such an impression on hebert, that it was impossible for him to finish his work. he was seized with a convulsive trembling, the razor fell from his hand, and the general-in-chief in vain bent his neck, and said to him many times, laughing "come, finish, you scamp." not only was hebert unable to complete his task that day, but from that time he had to renounce the duty of barber. the emperor did not like this excessive timidity in the servants of his household; but this did not prevent him, when he restored the castle of rambouillet, from giving to hebert the place of concierge which he requested. roustan, so well known under the name of mameluke, belonged to a good family of georgia; carried off at the age of six or seven, and taken to cairo, he was there brought up among the young slaves who attended upon the mamelukes, until he should be of sufficient age to enter this warlike militia. the sheik of cairo, in making a present to general bonaparte of a magnificent arab horse, had given him at the same time roustan and ibrahim, another mameluke, who was afterwards attached to the service of madame bonaparte, under the name of ali. it is well known that roustan became an indispensable accompaniment on all occasions when the emperor appeared in public. he was with him in all his expeditions, in all processions, and, which was especially to his honor, in all his battles. in the brilliant staff which followed the emperor he shone more than all others by the richness of his oriental costume; and his appearance made a decided impression, especially upon the common people and in the provinces. he was believed to have great influence with the emperor; because, as credulous people said, roustan had saved his master's life by throwing himself between him and the saber of an enemy who was about to strike him. i think that this belief was unfounded, and that the especial favor he enjoyed was due to the habitual kindness of his majesty towards every one in his service. besides, this favor affected in no wise his domestic relations; for when roustan, who had married a young and pretty french girl, a certain mademoiselle douville, whose father was valet to the empress josephine, was reproached by certain journals in 1814 and 1815 with not having followed to the end of his fortunes the man for whom he had always expressed such intense devotion, roustan replied that the family ties which he had formed prevented his leaving france, and that he could not destroy the happiness of his own household. ibrahim took the name of ali when he passed into the service of madame bonaparte. he was of more than arabic ugliness, and had a wicked look. i recall in this connection a little incident which took place at malmaison, which will give an idea of his character. one day, while playing on the lawn of the chateau, i unintentionally threw him down while running; and furious at his fall, he rose up, drew his poniard, which he always wore, and dashed after me to strike me. i laughed at first, like every one else, at the accident, and amused myself by making him run; but warned by the cries of my comrades, and looking back to see how close he was, i perceived at the same time his dagger and his rage. i stopped at once, and planted my foot, with my eye fixed upon his poniard, and was fortunate enough to avoid his blow, which, however, grazed my breast. furious in my turn, as may be imagined, i seized him by his flowing pantaloons, and pitched him ten feet into the stream of malmaison, which was barely two feet deep. the plunge brought him at once to his senses; and besides, his poniard had gone to the bottom, which made him much less dangerous. but in his disappointment he yelled so loudly that madame bonaparte heard him; and as she had quite a fancy for her mameluke, i was sharply scolded. however, this poor ali was of such an unsocial temperament that he got into difficulties with almost every one in the household, and at last was sent away to fontainebleau, to take the place of manservant there. i now return to our campaign. on the 13th of june the first consul spent the night at torre-di-galifolo, where he established his headquarters. from the day of our entry into milan the advance of the army had not slackened; general murat had passed the po, and taken possession of piacenza; and general lannes, still pushing forward with his brave advance guard, had fought a bloody battle at montebello, a name which he afterwards rendered illustrious by bearing it. the recent arrival of general desaix, who had just returned from egypt, completed the joy of the general-in-chief, and also added much to the confidence of the soldiers, by whom the good and modest desaix was adored. the first consul received him with the frankest and most cordial friendship, and they remained together three consecutive hours in private conversation. at the end of this conference, an order of the day announced to the army that general desaix would take command of the division boudet. i heard some persons in the suite of general desaix say that his patience and evenness of temper were rudely tried during his voyage, by contrary winds, forced delays, the ennui of quarantine, and above all by the bad conduct of the english, who had kept him for some time a prisoner in their fleet, in sight of the shores of france, although he bore a passport, signed by the english authorities in egypt, in consequence of the capitulation which had been mutually agreed upon. consequently his resentment against them was very ardent; and he regretted much, he said, that the enemy he was about to fight was not the english. in spite of the simplicity of his tastes and habits, no one was more ambitious of glory than this brave general. all his rage against the english was caused by the fear that he might not arrive in time to gather new laurels. he did indeed arrive in time, but only to find a glorious death, alas, so premature! it was on the fourteenth that the celebrated battle of marengo took place, which began early in the morning, and lasted throughout the day. i remained at headquarters with all the household of the first consul, where we were almost within range of the cannon on the battlefield. contradictory news constantly came, one report declaring the battle completely lost, the next giving us the victory. at one time the increase in the number of our wounded, and the redoubled firing of the austrian cannon, made us believe that all was lost; and then suddenly came the news that this apparent falling back was only a bold maneuver of the first consul, and that a charge of general desaix had gained the battle. but the victory was bought at a price dear to france and to the heart of the first consul. desaix, struck by a bullet, fell dead on the field; and the grief of his soldiers serving only to exasperate their courage, they routed, by a bayonet charge, the enemy, who were already shaken by the brilliant cavalry charge of general kellermann. the first consul slept upon the field of battle, and notwithstanding the decisive victory that he had gained, was very sad, and said that evening, in the presence of hambard and myself, many things which showed the profound grief he experienced in the death of general desaix. he said, "france has lost one of her bravest defenders, and i one of my best friends; no one knew how much courage there was in the heart of desaix, nor how much genius in his head." he thus solaced his grief by making to each and all a eulogy on the hero who had died on the field of honor. "my brave desaix," he further said, "always wished to die thus;" and then added, almost with tears in his eyes, "but ought death to have been so prompt to grant his wish?" there was not a soldier in our victorious army who did not share so just a sorrow. rapp and savary, the aides-de-camp of desaix, remained plunged in the most despairing grief beside the body of their chief, whom they called their father, rather to express his unfailing kindness to them than the dignity of his character. out of respect to the memory of his friend, the general-in-chief, although his staff was full, added these two young officers in the quality of aides-de-camp. commandant rapp (for such only was his rank at that time) was then, as he has ever been, good, full of courage, and universally beloved. his frankness, which sometimes bordered on brusqueness, pleased the emperor; and i have many times heard him speak in praise of his aide-de-camp, whom he always styled, "my brave rapp." rapp was not lucky in battle, for he rarely escaped without a wound. while thus anticipating events, i will mention that in russia, on the eve of the battle of la moskwa, the emperor said, in my presence, to general rapp, who had just arrived from dantzic, "see here, my brave fellow, we will beat them to-morrow, but take great care of yourself. you are not a favorite of fortune."--"that is," said the general, "the premium to be paid on the business, but i shall none the less on that account do my best." savary manifested for the first consul the same fervid zeal and unbounded devotion which had attached him to general desaix; and if he lacked any of the qualities of general rapp, it was certainly not bravery. of all the men who surrounded the emperor, no one was more absolutely devoted to his slightest wishes. in the course of these memoirs, i shall doubtless have occasion to recall instances of this unparalleled enthusiasm, for which the duke de rovigo i was magnificently rewarded; but it is just to say that he did not bite the hand which rewarded him, and that he gave to the end, and even after the end, of his old master (for thus he loved to style the emperor) an example of gratitude which has been imitated by few. a government decree, in the month of june following, determined that the body of desaix should be carried to the hospice of st. bernard, and that a tomb should be erected on that spot, in the country where he had covered himself with immortal glory, as a testimonial to the grief of france, and especially that of the first consul. chapter v. the victory of marengo had rendered the conquest of italy certain. therefore the first consul, thinking his presence more necessary at paris than at the head of his army, gave the command in chief to general massena, and made preparations to repass the mountains. on our return to milan, the first consul was received with even more enthusiasm than on his first visit. the establishment of a republic was in accordance with the wishes of a large number of the milanese; and they called the first consul their savior, since he had delivered them from the yoke of the austrians. there was, however, a party who detested equally these changes, the french army which was the instrument of them, and the young chief who was the author. in this party figured a celebrated artist, the singer marchesi. during our former visit, the first consul had sent for him; and the musician had waited to be entreated, acting as if he were much inconvenienced, and at last presented himself with all the importance of a man whose dignity had been offended. the very simple costume of the first consul, his short stature, thin visage, and poor figure were not calculated to make much of an impression on the hero of the theater; and after the general-in-chief had welcomed him cordially, and very politely asked him to sing an air, he replied by this poor pun, uttered in a tone the impertinence of which was aggravated by his italian accent: "signor general, if it is a good air which you desire, you will find an excellent one in making a little tour of the garden." the signor marchesi was for this fine speech immediately put out of the door, and the same evening an order was sent committing the singer to prison. on our return the first consul, whose resentment against marchesi the cannon of marengo had doubtless assuaged, and who thought besides that the penance of the musician for a poor joke had been sufficiently long, sent for him again, and asked him once more to sing; marchesi this time was modest and polite, and sang in a charming manner. after the concert the first consul approached him, pressed his hand warmly, and complimented him in the most affectionate manner; and from that moment peace was concluded between the two powers, and marchesi sang only praises of the first consul. at this same concert the first consul was struck with the beauty of a famous singer, madame grassini. he found her by no means cruel, and at the end of a few hours the conqueror of italy counted one conquest more. the following day she breakfasted with the first consul and general berthier in the chamber of the first consul. general berthier was ordered to provide for the journey of madame grassini, who was carried to paris, and attached to the concert-room of the court. the first consul left milan on the 24th; and we returned to france by the route of mont cenis, traveling as rapidly as possible. everywhere the consul was received with an enthusiasm difficult to describe. arches of triumph had been erected at the entrance of each town, and in each canton a deputation of leading citizens came to make addresses to and compliment him. long ranks of young girls, dressed in white, crowned with flowers, bearing flowers in their hands, and throwing flowers into the carriage of the first consul, made themselves his only escort, surrounded him, followed him, and preceded him, until he had passed, or as soon as he set foot on the ground wherever he stopped. the journey was thus, throughout the whole route, a perpetual fete; and at lyons it amounted to an ovation, in which the whole town turned out to meet him. he entered, surrounded by an immense crowd, amid the most noisy demonstrations, and alighted at the hotel of the celestins. in the reign of terror the jacobins had spent their fury on the town of lyons, the destruction of which they had sworn; and the handsome buildings which ornamented the place belcour had been leveled to the ground, the hideous cripple couthon, at the head of the vilest mob of the clubs, striking the first blow with the hammer. the first consul detested the jacobins, who, on their side, hated and feared him; and his constant care was to destroy their work, or, in other words, to restore the ruins with which they had covered france. he thought then, and justly too, that he could not better respond to the affection of the people of lyons, than by promoting with all his power the rebuilding of the houses of the place belcour; and before his departure he himself laid the first stone. the town of dijon gave the first consul a reception equally as brilliant. between villeneuve-le-roi and sens, at the descent to the bridge of montereau, while the eight horses, lashed to a gallop, were bearing the carriage rapidly along (the first consul already traveled like a king), the tap of one of the front wheels came off. the inhabitants who lined the route, witnessing this accident, and foreseeing what would be the result, used every effort to stop the postilions, but did not succeed, and the carriage was violently upset. the first consul received no injury; general berthier had his face slightly scratched by the windows, which were broken; and the two footmen, who were on the steps, were thrown, violently to a distance, and badly wounded. the first consul got out, or rather was pulled out, through one of the doors. this occurrence made no delay in his journey; he took his seat in another carriage immediately, and reached paris with no other accident. the night of the 2d of july, he alighted at the tuileries; and the next day, as soon as the news of his return had been circulated in paris, the entire population filled the courts and the garden. they pressed around the windows of the pavilion of flora, in the hope of catching a glimpse of the savior of france, the liberator of italy. that evening there was no one, either rich or poor, who did not take delight in illuminating his house or his garret. it was only a short time after his arrival at paris that the first consul learned of the death of general kleber. the poniard of suleyman had slain this great captain the same day that the cannon of marengo laid low another hero of the army of egypt. this assassination caused the first consul the most poignant grief, of which i was an eyewitness, and to which i can testify; and, nevertheless, his calumniators have dared to say that he rejoiced at an event, which, even considered apart from its political relations, caused him to lose a conquest which had cost him so much, and france so much blood and expense. other miserable wretches, still more stupid and more infamous, have even gone so far as to fabricate and spread abroad the report that the first consul had himself ordered the assassination of his companion in arms, whom he had placed in his own position at the head of the army in egypt. to these i have only one answer to make, if it is necessary to answer them at all; it is this, they never knew the emperor. after his return, the first consul went often with his wife to malmaison, where he remained sometimes for several days. at this time it was the duty of the valet de chambre to follow the carriage on horseback. one day the first consul, while returning to paris, ascertained a short distance from the chateau that he had forgotten his snuff-box, and sent me for it. i turned my bridle, set off at a gallop, and, having found the snuff-box on his desk, retraced my steps to overtake him, but did not succeed in doing so till he had reached ruelle. just as i drew near the carriage my horse slipped on a stone, fell, and threw me some distance into a ditch. the fall was very severe; and i remained stretched on the ground, with one shoulder dislocated, and an arm badly bruised. the first consul ordered the horses stopped, himself gave orders to have me taken up, and cautioned them to be very careful in moving me; and i was borne, attended by-him, to the barracks of ruelle, where he took pains before continuing his journey to satisfy himself that i was in no danger. the physician of his household was sent to ruelle, my shoulder set, and my arm dressed; and from there i was carried as gently as possible to malmaison, where, good madame, bonaparte had the kindness to come to see me, and lavished on me every attention. the day i returned to service, after my recovery, i was in the antechamber of the first consul as he came out of his cabinet. he drew near me, and inquired with great interest how i was. i replied that, thanks to the care taken of me, according to the orders of my excellent master and mistress, i was quite well again. "so much the better," said the first consul. "constant, make haste, and get your strength back. continue to serve me well, and i will take care of you. here," added he, placing in my hand three little crumpled papers, "these are to replenish your wardrobe;" and he passed on, without listening to the profuse thanks which, with great emotion, i was attempting to express, much more for the consideration and interest in me shown by him than for his present, for i did not then know of what it consisted. after he passed on i unrolled my papers: they were three bank-bills, each for a thousand francs! i was moved to tears by so great a kindness. we must remember that at this period the first consul was not rich, although he was the first magistrate of the republic. how deeply the remembrance of this generous deed touches me, even to-day. i do not know if details so personal to me will be found interesting; but they seem to me proper as evidence of the true character of the emperor, which has been so outrageously misrepresented, and also as an instance of his ordinary conduct towards the servants of his house; it shows too, at the same time, whether the severe economy that he required in his domestic management, and of which i will speak elsewhere, was the result, as has been stated, of sordid avarice, or whether it was not rather a rule of prudence, from which he departed willingly whenever his kindness of heart or his humanity urged him thereto. i am not certain that my memory does not deceive me in leading me to put in this place a circumstance which shows the esteem in which the first consul held the brave soldiers of his army, and how he loved to manifest it on all occasions. i was one day in his sleeping-room, at the usual hour for his toilet, and was performing that day the duties of chief valet, hambard being temporarily absent or indisposed, there being in the room, besides the body servants, only the brave and modest colonel gerard lacuee, one of the aides-de-camp of the first consul. jerome bonaparte, then hardly seventeen years of age, was introduced. this young man gave his family frequent cause of complaint, and feared no one except his brother napoleon, who reprimanded, lectured, and scolded him as if he had been his own son. there was a question at the time of making him a sailor, less with the object of giving him a career, than of removing him from the seductive temptations which the high position of his brother caused to spring up incessantly around his path, and which he had little strength to resist. it may be imagined what it cost him to renounce pleasures so accessible and so delightful to a young man. he did not fail to protest, on all occasions, his unfitness for sea-service, going so far, it is said, that he even caused himself to be rejected by the examining board of the navy as incompetent, though he could easily have prepared himself to answer the few questions asked. however, the will of the first consul must be obeyed, and jerome was compelled to embark. on the day of which i have spoken, after some moments of conversation and scolding, still on the subject of the navy, jerome said to his brother, "instead of sending me to perish of ennui at sea, you ought to take me for an aide-de-camp."--"what, take you, greenhorn," warmly replied the first consul; "wait till a ball has furrowed your face and then i will see about it," at the same time calling his attention to colonel lacuee, who blushed, and dropped his eyes to the floor like a young girl, for, as is well known, he bore on his face the scar made by a bullet. this gallant colonel was killed in 1805 before guntzbourg; and the emperor deeply regretted his loss, for he ways one of the bravest and most skillful officers of the army. it was, i believe, about this time that the first consul conceived a strong passion for a very intelligent and handsome young woman, madame d. madame bonaparte, suspecting this intrigue, showed jealousy; and her husband did all he could to allay her wifely suspicions. before going to the chamber of his mistress he would wait until every one was asleep in the chateau; and he even carried his precautions so far as to go from his room to hers in his night-dress, without shoes or slippers. once i found that day was about to break before his return; and fearing scandal, i went, as the first consul had ordered me to do in such a case, to notify the chambermaid of madame d. to go to her mistress and tell her the hour. it was hardly five minutes after this timely notice had been given, when i saw the first consul returning, in great excitement, of which i soon learned the cause. he had discovered, on his return, one of madame bonaparte's women, lying in wait, and who had seen him through the window of a closet opening upon the corridor. the first consul, after a vigorous outburst against the curiosity of the fair sex, sent me to the young scout from the enemy's camp to intimate to her his orders to hold her tongue, unless she wished to be discharged without hope of return. i do not know whether i added a milder argument to these threats to buy her silence; but, whether from fear or for compensation, she had the good sense not to talk. nevertheless, the successful lover, fearing another surprise, directed me to rent in the allee des ireuves a little house where he and madame d. met from time to time. such were, and continued to be, the precautions of the first consul towards his wife. he had the highest regard for her, and took all imaginable care to prevent his infidelities coming to her knowledge. besides, these passing fancies did not lessen the tenderness he felt for her; and although other women inspired him with love, no other woman had his confidence and friendship to the same extent as madame bonaparte. there have been a thousand and one calumnies repeated of the harshness and brutality of the first consul towards women. he was not always gallant, but i have never seen him rude; and, however singular it may seem after what i have just related, he professed the greatest veneration for a wife of exemplary conduct, speaking in admiring terms of happy households; and he did not admire cynicism, either in morals or in language. when he had any liaisons he kept them secret, and concealed them with great care. chapter vi. the 3d nivose, year ix. (dec. 21, 1800), [under the republican regime the years were counted from the proclamation of the republic, sept. 22, 1792. the year was divided into twelve months of thirty days each, re-named from some peculiarity, as brumaire (foggy); nivose (snowy); thermidor (hot); fructidor (fruit), etc.; besides five supplementary days of festivals, called 'sans-culottides'. the months were divided into three decades of ten days instead of weeks, the tenth day (decadi) being in lieu of sunday. the republican calendar lasted till jan 1, 1806, as to the years and months at least, though the concordat had restored the weeks and sabbaths.--trans.] the opera presented, by order, the creation of haydn; and the first consul had announced that he would be present, with all his household, at this magnificent oratorio. he dined on that day with madame bonaparte, her daughter, and generals rapp, lauriston, lannes, and berthier. i was on duty; but as the first consul was going to the opera, i knew that i should not be needed at the chateau, and resolved, for my part, to go to the feydeau, occupying the box which madame bonaparte allowed us, and which was situated under hers. after dinner, which the first consul bolted with his usual rapidity, he rose from the table, followed by his officers, with the exception of general rapp, who remained with madame josephine and hortense. about seven o'clock the first consul entered his carriage with lannes, berthier, and lauriston, to go to the opera. when they arrived in the middle of rue sainte-nicaise, the escort who preceded the carriage found the road obstructed by a cart, which seemed to be abandoned, and on which a cask was found fastened strongly with ropes. the chief of the escort had this cart removed to the side of the street; and the first consul's coachman, whom this delay had made impatient, urged on his horses vigorously, and they shot off like lightning. scarcely two seconds had passed when the barrel which was on the cart burst with a frightful explosion. no one of the escort or of the companions of the first consul was slain, but several were wounded; and the loss among the residents in the street and the passers-by near the horrible machine was much greater. more than twenty of these were killed, and more than sixty seriously wounded. trepsat, the architect, had his thigh broken. the first consul afterwards decorated him, and made him the architect of the invalides, saying that he had long enough been the most invalid of architects. all the panes of glass at the tuileries were broken, and many houses thrown down. all those of the rue sainte-nicaise, and even some in the adjacent streets, were badly damaged, some fragments being blown into the house of the consul cambaceres. the glass of the first consul's carriage was shivered to fragments. by a fortunate chance, the carriages of the suite, which should have been immediately behind that of the first consul, were some distance in the rear, which happened in this way: madame bonaparte, after dinner, had a shawl brought to wear to the opera; and when it came, general rapp jestingly criticised the color, and begged her to choose another. madame bonaparte defended her shawl, and said to the general that he knew as much about criticising a toilet as she did about attacking a fort. this friendly banter continued for some moments; and in the interval, the first consul, who never waited, set out in advance, and the miserable assassins and authors of the conspiracy set fire to the infernal machine. had the coachman of the first consul driven less rapidly, and thereby been two seconds later, it would have been all over with his master; while, on the other hand, if madame bonaparte had followed her husband promptly, it would have been certain death to her and all her suite. it was, in fact, the delay of an instant which saved her life, as well as that of her daughter, her sister-in-law, madame murat, and all who were to accompany them, since the carriage of these ladies, instead of being immediately behind that of the first consul, was just leaving the place carrousel, when the machine exploded. the glass was shivered; and though madame bonaparte received no injury except the terrible fright, hortense was slightly wounded in the face by a piece of glass, and madame caroline murat, who was then far advanced in pregnancy, was so frightened that it was necessary to carry her back to the tuileries. this catastrophe had its influence, even on the health of her child; for i have been told that prince achille muratz is subject, to this day, to frequent attacks of epilepsy. as is well known, the first consul went on to the opera, where he was received with tumultuous acclamations, the immobility of his countenance contrasting strongly with the pallor and agitation of madame bonaparte's, who had feared not so much for herself as for him. the coachman who had driven the first consul with such good fortune was named germain. he had followed him in egypt, and in a skirmish had killed an arab, with his own hand, under the eyes of the general-in-chief, who, struck with his courage, had cried out, "diable! that's a brave man, he is a caesar." the name had clung to him. it has been said that this brave man was drunk at the time of this explosion; but this is a mistake, which his conduct under the circumstances contradicts in the most positive manner. when the first consul, after he became emperor, went out, incognito, in paris, it was caesar who was his escort, without livery. it is said in the memorial de sainte helene that the emperor, in speaking of caesar, stated that he was in a complete state of intoxication, and took the noise of the explosion for an artillery salute, nor did he know until the next day what had taken place. this is entirely untrue, and the emperor was incorrectly informed in regard to his coachman. caesar drove the first consul very rapidly because he had been ordered to do so, and because he considered his honor interested in not allowing the obstacle which the infernal machine placed in his way before the explosion to delay him. the evening of the event i saw caesar, who was perfectly sober, and he himself related to me part of the details that i have just given. a few days after, four or five hundred hackney-coachmen clubbed together to honor him, and gave him a magnificent dinner at twenty-four francs per head. while the infernal plot was being executed, and costing the lies of many innocent citizens, without attaining the object the assassins proposed, i was, as i have said, at the theatre feydeau, where i had prepared myself to enjoy at my leisure an entire evening of freedom, amid the pleasures of the stage, for which i had all my life a great liking. scarcely had i seated myself comfortably, however, when the box-keeper entered in the greatest excitement, crying out, "monsieur constant, it is said that they have just blown up the first consul; there has been a terrible explosion, and it is asserted that he is dead." these terrible words were like a thunderbolt-to me. not knowing what i did, i plunged down-stairs, and, forgetting my hat, ran like mad to the chateau. while crossing rue vivienne and the palais royal, i saw no extraordinary disturbance; but in rue sainte honore there was a very great tumult, and i saw, borne away on litters, many dead and wounded, who had been at first carried into the neighboring houses of rue sainte nicaise. many groups had formed, and with one voice all were cursing the still unknown authors of this dastardly attempt. some accused the jacobins of this, because three months before they had placed the poniard in the hands of cerrachi, of arena, and of topino lebrun; whilst others, less numerous perhaps, thought the aristocrats, the royalists, could alone be guilty of this atrocity. i could give no time to these various accusations, except as i was detained in forcing my way through an immense and closely packed crowd, and as rapidly as possible went on, and in two seconds was at the carrousel. i threw myself against the wicket, but the two sentinels instantly crossed bayonets before my breast. it was useless to cry out that i was valet de chambre of the first consul; for my bare head, my wild manner, the disorder, both of my dress and ideas, appeared to them suspicious, and they refused energetically and very obstinately to allow me to enter. i then begged them to send for the gatekeeper of the chateau; and as soon as he came, i was admitted, or rather rushed into the chateau, where i learned what had just happened. a short time after the first consul arrived, and was immediately surrounded by his officers, and by all his household, every one present being in the greatest state of anxiety. when the first consul alighted from his carriage he appeared calm and smiling; he even wore an air of gayety. on entering the vestibule he said to his officers, rubbing his hands, "well, sirs, we made a fine escape!" they shuddered with indignation and anger. he then entered the grand saloon on the ground floor, where a large number of counselors of state and-dignitaries had already assembled; but hardly had they begun to express their congratulations, when he interrupted them, and in so vehement a manner that he was heard outside the saloon. we were told that after this council he had a lively altercation with fouche, minister of police, whom he reproached with his ignorance of this plot, openly accusing the jacobins of being the authors. that evening, on retiring, the first consul asked me laughingly if i was afraid. "more than you were, my general," i replied; and i related to him how i had heard the fatal news at the feydeau, and had run without my hat to the very wicket of the carrousel, where the sentinels tried to prevent my entering. he was amused at the oaths and abusive epithets with which they had accompanied their defense of the gate, and at last said to me, "after all, my dear constant, you should not be angry with them; they were only obeying orders. they are brave men, on whom i can rely." the truth is, the consular guard was at this period no less devoted than it has been since as the imperial guard. at the first rumor of the great risk which the first consul had run, all the soldiers of that faithful band had gathered spontaneously in the court of the tuileries. after this melancholy catastrophe, which carried distress into all france, and mourning into so many families, the entire police were actively engaged in searching for the authors of the plot. the dwelling of the first consul was first put under surveillance, and we were incessantly watched by spies, without suspecting it. all our walks, all our visits, all our goings and comings, were known; and attention was especially directed to our friends, and even our liaisons. but such was the devotion of each and all to the person of the first consul, such was the affection that he so well knew how to inspire in those around him, that not one of the persons attached to his service was for an instant suspected of having a hand in this infamous attempt. neither at this time, nor in any other affair of this kind, were the members of his household ever compromised; and never was the name of the lowest of his servants ever found mixed up in criminal plots against a life so valued and so glorious. the minister of police suspected the royalists of this attempt; but the first consul attributed it to the jacobins, because they were already guilty, he said, of crimes as odious. one hundred and thirty of the most noted men of this party were transported on pure suspicion, and without any form of trial. it is now known that the discovery, trial, and execution of saint regent and carbon, the true criminals, proved that the conjectures of the minister were more correct than those of the chief of state. the 4th nivose, at noon, the first consul held a grand review in the place carrousel, where an innumerable crowd of citizens were collected to behold, and also to testify their affection for his person, and their indignation against the enemies who dared attack him only by assassination. hardly had he turned his horse towards the first line of grenadiers of the consular guard, when their innumerable acclamations rose on all sides. he rode along the ranks, at a walk, very slowly, showing his appreciation, and replying by a few simple and affectionate words to this effusion of popular joy; and cries of "vive bonaparte! vive the first consul!" did not cease till after he had re-entered his apartments. the conspirators who obstinately persisted, with so much animosity, in attacking the life of the first consul, could not have chosen a period in which circumstances would have been more adverse to their plans than in 1800 and 1801, for then the consul was beloved not only for his military deeds, but still more for the hope of peace that he gave to france, which hope was soon realized. as soon as the first rumor spread abroad that peace had been concluded with austria, the greater part of the inhabitants of paris gathered under the windows of the pavilion of flora. blessings and cries of gratitude and joy were heard on all sides; then musicians assembled to give a serenade to the chief of state, and proceeded to form themselves into orchestras; and there was dancing the whole night through. i have never seen a sight more striking or more joyous than the bird's-eye view of this improvised jubilee. when in the month of october, the, peace of amiens having been concluded with england, france found herself delivered from all the wars that she had maintained through so many years, and at the cost of so many sacrifices, it would be impossible to form an idea of the joy which burst forth on all sides. the decrees which ordered either the disarmament of vessels of war, or the placing of the forts on a peace footing, were welcomed as pledges of happiness and security. the day of the reception of lord cornwallis, ambassador of england, the first consul ordered that the greatest magnificence should be displayed. "it is necessary," he had said the evening before, "to show these proud britons that we are not reduced to beggary." the fact is, the english, before setting foot on the french continent, had expected to find only ruins, penury, and misery. the whole of france had been described to them as being in the most distressing condition, and they thought themselves on the point of landing in a barbarous country. their surprise was great when they saw how many evils the first consul had already repaired in so short a time, and all the improvements that he still intended to carry out; and they spread through their own country the report of what they themselves called the prodigies of the first consul, by which thousands of their compatriots were influenced to come and judge with their own eyes. at the moment that lord cornwallis entered the great hall of the ambassadors with his suite, the eyes of all the english must have been dazzled by the sight of the first consul, surrounded by his two colleagues, with all the diplomatic corps, and with an already brilliant military court. in the midst of all these rich uniforms, his was remarkable for its simplicity; but the diamond called the regent, which had been put in pawn under the directory, and redeemed a few days since by the first consul, sparkled on the hilt of his sword. chapter vii. in the month of may, 1801, there came to paris, on his way to take possession of his new kingdom, the prince of tuscany, don louis the first, whom the first consul had just made king of etruria. he traveled under the name of the count of leghorn, with his wife, who was the infanta of spain, maria louisa, third daughter of charles the fourth; but in spite of the incognito, which, from the modest title he had assumed, he seemed really anxious to preserve, especially, perhaps, on account of the poor appearance of his small court, he was, notwithstanding, received and treated at the tuileries as a king. this prince was in feeble health, and it was said had epilepsy. they were lodged at the residence of the spanish embassy, formerly the hotel montessori; and he requested madame de montessori, who lived in the next house, to reopen a private communication between the houses which had long been closed. he, as well as the queen of etruria, greatly enjoyed the society of this lady, who was the widow of the duke of orleans, and spent many hours every day in her house. a bourbon himself, he doubtless loved to hear every particular relating to the bourbons of france, which could so well be given by one who had lived at their court, and on intimate terms with the royal family, with which she was connected by ties which, though not official, were none the less well known and recognized. madame de montesson received at her house all who were most distinguished in parisian society. she had reunited the remnants of the most select society of former times, which the revolution had dispersed. a friend of madame bonaparte, she was also loved and respected by the first consul, who was desirous that they should speak and think well of him in the most noble and elegant saloon of the capital. besides, he relied upon the experience and exquisite refinement of this lady, to establish in the palace and its society, out of which he already dreamed of making a court, the usages and etiquette customary with sovereigns. the king of etruria was not fond of work, and in this respect did not please the first consul, who could not endure idleness. i heard him one day, in conversation with his colleague, cambaceres, score severely his royal protege (in his absence, of course). "here is a prince," said he, "who does not concern himself much with his very dear and well-beloved subjects, but passes his time cackling with old women, to whom he dilates in a loud tone on my good qualities, while he complains in a whisper of owing his elevation to the chief of this cursed french republic. his only business is walking, hunting, balls, and theaters."--"it is asserted," remarked cambaceres, "that you wished to disgust the french people with kings, by showing them such a specimen, as the spartans disgusted their children with drunkenness by exhibiting to them a drunken slave." "not so, not so, my dear sir," replied the first consul. "i have no desire to disgust them with royalty; but the sojourn of the king of etruria will annoy a number of good people who are working incessantly to create a feeling favorable to the bourbons." don louis, perhaps, did not merit such severity, although he was, it must be admitted, endowed with little mind, and few agreeable traits of character. when he dined at the tuileries, he was much embarrassed in replying to the simplest questions the first consul addressed him. beyond the rain and the weather, horses, dogs, and other like subjects of conversation, he could not give an intelligent reply on any subject. the queen, his wife, often made signs to put him on right road, and even whispered to him, what he should say or do; but this rendered only the more conspicuous his absolute want of presence of mind. people made themselves merry at his expense; but they took good care, however, not to do this in the presence of the first consul, who would not have suffered any want of respect to a guest to whom he had shown so much. what gave rise to the greatest number of pleasantries, in regard to the prince, was his excessive economy, which reached a point truly incredible. innumerable instances were quoted, which this is perhaps the most striking. the first consul sent him frequently during his stay, magnificent presents, such as savonnerie carpets, lyons cloths, and sevres porcelain; and on such occasions his majesty would give some small gratuity to the bearers of these precious articles. one day a vase of very great value (it cost, i believe, a hundred thousand crowns) was brought him which it required a dozen workmen to place in the apartments of the king. their work being finished, the workmen waited until his majesty should give them some token of his satisfaction, and flattered themselves he would display a truly royal liberality. as, notwithstanding, time passed, and the expected gratuity did not arrive, they finally applied to one of his chamberlains, and asked him to lay their petition at the feet of the king of etruria. his majesty, who was still in ecstasy over the beauty of the present, and the munificence of the first consul, was astounded at such a request. "it was a present," said he; "and hence it was for him to receive, not to give;" and it was only after much persistence that the chamberlain obtained six francs for each of these workmen, which were refused by these good people. the persons of the prince's suite asserted that to this extreme aversion to expense he added an excessive severity towards themselves; however, the first of these traits probably disposed the servants of the king of etruria to exaggerate the second. masters who are too economical never fail to be deemed severe themselves, and at the same time are severely criticised by their servants. for this reason, perhaps (i would say in passing), there is current among some people a calumny which represents the emperor as often taking a fancy to beat his servants. the economy of the emperor napoleon was only a desire for the most perfect order in the expenses of his household. one thing i can positively assert in regard to his majesty, the king of etruria, is that he did not sincerely feel either all the enthusiasm or all the gratitude which he expressed towards the first consul, and the latter had more than one proof of this insincerity. as to the king's talent for governing and reigning, the first consul said to cambaceres at his levee, in the same conversation from which i have already quoted, that the spanish ambassador had complained of the haughtiness of this prince towards him, of his extreme ignorance, and of the disgust with which all kind of business inspired him. such was the king who went to govern part of italy, and was installed in his kingdom by general murat, who apparently had little idea that a throne was in store for himself a few leagues distant from that on which he seated don luis. the queen of etruria was, in the opinion of the first consul, more sagacious and prudent than her august husband. this princess was remarkable neither for grace nor elegance; she dressed herself in the morning for the whole day, and walked in the garden, her head adorned with flowers or a diadem, and wearing a dress, the train of which swept up the sand of the walks; often, also, carrying in her arms one of her children, still in long dresses, from which it can be readily understood that by night the toilet of her majesty was somewhat disarranged. she was far from pretty, and her manners were not suited to her rank. but, which fully atoned for all this, she was good-tempered, much beloved by those in her service, and fulfilled scrupulously all the duties of wife and mother; and in consequence the first consul, who made a great point of domestic virtues, professed for her the highest and most sincere esteem. during the entire month which their majesties spent in paris, there was a succession of fetes, one of which talleyrand gave in their honor at neuilly, of great magnificence and splendor, and to which i, being on duty, accompanied the first consul. the chateau and park were illuminated with a brilliant profusion of colored lights. first there was a concert, at the close of which the end of the hall was moved aside, like the curtain of a theater, and we beheld the principal square in florence, the ducal palace, a fountain playing, and the tuscans giving themselves up to the games and dances of their country, and singing couplets in honor of their sovereigns. talleyrand came forward, and requested their majesties to mingle with their subjects; and hardly had they set foot in the garden than they found themselves in fairyland, where fireworks, rockets, and bengal fires burst out in every direction and in every form, colonnades, arches of triumph, and palaces of fire arose, disappeared, and succeeded each other incessantly. numerous tables were arranged in the apartments and in the garden, at which all the spectators were in turn seated, and last of all a magnificent ball closed this evening of enchantments. it was opened by the king of etruria and madame le clerc (pauline borghese). madame de montesson also gave to their majesties a ball, at which the whole family of the first consul was present. but of all these entertainments, i retain the most vivid recollection of that given by chaptal, minister of the interior, the day which he chose being the fourteenth of june, the anniversary of the battle of marengo. after the concert, the theater, the ball, and another representation of the city and inhabitants of florence, a splendid supper was served in the garden, under military tents, draped with flags, and ornamented with groupings of arms and trophies, each lady being accompanied and served at table by an officer in uniform. when the king and queen of etruria came out of their tent, a balloon was released which carried into the heavens the name of marengo in letters of fire. their majesties wished to visit, before their departure, the chief public institutions, so they were taken to the conservatory of music, to a sitting of the institute, of which they did not appear to comprehend much, and to the mint, where a medal was struck in their honor. chaptall received the thanks of the queen for the manner in which he had entertained and treated his royal guests, both as a member of the institute, as minister at his hotel, and in the visits which they had made to the different institutions of the capital. on the eve of his departure the king had a long private interview with the first consul; and though i do not know what passed, i observed that on coming out neither appeared to be satisfied with the other. however, their majesties, on the whole, should have carried away a most favorable impression of the manner in which they had been received. chapter viii. in all the fetes given by the first consul in honor of their majesties, the king and queen of etruria, mademoiselle hortense shone with that brilliancy and grace which made her the pride of her mother, and the most beautiful ornament of the growing court of the first consul. about this time she inspired a most violent passion in a gentleman of a very good family, who was, i think, a little deranged before this mad love affected his brain. this poor unfortunate roamed incessantly around malmaison; and as soon as mademoiselle hortense left the house, ran by the side of her carriage with the liveliest demonstrations of tenderness, and threw through the window flowers, locks of his hair, and verses of his own composition. when he met mademoiselle hortense on foot, he threw himself on his knees before her with a thousand passionate gestures, addressing her in most endearing terms, and followed her, in spite of all opposition, even into the courtyard of the chateau, and abandoned himself to all kinds of folly. at first mademoiselle hortense, who was young and gay, was amused by the antics of her admirer, read the verses which he addressed to her, and showed them to the ladies who accompanied her. one such poetical effusion was enough to provoke laughter (and can you blame her?); but after the first burst of laughter, mademoiselle hortense, good and charming as her mother, never failed to say, with a sympathetic expression and tone, "the poor man, he is much to be pitied!" at last, however, the importunities of the poor madman increased to such an extent that they became insupportable. he placed himself at the door of the theaters in paris at which mademoiselle hortense was expected, and threw himself at her feet, supplicating, weeping, laughing, and gesticulating all at once. this spectacle amused the crowd too much to long amuse mademoiselle de beauharnais; and carrat was ordered to remove the poor fellow, who was placed, i think, in a private asylum for the insane. mademoiselle hortense would have been too happy if she could have known love only from the absurd effects which it produced on this diseased brain, as she thus saw it only in its pleasant and comic aspect. but the time came when she was forced to feel all that is painful and bitter in the experience of that passion. in january, 1802, she was married to louis bonaparte, brother of the first consul, which was a most suitable alliance as regards age, louis being twenty-four years old, and mademoiselle de beauharnais not more than eighteen; and nevertheless it was to both parties the beginning of long and interminable sorrows. louis, however, was kind and sensible, full of good feeling and intelligence, studious and fond of letters, like all his brothers (except one alone); but he was in feeble health, suffered almost incessantly, and was of a melancholy disposition. all the brothers of the first consul resembled him more or less in their personal appearance, and louis still more than the others, especially at the time of the consulate, and before the emperor napoleon had become so stout. but none of the brothers of the emperor possessed that imposing and majestic air and that rapid and imperious manner which came to him at first by instinct, and afterwards from the habit of command. louis had peaceful and modest tastes. it has been asserted that at the time of his marriage he was deeply attached to a person whose name could not be ascertained, and who, i think, is still a mystery. mademoiselle hortense was extremely pretty, with an expressive and mobile countenance, and in addition to this was graceful, talented, and affable. kindhearted and amiable like her mother, she had not that excessive desire to oblige which sometimes detracted from madame bonaparte's character. this is, nevertheless, the woman whom evil reports, disseminated by miserable scandal-mongers, have so outrageously slandered! my heart is stirred with disgust and indignation when i hear such revolting absurdities repeated and scattered broadcast. according to these honest fabricators, the first consul must have seduced his wife's daughter, before giving her in marriage to his own brother. simply to announce such a charge is to comprehend all the falsity of it. i knew better than any one the amours of the emperor. in these clandestine liaisons he feared scandal, hated the ostentations of vice, and i can affirm on honor that the infamous desires attributed to him never entered his mind. like every one else, who was near mademoiselle de beauharnais, and because he knew his step-daughter even more intimately, he felt for her the tenderest affection; but this sentiment was entirely paternal, and mademoiselle hortense reciprocated it by that reverence which a wellborn young girl feels towards her father. she could have obtained from her step-father anything that she wished, if her extreme timidity had not prevented her asking; but, instead of addressing herself directly to him, she first had recourse to the intercession of the secretary, and of those around the emperor. is it thus she would have acted if the evil reports spread by her enemies, and those of the emperor, had had the least foundation? before her marriage hortense had an attachment for general duroc, who was hardly thirty years of age, had a fine figure, and was a favorite with the chief of state, who, knowing him to be prudent and discreet, confided to him important diplomatic missions. as aide-de-camp of the first consul, general of division, and governor of the tuileries, he lived long in familiar intimacy at malmaison, and in the home life of the emperor, and during necessary absences on duty, corresponded with mademoiselle hortense; and yet the indifference with which he allowed the marriage of the latter with louis to proceed, proves that he reciprocated but feebly the affection which he had inspired. it is certain that he could have had. mademoiselle de beauharnais for his wife, if he had been willing to accept the conditions on which the first consul offered the hand of his step-daughter; but he was expecting something better, and his ordinary prudence failed him at the time when it should have shown him a future which was easy to foresee, and calculated to satisfy the promptings of an ambition even more exalted than his. he therefore refused positively; and the entreaties of madame bonaparte, which had already influenced her husband, succeeded. madame bonaparte, who saw herself treated with so little friendship by the brothers of the first consul, tried to make his family a defense for herself against the plots which were gathering incessantly around her to drive her away from the heart of her husband. it was with this design she worked with all her might to bring about the marriage of her daughter with one of her brothers-in-law. general duroc doubtless repented immediately of his precipitate refusal when crowns began to rain in the august family to which he had had it in his power to ally himself; when he saw naples, spain, westphalia, upper italy, the duchies of parma, lucca, etc., become the appendages of the new imperial dynasty; when the beautiful and graceful hortense herself, who had loved him so devotedly, mounted in her turn a throne that she would have been only too happy to have shared with the object of her young affections. as for him, he married mademoiselle hervas d'almenara, daughter of the banker of the court of spain. she was a little woman with a very dark complexion, very thin, and without grace; but, on the other hand, of a most peevish, haughty, exacting, and capricious temper. as she was to have on her marriage an enormous dowry, the first consul had demanded her hand in marriage for his senior aide-de-camp. madame duroc forgot herself, i have heard, so far as to beat her servants, and to bear herself in a most singular manner toward people who were in no wise her dependants. when m. dubois came to tune her piano, unfortunately she was at home, and finding the noise required by this operation unendurable, drove the tuner off with the greatest violence. in one of these singular attacks she one day broke all the keys of his instrument. another time mugnier, clockmaker of the emperor, and the head of his profession in paris, with breguet, having brought her a watch of very great value that madame, the duchess of friuli had herself ordered, but which did not please her, she became so enraged, that, in the presence of mugnier, she dashed the watch on the floor, danced on it, and reduced it to atoms. she utterly refused to pay for it, and the marshal was compelled to do this himself. thus duroc's want of foresight in refusing the hand of hortense, together with the interested calculations of madame bonaparte, caused the misery of two households. the portrait i have sketched, and i believe faithfully, although not a flattering picture, is merely that of a young woman with all the impulsiveness of the spanish character, spoiled as an only daughter, who had been reared in indulgence, and with the entire neglect which hinders the education of all the young ladies of her country. time has calmed the vivacity of her youth; and madame, the duchess of friuli, has since given an example of most faithful devotion to duty, and great strength of mind in the severe trials that she has endured. in the loss of her husband, however grievous it might be, glory had at least some consolation to offer to the widow of the grand marshal. but when her young daughter, sole heiress of a great name and an illustrious title, was suddenly taken away by death from all the expectations and the devotion of her mother, who could dare to offer her consolation? if there could be any (which i do not believe), it would be found in the remembrance of the cares and tenderness lavished on her to the last by maternal love. such recollections, in which bitterness is mingled with sweetness, were not wanting to the duchess. the religious ceremony of marriage between louis and hortense took place jan. 7, in a house in the rue de la victoire; and the marriage of general murat with caroline bonaparte, which had been acknowledged only before the civil authorities, was consecrated on the same day. both louis and his bride were very sad. she wept bitterly during the whole ceremony, and her tears were not soon dried. she made no attempt to win the affection of her husband; while he, on his side, was too proud and too deeply wounded to pursue her with his wooing. the good josephine did all she could to reconcile them; for she must have felt that this union, which had begun so badly, was her work, in which she had tried to combine her own interest, or at least that which she considered such, and the happiness of her daughter. but her efforts, as well as her advice and her prayers, availed nothing; and i have many a time seen hortense seek the solitude of her own room, and the heart of a friend, there to pour out her tears. tears fell from her eyes sometimes even in the midst of one of the first consul's receptions, where we saw with sorrow this young woman, brilliant and gay, who had so often gracefully done the honors on such occasions and attended to all the details of its etiquette, retire into a corner, or into the embrasure of a window, with one of her most intimate friends, there to sadly make her the a confidante of her trials. during this conversation, from which she rose with red and swollen eyes, her husband remained thoughtful and taciturn at the opposite end of the room. her majesty, the queen of holland, has been accused of many sins; but everything said or written against this princess is marked by shameful exaggeration. so high a fortune drew all eyes to her, and excited bitter jealousy; and yet those who envied her would not have failed to bemoan themselves, if they had been put in tier place, on condition that they were to bear her griefs. the misfortunes of queen hortense began with life itself. her father having been executed on a revolutionary scaffold, and her mother thrown into prison, she found herself, while still a child, alone, and with no other reliance than the faithfulness of the old servants of the family. her brother, the noble and worthy prince eugene, had been compelled, it is said, to serve as an apprentice. she had a few years of happiness, or at least of repose, during the time she was under the care of madame campan, and just after she left boarding-school. but her evil destiny was far from quitting her; and her wishes being thwarted, an unhappy marriage opened for her a new succession of troubles. the death of her first son, whom the emperor wished to adopt, and whom he had intended to be his successor in the empire, the divorce of her mother, the tragic death of her best-loved friend, madame de brocq, who, before her eyes, slipped over a precipice; the overturning of the imperial throne, which caused her the loss of her title and rank as queen, a loss which she, however, felt less than the misfortunes of him whom she regarded as her father; and finally, the continual annoyance of domestic dissensions, of vexatious lawsuits, and the agony she suffered in beholding her oldest surviving son removed from her by order of her husband,--such were the principal catastrophes in a life which might have been thought destined for so much happiness. the day after the marriage of mademoiselle hortense, the first consul set out for lyons, where there awaited him the deputies of the cisalpine republic, assembled for the election of a president. everywhere on his route he was welcomed with fetes and congratulations, with which all were eager to overwhelm him on account of the miraculous manner in which he had escaped the plots of his enemies. this journey differed in no wise from the tours which he afterwards made as emperor. on his arrival at lyons, he received the visit of all the authorities, the constituent bodies, the deputations from the neighboring departments, and the members of the italian councils. madame bonaparte, who accompanied him on this journey, attended with him these public displays, and shared with him the magnificent fete given to him by the city of lyons. the day on which the council elected and proclaimed the first consul president of the italian republic he reviewed, on the place des brotteaux, the troops of the garrison, and recognized in the ranks many soldiers of the army of egypt, with whom he conversed for some time. on all these occasions the first consul wore the same costume that he had worn at malmaison, and which i have described elsewhere. he rose early, mounted his horse, and visited the public works, among others those of the place belcour, of which he had laid the corner-stone on his return from italy, passed through the place des brotteaux, inspected, examined everything, and, always indefatigable, worked on his return as if he had been at the tuileries. he rarely changed his dress, except when he received at his table the authorities or the principal inhabitants of the city. he received all petitions most graciously, and before leaving presented to the mayor of the city a scarf of honor, and to the legate of the pope a handsome snuff-box ornamented with his likeness. the deputies of the council received presents, and were most generous in making them, presenting madame bonaparte with magnificent ornaments of diamonds and precious stones, and other most valuable jewelry. the first consul, on arriving at lyons, had been deeply grieved at the sudden death of a worthy prelate whom he had known in his first campaign in italy. the archbishop of milan had come to lyons, notwithstanding his great age, in order to see the first consul, whom he loved with such tenderness that in conversation the venerable old man continually addressed the young general as "my son." the peasants of pavia, having revolted because their fanaticism had been excited by false assertions that the french wished to destroy their religion, the archbishop of milan, in order to prove that their fears were groundless, often showed himself in a carriage with general bonaparte. this prelate had stood the journey well, and appeared in good health and fine spirits. talleyrand, who had arrived at lyons a few days before the first consul, gave a dinner to the cisalpine deputies and the principal notables of the city, at which the archbishop of milan sat on his right. he had scarcely taken his seat, and was in the act of leaning forward to speak to m. de talleyrand, when he fell dead in his armchair. on the 12th of january the town of lyons gave, in honor of the first consul and madame bonaparte, a magnificent fete, consisting of a concert, followed by a ball. at eight o'clock in the evening, the three mayors, accompanied by the superintendents of the fete, called upon their illustrious guests in the government palace. i can imagine that i see again spread out before me that immense amphitheater, handsomely decorated, and illuminated by innumerable lusters and candles, the seats draped with the richest cloths manufactured in the city, and filled with thousands of women, some brilliant in youth and beauty, and all magnificently attired. the theater had been chosen as the place of the fete; and on the entrance of the first consul and madame bonaparte, who advanced leaning on the arm of one of the mayors, there arose a thunder of applause and acclamations. suddenly the decorations of the theater faded from sight, and the place bonaparte (the former place belcour) appeared, as it had been restored by order of the first consul. in the midst rose a pyramid, surmounted by the statue of the first consul, who was represented as resting upon a lion. trophies of arms and bas-reliefs represented on one side, the other that of marengo. when the first, transports excited by this spectacle, which recalled at once the benefits and the victories of the hero of the fete, had subsided, there succeeded a deep silence, and delightful music was heard, mingled with songs, dedicated to the glory of the first consul, to his wife, the warriors who surrounded him, and the representatives of the italian republics. the singers and the musicians were amateurs of lyons. mademoiselle longue, gerbet, the postmaster, and theodore, the merchant, who had each performed their parts in a charming manner, received the congratulations of the first consul, and the most gracious thanks of madame bonaparte. what struck me most forcibly in the couplets which were sung on that occasion, and which much resembled all verses written for such occasions, was that incense was offered to the first consul in the very terms which all the poets of the empire have since used in their turn. all the exaggerations of flattery were exhausted during the consulate; and in the years which followed, it was necessary for poets often to repeat themselves. thus, in the couplets of lyons, the first consul was the god of victory, the conqueror of the nile and of neptune, the savior of his country, the peacemaker of the world, the arbiter of europe. the french soldiers were transformed into friends and companions of alcides, etc., all of which was cutting the ground from under the feet of the singers of the future. the fete of lyons ended in a ball which lasted until daylight, at which the first consul remained two hours, which he spent in conversation with the magistrates of the city. while the better class of the inhabitants gave these grand entertainments to their guests, the people, notwithstanding the cold, abandoned themselves on the public squares to pleasure and dancing, and towards midnight there was a fine display of fireworks on the place bonaparte. after fifteen or eighteen days passed at lyons, we returned to paris, the first consul and his wife continuing to reside by preference at malmaison. it was, i think, a short time after the return of the first consul that a poorly dressed man begged an audience; an order was given to admit him to the cabinet, and the first consul inquired his name. "general," replied the petitioner, frightened by his presence, "it is i who had the honor of giving you writing lessons in the school of brienne."--"fine scholar you have made!" interrupted vehemently the first consul; "i compliment you on it!" then he began to laugh at his own vehemence, and addressed a few kind words to this good man, whose timidity such a compliment had not reassured. a few days after the master received, from the least promising, doubtless, of all his pupils at brienne (you know how the emperor wrote), a pension amply sufficient for his needs. another of the old teachers of the first consul, the abbe dupuis, was appointed by him to the post of private librarian at malmaison, and lived and died there. he was a modest man, and had the reputation of being well-educated. the first consul visited him often in his room, and paid him every imaginable attention and respect. chapter ix. the day on which the first consul promulgated the law of public worship, he rose early, and entered the dressing-room to make his toilet. while he was dressing i saw joseph bonaparte enter his room with cambaceres. "well," said the first consul to the latter, "we are going to mass. what do they think of that in paris?"--"many persons," replied m. cambaceres, "will go to the representation with the intention of hissing the piece, if they do not find it amusing." "if any one thinks of hissing, i will have him put out-of-doors by the grenadiers of the consular guard." "but if the grenadiers begin to hiss like the others?" "i have no fear of that. my old soldiers will go to notre dame exactly as they went to the mosque at cairo. they will watch me; and seeing their general remain quiet and reverent, they will do as he does, saying to themselves, 'that is the countersign!'" "i am afraid," said joseph bonaparte, "that the general officers will not be so accommodating. i have just left augereau, who was vomiting fire and fury against what he calls your capricious proclamations. he, and. a few others, will not be easy to bring back into the pale of our holy mother, the church." "bah! that is like augereau. he is a bawler, who makes a great noise; and yet if he has a little imbecile cousin, he puts him in the priests college for me to make a chaplain of him. "that reminds me," continued the first consul, addressing his colleague, "when is your brother going to take possession of his see of rouen? do you know it has the finest archiepiscopal palace in france? he will be cardinal before a year has passed; that matter is already arranged." the second consul bowed. from that moment his manner towards the first consul was rather that of a courtier than an equal. the plenipotentiaries who had been appointed to examine and sign the concordat were joseph bonaparte, cruet, and the abbe bernier. this latter, whom i saw sometimes at the tuileries, had been a chief of the chouans, [the chouans were royalists in insurrection in brittany.] and took a prominent part in all that occurred. the first consul, in this same conversation, the opening of which i have just related, discussed with his two companions the subject of the conferences on the concordat. "the abby bernier," said the first consul, "inspired fear in the italian prelates by the vehemence of his logic. it might have been said that he imagined himself living over again the days in which he led the vendeens to the charge against the blues. nothing could be more striking than the contrast of his rude and quarrelsome manner with the polished bearing and honeyed tones of the prelates. cardinal caprara came to me two days ago, with a shocked air, to ask if it is true that, during the war of the vendee, the abbe bernier made an altar on which to celebrate mass out of the corpses of the republicans. i replied that i knew nothing of it, but that it was possible. 'general, first consul,' cried the frightened cardinal, 'it is not a red hat, but a red cap, which that man should have?' "i am much afraid," continued the first consul, "that that kind of cap would prevent the abbe bernier from getting the red hat." these gentlemen left the first consul when his toilet was finished, and went to make their own. the first consul wore on that day the costume of the consuls, which consisted of a scarlet coat without facings, and with a broad embroidery of palms, in gold, on all the seams. his sword, which he had worn in egypt, hung at his side from a belt, which, though not very wide, was of beautiful workmanship, and richly embroidered. he wore his black stock, in preference to a lace cravat, and like his colleagues, wore knee-breeches and shoes; a french hat, with floating plumes of the three colors, completed this rich costume. the celebration of this sacrament at notre dame was a novel sight to the parisians, and many attended as if it were a theatrical representation. many, also, especially amongst the military, found it rather a matter of raillery than of edification; and those who, during the revolution, had contributed all their strength to the overthrow of the worship which the first consul had just re-established, could with difficulty conceal their indignation and their chagrin. the common people saw in the te deum which was sung that day for peace and the concordat, only an additional gratification of their curiosity; but among the middle classes there was a large number of pious persons, who had deeply regretted the suppression of the forms of devotion in which they had been reared, and who were very happy in returning to the old worship. and, indeed, there was then no manifestation of superstition or of bigotry sufficient to alarm the enemies of intolerance. the clergy were exceedingly careful not to appear too exacting; they demanded little, condemned no one; and the representative of the holy father, the cardinal legate, pleased all, except perhaps a few dissatisfied old priests, by his indulgence, the worldly grace of his manners, and the freedom of his conduct. this prelate was entirely in accord with the first consul, and he took great pleasure in conversing with him. it is also certain, that apart from all religious sentiment, the fidelity of the people to their ancient customs made them return with pleasure to the repose and celebration of sunday. the republican calendar was doubtless wisely computed; but every one is at first sight struck with the ridiculousness of replacing the legend of the saints of the old calendar with the days of the ass, the hog, the turnip, the onion, etc. besides, if it was skillfully computed, it was by no means conveniently divided. i recall on this subject the remark of a man of much wit, and who, notwithstanding the disapprobation which his remark implied, nevertheless desired the establishment of the republican system, everywhere except in the almanac. when the decree of the convention which ordered the adoption of the republican calendar was published, he remarked: "they have done finely; but they have to fight two enemies who never yield, the beard, and the white shirt." [that is to say, the barber and the washerwoman, for whom ten days was too long an interval.--trans.] the truth is, the interval from one decadi to another was too long for the working-classes, and for all those who were constantly occupied. i do not know whether it was the effect of a deep-rooted habit, but people accustomed to working six days in succession, and resting on the seventh, found nine days of consecutive labor too long, and consequently the suppression of the decadi was universally approved. the decree which ordered the publication of marriage bans on sunday was not so popular, for some persons were afraid of finding in this the revival of the former dominance of the clergy over the civil authorities. a few days after the solemn re-establishment of the catholic worship, there arrived at the tuileries a general officer, who would perhaps have preferred the establishment of mahomet, and the change of notre dame into a mosque. he was the last general-in-chief of the army of egypt, and was said to have turned mussulman at cairo, ex-baron de menou. in spite of the defeat by the english which he had recently undergone in egypt, general abdallah-menou was well received by the first consul, who appointed him soon after governor-general of piedmont. general menou was of tried courage, and had given proof of it elsewhere, as well as on the field of battle, and amid the most trying circumstances. after the 10th of august, although belonging to the republican party, he had accompanied louis sixteenth to the assembly, and had been denounced as a royalist by the jacobins. in 1795 the faubourg saint antoine having risen en masse, and advanced against the convention, general menou had surrounded and disarmed the seditious citizens; but he had refused to obey the atrocious orders of the commissioners of the convention, who decreed that the entire faubourg should be burned, in order to punish the inhabitants for their continued insurrections. some time afterwards, having again refused to obey the order these commissioners of the convention gave, to mow down with grapeshot the insurrectionists of paris, he had been summoned before a commission, which would not have failed to send him to the guillotine, if general bonaparte, who had succeeded him in the command of the army of the interior, had not used all his influence to save his life. such repeated acts of courage and generosity are enough, and more than enough, to cause us to pardon in this brave officer, the very natural pride with which he boasted of having armed the national guards, and having caused the tricolor to be substituted for the white flag. the tricolor he called my flag. from the government of piedmont he passed to that of venice; and died in 1810 for love of an actress, whom he had followed from venice to reggio, in spite of his sixty years. the institution of the order of the legion of honor preceded by a few days the proclamation of the consulate for life, which proclamation was the occasion of a fete, celebrated on the 15th of august. this was the anniversary of the birth of the first consul, and the opportunity was used in order to make for the first time this anniversary a festival. on that day the first consul was thirty-three years old. in the month of october following i went with the first consul on his journey into normandy, where we stopped at ivry, and the first consul visited the battlefield. he said, on arriving there, "honor to the memory of the best frenchman who ever sat upon the throne of france," and ordered the restoration of the column, which had been formerly erected, in memory of the victory achieved by henry the fourth. the reader will perhaps desire to read here the inscriptions, which were engraved by his order, on the four faces of the pyramid. first inscription. napoleon bonaparte, first consul, to the memory of henry the fourth, victorious over the enemies of the state, on the field of ivry, 14th march, 1590. second inscription. great men love the glory of those who resemble them. third inscription. the 7th brumaire, year xi, of the french republic napoleon bonaparte, first consul, having visited this field, ordered the rebuilding of the monument destined to perpetuate the memory of henry iv., and the victory of ivry. fourth inscription. the woes experienced by france, at the epoch of the battle of ivry, were the result of the appeal made by the opposing parties in france to spain and england. every family, every party which calls in foreign powers to its aid, has merited and will merit, to the most distant posterity the malediction of the french people. all these inscriptions have since been effaced, and replaced by this, "on this spot henry the fourth stood the day of the battle of ivry, 14th march, 1590." monsieur ledier, mayor of ivry, accompanied the first consul on this excursion; and the first consul held a long conversation with him, in which he appeared to be agreeably impressed. he did not form so good an opinion of the mayor of evreux, and interrupted him abruptly, in the midst of a complimentary address which this worthy magistrate was trying to make him, by asking if he knew his colleague, the mayor of ivry. "no, general," replied the mayor. "well, so much the worse for you; i trust you will make his acquaintance." it was also at evreux that an official of high rank amused madame bonaparte and her suite, by a naivete which the first consul alone did not find diverting, because he did not like such simplicity displayed by an official. monsieur de ch---did the honors of the country town to the wife of the first consul, and this, in spite of his age, with much zeal and activity; and madame bonaparte, among other questions which. her usual kindness and grace dictated to her, asked him if he was married, and if he had a family. "indeed, madame, i should think so," replied monsieur de ch---with a smile and a bow, "j'ai cinq-z-enfants." --"oh, mon dieu," cried madame bonaparte, "what a regiment! that is extraordinary; what, sir, seize enfants?"--"yes, madame, cinq-z-enfants, cinq-z-enfants," repeated the official, who did not see anything very marvelous in it, and who wondered at the astonishment shown by madame bonaparte. at last some one explained to her the mistake which la liaison dangereuse of m. de ch had caused her to make, and added with comic seriousness, "deign, madame, to excuse m. de ch----. the revolution has interrupted the prosecution of his studies." he was more than sixty years of age. from evreux we set out for rouen, where we arrived at three o'clock in the afternoon. chaptal, minister of the interior, beugnot, prefect of the department, and cambaceres, archbishop of rouen, came to meet the first consul at some distance from the city. the mayor fontenay waited at the gates, and presented the keys. the first consul held them some time in his hands, and then returned them to the mayor, saying to him loud enough to be heard by the crowd which surrounded the carriage, "citizens, i cannot trust the keys of the city to any one better than the worthy magistrate who so worthily enjoys my confidence and your own;" and made fontenay enter his carriage, saying he wished to honor rouen in the person of its mayor. madame bonaparte rode in the carriage with her husband; general moncey, inspector-general of the constabulary, on horseback on the right; in the second carriage was general soult and his aides-de-camp; in the third carriage, general bessieres and m. de lugay; in the fourth, general lauriston; then came the carriages of the personal attendants, hambard, hebert, and i being in the first. it is impossible to give an idea of the enthusiasm of the inhabitants of rouen on the arrival of the first consul. the market-porters and the boatmen in grand costume awaited us outside the city; and when the carriage which held the two august personages was in sight, these brave men placed themselves in line, two and two, and preceded thus the carriage to the hotel of the prefecture, where the first consul alighted. the prefect and the mayor of rouen, the archbishop, and the general commanding the division dined with the first consul, who showed a most agreeable animation during the repast, and with much solicitude asked information as to the condition of manufactures, new discoveries in the art of manufacturing, in fact, as to everything relating to the prosperity of this city, which was essentially industrial. in the evening, and almost the whole night, an immense crowd surrounded the hotel, and filled the gardens of the prefecture, which were illuminated and ornamented with allegorical transparencies in praise of the first consul; and each time he showed himself on the terrace of the garden the air resounded with applause and acclamations which seemed most gratifying to him. the next morning, after having made on horseback the tour of the city, and visited the grand sites by which it is surrounded, the first consul heard mass, which was celebrated at eleven o'clock by the archbishop in, the chapel of the prefecture. an hour after he had to receive the general council of the department, the council of the prefecture, the municipal council, the clergy of rouen, and the courts of justice, and was obliged to listen to a half-dozen discourses, all expressed in nearly the same terms, and to which he replied in such a manner as to give the orators the highest opinion of their own merit. all these bodies, on leaving the first consul, were presented to madame bonaparte, who received them with her accustomed grace, in, the evening madame bonaparte held a reception for the wives of the officials, at which the first consul was present, of which fact some availed themselves to present to him several emigres, who had recently returned under the act of amnesty, and whom he received graciously. after which followed crowds, illuminations, acclamations, all similar to those of the evening before. every one wore an air of rejoicing which delighted me, and contrasted strangely, i thought, with the dreadful wooden houses, narrow, filthy streets, and gothic buildings which then distinguished the town of rouen. monday, nov. 1, at seven o'clock in the morning, the first consul mounted his horse, and, escorted by a detachment of the young men of the city, forming a volunteer guard, passed the bridge of boats, and reached the faubourg saint-sever. on his return from this excursion, we found the populace awaiting him at the head of the bridge, whence they escorted him to the hotel of the prefecture, manifesting the liveliest joy. after breakfast, there was a high mass by the archbishop, the occasion being the fete of all saints; then came the learned societies, the chiefs of administration, and justices of the peace, with their speeches, one of which contained a remarkable sentence, in which these good magistrates, in their enthusiasm, asked the first consul's permission to surname him the great justice of the peace of europe. as they left the consul's apartment i noticed their spokesman; he had tears in his eyes, and was repeating with pride the reply he had just received. i regret that i do not remember his name, but i was told that he was one of the most highly esteemed men in rouen. his countenance inspired confidence, and bore an expression of frankness, which prepossessed me in his favor. in the evening the first consul went to the theater, which was packed to the ceiling, and offered a charming sight. the municipal authorities had a delightful fete prepared, which the first consul found much to his taste, and upon which he complimented the prefect and the mayor on several different occasions. after witnessing the opening of the ball, he made two or three turns in the hall, and retired, escorted by the staff of the national guard. on tuesday much of the day was spent by the first consul in visiting the workshops of the numerous factories of the city, accompanied by the minister of the interior, the prefect, the mayor, the general commanding the division, the inspector-general of police, and the staff of the consular guard. in a factory of the faubourg saint-sever, the minister of the interior presented to him the dean of the workmen, noted as having woven the first piece of velvet in france; and the first consul, after complimenting this honorable old man, granted him a pension. other rewards and encouragements were likewise distributed to several parties whose useful inventions commended them to public gratitude. wednesday morning early we left for elbeuf, where we arrived at ten o'clock, preceded by threescore young men of the most distinguished families of the city, who, following the example of those of rouen, aspired to the honor of forming the guard of the first consul. the country around us was covered with an innumerable multitude, gathered from all the surrounding communes. the first consul alighted at elbeuf, at the house of the mayor, where he took breakfast, and then visited the town in detail, obtaining information everywhere; and knowing that one of the first wishes of the citizens was the construction of a road from elbeuf to a small neighboring town called romilly, he gave orders to the minister of the interior to begin work upon it immediately. at elbeuf, as at rouen, the first consul was overwhelmed with homage and benedictions; and we returned from this last town at four o'clock in the afternoon. the merchants of rouen had prepared a fete in the hall of the stock exchange, which the first consul and his family attended after dinner. he remained a long time on the ground floor of this building, where there were displayed magnificent specimens from the industries of this department. he examined everything, and made madame bonaparte do the same; and she also purchased several pieces of cloth. the first consul then ascended to the first floor, where, in the grand saloon, were gathered about a hundred ladies, married and single, and almost all pretty, the wives and daughters of the principal merchants of rouen, who were waiting to compliment him. he seated himself in this charming circle, and remained there perhaps a quarter of an hour; then passed into another room, where awaited him the representation of a little proverb, containing couplets expressing, as may be imagined, the attachment and gratitude of the inhabitants of rouen. this play was followed by a ball. thursday evening the first consul announced that he would leave for havre the next morning at daybreak; and exactly at five o'clock i was awakened by hebert, who said that at six o'clock we would set out. i awoke feeling badly, was sick the whole day, and would have given much to have slept a few hours longer; but we were compelled to begin our journey. before entering his carriage, the first consul made a present to monseigneur, the archbishop, of a snuff-box with his portrait, and also gave one to the mayor, on which was the inscription, 'peuple francais'. we stopped at caudebec for breakfast. the mayor of this town presented to the first consul a corporal who had made the campaign of italy (his name was, i think, roussel), and who had received a sword of honor as a reward for his brave conduct at marengo. he was at caudebec on a half-year's furlough, and asked the first consul's permission to be a sentinel at the door of the apartment of the august travelers, which was granted; and after the first consul and madame bonaparte were seated at the table, roussel was sent for, and invited to breakfast with his former general. at havre and at dieppe the first consul invited thus to his table all the soldiers or sailors who had received guns, sabers, or boarding-axes of honor. the first consul stopped an hour at bolbec, showing much attention and interest in examining the products of the industries of the district, complimenting the guards of honor who passed before him on their fine appearance, thanking the clergy for the prayers in his behalf which they addressed to heaven, and leaving for the poor, either in their own hands, or in the hands of the mayor, souvenirs of his stay. on the arrival of the first consul at havre, the city was illuminated; and the first consul and his numerous cortege passed between two rows of illuminations and columns of fire of all kinds. the vessels in the port appeared like a forest on fire; being covered with colored lamps to the very top of their masts. the first consul received, the day of his arrival at havre, only a part of the authorities of the city, and soon after retired, saying that he was fatigued; but at six o'clock in the morning of the next day he was on horseback, and until two o'clock he rode along the seacoast and low hills of ingouville for more than a league, and the banks of the seine as far as the cliffs of hoc. he also made a tour outside of the citadel. about three o'clock the first consul began to receive the authorities. he conversed with them in great detail upon the work that had, been done at this place in order that their port, which he always called the port of paris, might reach the highest degree of prosperity, and did the sub-prefect, the mayor, the two presidents of the tribunals, the commandant of the place, and the chief of the tenth demi-brigade of light infantry the honor of inviting them to his table. in the evening the first consul went to the theater, where they played a piece composed for the occasion, about as admirable as such pieces usually are, but on which the first consul and madame bonaparte especially complimented the authors. the illuminations were more brilliant even than on the evening before; and i remember especially that the largest number of transparencies bore the inscription, 18th brumaire, year viii. sunday, at seven o'clock in the morning, after having visited the marine arsenal and all the docks, the weather being very fine, the first consul embarked in a little barge, and remained in the roadstead for several hours, escorted by a large number of barges filled with men and elegantly dressed women, and musicians playing the favorite airs of the first consul. then a few hours were again passed in the reception of merchants, the first consul assuring them that he had taken the greatest pleasure in conferring with them in regard to the commerce of havre with the colonies. in the evening, there was a fete prepared by the merchants, at which the first consul remained for half an hour; and on monday, at five o'clock in the morning, he embarked on a lugger for honfleur. at the time of his departure the weather was a little threatening, and the first consul was advised not to embark. madame bonaparte, whose ears this rumor reached, ran after her husband, begging him not to set out; but he embraced her, laughing, calling her a coward, and entered the vessel which was awaiting him. he had hardly embarked when the wind suddenly lulled, and the weather became very fine. on his return to havre, the first consul held a review on the place de la citadelle, and visited the artillery barracks, after which he received, until the evening, a large number of public dignitaries and merchants; and the next day, at six o'clock in the morning, we set out for dieppe. when we arrived at fecamp, the town presented an extremely singular spectacle. all the inhabitants of the town, and of the adjoining towns and villages, followed the clergy, chanting a te deum for the anniversary of the 18th brumaire; and these countless voices rising to heaven for him affected the first consul profoundly. he repeated several times during breakfast that he had felt more emotion on hearing these chants under the dome of heaven than he had ever felt while listening to the most brilliant music. we arrived at dieppe at six o'clock in the evening. the first consul retired, only after having received all their felicitations, which were certainly very sincere there, as throughout all france at that time. the next day, at eight o'clock, the first consul repaired to the harbor, where he remained a long while watching the return of the fishermen, and afterwards visited the faubourg of pollet, and the work on the docks, which was then just beginning. he admitted to his table the sub-prefect, the mayor, and three sailors of dieppe who had been given boarding-axes of honor for distinguishing themselves in the combat off boulogne. he ordered the construction of a breakwater in the inner port, and the continuation of a canal for navigation, which was to be extended as far as paris, and of which, until this present time, only a few fathoms have been made. from dieppe we went to gisors and to beauvais; and finally the first consul and his wife returned to saint-cloud, after an absence of two weeks, during which workmen had been busily employed in restoring the ancient royal residence, which the first consul had decided to accept, as i have before stated. chapter x. the tour of the first consul through the wealthiest and most enlightened departments of france had removed from his mind the apprehension of many difficulties which he had feared at first in the execution of his plans. everywhere he had been treated as a monarch, and not only he personally, but madame bonaparte also, had been received with all the honors usually reserved for crowned heads. there was no difference between the homage offered them at this time, and that which they received later, even during the empire, when their majesties made tours of their states at different times. for this reason i shall give some details; and if they should seem too long, or not very novel, the reader will remember that i am not writing only for those who lived during the empire. the generation which witnessed such great deeds, and which, under their very eyes, and from the beginning of his career, saw the greatest man of this century, has already given place to another generation, which can judge him only by what others may narrate of him. what may be familiar to those who saw with their own eyes is not so to others, who can only take at second-hand those things which they had no opportunity of seeing for themselves. besides, details omitted as frivolous or commonplace by history, which makes a profession of more gravity, are perfectly appropriate in simple memoirs, and often enable one to understand and judge the epoch more correctly. for instance, it seems to me that the enthusiasm displayed by the entire population and all the local authorities for the first consul and his wife during their tour in normandy showed clearly that the chief of the state would have no great opposition to fear, certainly none on the part of the nation, whenever it should please him to change his title, and proclaim himself emperor. soon after our return, by a decree of the consuls four ladies were assigned to madame bonaparte to assist her in doing the honors of the palace. they were mesdames de remusat, de tallouet, de lucay, and de lauriston. under the empire they became ladies-in-waiting. madame de lauriston often raised a smile by little exhibitions of parsimony, but she was good and obliging. madame de remusat possessed great merit, and had sound judgment, though she appeared somewhat haughty, which was the more remarkable as m. de remusat was exactly the reverse. subsequently there was another lady of honor, madame de la rochefoucault, of whom i shall have occasion to speak later. the lady of the robes, madame de lucay, was succeeded by madame la vallette, so gloriously known afterwards by her devotion to her husband. there were twenty-four french ladies-in-waiting, among whom were mesdames de remusat, de tallouet, de lauriston, ney, d'arberg, louise d'arberg (afterwards the countess of lobau), de walsh-serent, de colbert, lannes, savary, de turenne, octave de segur, de montalivet, de marescot, de bouille solar, lascaris, de brignole, de canisy, de chevreuse, victor de mortemart, de montmorency, matignon, and maret. there were also twelve italian ladies-in-waiting. these ladies served in turn one month each, there being thus two french and one italian lady on duty together. the emperor at first did not admit unmarried ladies among the ladies-in-waiting; but he relaxed this rule first in favor of mademoiselle louise d'arberg (afterwards countess of lobau), and then in favor of mademoiselle de lucay, who has since married count philip de segur, author of the excellent history of the campaign in russia; and these two young ladies by their prudence and circumspect conduct proved themselves above criticism even at court. there were four lady ushers, mesdames soustras, ducrest-villeneuve, felicite longroy, and egle marchery. two first ladies' maids, mesdames roy and marco de st. hilaire, who had under their charge the grand wardrobe and the jewel-box. there were four ladies' maids in ordinary. a lady reader. the men on the staff of the empress's household were the following: a grand equerry, senator harville, who discharged the duties of a chevalier of honor. a head chamberlain, the general of division, nansouty. a vice-chamberlain, introducer of the ambassadors, de beaumont. four chamberlains in ordinary, de courtomer, degrave, galard de bearn, hector d'aubusson de la feuillade. four equerries, corbineau, berckheim, d'audenarde, and fouler. a superintendent-general of her majesty's household, hinguerlot. a secretary of commands, deschamps. two head valets, frere and douville. four valets in ordinary. four men servants. two head footmen, l'esperance and d'argens. six ordinary footmen. the staff of the kitchen and sanitation were the same as in the household of the emperor; and besides these, six pages of the emperor were always in attendance upon the empress. the chief almoner was ferdinand de rohan, former archbishop of cambray. another decree of the same date fixed the duties of the prefects of the palace. the four head prefects of the consular palace were de remusat, de crayamel (afterwards appointed introduces of ambassadors, and master of ceremonies), de lugay, and didelot. the latter subsequently became prefect of the department of the cher. malmaison was no longer sufficient for the first consul, whose household, like that of madame bonaparte, became daily more numerous. a much larger building had become necessary, and the first consul fixed his choice upon saint-cloud. the inhabitants of saint-cloud addressed a petition to the corps legislatif, praying that the first consul would make their chateau his summer residence; and this body hastened to transmit it to him, adding their prayers to the same effect, and making comparisons which they believed would be agreeable to him. the general refused formally, saying that when he should have finished and laid down the duties with which the people had charged him, he would feel honored by any recompense which the popular will might award him; but that so long as he was the chief of the government he would accept nothing. notwithstanding the determined tone of this reply, the inhabitants of the village of saint-cloud, who had the greatest interest in the petition being granted, renewed it when the first consul was chosen consul for life; and he then consented to accept. the expenses of the repairs and furnishing were immense, and greatly exceeded the calculations that had been made for him; nevertheless, he was not satisfied either with the furniture or ornaments, and complained to charvet, the concierge at malmaison, whom he appointed to the same post in the new palace, and whom he had charged with the general supervision of the furnishing and the placing of the furniture, that he had fitted up apartments suitable only for a mistress, and that they contained only gewgaws and spangles, and nothing substantial. on this occasion, also, he gave another proof of his habitual desire to do good, in spite of prejudices which had not yet spent their force. knowing that there were at saint-cloud a large number of the former servants of queen marie antoinette, he charged charvet to offer them either their old places or pensions, and most of them resumed their former posts. in 1814 the bourbons were far from acting so generously, for they discharged all employees, even those who had served marie antoinette. the first consul had been installed at saint-cloud only a short while, when the chateau, which had thus again become the residence of the sovereign at enormous expense, came near falling a prey to the flames. the guard room was under the vestibule, in the center of the palace; and one night, the soldiers having made an unusually large fire, the stove became so hot that a sofa, whose back touched one of the flues which warmed the saloon, took fire, and the games were quickly communicated to the other furniture. the officer on duty perceiving this, immediately notified the concierge, and together they ran to general duroc's room and awoke him. the general rose in haste, and, commanding perfect silence, made a chain of men. he took his position at the pool, in company with the concierge, and thence passed buckets of water to the soldiers for two or three hours, at the end of which time the fire was extinguished, but only after devouring all the furniture; and it was not until the next morning that the first consul, josephine, hortense, in short, all the other occupants of the chateau, learned of the accident, all of whom, the first consul especially, expressed their appreciation of the consideration shown in not alarming them. to prevent, or at least to render such accidents less likely in future, the first consul organized a night-guard at saint-cloud, and subsequently did the same at all his residences; which guard-was called "the watch." during his early occupation of saint-cloud the first consul slept in the same bed with his wife; afterwards etiquette forbade this; and as a result, conjugal affection was somewhat chilled, and finally the first consul occupied an apartment at some distance from that of madame bonaparte. to reach her room it was necessary to cross a long corridor, on the right and left of which were the rooms of the ladies-in-waiting, the women of the service, etc. when he wished to pass the night with his wife, he undressed in his own room, and went thence in his wrapper and night-cap, i going before him with a candle. at the end of this corridor a staircase of fifteen or sixteen steps led to the apartment of madame bonaparte. it was a great joy to her to receive a visit from her husband, and every one was informed of it next morning. i can see her now rubbing her little hands, saying, "i rose late to-day; but, you see, it is because bonaparte spent the night with me." on such days she was more amiable than ever, refused no one, and all got whatever they requested. i experienced proofs of this myself many times. one evening as i was conducting the first consul on one of these visits to his wife, we perceived in the corridor a handsome young fellow coming out of the apartment of one of madame bonaparte's women servants. he tried to steal away; but the first consul cried in a loud voice, "who goes there? where are you going? what do you want? what is your name?" he was merely a valet of madame bonaparte, and, stupefied by these startling inquiries, replied in a frightened voice that he had just executed an errand for madame bonaparte. "very well," replied the first consul, "but do not let me catch you again." satisfied that the gallant would profit by the lesson, the general did not seek to learn his name, nor that of his inamorata. this reminds me of an occasion on which he was much more severe in regard to another chambermaid of madame bonaparte. she was young, and very pretty, and inspired very tender sentiments in rapp and e----, two aides-de-camp, who besieged her with their sighs, and sent her flowers and billets-doux. the young girl, at least such was the opinion of every one, gave them no encouragement, and josephine was much attached to her; nevertheless, when the first consul observed the gallantries of the young men, he became angry, and had the poor girl discharged, in spite of her tears and the prayers of madame bonaparte and of the brave and honest colonel rapp, who swore naively that the fault was entirely on his side, that the poor child had not listened to him, and that her conduct was worthy of all praise. nothing availed against the resolution of the first consul, whose only reply was, "i will have nothing improper in my household, and no scandal." whenever the first consul made a distribution of arms of honor, there was always a banquet at the tuileries, to which were admitted, without distinction, and whatever their grade, all who had a share in these rewards. at these banquets, which took place in the grand gallery of the chateau, there were sometimes two hundred guests; and general duroc being master of ceremonies on these occasions, the first consul took care to recommend him to intermingle the private soldiers, the colonels, the generals, etc. he ordered the domestics to show especial attention to the private soldiers, and to see that they had plenty of the best to eat and to drink. these are the longest repasts i have seen the emperor make; and on these occasions he was amiable and entirely unconstrained, making every effort to put his guests entirely at their ease, though with many of them this was a difficult task. nothing was more amusing than to see these brave soldiers sitting two feet from-the table, not daring to approach their plates or the food, red to the ears, and with their necks stretched out towards the general, as if to receive the word of command. the first consul made them relate the notable deeds which had brought each his national recognition, and often laughed boisterously at their singular narrations. he encouraged them to eat, and frequently drank to their health; but in spite of all this, his encouragement failed to overcome the timidity of some, and the servants removed the plates of each course without their having touched them, though this constraint did not prevent their being full of joy and enthusiasm as they left the table. "au revoir, my brave men," the first consul would say to them; "baptize for me quickly these new-born," touching with his fingers their sabers of honor. god knows whether they spared themselves! this preference of the first consul for the private soldier recalls an instance which took-place at malmaison, and which furnishes, besides, a complete refutal of the charges of severity and harshness which have been brought against him. the first consul set out on foot one morning, dressed in his gray riding-coat, and accompanied by general duroc, on the road to marly. chatting as they walked, they saw a plowman, who turned a furrow as he came towards them. "see here, my good man," said the first consul, stopping him, "your furrow is not straight. you do not know your business."--"it is not you, my fine gentleman, who can teach me. you cannot do as well. no, indeed -you think so; very well, just try it," replied the good man, yielding his place to the first consul, who took the plow-handle, and making the team start, commenced to give his lesson. but he did not plow a single yard of a straight line. the whole furrow was crooked. "come, come," said the countryman, putting his hand on that of the general to resume his plow, "your work is no good. each one to his trade. saunter along, that is your business." but the first consul did not proceed without paying for the lesson he had received. general duroc handed the laborer two or three louis to compensate him for the loss of time they had caused him; and the countryman, astonished by this generosity, quitted his plow to relate his adventure, and met on the way a woman whom he told that he had met two big men, judging by what he had in his hand. the woman, better informed, asked him to describe the dress of the men, and from his description ascertained that it was the first consul and one of his staff; the good man was overcome with astonishment. the next day he made a brave resolution, and donning his best clothes, presented himself at malmaison, requesting to speak to the first consul, to thank him, he said, for the fine present he had given him the day before. i notified the first consul of this visit, and he ordered me to bring the laborer in. while i was gone to announce him, he had, according to his own expression, taken his courage in both hands to prepare himself for this grand interview; and i found him on my return, standing in the center of the antechamber (for he did not dare to sit upon the sofas, which though very simple seemed to him magnificent), and pondering what he should say to the first consul in token of his gratitude. i preceded him, and he followed me, placing each foot cautiously on the carpet; and when i opened the door of the cabinet, he insisted with much civility on my going first. when the first consul had nothing private to say or dictate, he permitted the door to stand open; and he now made me a sign not to close it, so that i was able to see and hear all that passed. the honest laborer commenced, on entering the cabinet, by saluting the back of de bourrienne, who could not see him, occupied as he was in writing upon a small table placed in the recess of a window. the first consul saw him make his bows, himself reclining in his armchair, one of the arms of which, according to habit, he was pricking with the point of his knife. finally he spoke. "well, my brave fellow." the peasant turned, recognized him, and saluted anew. "well," continued the first consul, "has the harvest been fine this year?"--"no, with all respect, citizen general, but not so very bad." "in order that the earth should produce, it is necessary that it should be turned up, is it not so? fine gentlemen are no good for such work." "meaning no offense, general, the bourgeois have hands too soft to handle a plow. there is need of a hard fist to handle these tools." "that is so," replied the first consul, smiling. "but big and strong as you are, you should handle something else than a plow. a good musket, for instance, or the handle of a good saber." the laborer drew himself up with an air of pride. "general, in my time i have done as others. i had been married six or seven years when these d---d prussians (pardon me, general) entered landrecies. the requisition came. they gave me a gun and a cartridge-box at the commune headquarters, and march! my soul, we were not equipped like those big gallants that i saw just now on entering the courtyard." he referred to the grenadiers of the consular guard. "why did you quit the service?" resumed the first consul, who appeared to take great interest in the conversation. "my faith, general, each one in his turn, and there are saber strokes enough for every one. one fell on me there" (the worthy laborer bent his head and divided the locks of his hair); "and after some weeks in the field hospital, they gave me a discharge to return to my wife and my plow." "have you any children?" "i have three, general, two boys and a girl." "you must make a soldier of the oldest. if he will conduct himself well, i will take care of him. adieu, my brave man. whenever i can help you, come to see me again." the first consul rose, made de bourrienne give him some louis, which he added to those the laborer had already received from him, and directed me to show him out, and we had already reached the antechamber, when the first consul called the peasant back to say to him, "you were at fleurus?"--"yes, general."--"can you tell me the name of your general-in-chief?"--"indeed, i should think so. it was general jourdan."--"that is correct. au revoir;" and i carried off the old soldier of the republic, enchanted with his reception. chapter xi. at the beginning of this year (1803), there arrived at paris an envoy from tunis, who presented the first consul, on the part of the bey, with ten arab horses. the bey at that time feared the anger of england, and hoped to find in france a powerful ally, capable of protecting him; and he could not have found a better time to make the application, for everything announced the rupture of the peace of amiens, over which all europe had so greatly rejoiced, for england had kept none of her promises, and had executed no article of the treaty. on his side, the first consul, shocked by such bad faith, and not wishing to be a dupe, openly prepared for war, and ordered the filling up of the ranks, and a new levy of one hundred and twenty thousand conscripts. war was officially declared in june, but hostilities had already begun before this time. at the end of this month the first consul made a journey to boulogne, and visited picardy, flanders, and belgium, in order to organize an expedition which he was meditating against the english, and to place the northern seacoast in a state of defense. he returned to paris in august, but set out in november for a second visit to boulogne. this constant traveling was too much for hambard, who for a long time had been in feeble health; and when the first consul was on the point of setting out for his first tour in the north, hambard had asked to be excused, alleging, which was only too true, the bad state of his health. "see how you are," said the first consul, "always sick and complaining; and if you stay here, who then will shave me?"--"general," replied hambard, "constant knows how to shave as well as i." i was present, and occupied at that very moment in dressing the first consul. he looked at me and said, "well, you queer fellow, since you are so skilled, you shall make proof of it at once. we must see how you will do." i knew the misadventure of poor hebert, which i have already related; and not wishing a like experience, i had been for some time practicing the art of shaving. i had paid a hairdresser to teach me his trade; and i had even, in my moments of leisure, served an apprenticeship in his shop, where i had shaved, without distinction, all his customers. the chins of these good people had suffered somewhat before i had acquired sufficient dexterity to lay a razor on the consular chin; but by dint of repeated experiments on the beards of the commonalty i had achieved a degree of skill which inspired me with the greatest confidence; so, in obedience to the order of the first consul, i brought the warm water, opened the razor boldly, and began operations. just as i was going to place the razor upon the face of the first consul, he raised himself abruptly, turned, and fastened both eyes upon me, with an expression of severity and interrogation which i am unable to describe. seeing that i was not at all embarrassed, he seated himself again, saying to me in a mild tone, "proceed." this i did with sufficient skill to satisfy him; and when i had finished, he said to me, "hereafter you are to shave me;" and, in fact, after that he was unwilling to be shaved by any one else. from that time also my duties became much more exacting, for every day i had to shave the first consul; and i admit that it was not an easy thing to do, for while he was being shaved, he often spoke, read the papers, moved about in his chair, turned himself abruptly, and i was obliged to use the greatest precautions in order not to cut him. happily this never occurred. when by chance he did not speak, he remained immobile and stiff as a statue, and could not be made to lower, nor raise, nor bend his head to one side, as was necessary to accomplish the task easily. he also had a singular fancy of having one half of his face lathered and shaved before beginning the other, and would not allow me to pass to the other side of his face until the first half was completely finished, as the first consul found that plan suited him best. later, when i had become his chief valet, and he deigned to give me proofs of his kindness and esteem, and i could talk with him as freely as his rank permitted, i took the liberty of persuading him to shave himself; for, as i have just said, not wishing to be shaved by any one except me, he was obliged to wait till i could be notified, especially in the army, when his hour of rising was not regular. he refused for a long time to take my advice, though i often repeated it. "ah, ha, mr. idler!" he would say to me, laughing, "you are very anxious for me to do half your work;" but at last i succeeded in satisfying him of my disinterestedness and the wisdom of my advice. the fact is, i was most anxious to persuade him to this; for, considering what would necessarily happen if an unavoidable absence, an illness, or some other reason, had separated me from the first consul, i could not reflect, without a shudder, of his life being at the mercy of the first comer. as for him, i am sure he never gave the matter a thought; for whatever tales have been related of his suspicious nature, he never took any precaution against the snares which treason might set for him. his sense of security, in this regard, amounted even to imprudence; and consequently all who loved him, especially those who surrounded him, endeavored to make up for this want of precaution by all the vigilance of which they were capable; and it is unnecessary to assert that it was this solicitude for the precious life of my master which had caused me to insist upon the advice i had given him to shave himself. on the first occasions on which he attempted to put my lessons into practice, it was even more alarming than laughable to watch the emperor (for such he was then); as in spite of the lessons that i had given him with repeated illustrations, he did not yet know how to hold his razor. he would seize it by the handle, and apply it perpendicularly to his cheek, instead of laying it flat; he would make a sudden dash with the razor, never failing to give himself a cut, and then draw back his hand quickly, crying out, "see there, you scamp; you have made me cut myself." i would then take the razor and finish the operation the next day the same scene would be repeated, but with less bloodshed; and each day the skill of the emperor improved, until at last, by dint of numberless lessons, he became sufficiently an adept to dispense with me, though he still cut himself now and then, for which he would always mildly reproach me, though jestingly and in kindness. besides, from the manner in which he began, and which he would never change, it was impossible for him not to cut his face sometimes, for he shaved himself downward, and not upward, like every one else; and this bad method, which all my efforts could not change, added to the habitual abruptness of his movements, made me shudder every time i saw him take his razor in hand. madame bonaparte accompanied the first consul on the first of these journeys; and there was, as on that to lyons, a continued succession of fetes and rejoicing. the inhabitants of boulogne had, in anticipation of the arrival of the first consul, raised several triumphal arches, extending from the montreuil gate as far as the great road which led to his barrack, which was situated in the camp on the right. each arch of triumph was decorated with evergreens, and thereon could be read the names of the skirmishes and battles in which he had been victorious. these domes and arches of verdure and flowers presented an admirable coup-d'-oeil. one arch of triumph, higher than the others, was placed in the midst of the rue de l'ecu (the main street), and the elite of the citizens had assembled around it; while more than a hundred young people with garlands of flowers, children, old men, and a great number of brave men whom military duty had not detained in the camp, awaited with impatience the arrival of the first consul. at his approach the joyful booming of cannon announced to the english, whose fleet was near by in the sea off boulogne, the appearance of napoleon upon the shore on which he had assembled the formidable army he had determined to hurl against england. the first consul was mounted upon a small gray horse, which was active as a squirrel. he dismounted, and followed by his brilliant staff, addressed these paternal words to the citizens of the town: "i come to assure the happiness of france. the sentiments which you express, and all your evidences of gratitude, touch me; i shall never forget my entrance into boulogne, which i have chosen as the center of the reunion of my armies. citizens, do not be alarmed by this multitude. it is that of the defenders of your country, soon to be the conquerors of haughty england." the first consul proceeded on his route, surrounded by the whole populace, who accompanied him to the door of his headquarters, where more than thirty generals received him, though the firing of cannon, the ringing of bells, the cries of joy, ceased only when this great day ended. the day after our arrival, the first consul visited the pont de brique, a little village situated about half a league from boulogne. a farmer read to him the following complimentary address:-"general, in the name of twenty fathers we offer you a score of fine fellows who are, and always will be, at your command. lead them, general. they can strike a good blow for you when you march into england. as to us, we will discharge another duty. we will till the earth in order that bread may not be wanting to the brave men who will crush the english." napoleon, smiling, thanked the patriotic countrymen, and glancing towards the little country house, built on the edge of the highway, spoke to general berthier, saying, "this is where i wish my headquarters established." then he spurred his horse and rode off, while a general and some officers remained to execute the order of the first consul, who, on the very night of his arrival at boulogne, returned to sleep at pont de brique. they related to me at boulogne the details of a naval combat which had taken place a short time before our arrival between the french fleet, commanded by admiral bruix, and the english squadron with which nelson blockaded the port of boulogne. i will relate this as told to me, deeming very unusual the comfortable mode in which the french admiral directed the operations of the sailors. about two hundred boats, counting gunboats and mortars, barges and sloops, formed the line of defense, the shore and the forts bristling with batteries. some frigates advanced from the hostile line, and, preceded by two or three brigs, ranged themselves in line of battle before us and in reach of the cannon of our flotilla; and the combat began. balls flew in every direction. nelson, who had promised the destruction of the flotilla, re-enforced his line of battle with two other lines of vessels and frigates; and thus placed en echelon, they fought with a vastly superior force. for more than seven hours the sea, covered with fire and smoke, offered to the entire population of boulogne the superb and frightful spectacle of a naval combat in which more than eighteen hundred cannon were fired at the same time; but the genius of nelson could not avail against our sailors or soldiers. admiral bruix was at his headquarters near the signal station, and from this position directed the fight against nelson, while drinking with his staff and some ladies of boulogne whom he had invited to dinner. the guests sang the early victories of the first consul, while the admiral, without leaving the table, maneuvered the flotilla by means of the signals he ordered. nelson, eager to conquer, ordered all his naval forces to advance; but the wind being in favor of the french, he was not able to keep the promise he had made in london to burn our fleet, while on the contrary many of his own boats were so greatly damaged, that admiral bruix, seeing the english begin to retire, cried "victory!" pouring out champagne for his guests. the french flotilla suffered very little, while the enemy's squadron was ruined by the steady fire, of our stationary batteries. on that day the english learned that they could not possibly approach the shore at boulogne, which after this they named the iron coast (cote de fer). when the first consul left boulogne, he made his arrangements to pass through abbeville, and to stop twenty four hours there. the mayor of the town left nothing undone towards a suitable reception, and abbeville was magnificent on that day. the finest trees from the neighboring woods were taken up bodily with their roots to form avenues in all the streets through which the first consul was to pass; and some of the citizens, who owned magnificent gardens, sent their rarest shrubs to be displayed along his route; and carpets from the factory of hecquet-dorval were spread on the ground, to be trodden by his horses. but unforeseen circumstances suddenly cut short the fete. a courier, sent by the minister of police, arrived as we were approaching the town, who notified the first consul of a plot to assassinate him two leagues farther on; the very day and hour were named. to baffle the attempt that they intended against his person, the first consul traversed the city in a gallop, and, followed by some lancers, went to the spot where he was to be attacked, halted about half an hour, ate some abbeville cakes, and set out. the assassins were deceived. they had not expected his arrival until the next day. the first consul and madame bonaparte continued their journey through picardy, flanders, and the low countries. each day the first consul received offers of vessels of war from the different council-generals, the citizens continued to offer him addresses, and the mayors to present him with the keys of the cities, as if he exercised royal power. amiens, dunkirk, lille, bruges, ghent, brussels, liege, and namur distinguished themselves by the brilliant receptions they gave to the illustrious travelers. the inhabitants of antwerp presented the first consul with six magnificent bay horses. everywhere also, the first consul left valuable souvenirs of his journey; and by his orders, works were immediately commenced to deepen and improve the port of amiens. he visited in that city, and in all the others where he stopped, the exposition of the products of industry, encouraging manufacturers by his advice, and favoring them in his decrees. at liege, he put at the disposal of the prefect of the our the the sum of three hundred thousand francs to repair the houses burned by the austrians, in that department, during the early years of the revolution. antwerp owes to him the inner port, a basin, and the building of carpenter-shops. at brussels, he ordered that the rhine, the meuse, and the scheldt should be connected by a canal. he gave to givet a stone bridge over the meuse, and at sedan the widow madame rousseau received from him the sum of sixty thousand francs for the re-establishment of the factory destroyed by fire. indeed, i cannot begin to enumerate all the benefits, both public and private, which the first consul and madame bonaparte scattered along their route. a little while after our return to saint-cloud, the first consul, while riding in the park with his wife and cambaceres, took a fancy to drive the four horses attached to the carriage which had been given him by the inhabitants of antwerp. he took his place on the driver's seat, and took the reins from the hands of caesar, his coachman, who got up behind the carriage. at that instant they were in the horse-shoe alley, which leads to the road of the pavilion breteuil, and of ville d'avray. it is stated in the memorial of st. helena, that the aide-de-camp, having awkwardly frightened the horses, made them run away; but caesar, who related to me in detail this sad disaster a few moments after the accident had taken place, said not a word to me about the aide-de-camp; and, in truth, there was needed, to upset the coach, nothing more than the awkwardness of a coachman with so little experience as the first consul. besides, the horses were young and spirited, and caesar himself needed all his skill to guide them. not feeling his hand on the reins, they set out at a gallop, while caesar, seeing the new direction they were taking to the right, cried out, "to the left," in a stentorian voice. consul cambaceres, even paler than usual, gave himself little concern as to reassuring madame bonaparte, who was much alarmed, but screamed with all his might, "stop, stop! you will break all our necks!" that might well happen, for the first consul heard nothing, and, besides, could not control the horses; and when he reached, or rather was carried with the speed of lightning to, the very gate, he was not able to keep in the road, but ran against a post, where the carriage fell over heavily, and fortunately the horses stopped. the first consul was thrown about ten steps, fell on his stomach, and fainted away, and did not revive until some one attempted to lift him up. madame bonaparte and the second consul had only slight contusions; but good josephine had suffered horrible anxiety about her husband. however, although he was badly bruised, he would not be bled, and satisfied himself with a few rubbings with eau de cologne, his favorite remedy. that evening, on retiring, he spoke gayly of his misadventure, and of the great fright that his colleague had shown, and ended by saying, "we must render unto caesar that which is caesar's; let him keep his whip, and let us each mind his own business." he admitted, however, notwithstanding all his jokes, that he had never thought himself so near death, and that he felt as if he had been dead for a few seconds. i do not remember whether it was on this or another occasion that i heard the emperor say, that "death was only asleep without dreams." in the month of october of this year, the first consul received in public audience haled-effendi, the ambassador of the ottoman porte. the arrival of the turkish ambassador created a sensation at the tuileries, because he brought a large number of cashmere shawls to the first consul, which every one was sure would be distributed, and each woman flattered herself that she would be favorably noticed. i think that, without his foreign costume, and without his cashmere shawls, he would have produced little effect on persons accustomed to seeing sovereign princes pay court to the chief of the government at his residence and at their own. his costume even was not more remarkable than that of roustan, to which we were accustomed; and as to his bows, they were hardly lower than those of the ordinary courtiers of the first consul. at paris, it is said, the enthusiasm lasted longer--"it is so odd to be a turk!" a few ladies had the honor of seeing the bearded ambassador eat. he was polite and even gallant with them, and made them a few presents, which were highly prized; his manners were not too mohammedan, and he was not much shocked at seeing our pretty parisians without veils over their faces. one day, which he had spent almost entirely at saint-cloud, i saw him go through his prayers. it was in the court of honor, on a broad parapet bordered with a stone balustrade. the ambassador had carpets spread on the side of the apartments, which were afterwards those of the king of rome; and there he made his genuflexions, under the eyes of many people of the house, who, out of consideration, kept themselves behind their casements. in the evening he was present at the theater, and zaire or mahomet, i think, was played; but of course he understood none of it. chapter xii. in the month of november of this year, the first consul returned to boulogne to visit the fleet, and to review the troops who were already assembled in the camps provided for the army with which he proposed to descend on england. i have preserved a few notes and many recollections of my different sojourns at boulogne. never did the emperor make a grander display of military power; nor has there ever been collected at one point troops better disciplined or more ready to march at the least signal of their chief; and it is not surprising that i should have retained in my recollections of this period details which no one has yet, i think, thought of publishing. neither, if i am not mistaken, could any one be in a better position than i to know them. however, the reader will now judge for himself. in the different reviews which the first consul held, he seemed striving to excite the enthusiasm of the soldiers, and to increase their attachment for his person, by assiduously taking advantage of every opportunity to excite their vanity. one day, having especially noticed the excellent bearing of the thirty-sixth and fifty-seventh regiments of the line, and tenth of light infantry, he made all the officers, from corporal to colonel, come forward; and, placing himself in their midst, evinced his satisfaction by recalling to them occasions when, in the past under the fire of cannon, he had remarked the bearing of these three brave, regiments. he complimented the sub-officers on the good drilling of the soldiers, and the captains and chiefs of battalion on the harmony and precision of their evolutions. in fine, each had his share of praise. this flattering distinction did not excite the jealousy of the other corps of the army, for each regiment had on that day its own share of compliments, whether small or great; and when the review was over, they went quietly back to their quarters. but the soldiers of the thirty-sixth, fifty-seventh, and tenth, much elated by having been so specially favored, went in the afternoon to drink to their triumph in a public house frequented by the grenadiers of the cavalry of the guard. they began to drink quietly, speaking of campaigns, of cities taken, of the first consul, and finally of that morning's review. it then occurred to the young men of boulogne, who were among the drinkers, to sing couplets of very recent composition, in which were extolled to the clouds the bravery and the exploits of the three regiments, without one word of praise for the rest of the army, not even for the guard; and it was in the favorite resort of the grenadiers of the guard that these couplets were sung! these latter maintained at first a gloomy silence; but soon finding it unendurable, they protested loudly against these couplets, which they said were detestable. the quarrel became very bitter; they shouted, heaped insults on each other, taking care not to make too much noise; however, and appointed a meeting for the next day, at four o'clock in the morning, in the suburbs of marquise, a little village about two leagues from boulogne. it was very late in the evening when these soldiers left the public house. more than two hundred grenadiers of the guard went separately to the place of meeting, and found the ground occupied by an almost equal number of their adversaries of the thirty-sixth, fifty-seventh, and tenth. wasting no time in explanations, hardly a sound being heard, each soldier drew his sword, and for more than an hour they fought in a cool, deliberate manner which was frightful to behold. a man named martin, grenadier of the guard, and of gigantic stature, killed with his own hand seven or eight soldiers of the tenth. they would probably have continued till all were massacred if general saint-hilaire, informed too late of this bloody quarrel, had not sent out in all haste a regiment of cavalry, who put an end to the combat. the grenadiers had lost two men, and the soldiers of the line thirteen, with a large number of wounded on both sides. the first consul visited the camp next day, and had brought before him those who had caused this terrible scene, and said to them in a severe tone: "i know why you fought each other; many brave men have fallen in a struggle unworthy of them and of you. you shall be punished. i have given orders that the verses which have been the cause of so much trouble shall be printed. i hope that, in learning your punishment, the ladies of boulogne will know that you have deserved the blame of your comrades in arms." however, the troops, and above all the officers, began to grow weary of their sojourn at boulogne, a town less likely, perhaps, than any other to render such an inactive existence endurable. they did not murmur, however, because never where the first consul was did murmuring find a place; but they fumed nevertheless under their breath at seeing themselves held in camp or in fort, with england just in sight, only nine or ten leagues distant. pleasures were rare at boulogne; the women, generally pretty, but extremely timid, did not dare to hold receptions at their own houses, for fear of displeasing their husbands, very jealous men, as are all those of picardy. there was, however, a handsome hall in which balls and soirees could easily have been given; but, although very anxious to do this, these ladies dared not make use of it. at last a considerable number of parisian beauties, touched by the sad fate of so many brave and handsome officers, came to boulogne to charm away the ennui of so long a peace. the example of the parisian women piqued those of abbeville, dunkirk, amiens; and soon boulogne was filled with strangers, male and female, who came to do the honors of the city. among all these ladies the one most conspicuous for style, intellect, and beauty was a dunkirk lady, named madame f----, an excellent musician, full of gayety, grace, and youth; it was impossible for madame f----not to turn many heads. colonel joseph, brother of the first consul, general soult, who was afterwards marshal, generals saint-hilaire and andre ossy, and a few other great personages, were at her feet; though two alone, it is said, succeeded in gaining her affections, and of those two, one was colonel joseph, who soon had the reputation of being the preferred lover of madame f----. the beautiful lady from dunkirk often gave soirees, at which colonel joseph never failed to be present. among all his rivals, and certainly they were very numerous, one alone bore him ill-will; this was the general-in-chief, soult. this rivalry did no injury to the interests of madame f----; but like a skillful tactician, she adroitly provoked the jealousy of her two suitors, while accepting from each of them compliments, bouquets, and more than that sometimes. the first consul, informed of the amours of his brother, concluded one evening to go and make himself merry in the little salon of madame f----, who was very plainly domesticated in a room on the first floor in the house of a joiner, in the rue des minimes. in order not to be recognized, he was dressed as a citizen, and wore a wig and spectacles. he took into his confidence general bertrand, who was already in great favor with him, and who did all in his power to render his disguise complete. thus disguised, the first consul and his companion presented themselves at madame f----'s, and asked for monsieur the superintendent arcambal. the most perfect incognito was impressed on arcambal by the first consul, who would not for all the world have been recognized; and m. arcambal promising to keep the secret, the two visitors were announced under the title of commissaries of war. they were playing bouillotte; gold covered the tables, and the game and punch absorbed the attention of the happy inmates to such a degree, that none of them took note of the persons who had just entered. as for the mistress of the lodging, she had never seen the first consul except at a distance, nor general bertrand; consequently, there was nothing to be feared from her. i myself think that colonel joseph recognized his brother, but he gave no evidence of this. the first consul, avoiding as best he could all glances, spied those of his brother and of madame f----. thinking signals were passing between them, he was preparing to quit the salon of the pretty dunkirkess, when she, very anxious that the number of her guests should not yet be diminished, ran to the two false commissaries of war, and detained them gracefully, saying that all were going to play forfeits, and they must not go away without having given pledges. the first consul having first consulted general bertrand by a glance, found it agreeable to remain and play those innocent games. indeed, at the end of a few moments, at the request of madame f----, the players deserted the bouillotte, and placed themselves in a circle around her. they began by dancing the boulangere; then the young innocents kept the ball in motion. the turn of the first consul came to give a forfeit. he was at first very much embarrassed, having with him only a piece of paper, on which he had written the names of a few colonels; he gave, however, this paper to madame f----, begging her not to open it. the wish of the first consul was respected, and the paper remained folded on the lap of the beautiful woman until the time came to redeem the forfeits. then the queer penalty was imposed on the great captain of making him doorkeeper, while madame f----, with colonel joseph, made the 'voyage a cythere' in a neighboring room. the first consul acquitted himself with a good grace of the role given him; and after the forfeits had been redeemed, made a sign to general bertrand to follow him, and they went out. the joiner who lived on the ground floor soon came up to bring a little note to madame f----. this was the note: i thank you, madame, for the kind welcome you have given me. if you will come some day to my barracks, i will act as doorkeeper, if it seems good to you; but on that occasion i will resign to no, other the pleasure of accompanying you in the 'voyage a cythre'. (signed) bonaparte the pretty woman did not read the note aloud; neither did she allow the givers of forfeits to remain in ignorance that she had received a visit from the first consul. at the end of an hour the company dispersed, and madame f---remained alone, reflecting on the visit and the note of the great man. it was during this same visit that there occurred a terrible combat in the roadstead of boulogne to secure the entrance into the port of a flotilla composed of twenty or thirty vessels, which came from ostend, from dunkirk, and from nieuport, loaded with arms for the national fleet. a magnificent frigate, carrying thirty-six pounders, a cutter, and a brig, detached themselves from the english fleet, in order to intercept the route of the dutch flotilla; but they were received in a manner which took away all desire to return. the port of boulogne was defended by five forts; the fort de la creche, the fort en bois, fort musoir, castle croi, and the castle d'ordre, all fortified with large numbers of cannon and howitzers. the line of vessels which barred the entrance was composed of two hundred and fifty gunboats and other vessels; the division of imperial gunboats formed a part of this. each sloop bore three pieces of cannon, twenty-four pounders,--two pieces for pursuit, and one for retreat; and five hundred mouths of fire were thus opened on the enemy, independently of all the batteries of the forts, every cannon being fired more than three times a minute. the combat began at one o'clock in the afternoon. the weather was beautiful. at the first report of the cannon the first consul left the headquarters at the pont de brique, and came at a gallop, followed by his staff, to give orders to admiral bruix; but soon wishing to examine for himself the operations of the defense, and to share in directing them, he threw himself, followed by the admiral and a few officers, into a launch which was rowed by sailors of the guard. thus the first consul was borne into the midst of the vessels which formed the line of defense, through a thousand dangers, amid a tempest of shells, bombs, and cannon-balls. with the intention of landing at wimereux, after having passed along the line, he ordered them to steer for the castle of croi, saying that he must double it. admiral bruix, alarmed at the danger he was about to incur, in vain represented to the first consul the imprudence of doing this. "what shall we gain," said he, "by doubling this fort? nothing, except to expose ourselves to the cannon-balls. general, by flanking it we will arrive as soon." the first consul was not of the admiral's opinion, and insisted on doubling the fort. the admiral, at the risk of being reprimanded, gave contrary orders to the sailors; and the first consul saw himself obliged to pass behind the fort, though much irritated and reproaching the admiral. this soon ceased, however; for, hardly had the launch passed, when a transport, which had doubled the castle of croi, was crashed into and sunk by three or four shells. the first consul became silent, on seeing how correct the admiral's judgment had been; and the rest of the journey, as far as the little port of wimereux, was made without hindrance from him. arriving there, he climbed upon the cliff to encourage the cannoneers, spoke to all of them, patted them on the shoulder, and urged them to aim well. "courage, my friends," said he, "remember you are not fighting fellows who will hold out a long time. drive them back with the honors of war." and noticing the fine resistance and majestic maneuvers of a frigate, he asked, "can you believe, my children, that captain is english? i do not think so." the artillerymen, animated by the words of the first consul, redoubled their zeal and the rapidity of their fire. one of them said, "look at the frigate, general; her bowsprit is going to fall." he spoke truly, the bowsprit was cut in two by his ball. "give twenty francs to that brave man," said the first consul to the officers who were with him. near the batteries of wimereux there was a furnace to heat the cannon-balls; and the first consul noticed them operating the furnaces, and gave instructions. "that is not red enough, boys; they must be sent redder than that, come, come." one of them had known him, when a lieutenant of artillery, and said to his comrades, "he understands these little matters perfectly, as well as greater ones, you see." that day two soldiers without arms were on the cliff noticing the maneuvers. they began a quarrel in this singular manner. "look," said one, "do you see the little corporal down there?" (they were both picards). "no; i don't see him."--"do you not see him in his launch?"--"oh, yes, now i do; but surely he does not remember, that if anything should strike him, it would make the whole army weep--why does he expose himself like that?" "indeed, it is his place!"--"no, it's not "--"it is"--"it isn't. look here, what would you do to-morrow if the little corporal was killed?"--"but i tell you it is his place!" and having no other argument on either side, they commenced to fight with their fists. they were separated with much difficulty. the battle had commenced at one o'clock in the afternoon, and about ten o'clock in the evening the dutch flotilla entered the port under the most terrible fire that i have ever witnessed. in the darkness the bombs, which crossed each other in every direction, formed above the port and the town a vault of fire, while the constant discharge of all this artillery was repeated by echoes from the cliffs, making a frightful din; and, a most singular fact, no one in the city was alarmed. the people of boulogne had become accustomed to danger, and expected something terrible each day. they had constantly going on, under their eyes, preparations for attack or defense, and had become soldiers by dint of seeing this so constantly. on that day the noise of cannon was heard at dinner-time; and still every one dined, the hour for the repast being neither advanced nor delayed. men went about their business, women occupied themselves with household affairs, young girls played the piano, all saw with indifference the cannonballs pass over their heads; and the curious, whom a desire to witness the combat had attracted to the cliffs, showed hardly any more emotion than is ordinarily the case on seeing a military piece played at franconi's. i still ask myself how three vessels could have endured for nine hours so violent a shock; for when at length the flotilla entered the fort, the english cutter had foundered, the brig had been burnt by the red-hot cannon-balls, and there was left only the frigate, with her masts shivered and her sails torn, but she still remained there immovable as a rock, and so near to our line of defense that the sailors on either side could be seen and counted. behind her, at a modest distance, were more than a hundred english ships. at length, after ten o'clock, a signal from the english admiral caused the frigate to withdraw, and the firing ceased. our line of ships was not greatly damaged in this long and terrible combat, because the broadsides from the frigate simply cut into our rigging, and did not enter the body of our vessels. the brig and the cutter, however, did more harm. chapter xiii. the first consul left boulogne to return to paris, in order to be present at the marriage of one of his sisters. prince camille borghese, descendant of the noblest family of rome, had already arrived at paris to--marry madame pauline bonaparte, widow of general leclerc, who had died of yellow fever in san domingo. i recollect having seen this unfortunate general at the residence of the first consul some time before his departure on the ill-starred expedition which cost him his life, and france the loss of many brave soldiers and much treasure. general leclerc, whose name is now almost forgotten, or held in light esteem, was a kind and good man. he was passionately in love with his wife, whose giddiness, to put it mildly, afflicted him sorely, and threw him into a deep and habitual melancholy painful to witness. princess pauline (who was then far from being a princess) had married him willingly, and of her own choice; but this did not prevent her tormenting her husband by her innumerable caprices, and repeating to him a hundred times a day that he was indeed a fortunate man to marry the sister of the first consul. i am sure that with his simple tastes and quiet disposition general leclerc would have preferred less distinction and more peace. the first consul required his sister to accompany her husband to san domingo. she was forced to obey, and to leave paris, where she swayed the scepter of fashion, and eclipsed all other women by her elegance and coquetry, as well as by her incomparable beauty, to brave a dangerous climate, and the ferocious companions of christophe and dessalines. at the end of the year 1801 the admiral's ship, the ocean, sailed from brest, carrying to the cape (san domingo) general leclerc, his wife, and their son. after her arrival at the cape, the conduct of madame leclerc was beyond praise. on more than one occasion, but especially that which i shall now attempt to describe, she displayed a courage worthy of her name and the position of her husband. i obtained these details from an eye-witness whom i had known at paris in the service of princess pauline. the day of the great insurrection of the blacks in september, 1802, the bands of christophe and dessalines, composed of more than twelve thousand negroes, exasperated by their hatred against the whites, and the certainty that if they yielded no quarter would be given, made an assault on the town of the cape, which was defended by only one thousand soldiers; for only this small number remained of the large army which had sailed from brest a year before, in brilliant spirits and full of hope. this handful of brave men, the most of them weakened by fever, led by the general-in-chief of the expedition, who was even then suffering from the malady which caused his death, repulsed by unheard of efforts and heroic valor the repeated attacks of the blacks. during this combat, in which the determination, if not the number and strength, was equal on both sides, madame leclerc, with her son, was under the guard of a devoted friend who had subject to his orders only a weak company of artillery, which still occupied the house where her husband had fixed his residence, at the foot of the low hills which bordered the coast. the general-in-chief, fearing lest this residence might be surprised by a party of the enemy, and being unable to foresee the issue of the struggle which he was maintaining on the heights of the cape, and against which the blacks made their most furious assaults, sent an order to convey his wife and son on board the fleet. pauline would not consent to this. always faithful to the pride with which her name inspired her (but this time there was in her pride as much greatness as nobility), she spoke to the ladies of the city who had taken refuge with her, and begged them to go away, giving them a frightful picture of the horrible treatment to which they would be exposed should the negroes defeat the troops. "you can leave. you are not the sisters of bonaparte." however, as the danger became more pressing every moment, general leclerc sent an aide-de-camp to his residence, and enjoined on him, in case pauline still persisted in her refusal, to use force, and convey her on board against her will. the officer was obliged to execute this order to the letter. consequently madame leclerc was forcibly placed in an arm-chair which was borne by four soldiers, while a grenadier marched by her side, carrying in his arms the general's son. during this scene of flight and terror the child, already worthy of its mother, played with the plume of the soldier who was carrying him. followed by her cortege of trembling, tearful women, whose only source of strength during this perilous passage was in her courage, she was thus conveyed to the seashore. just as they were going to place her in the sloop, however, another aide-de-camp of her husband brought news of the defeat of the blacks. "you see now," said she, returning to her residence, "i was right in not wishing to embark." she was not yet out of danger, however; for a troop of negroes, forming part of the army which had just been so miraculously repulsed, in trying to make good their retreat to the dikes, met the small escort of madame leclerc. as they appeared disposed to attack, it was necessary to scatter them by shots at short range. throughout this skirmish pauline preserved a perfect equanimity. all these circumstances, which reflected so much honor on madame leclerc, were reported to the first consul. his self-love was flattered by it; and i believe that it was to prince borghese that he said one day at his levee, "pauline is predestined to marry a roman, for from head to foot she is every inch a roman." unfortunately this courage, which a man might have envied, was not united in the princess pauline with those virtues which are less brilliant and more modest, and also more suitable for a woman, and which we naturally expect to find in her, rather than boldness and contempt of danger. i do not know if it is true, as has been written somewhere, that madame leclerc, when she was obliged to set out for san domingo, had a fancy for an actor of the theatre francais. nor am i able to say whether it is true that mademoiselle duchesnois had the naivete to exclaim before a hundred people in reference to this departure, "lafon will never be consoled; it will kill him!" but what i myself know of the frailty of this princess leads me to believe that the anecdote is true. all paris knew the special favor with which she honored m. jules de canouville, a young and brilliant colonel who was handsome and brave, with a perfect figure, and an assurance which was the cause of his innumerable successes with certain women, although he used little discretion in respect to them. the liaison of princess pauline with this amiable officer was the most lasting that she ever formed; and as, unfortunately, neither of them was discreet, their mutual tenderness acquired in a short while a scandalous publicity. i shall take occasion later to relate in its proper place the incident which caused the disgrace, banishment, and perhaps even the death, of colonel de canouville. a death so premature, and above all so cruel, since it was not an enemy's bullet which struck him, was deplored by the whole army. [monsieur bousquet was called to neuilly (residence of the princess pauline) in order to examine the beautiful teeth of her imperial highness. presented to her, he prepared to begin work. "monsieur," said a charming young man in a wrapper, negligently lying on a sofa, "take care, i pray, what you do. i feel a great interest in the teeth of my paulette, and i hold you responsible for any accident."--"be tranquil, my prince; i can assure your imperial highness that there is no danger." during all the time that bousquet was engaged in working on the pretty mouth, these recommendations continued. at length, having finished what he had to do, he passed into the waiting-room, where he found assembled the ladies of the palace, the chamberlains, etc., who were awaiting to enter the apartments of the princess. they hastened to ask bousquet news of the princess, "her imperial highness is very well, and must be happy in the tender attachment her august husband feels for her, which he has shown in my presence in so touching a manner. his anxiety was extreme. it was only with difficulty i could reassure him as to the result of the simplest thing in the world; i shall tell everywhere what i have just witnessed. it is pleasant to be able to cite such an example of conjugal tenderness in so high a rank. i am deeply impressed with it." they did not try to stop good m. bousquet in these expressions of his enthusiasm. the desire to laugh prevented a single word; and he left convinced that nowhere existed a better household than that of the prince and princess borghese. the latter was in italy, and the handsome young man was m. de canouville. i borrow this curious anecdote from the "memoirs of josephine," the author of which, who saw and described the court of navarre and malmaison with so much truth and good judgment, is said to be a woman, and must be in truth a most intellectual one, and in a better position than any other person to know the private affairs of her majesty, the empress.--constant. he was slain by a ball from a french cannon, which was discharged after the close of an action in which he had shown the most brilliant courage.--constant.] moreover, however great may have been the frailty of princess pauline in regard to her lovers, and although most incredible instances of this can be related without infringing on the truth, her admirable devotion to the person of the emperor in 1814 should cause her faults to be treated with indulgence. on innumerable occasions the effrontery of her conduct, and especially her want of regard and respect for the empress marie louise, irritated the emperor against the princess borghese, though he always ended by pardoning her; notwithstanding which, at the time of the fall of her august brother she was again in disgrace, and being informed that the island of elba had been selected as a prison for the emperor, she hastened to shut herself up there with him, abandoning rome and italy, whose finest palaces were hers. before the battle of waterloo, his majesty at the critical moment found the heart of his sister pauline still faithful. fearing lest he might be in need of money, she sent him her handsomest diamonds, the value of which was enormous; and they were found in the carriage of the emperor when it was captured at waterloo, and exhibited to the curiosity of the inhabitants of london. but the diamonds have been lost; at least, to their lawful owner. chapter xiv. on the day of general moreau's arrest the first consul was in a state of great excitement. [jean victor moreau, born at morlaix in brittany, 1763, son of a prominent lawyer. at one time he rivaled bonaparte in reputation. he was general-in-chief of the army of the rhine, 1796, and again in 1800, in which latter year he gained the battle of hohenlinden. implicated in the conspiracy of pichegru, he was exiled, and went to the united states. he returned to europe in 1813, and, joining the allied armies against france, was killed by a cannon-shot in the attack on dresden in august of that year.] the morning was passed in interviews with his emissaries, the agents of police; and measures had been taken that the arrest should be made at the specified hour, either at gros-bois, or at the general's house in the street of the faubourg saint-honore. the first consul was anxiously walking up and down his chamber, when he sent for me, and ordered me to take position opposite general moreau's house (the one in paris), to see whether the arrest had taken place, and if there was any tumult, and to return promptly and make my report. i obeyed; but nothing extraordinary took place, and i saw only some police spies walking along the street, and watching the door of the house of the man whom they had marked for their prey. thinking that my presence would probably be noticed, i retired; and, as i learned while returning to the chateau that general moreau had been arrested on the road from his estate of gros-bois, which he sold a few months later to marshal berthier, before leaving for the united states, i quickened my pace, and hastened to announce to the first consul the news of the arrest. he knew this already, made no response, and still continued thoughtful, and in deep reflection, as in the morning. since i have been led to speak of general moreau, i will recall by what fatal circumstances he was led to tarnish his glory. madame bonaparte had given to him in marriage mademoiselle hulot, her friend, and, like herself, a native of the isle of france. this young lady, gentle, amiable, and possessing those qualities which make a good wife and mother, loved her husband passionately, and was proud of that glorious name which surrounded her with respect and honor; but, unfortunately, she had the greatest deference for her mother, whose ambition was great, and who desired nothing short of seeing her daughter seated upon a throne. the influence which she exercised over madame moreau soon extended to the general himself, who, ruled by her counsels, became gloomy, thoughtful, melancholy, and forever lost that tranquillity of mind which had distinguished him. from that time the general's house was open to intrigues and conspiracies; and it was the rendezvous of all the discontented, of which there were many. the general assumed the task of disapproving all the acts of the first consul; he opposed the reestablishment of public worship, and criticised as childish and ridiculous mummery the institution of the legion of honor. these grave imprudences, and indeed many others, came to the ears of the first consul, who refused at first to believe them; but how could he remain deaf to reports which were repeated each day with more foundation, though doubtless exaggerated by malice? in proportion as the imprudent speeches of the general were depriving him of the esteem of the first consul, his mother-in-law, by a dangerous obstinacy, was encouraging him in his opposition, persuaded, she said, that the future would do justice to the present. she did not realize that she spoke so truly; and the general rushed headlong into the abyss which opened before him. how greatly his conduct was in opposition to his character! he had a pronounced aversion to the english, and he detested the chouans, and everything pertaining to the old nobility; and besides, a man like general moreau, who had served his country so gloriously, was not the one to bear arms against her. but he was deceived, and he deceived himself, in thinking that he was fitted to play a great political part; and he was destroyed by the flatteries of a party which excited all possible hostility against the first consul by taking advantage of the jealousy of his former comrades in arms. i witnessed more than one proof of affection shown by the first consul to general moreau. in the course of a visit of the latter to the tuileries, and during an interview with the first consul, general carnot arrived from versailles with a pair of pistols of costly workmanship, which the manufactory of versailles had sent as a gift to the first consul. he took these handsome weapons from the hands of general carnot, admired them a moment, and immediately offered them to general moreau, saying to him, "take them, truly they could not have come at a better time." all this was done quicker than i can write it; the general was highly flattered by this proof of friendship, and thanked the first consul warmly. the name and trial of general moreau recall to me the story of a brave officer who was compromised in this unfortunate affair, and who after many years of disgrace was pardoned only on account of the courage with which he dared expose himself to the anger of the emperor. the authenticity of the details which i shall relate can be attested, if necessary, by living persons, whom i shall have occasion to name in my narrative, and whose testimony no reader would dream of impeaching. the disgrace of general moreau extended at first to all those who surrounded him; and as the affection and devotion felt for him by all the officers and soldiers who had served under him was well known, his aides-de-camp were arrested, even those who were not then in paris. one of them, colonel delelee, had been many months on furlough at besancon, resting after his campaigns in the bosom of his family, and with a young wife whom he had recently married. besides, he was at that time concerning himself very little with political matters, very much with his pleasures, and not at all with conspiracies. comrade and brother in arms of colonels guilleminot, hugo, foy,--all three of whom became generals afterwards,--he was spending his evenings gayly with them at the garrison, or in the quiet pleasures of his family circle. suddenly colonel delelee was arrested, placed in a postchaise, and it was not until he was rolling along in a gallop on the road to paris, that he learned from the officer of the gendarmes who accompanied him, that general moreau had conspired, and that in his quality as aide-de-camp he was counted among the conspirators. arrived at paris, the colonel was put in close confinement, in la force i believe. his wife, much alarmed, followed his footsteps; but it was several days before she obtained permission to communicate with the prisoner, and then could do so only by signs from the courtyard of the prison while he showed himself, for a few moments, and put his hands through the bars of the window. however, the rigor of these orders was relaxed for the colonel's young child three or four years of age, and his father obtained the favor of embracing him. he came each morning in his mother's arms, and a turnkey carried him in to the prisoner, before which inconvenient witness the poor little thing played his role with all the skill of a consummate actor. he would pretend to be lame, and complain of having sand in his shoes which hurt him and the colonel, turning his back on the jailer, and taking the child in his lap to remove the cause of the trouble, would find in his son's shoe a note from his wife, informing him in a few words of the state of the trial, and what he had to hope or fear for himself. at length, after many months of captivity, sentence having been pronounced against the conspirators, colonel delelee, against whom no charge had been made, was not absolved as he had a right to expect, but was struck off the army list, arbitrarily put under surveillance, and prohibited from coming within forty leagues of paris. he was also forbidden to return to besancon, and it was more than a year after leaving prison before he was permitted to do so. young and full of courage, the colonel saw, from the depths of his retirement, his friends and comrades make their way, and gain upon the battlefield fame, rank, and glory, while he himself was condemned to inaction and obscurity, and to pass his days in following on the map the triumphant march of those armies in which he felt himself worthy to resume his rank. innumerable applications were addressed by him and his friends to the head of the empire, that he might be allowed to go even as a common volunteer, and rejoin his former comrades with his knapsack on his shoulder; but these petitions were refused, the will of the emperor was inflexible, and to each new application he only replied, "let him wait." the inhabitants of besancon, who considered colonel delelee as their fellow-citizen, interested themselves warmly in the unmerited misfortunes of this brave officer; and when an occasion presented itself of recommending him anew to the clemency, or rather to the justice, of the emperor, they availed themselves of it. it was, i believe, on the return from prussia and poland that from all parts of france there came deputations charged with congratulating the emperor upon his several victories. colonel delelee was unanimously elected member of the deputation of doubs, of which the mayor and prefect of besancon were also members, and of which the respectable marshal moncey was president, and an opportunity was thus at last offered colonel delelee of procuring the removal of the long sentence which had weighed him down and kept his sword idle. he could speak to the emperor, and complain respectfully, but with dignity, of the disgrace in which he had been so long kept without reason. he could render thanks, from the bottom of his heart, for the generous affection of his fellow-citizens, whose wishes, he hoped would plead for him with his majesty. the deputies of besancon, upon their arrival at paris, presented themselves to the different ministers. the minister of police took the president of the deputation aside, and asked him the meaning of the presence among the deputies of a man publicly known to be in disgrace, and the sight of whom could not fail to be disagreeable to the chief of the empire. marshal moncey, on coming out from this private interview, pale and frightened, entered the room of colonel delelee: "my friend," said he, "all is lost, for i have ascertained at the bureau that they are still hostile to you. if the emperor sees you among us, he will take it as an open avowal of disregard for his orders, and will be furious." "ah, well, what have i to do with that?" "but in order to avoid compromising the department, the deputation, and, indeed, in order to avoid compromising yourself, you would perhaps do well "--the marshal hesitated. "i will do well?" demanded the colonel. "perhaps to withdraw without making any display"-here the colonel interrupted the president of the deputation: "marshal, permit me to decline this advice; i have not come so far to be discouraged, like a child, before the first obstacle. i am weary of a disgrace which i have not deserved, and still more weary of enforced idleness. let the emperor be irritated or pleased, he shall see me; let him order me to be shot, if he wishes. i do not count worth having such a life as i have led for the last four years. nevertheless, i will be satisfied with whatever my colleagues, the deputies of besancon, shall decide." these latter did not disapprove of the colonel's resolution, and he accompanied them to the tuileries on the day of the solemn reception of all the deputations of the empire. all the halls of the tuileries were packed with a crowd in richly embroidered coats and brilliant uniforms. the military household of the emperor, his civil household, the generals present at paris, the diplomatic corps, ministers and chiefs of the different administrations, the deputies of the departments with their prefects, and mayors decorated with tricolored scarfs, were all assembled in numerous groups, and conversed in a low tone while awaiting the arrival of his majesty. in one of these groups was seen a tall officer dressed in a very simple uniform, cut in the fashion of several years past. he wore neither on his collar, nor even on his breast the decoration which no officer of his grade then lacked. this was colonel delelee. the president of the deputation of which he was a member appeared embarrassed and almost distressed. of the former comrades of the colonel, very few dared to recognize him, and the boldest gave him a distant nod which expressed at the same time anxiety and pity, while the more prudent did not even glance at him. as for him, he remained unconcerned and resolute. at last the folding doors were opened, and an usher cried "the emperor, gentlemen." the groups separated, and a line was formed, the colonel placing himself in the first rank. his majesty commenced his tour of the room, welcoming the president of each delegation with a few flattering words. arrived before the delegation from doubs, the emperor, having addressed a few words to the brave marshal who was president, was about to pass on to the next, when his eyes fell upon an officer he had not yet seen. he stopped in surprise, and addressed to the deputy his familiar inquiry, "who are you?" "sire, i am colonel delelee, former aide-de-camp of general moreau." these words were pronounced in a firm voice, which resounded in the midst of the profound silence which the presence of the sovereign imposed. the emperor stepped back, and fastened both eyes on the colonel. the latter showed no emotion, but bowed slightly. marshal moncey was pale as death. the emperor spoke. "what do you come to ask here?" "that which i have asked for many years, sire: that your majesty will deign to tell me wherein i have been in fault, or restore to me my rank." among those near enough to hear these questions and replies, few could breathe freely. at last a smile half opened the firmly closed lips of the emperor; he placed his finger on his mouth, and, approaching the colonel, said to him in a softened and almost friendly tone, "you have reason to complain a little of that, but let us say no more about it," and continued his round. he had gone ten steps from the group formed by the deputies of bescancon, when he came back, and, stopping before the colonel, said, "monsieur minister of war, take the name of this officer, and be sure to remind me of him. he is tired of doing nothing, and we will give him occupation." as soon as the audience was over, the struggle was, who should be most attentive to the colonel. he was surrounded, congratulated, embraced, and pulled about. each of his old comrades wished to carry him off, and his hands were not enough to grasp all those extended to him. general savary, who that very evening had added to the fright of marshal moncey, by being astonished that any one could have the audacity to brave the emperor, extended his arm over the shoulders of those who pressed around the colonel, and shaking his hand in the most cordial manner possible, "delelee," cried he, "do not forget that i expect you to-morrow to breakfast." two days after this scene at court, colonel delelee received his appointment as chief of staff of the army of portugal, commanded by the duke d'abrantes. his preparations were soon made; and just before setting out he had a last interview with the emperor, who said to him, "colonel, i know that it is useless to urge you to make up for lost time. in a little while i hope we shall both be satisfied with each other." on coming out from this last audience, the brave delelee said there was nothing wanting to make him happy except a good opportunity to have himself cut to pieces for a man who knew so well how to close the wounds of a long disgrace. such was the sway that his majesty exercised over the minds of men. the colonel had soon crossed the pyrenees, passed through spain, and been received by junot with open arms. the army of portugal had suffered much in the two years during which it had struggled against both the population and the english with unequal forces. food was secured with difficulty, and the soldiers were badly clothed, and half-shod. the new chief of staff did all that was possible to remedy this disorder; and the soldiers had just begun to feel the good effects of his presence, when he fell sick from overwork and fatigue, and died before being able, according to the emperor's expression, to "make up for lost time." i have said elsewhere that upon each conspiracy against the life of the first consul all the members of his household were at once subjected to a strict surveillance; their smallest actions were watched; they were followed outside the chateau; their conduct was reported even to the smallest details. at the time the conspiracy of pichegru was discovered, there was only a single guardian of the portfolio, by the name of landoire; and his position was very trying, for he must always be present in a little dark corridor upon which the door of the cabinet opened, and he took his meals on the run, and half-dressed. happily for landoire, they gave him an assistant; and this was the occasion of it. angel, one of the doorkeepers of the palace, was ordered by the first consul to place himself at the barrier of bonshommes during the trial of pichegru, to recognize and watch the people of the household who came and went in the transaction of their business, no one being allowed to leave paris without permission. augel's reports having pleased the first consul, he sent for him, was satisfied with his replies and intelligence, and appointed him assistant to landoire in the custody of the portfolio. thus the task of the latter became lighter by half. in 1812 angel was in the campaign of russia, and died on the return, when within a few leagues of paris, in consequence of the fatigue and privations which we shared with the army. however, it was not only those attached to the service of the first consul, or the chateau, who were subject to this surveillance. when napoleon became emperor, the custodians of all the imperial palaces were furnished with a register upon which all persons from outside, and all strangers who came to visit any one in the palace were obliged to inscribe their names, with that of the persons whom they came to see. every evening this register was carried to the grand marshal of the palace, and in his absence to the governor, and the emperor often consulted it. he once found there a certain name which, as a husband, he had his reasons, and perhaps good ones, to suspect. his majesty had previously ordered the exclusion of this person; and finding this unlucky name again upon the custodian's register, he was angry beyond measure, believing that they had dared on both sides to disobey his orders. investigation was immediately made; and it was fortunately ascertained that the visitor was a most insignificant person, whose only fault was that of bearing a name which was justly compromised. chapter xv. the year 1804, which was so full of glory for the emperor, was also the year which brought him more care and anxiety than all others, except those of 1814 and 1815. it is not my province to pass judgment on such grave events, nor to determine what part was taken in them by the emperor, or by those who surrounded and counseled him, for it is my object to relate only what i saw and heard. on the 21st of march of that year i entered the emperor's room at an early hour, and found him awake, leaning on his elbow. he seemed gloomy and tired; but when i entered he sat up, passed his hand many times over his forehead, and said to me, "constant, i have a headache." then, throwing off the covering, he added, "i have slept very badly." he seemed extremely preoccupied and absorbed, and his appearance evinced melancholy and suffering to such a degree that i was surprised and somewhat anxious. while i was dressing him he did not utter a word, which never occurred except when something agitated or worried him. during this time only roustan and i were present. his toilet being completed, just as i was handing him his snuff-box, handkerchief, and little bonbon box, the door opened suddenly, and the first consul's wife entered, in her morning negligee, much agitated, with traces of tears on her cheeks. her sudden appearance astonished, and even alarmed, roustan and myself; for it was only an extraordinary circumstance which could have induced madame bonaparte to leave her room in this costume, before taking all necessary precautions to conceal the damage which the want of the accessories of the toilet did her. she entered, or rather rushed, into the room, crying, "the duke d'enghien is dead! ah, my friend! what have you done?" then she fell sobbing into the arms of the first consul, who became pale as death, and said with extraordinary emotion, "the miserable wretches have been too quick!" he then left the room, supporting madame bonaparte, who could hardly walk, and was still weeping. the news of the prince's death spread consternation in the chateau; and the first consul remarked this universal grief, but reprimanded no one for it. the fact is, the greatest chagrin which this mournful catastrophe caused his servants, most of whom were attached to him by affection even more than by duty, came from the belief that it would inevitably tarnish the glory and destroy the peace of mind of their master. the first consul probably understood our feelings perfectly; but however that may be, i have here related all that i myself saw and know of this deplorable event. i do not pretend to know what passed in the cabinet meeting, but the emotion of the first consul appeared to me sincere and unaffected; and he remained sad and silent for many days, speaking very little at his toilet, and saying only what was necessary. during this month and the following i noticed constantly passing, repassing, and holding frequent interviews with the first consul, many persons whom i was told were members of the council of state, tribunes, or senators. for a long time the army and a great number of citizens, who idolized the hero of italy and egypt, had manifested openly their desire to see him wear a title worthy of his renown and the greatness of france. it was well known, also, that he alone performed all the duties of government, and that his nominal colleagues were really his subordinates. it was thought proper, therefore, that he should become supreme head of the state in name, as he already was in fact. i have often since his fall heard his majesty called an usurper: but the only effect of this on me is to provoke a smile of pity; for if the emperor usurped the throne, he had more accomplices than all the tyrants of tragedy and melodrama combined, for three-fourths of the french people were in the conspiracy. as is well known, it was on may 18 that the empire was proclaimed, and the first consul (whom i shall henceforward call the emperor) received at saint-cloud the senate, led by consul cambaceres, who became, a few hours later, arch-chancellor of the empire; and it was by him that the emperor heard himself for the first time saluted with the title of sire. after this audience the senate went to present its homage to the empress josephine. the rest of the day was passed in receptions, presentations, interviews, and congratulations; everybody in the chateau was drunk with joy; each one felt that he had been suddenly promoted in rank, so they embraced each other, exchanged compliments, and confided to each other hopes and plans for the future. there was no subaltern too humble to be inspired with ambition; in a word, the antechamber, saving the difference of persons, furnished an exact repetition of what passed in the saloon. nothing could be more amusing than the embarrassment of the whole service when it was necessary to reply to his majesty's questions. they would begin with a mistake, then would try again, and do worse, saying ten times in the same minute, "sire, general, your majesty, citizen, first consul." the next morning on entering as usual the first consul's room, to his customary questions, "what o'clock is it? what is the weather?" i replied, "sire, seven o'clock; fine weather." as i approached his bed, he seized me by the ear, and slapped me on the cheek, calling me "monsieur le drole," which was his favorite expression when especially pleased with me. his majesty had kept awake, and worked late into the night, and i found him serious and preoccupied, but well satisfied. how different this awakening to that of the 21st of march preceding! on this day his majesty went to hold his first grand levee at the tuileries, where all the civil and military authorities were presented to him. the brothers and sisters of the emperor were made princes and princesses, with the exception of lucien, who had quarreled with his majesty on the occasion of his marriage with madame jouberton. eighteen generals were raised to the dignity of marshals of the empire. dating from this day, everything around their majesties took on the appearance of a court and royal power. much has been said of the awkwardness of the first courtiers, not yet accustomed to the new duties imposed upon them, and to the ceremonials of etiquette; and there was, indeed, in the beginning some embarrassment experienced by those in the immediate service of the emperor, as i have said above; but this lasted only a short while, and the chamberlains and high officials adapted themselves to the new regime almost as quickly as the valets de chambre. they had also as instructors many personages of the old court, who had been struck out of the list of emigres by the kindness of the emperor, and now solicited earnestly for themselves and their wives employment in the new imperial court. his majesty had no liking for the anniversaries of the republic; some of which had always seemed to him odious and cruel, others ridiculous; and i have heard him express his indignation that they should have dared to make an annual festival of the anniversary of the 21st of january, and smile with pity at the recollection of what he called the masquerades of the theo-philanthropists, who, he said, "would have no jesus christ, and yet made saints of fenelon and las casas--catholic prelates." bourrienne, in his memoirs, says that it was not one of the least singular things in the policy of napoleon, that during the first years of his reign he retained the festival of 14th july. i will observe, as to this, that if his majesty used this annual solemnity to appear in pomp in public, on the other hand, he so changed the object of the festival that it would have been difficult to recognize in it the anniversary of the taking of the bastile and of the first federation. i do not think that there was one word in allusion to these two events in the whole ceremony; and to confuse still further the recollections of the republicans, the emperor ordered that the festival should be celebrated on the 15th, because that was sunday, and thus there would result no loss of time to the inhabitants of the capital. besides, there was no allusion made to honoring the, captors of the bastile, this being made simply the occasion of a grand distribution of the cross of the legion of honor. it was the first occasion on which their majesties showed themselves to the people in all the paraphernalia of power. the cortege crossed the grand alley of the tuileries on their way to the hotel des invalides, the church of which (changed during the revolution into a temple of mars) had been restored by the emperor to the catholic worship, and was used for the magnificent ceremonies of the day. this was also the first time that the emperor had made use of the privilege of passing in a carriage through the garden of the tuileries. his cortege was superb, that of the empress josephine not less brilliant; and the intoxication of the people reached such a height, that it was beyond expression. by order of the emperor i mingled in the crowd, to learn in what spirit the populace would take part in the festival; and i heard not a murmur, so great was the enthusiasm of all classes for his majesty at that time, whatever may have been said since. the emperor and empress were received at the door of the hotel des invalides by the governor and by count de segur, grand-master of ceremonies, and at the entrance of the church by cardinal du belloy at the head of a numerous clergy. after the mass, de lacepede, grand chancellor of the legion of honor, delivered a speech, followed by the roll-call of the grand officers of the legion, after which the emperor took his seat, and putting on his hat, repeated in a firm voice the formula of the oath, at the end of which all the members of the legion cried, "je le jure!" (i swear it); and immediately shouts of "vive l'empereur," repeated a thousand times, were heard in the church and outside. a singular circumstance added still more to the interest which the ceremony excited. while the chevaliers of the new order were passing one by one before the emperor, who welcomed them, a man of the people, wearing a roundabout, placed himself on the steps of the throne. his majesty showed some astonishment, and paused an instant, whereupon the man, being interrogated, showed his warrant. the emperor at once and with great cordiality bade him advance, and gave him the decoration, accompanied by a sharp accolade. the cortege, on its return, followed the same route, passing again through the garden of the tuileries. on the 18th of july, three days after this ceremony, the emperor set out from saint-cloud for the camp of boulogne. believing that his majesty would be willing to dispense with my presence for a few days, and as it was a number of years since i had seen my family, i felt a natural desire to meet them again, and to review with my parents the singular circumstances through which i had passed since i had left them. i should have experienced, i confess, great joy in talking with them of my present situation and my hopes; and i felt the need of freely expressing myself, and enjoying the confidences of domestic privacy, in compensation for the repression and constraint which my position imposed on me. therefore i requested permission to pass eight days at perueltz. it was readily granted, and i lost no time in setting out; but my astonishment may be imagined when, the very day after my arrival, a courier brought me a letter from the count de remusat, ordering me to rejoin the emperor immediately, adding that his majesty needed me, and i should have no other thought than that of returning without delay. in spite of the disappointment induced by such orders, i felt flattered nevertheless at having become so necessary to the great man who had deigned to admit me into his service, and at once bade adieu to my family. his majesty had hardly reached boulogne, when he set out again immediately on a tour of several days in the departments of the north. i was at boulogne before his return, and had organized his majesty's service so that he found everything ready on his arrival; but this did not prevent his saying to me that i had been absent a long time. while i am on this subject, i will narrate here, although some years in advance, one or two circumstances which will give the reader a better idea of the rigorous confinement to which i was subjected. i had contracted, in consequence of the fatigues of my continual journeyings in the suite of the emperor, a disease of the bladder, from which i suffered horribly. for a long time i combated the disease with patience and dieting; but at last, the pain having become entirely unbearable, in 1808 i requested of his majesty a month's leave of absence in order to be cured, dr. boyer having told me that a month was the shortest time absolutely necessary for my restoration, and that without it my disease would become incurable. i went to saint-cloud to visit my wife's family, where yvan, surgeon of the emperor, came to see me every day. hardly a week had passed, when he told me that his majesty thought i ought to be entirely well, and wished me to resume my duties. this wish was equivalent to an order; it was thus i understood it, and returned to the emperor, who seeing me pale, and suffering excruciatingly, deigned to say to me many kind things, without, however, mentioning a new leave of absence. these two were my only absences for sixteen years; therefore, on my return from moscow, and during the campaign of france, my disease having reached its height, i quitted the emperor at fontainebleau, because it was impossible for me, in spite of all my attachment to so kind a master, and all the gratitude which i felt towards him, to perform my duties longer. even after this separation, which was exceedingly painful to me, a year hardly sufficed to cure me, and then not entirely. but i shall take occasion farther on to speak of this melancholy event. i now return to the recital of facts, which prove that i could, with more reason than many others, believe myself a person of great importance, since my humble services seemed to be indispensable to the master of europe, and many frequenters of the tuileries would have had more difficulty than i in proving their usefulness. is there too much vanity in what i have just said? and would not the chamberlains have a right to be vexed by it? i am not concerned with that, so i continue my narrative. the emperor was tenacious of old habits; he preferred, as we have already seen, being served by me in preference to all others; nevertheless, it is my duty to state that his servants were all full of zeal and devotion, though i had been with him longest, and had never left him. one day the emperor asked for tea in the middle of the day. m. seneschal was on duty, consequently made the tea, and presented it to his majesty, who declared it to be detestable, and had me summoned. the emperor complained to me that they were trying to poison him (this was his expression when he found a bad taste in anything); so going into the kitchen, i poured out of the same teapot, a cup, which i prepared and carried to his majesty, with two silver-gilt spoons as usual, one to taste the tea in the presence of the emperor, and the other for him. this time he said the tea was excellent, and complimented me on it with a kind familiarity which he deigned at times to use towards his servants. on returning the cup to me, he pulled my ears, and said, "you must teach them how to make tea; they know nothing about it." de bourrienne, whose excellent memoirs i have read with the greatest pleasure, says somewhere, that the emperor in his moments of good humor pinched the tip of the ears of his familiars. i myself think that he pinched the whole ear, often, indeed, both ears at once, and with the hand of a master. he also says in these same memoirs, that the emperor gave little friendly slaps with two fingers, in which de bourrienne is very moderate, for i can bear witness in regard to this matter, that his majesty, although his hand was not large, bestowed his favors much more broadly; but this kind of caress, as well as the former, was given and received as a mark of particular favor, and the recipients were far from complaining then. i have heard more than one dignitary say with pride, like the sergeant in the comedy,- "sir, feel there, the blow upon my cheek is still warm." in his private apartments the emperor was almost always cheerful and approachable, conversing freely with the persons in his service, questioning them about their families, their affairs, and even as to their pleasures. his toilet finished, his appearance suddenly changed; he became grave and thoughtful, and assumed again the bearing of an emperor. it has been said, that he often beat the people of his household, which statement is untrue. i saw him once only give himself up to a transport of this kind; and certainly the circumstances which caused it, and the reparation which followed, ought to render it, if not excusable, at least easily understood: this is the incident, of which i was a witness, and which took place in the suburbs of vienna, the day after the death of marshal lannes. the emperor was profoundly affected, and had not spoken a word during his toilet. as soon as he was dressed he asked for his horse; and as an unlucky chance would have it, jardin, superintendent of the stables, could not be found when the horse was saddled, and the groom did not put on him his regular bridle, in consequence of which his majesty had no sooner mounted, than the animal plunged, reared, and the rider fell heavily to the ground. jardin arrived just as the emperor was rising from the ground, beside himself with anger; and in his first transport of rage, he gave jardin a blow with his riding-whip directly across his face. jardin withdrew, overwhelmed by such cruel treatment, so unusual in his majesty; and: few hours after, caulaincourt, grand equerry, finding himself alone with his majesty, described to him jardin's grief and mortification. the emperor expressed deep regret for his anger, sent for jardin, and spoke to him with a kindness which effaced the remembrance of his ill treatment, and sent him a few days afterward three thousand francs. i have been told that a similar incident happened to vigogne, senior, in egypt. but although this may be true, two such instances alone in the entire life of the emperor, which was passed amid surroundings so well calculated to make a man, even though naturally most amiable, depart from his usual character, should not be sufficient to draw down upon napoleon the odious reproach of beating cruelly those in his service. chapter xvi. in his headquarters at the pont des briques the emperor worked as regularly as in his cabinet at the tuileries. after his rides on horseback, his inspections, his visits, his reviews, he took his meals in haste, and retired into his cabinet, where he often worked most of the night, thus leading the same life as at paris. in his horseback rides roustan followed him everywhere, always taking with him a little silver flask of brandy for the use of his majesty, who rarely asked for it. the army of boulogne was composed of about one hundred and fifty thousand infantry and ninety thousand cavalry, divided into four principal camps, the camp of the right wing, the camp of the left wing, the camp of wimereux, and the camp of ambleteuse. his majesty the emperor had his headquarters at pont de briques; thus named, i was told, because the brick foundations of an old camp of caesar's had been discovered there. the pont de briques, as i have said above, is about half a league from boulogne; and the headquarters of his majesty were established in the only house of the place which was then habitable, and guarded by a detachment of the cavalry of the imperial guard. the four camps were on a very high cliff overlooking the sea, so situated that in fine weather the coast of england could be seen. in the camp on the right they had established barracks for the emperor, admiral bruix, marshal soult, and decres, who was then minister of the navy. the emperor's barrack was constructed under the direction of sordi, engineer, performing the functions of engineer-in-chief of military roads; and his nephew, lecat de rue, attached at that time to the staff of marshal soult as aide-de-camp, has been kind enough to furnish me with information which did not come within my province. the emperor's barrack was built of plank, like the booths of a country fair; with this difference, that the planks were neatly planed, and painted a grayish white. in form it was a long square, having at each end two pavilions of semicircular shape. a fence formed of wooden lattice inclosed this barrack, which was lighted on the outside by lamps placed four feet apart, and the windows were placed laterally. the pavilion next to the sea consisted of three rooms and a hall, the principal room, used as a council-chamber, being decorated with silver-gray paper. on the ceiling were painted golden clouds, in the midst of which appeared, upon the blue vault of the sky, an eagle holding the lightning, and guided towards england by a star, the guardian star of the emperor. in the middle of this chamber was a large oval table with a plain cover of green cloth; and before this table was placed only his majesty's armchair, which could be taken to pieces, and was made of natural wood, unpainted, and covered with green morocco stuffed with hair, while upon the table was a boxwood writing-desk. this was the entire furniture of the council-chamber, in which his majesty alone could be seated. the generals stood before him, and had during these councils, which sometimes lasted three or four hours, no other support than the handles of their sabers. the council-chamber was entered from a hall. on the right of this hall was his majesty's bedroom, which had a glass door, and was lighted by a window which looked out upon the camp of the right wing, while the sea could be seen on the left. in this room was the emperor's iron bed, with a large curtain of plain green sarsenet fastened to the ceiling by a gilded copper ring; and upon this bed were two mattresses, one made of hair, two bolsters, one at the head, the other at the foot, no pillow, and two coverlets, one of white cotton, the other of green sarsenet, wadded and quilted; by the side of the bed two very simple folding-seats, and at the window short curtains of green sarsenet. this room was papered with rose-colored paper, stamped with a pattern in lace-work, with an etruscan border. opposite the-bedroom was a similar chamber, in which was a peculiar kind of telescope which had cost twelve thousand francs. this instrument was about four feet long, and about a foot in diameter, and was mounted on a mahogany support, with three feet, the box in which it was kept being almost in the shape of a piano. in the same room, upon two stools, was a little square chest, which contained three complete suits and the linen which formed the campaign wardrobe of his majesty. above this was a single extra hat, lined with white satin, and much the worse for wear; for the emperor, as i shall say later in speaking of his personal peculiarities, having a very tender scalp, did not like new hats, and wore the same a long time. the main body of the imperial barrack was divided into three rooms, a saloon, a vestibule, and a grand dining-room, which communicated with the kitchens by a passage parallel to that i have just mentioned. outside the barrack, and connected with the kitchen, was a little shed, covered with thatch, which served as a washroom, and which was also used as a butler's pantry. the barrack of admiral bruix was arranged like that of the emperor, but on a smaller scale. near this barrack was the semaphore of the signals, a sort of marine telegraph by which the fleet was maneuvered. a little farther on was the tour d'ordre, with a powerful battery composed of six mortars, six howitzers, and twelve twenty-four pounders. these six mortars, the largest that had ever been made, were six inches thick, used forty-five pounds of powder at a charge, and threw bombs fifteen hundred toises [a toise is six feet, and a league is three miles] in the air, and a league and a half out to sea, each bomb thrown costing the state three hundred francs. to fire one of these fearful machines they used port-fires twelve feet long; and the cannoneer protected himself as best he could by bowing his head between his legs, and, not rising until after the shot was fired. the emperor decided to fire the first bomb himself. to the right of the headquarters battery was the barrack of marshal soult, which was constructed in imitation of the but of a savage, and covered with thatch down to the ground, with glass in the top, and a door through which you descended into the rooms, which were dug out like cellars. the principal chamber was round; and in it was a large work-table covered with green cloth, and surrounded with small leather folding-chairs. the last barrack was that of decres, minister of the navy, which was furnished like that of marshal soult. from his barrack the emperor could observe all the maneuvers at sea; and the telescope, of which i have spoken, was so good that dover castle, with its garrison, was, so to speak, under the very eyes of his majesty. the camp of the right wing, situated upon the cliff, was divided into streets, each of which bore the name of some distinguished general; and this cliff bristled with batteries from cologne to ambleteuse, a distance of more than two leagues. in order to go from boulogne to the camp of the right wing, there was only one road, which began in the rue des vieillards, and passed over the cliff, between the barrack of his majesty and those of bruix, soult, and decres, so that if at low tide the emperor wished to go down upon the beach, a long detour was necessary. one day when he was complaining greatly of this, it occurred to bonnefoux, maritime prefect of boulogne, to apply to sordi, engineer of military roads, and ascertain if it was not possible to remedy this great inconvenience. the engineer replied that it was feasible to provide a road for his majesty directly from his barrack to the beach; but that in view of the great height of the cliff it would be necessary to moderate the rapidity of the descent by making the road zigzag. "make it as you wish," said the emperor, "only let it be ready for use in three days." the skillful engineer went to work, and in three days and three nights the road was constructed of stone, bound together with iron clamps; and the emperor, charmed with so much diligence and ingenuity, had the name of sordi placed on the list for the next distribution of the cross of the legion of honor, but, owing to the shameful negligence of some one, the name of this man of talent was overlooked. the port of boulogne contained about seventeen hundred vessels, such as flatboats, sloops, turkish boats, gunboats, prairies, mortar-boats, etc.; and the entrance to the port was defended by an enormous chain, and by four forts, two on the right, and two on the left. fort husoir, placed on the left, was armed with three formidable batteries ranged one above the other, the lower row bearing twenty-four pounders, the second and third, thirty-six pounders. on the right of this fort was the revolving bridge, and behind this bridge an old tower called castle croi, ornamented with batteries which were both handsome and effective. to the left, about a quarter of a league from fort musoir, was fort la creche, projecting boldly into the sea, constructed of cut stone, and crowned by a terrible battery; and finally, on the right of fort la creche, was the fort en bois, perfectly manned, and pierced by a large opening which was uncovered at low tide. upon the cliff to the left of the town, at nearly the same elevation as the other, was the camp of the left wing. here was situated the barrack of prince joseph, at that time colonel of the fourth regiment of the line; this barrack was covered with thatch. below the camp, at the foot of the cliff, the emperor had a basin hollowed out, in which work a part of the troops were employed. it was in this basin that one day a young soldier of the guard, who had stuck in the mud up to his knees, tried with all his strength to pull out his wheelbarrow, which was even worse mired than himself; but he could not succeed, and covered with sweat, swore and stormed like an angry grenadier. by chance lifting his eyes, he suddenly perceived the emperor, who was passing by the works on his way to visit his brother joseph in the camp on the left. the soldier looked at him with a beseeching air and gesture, singing in a most sentimental tone, "come, oh, come, to my aid." his majesty could not help smiling, and made signs to the soldier to approach, which the poor fellow did, after extricating himself with great difficulty. "what is your regiment"--"sire, the first of the guard."--"how long have you been a soldier?"--"since you have been emperor, sire."--"indeed, that is not a long time! it is not long enough for me to make you an officer, is it? but conduct yourself well, and i will have you made sergeant-major. after that, the cross and epaulets on the first battlefield. are you content?"--"yes, sire."--"chief of staff," continued the emperor, addressing general berthier, "take the name of this young man. you will give him three hundred francs to clean his pantaloons and repair his wheelbarrow." and his majesty rode on in the midst of the acclamations of the soldiers. at the inside extremity of the port, there was a wooden bridge which they called the service bridge. the powder magazines were behind it, containing an immense amount of ammunition; and after nightfall no one was allowed to go upon this bridge without giving the countersign to the second sentinel, for the first always allowed him to pass. he was not allowed to pass back again, however; for if any person entering the bridge was ignorant of the countersign, or had happened to forget it, he was stopped by the second sentinel, and the first sentinel at the head of the bridge had express orders to pass his bayonet through the body of the rash man if he was unable to answer the questions of this last sentinel. these rigorous precautions were rendered necessary by the vicinity of these terrible powder magazines, which a single spark might blow up, and with it the town, the fleet, and the two camps. at night the port was closed with the big chain i have mentioned, and the wharves were picketed by sentinels placed fifteen paces from each other. each quarter of an hour they called, "sentinels, look out!" and the soldiers of the marine, placed in the topsails, replied to this by, "all's well," pronounced in a drawling, mournful tone. nothing could be more monotonous or depressing than this continual murmur, this lugubrious mingling of voices all in the same tone, especially as those making these cries endeavored to make them as inspiring as possible. women not residing in boulogne were prohibited from remaining there without a special permit from the minister of police. this measure had been judged necessary on account of the army; for otherwise each soldier perhaps would have brought a woman to boulogne, and the disorder would have been indescribable. strangers were admitted into the town with great difficulty. in spite of all these precautions, spies from the english fleet each day penetrated into boulogne. when they were discovered no quarter was given; and notwithstanding this, emissaries who had landed, no one knew where, came each evening to the theater, and carried their imprudence so far as to write their opinion of the actors and actresses, whom they designated by name, and to post these writings on the walls of the theater, thus defying the police. one day there were found on the shore two little boats covered with tarpaulin, which these gentry probably used in their clandestine excursions. in june, 1804, eight englishmen, perfectly well dressed, in white silk stockings, etc., were arrested, and on them was found sulphurated apparatus with which they had intended to burn the fleet. they were shot within an hour, without any form of trial. there were also traitors in boulogne. a schoolmaster, the secret agent of lords keith and melville, was surprised one morning on the cliff above the camp of the right wing, making telegraphic signals with his arms; and being arrested almost in the act by the sentinels, he protested his innocence, and tried to turn the incident into a jest, but his papers were searched, and correspondence with the english found, which clearly proved his guilt. he was delivered to the council of war, and shot the next day. one evening between eleven o'clock and midnight, a fire-ship, rigged like a french ship, flying french colors, and in every respect resembling a gunboat, advanced towards the line of battle and passed through. by unpardonable negligence the chain had not been stretched that evening. this fire-ship was followed by a second, which exploded, striking a sloop, which went down with it. this explosion gave the alarm to the whole fleet; and lights instantly shone in every direction, revealing the first fire-ship advancing between the jetties, a sight which was witnessed with inexpressible anxiety. three or four pieces of wood connected by cables fortunately stopped her progress; but she blew up with such a shock that the glasses of all the windows in town were shattered, and a great number of the inhabitants, who for want of beds were sleeping upon tables, were thrown to the floor, and awakened by the fall without comprehending what had happened. in ten minutes everybody was stirring, as it was thought that the english were in the port; and there ensued such confusion, such a mingled tumult of noises and screams, that no one could make himself understood, until criers preceded by drums were sent through the town to reassure the inhabitants, and inform them that all danger was past. the next day songs were composed on this nocturnal alarm, and were soon in every mouth. another alarm, but of an entirely different kind, upset all boulogne in the autumn of 1804. about eight o'clock in the evening a chimney caught fire on the right of the port; and the light of this fire, shining through the masts of the flotilla, alarmed the commandant of a post on the opposite shore. at this time all the vessels had powder and ammunition on board; and the poor commandant, beside himself with terror, cried, "boys, the fleet is on fire;" and immediately had the alarm beaten. the frightful news spread like lightning; and in less than half an hour more than sixty thousand men appeared upon the wharves, the tocsin was sounded in all the churches, the forts fired alarm guns, while drums and trumpets sounded along the streets, the whole making an infernal tumult. the emperor was at headquarters when this terrible cry, "the fleet is on fire," came to his ears. "it is impossible!" he immediately exclaimed, but, nevertheless, rushed out instantly. on entering the town, what a frightful spectacle we beheld. women in tears, holding their children in their arms, ran like lunatics, uttering cries of despair, while men abandoned their houses, carrying off whatever was most valuable, running against and knocking each other over in the darkness. on all sides was heard, "mauve qui peat; we are going to be blown up, we are all lost;" and the maledictions, lamentations, blasphemies, were sufficient to make your hair stand on end. the aides-de-camp of his majesty and those of marshal soult galloped in every direction, forcing their way through the crowds, stopping the drummers, and asking them, "why do you beat the alarm? who has ordered you to beat the alarm?"--"we don't know," they replied; and the drums continued to beat, while the tumult kept on increasing, and the crowd rushed to the gates, struck by a terror which a moment's reflection would have dissipated. but, unfortunately, fear gives no time for reflection. it is true, however, that a considerable number of inhabitants, less excitable than these i have described, remained quietly at home, well knowing that if the fleet had really been on fire, there would have been no time to give an alarm. these persons made every effort to quiet the excited crowd. madame f----, the very pretty and very amiable wife of a clockmaker, was in her kitchen making preparations for supper, when a neighbor, thoroughly frightened, entered, and said to her, "save yourself madame; you have not a moment to lose!"--"what is the matter?"--"the fleet is on fire!"--"ah-pshaw!"--"fly then, madame, fly! i tell you the fleet is on fire." and the neighbor took madame f---by the arm, and endeavored to pull her along. madame f---held at the moment a frying-pan in which she was cooking some fritters. "take care; you will make me burn my fritters," said she, laughing. and with a few half serious, half jesting words she reassured the poor fellow, who ended by laughing at himself. at last the tumult was appeased, and to this great fright a profound calm succeeded. no explosion had been heard; and they saw that it must have been a false alarm, so each returned home, thinking no longer of the fire, but agitated by another fear. the robbers may have profited by the absence of the inhabitants to pillage the houses, but as luck would have it no mischance of this kind had taken place. the next day the poor commandant who had so inopportunely taken and given the alarm was brought before the council of war. he was guilty of no intentional wrong; but the law was explicit, and he was condemned to death. his judges, however, recommended him to the mercy of the emperor, who pardoned him. chapter xvii. many of the brave soldiers who composed the army of boulogne had earned the cross (of the legion of honor) in these last campaigns, and his majesty desired that this distribution should be made an impressive occasion, which should long be remembered. he chose the day after his fete, aug. 16, 1804. never has there been in the past, nor can there be in the future, a more imposing spectacle. at six o'clock in the morning, more than eighty thousand men left the four camps,--at their head drums beating and bands playing,--and advanced by divisions towards the "hubertmill" field, which was on the cliff beyond the camp of the right wing. on this plain an immense platform had been erected, about fifteen feet above the ground, and with its back toward the sea. it was reached by three flights of richly carpeted steps, situated in the middle and on each side. from the stage thus formed, about forty feet square, rose three other platforms, the central one bearing the imperial armchair, decorated with trophies and banners, while that on the left held seats for the brothers of the emperor, and for the grand dignitaries, and that on the right bore a tripod of antique form, surmounted by a helmet (the helmet of duguesclin, i think), covered with crosses and ribbons. by the side of the tripod had been placed a seat for the arch-chancellor. about three hundred steps from the throne, the land rose in a slight and almost circular ascent; and on this ascent the troops were arranged as in an amphitheater. to the right of the throne, on an eminence, were placed sixty or eighty tents made of naval flags; these tents were intended for the ladies of the city, and made a charming picture, but they were so far from the throne that the spectators who filled them were obliged to use glasses. between these tents and the throne a part of the imperial guard was ranged in line of battle. the weather was perfect; there was not a cloud in the sky; the english cruisers had disappeared; and on the sea could be seen only our line of vessels handsomely decorated with flags. at ten o'clock in the morning, a discharge of artillery announced the departure of the emperor; and his majesty left his barrack, surrounded by more than eighty generals and two hundred aides-decamp, all his household following him. the emperor was dressed in the uniform of the colonel-general of the infantry of the guard. he rode at a gallop to the foot of the throne, in the midst of universal acclamations and the most deafening uproar made by drums, trumpets, and cannon, beating, blowing, and roaring all together. his majesty mounted the throne, followed by his brothers and the grand dignitaries; and when he was seated each one took his designated place, and the distribution of the crosses began in the following manner: an aide-de-camp of the emperor called by name the soldiers to be honored, who one by one stopped at the foot of the throne, bowed, and mounted the steps on the right. there they were received by the arch-chancellor, who delivered to them their commissions; and two pages, placed between the emperor and the tripod, took the decoration from the helmet of duguesclin, and handed it to his majesty, who fastened it himself on the breast of the brave fellow. instantly more than eight hundred drums beat a tattoo; and when the soldier thus decorated descended from the throne by the steps on the left, as he passed before the brilliant staff of the emperor a burst of music from more than twelve hundred musicians signaled the return to his company of the knight of the legion of honor. it is needless to say that the cry of 'vive l'empereur' was repeated twice at each decoration. the distribution began at ten o'clock, and ended about three. then, according to orders borne by the aides-decamp to the divisions, a volley of artillery was heard, and eighty thousand men advanced in close columns to within twenty or thirty steps of the throne. the most profound silence succeeded the noise of drums; and, the emperor having given his orders, the troops executed maneuvers for about an hour, at the end of which each division defiled before the throne as they returned to the camp. each chief, on passing, saluted by lowering the point of his sword. specially noticeable among them was prince joseph, newly appointed colonel of the fourth regiment of the line, who made his brother a salute more graceful than military. the emperor frowned slightly at the somewhat critical remarks which his old companions in arms seemed inclined to make on this subject; but except for this slight cloud, the countenance of his majesty was never more radiant. just as the troops were filing off, the wind, which for two or three hours had been blowing violently, became a perfect gale, and an orderly officer came in haste to inform his majesty that four or five gunboats had just been driven ashore. the emperor at once left the plain at a gallop, followed by some of the marshals, and took his position on the shore until the crews of the gunboats were saved, and the emperor then returned to the pont des briques. this immense army could not regain its quarters before eight o'clock in the evening. the next day the camp of the left wing gave a military fete, at which the emperor was present. from early in the morning, launches mounted on wheels ran at full speed through the streets of the camp, driven by a favorable wind. officers amused themselves riding after them at a gallop, and rarely overtaking them. this exercise lasted an hour or two; but, the wind having changed, the launches upset, amid shouts of laughter. this was followed by a horseback race, the prize being twelve hundred francs. a lieutenant of dragoons, very popular in his company, asked as a favor to be allowed to compete; but the haughty council of superior officers refused to admit him, under the pretext that his rank was not sufficiently high, but, in reality, because he had the reputation of being a splendid horseman. stung to the quick by this unjust refusal, the lieutenant of dragoons applied to the emperor, who gave him permission to race with the others, after having learned that this brave officer supported by his own exertions a numerous family, and that his conduct was irreproachable. at a given signal the races began. the lieutenant of dragoons soon passed his antagonists, and had almost reached the goal, when, by an unfortunate mischance, a little poodle ran between the legs of his horse, and threw him down. an aide-de-camp who came immediately after was proclaimed victor. the lieutenant picked himself up as well as he could, and was preparing, very sadly, to retire, somewhat consoled by the signs of interest which the spectators manifested, when the emperor summoned him, and said, "you deserve the prize, and you shall have it; i make you captain." and addressing himself to the grand marshal of the palace, "you will pay twelve hundred francs to the captain" (the name does not occur to me), while all cried, "vive l'empereur," and congratulated the new captain on his lucky fall. in the evening there were fireworks, which could be seen from the coast of england. thirty thousand soldiers executed all sorts of maneuvers, firing sky-rockets from their guns. the crowning piece, which represented the arms of the empire, was so fine that for five minutes boulogne, the country, and all the coast, were lighted up as if it were broad daylight. a few days after these fetes, as the emperor was passing from one camp to the other, a sailor who was watching for him in order to hand him a petition was obliged, as the rain was falling in torrents, and he was afraid of spoiling the sheet of paper, to place himself under shelter in an isolated barrack on the shore, used to store rigging. he had been waiting a long time, and was wet to the skin, when he saw the emperor coming from the camp of the left wing at a gallop. just as his majesty, still galloping, was about to pass before the barrack, the brave sailor, who was on the lookout, sprang suddenly from his hiding place, and threw himself before the emperor, holding out his petition in the attitude of a fencing-master defending himself. the emperor's horse, startled by this sudden apparition, stopped short; and his majesty, taken by surprise, gave the sailor a disapproving glance, and passed on without taking the petition which was offered him in so unusual a manner. it was on this day, i think, that monsieur decres, minister of the navy, had the misfortune to fall into the water, to the very great amusement of his majesty. to enable the emperor to pass from the quay to a gunboat, there had been a single plank thrown from the boat to the quay. napoleon passed, or rather leaped, over this light bridge, and was received on board in 'the arms of a soldier of the guard; but m. decres, more stout, and less active than the emperor, advanced carefully over the plank that he found to his horror was bending under his feet, until just as he arrived in the middle, the weight of his body broke the plank, and the minister of the navy was precipitated into the water, midway between the quay and the boat. his majesty turned at the noise that m. decres made in falling, and leaning over the side of the boat, exclaimed, "what! is that our minister of the navy who has allowed himself to fall in the water? is it possible it can be he?" the emperor during this speech laughed most uproariously. meanwhile, two or three sailors were engaged in getting m. decres out of his embarrassing position. he was with much difficulty hoisted on the sloop, in a sad state, as may be believed, vomiting water through his nose, mouth, and ears, and thoroughly ashamed of his accident, which the emperor's jokes contributed to render still more exasperating. towards the end of our stay the generals gave a magnificent ball to the ladies of the city, at which the emperor was present. for this purpose a temporary hall had been erected, which was tastefully decorated with garlands, flags, and trophies. general bertrand was appointed master of ceremonies by his colleagues; and general bisson. i was put in charge of the buffet, which employment suited general bisson perfectly, for he was the greatest glutton in camp, and his enormous stomach interfered greatly with his walking. he drank not less than six or seven bottles of wine at dinner, and never alone; for it was a punishment to him not to talk while eating, consequently he usually invited his aides-de-camp, whom, through malice no doubt, he chose always from among the most delicate and abstemious in the army. the buffet was worthy of the one who had it in charge. the orchestra was composed of musicians from twenty regiments, who played in turn. but on the opening of the ball the entire orchestra executed a triumphal march, during which the aides-de-camp, most elegantly attired, received the ladies invited, and presented them with bouquets. in order to be admitted to this ball, it was necessary to have at least the rank of commandant. it is, impossible to give an idea of the scene presented by this multitude of uniforms, each vying in brilliancy with the other. the fifty or sixty generals who gave the ball had ordered from paris magnificently embroidered uniforms, and the group they formed around his majesty as he entered glittered with gold and diamonds. the emperor remained an hour at this fete, and danced the boulanyere with madame bertrand. he wore the uniform of colonel-general of the cavalry of the guard. the wife of marshal soult was queen of the ball. she wore a black velvet dress besprinkled with the kind of diamonds called rhinestones. at midnight a splendid supper was served, the preparation of which general bisson had superintended, which is equivalent to saying that nothing was wanting thereto. the ladies of boulogne, who had never attended such a fete, were filled with amazement, and when supper was served advised each other to fill up their reticules with dainties and sweets. they would have carried away, i think, the hall, with the musicians and dancers; and for more than a month this ball was the only subject of their conversation. about this time his majesty was riding on horseback near his barracks, when a pretty young girl of fifteen or sixteen, dressed in white, her face bathed in tears, threw herself on her knees in his path. the emperor immediately alighted from his horse, and assisted her to rise, asking most compassionately what he could do for her. the poor girl had come to entreat the pardon of her father, a storekeeper in the commissary department, who had been condemned to the galleys for grave crimes. his majesty could not resist the many charms of the youthful suppliant, and the pardon was granted. chapter xviii. at boulogne, as everywhere else, the emperor well knew how to win all hearts by his moderation, his justice, and the generous grace with which he acknowledged the least service. all the inhabitants of boulogne, even all the peasants of the suburbs, would have died for him, and the smallest particulars relating to him were constantly repeated. one day, however, his conduct gave rise to serious complaints, and he was unanimously blamed; for his injustice was the cause of a terrible tragedy. i will now relate this sad event, an authentic account of which i have never seen in print. one morning, as he mounted his horse, the emperor announced that he would that day review the naval forces, and gave orders that the boats which occupied the line of defense should leave their position, as he intended to hold the review in the open sea. he set out with roustan for his morning ride, and expressed a wish that all should be ready on his return, the hour of which he designated. every one knew that the slightest wish of the emperor was law; and the order was transmitted, during his absence, to admiral bruix, who replied with imperturbable 'sang froid', that he much regretted it, but the review would not take place that day, and in consequence no boat stirred. on his return from his ride, the emperor asked if everything was ready, and the admiral's answer was reported to him. astonished by its tone, so different from what he was accustomed to, he had it repeated to him twice, and then, with a violent stamp of his foot, ordered the admiral to be summoned. he obeyed instantly; but the emperor, thinking he did not come quickly enough, met him half-way from his barracks. the staff followed his majesty, and placed themselves silently around him, while his eyes shot lightning. "admiral bruix," said the emperor in a tone showing great excitement, "why have you not obeyed my orders?" "sire," responded bruix with respectful firmness, "a terrible storm is gathering. your majesty can see this as well as i; are you willing to uselessly risk the lives of so many brave men?" in truth, the heaviness of the atmosphere, and the low rumbling which could be heard in the distance, justified only too well the admiral's fears. "monsieur," replied the emperor, more and more irritated, "i gave the orders; once again, why have you not executed them? the consequences concern me alone. obey!"--"sire, i will not obey!"--"monsieur, you are insolent!" and the emperor, who still held his riding-whip in his hand, advanced on the admiral, making a threatening gesture. admiral bruix retreated a step, and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword: "sire," said he, growing pale, "take care!" all those present were paralyzed with terror. the emperor remained for some time immovable, with his hand raised, and his eyes fixed on the admiral, who still maintained his defiant attitude. at last the emperor threw his whip on the ground. admiral bruix relaxed his hold on his sword, and, with uncovered head, awaited in silence the result of this terrible scene. "rear-admiral magon!" said the emperor, "you will see that the orders which i have given are executed instantly. as for you, sir," continued he, turning to admiral bruix, "you will leave boulogne within twenty-four hours, and retire to holland. go!" his majesty returned at once to headquarters; some of the officers, only a small number, however, pressed in parting the hand that the admiral held out to them. rear-admiral magon immediately ordered the fatal movement commanded by the emperor; but hardly had the first dispositions been made when the sea became frightful to behold, the sky, covered with black clouds, was furrowed with lightning, the thunder roared incessantly, and the wind increased to a gale. in fact, what admiral bruix had foreseen occurred; a frightful tempest scattered the boats in every direction, and rendered their condition desperate. the emperor, anxious and uneasy, with lowered head and crossed arms, was striding up and down the shore, when suddenly terrible cries were heard. more than twenty gunboats, filled with soldiers and sailors, had just been driven on the shore; and the poor unfortunates who manned them, struggling against furious waves, were imploring help which none could venture to render. the emperor was deeply touched by this sight, while his heart was torn by the lamentations of an immense crowd which the tempest had collected on the shore and the adjoining cliffs. he beheld his generals and officers stand in shuddering horror around him, and wishing to set an example of self-sacrifice, in spite of all efforts made to restrain him, threw himself into a lifeboat, saying, "let me alone; let me alone! they must be gotten out of there." in an instant the boat filled with water, the waves dashed over it, and the emperor was submerged, one wave stronger than the others threw his majesty on the shore, and his hat was swept off. electrified by such courage, officers, soldiers, sailors, and citizens now began to lend their aid, some swimming, others in boats; but, alas! they succeeded in saving--only a very small number of the unfortunate men who composed the crews of the gunboats, and the next day the sea cast upon the shore more than two hundred men, and with them the hat of the conqueror of marengo. the next was a day of mourning and of grief, both in boulogne and the camp. the inhabitants and soldiers covered the beach, searching anxiously among the bodies which the waves incessantly cast upon the shore; and the emperor groaned over this terrible calamity, which in his inmost heart he could not fail to attribute to his own obstinacy. by his orders agents entrusted with gold went through the city and camp, stopping the murmurs which were ready to break forth. that day i saw a drummer, who had been among the crew of the shipwrecked vessels, washed upon the shore upon his drum, which lie had used as a raft. the poor fellow had his thigh broken, and had remained more than twenty hours in that horrible condition. in order to complete in this place my recollections of the camp of boulogne, i will relate the following, which did not take place, however, until the month of august, 1805, after the return of the emperor from his journey to italy, where he had been crowned. soldiers and sailors were burning with impatience to embark for england, but the moment so ardently desired was still delayed. every evening they said to themselves, "tomorrow there will be a good wind, there will also be a fog, and we shall start," and lay down with that hope, but arose each day to find either an unclouded sky or rain. one evening, however, when a favorable wind was blowing, i heard two sailors conversing together on the wharf, and making conjectures as to the future. "the emperor would do well to start tomorrow morning," said one; "he will never have better weather, and there will surely be a fog." --"bah!" said the other, "only he does not think so. we have now waited more than fifteen days, and the fleet has not budged; however, all the ammunition is on board, and with one blast of the whistle we can put to sea." the night sentinels came on, and the conversation of the old sea-wolves stopped there; but i soon had to acknowledge that their nautical experience had not deceived them. in fact, by three o'clock in the morning, a light fog was spread over the sea, which was somewhat stormy, the wind of the evening before began to, blow again, and at daylight the fog was so thick as to conceal the fleet from the english, while the most profound silence reigned everywhere. no hostile sails had been signaled through the night, and, as the sailors had predicted, everything favored the descent. at five o'clock in the morning, signals were made from the semaphore; and in the twinkling of an eye all the sailors were in motion, and the port resounded with cries of joy, for the order to depart had just been received. while the sails were being hoisted, the long roll was beaten in the four camps, and the order was given for the entire army to take arms; and they marched rapidly into the town, hardly believing what they had just heard. "we are really going to start," said all the soldiers; "we are actually going to say a few words to those englishmen," and the joy which animated them burst forth in acclamations, which were silenced by a roll of the drums. the embarkation then took place amid profound silence, and in such perfect order that i can hardly give an idea of it. at seven o'clock two hundred thousand soldiers were on board the fleet; and when a little after midday this fine army was on the point of starting amidst the adieus and good wishes of the whole city, assembled upon the walls and upon the surrounding cliffs, and at the very moment when all the soldiers standing with uncovered heads were about to bid farewell to the soil of france, crying, "vive l'empereur!" a message arrived from the imperial barrack, ordering the troops to disembark, and return to camp. a telegraphic dispatch just then received by his majesty had made it necessary that he should move his troops in another direction; and the soldiers returned sadly to their quarters, some expressing in a loud tone, and in a very energetic manner, the disappointment which this species of mystification caused them. they had always regarded the success of the enterprise against england as assured, and to find themselves stopped on the eve of departure was, in their eyes, the greatest misfortune which could happen to them. when order had again been restored, the emperor repaired to the camp of the right wing, and made a proclamation to the troops, which was sent into the other camps, and posted everywhere. this was very nearly the tenor of it: "brave soldiers of the camp of boulogne! you will not go to england. english gold has seduced the emperor of austria, who has just declared war against france. his army has passed the line which he should have respected, and bavaria is invaded. soldiers! new laurels await you beyond the rhine. let us hasten to defeat once more enemies whom you have already conquered." this proclamation called forth unanimous acclamations of joy, and every face brightened, for it mattered little to these intrepid men whether they were to be led against austria or england; they simply thirsted for the fray, and now that war had been declared, every desire was gratified. thus vanished all those grand projects of descent upon england, which had been so long matured, so wisely planned. there is no doubt now that with favorable weather and perseverance the enterprise would have been crowned with the greatest success; but this was not to be. a few regiments remained at boulogne; and while their brethren crushed the austrians, they erected upon the seashore a column destined to recall for all time the memory of napoleon and his immortal army. immediately after the proclamation of which i have just spoken, his majesty gave orders that all should prepare for immediate departure; and the grand marshal of the palace was charged to audit and pay all the expenses which the emperor had made, or which he had ordered to be made, during his several visits, not without cautioning him, according to custom, to be careful not to pay for too much of anything, nor too high a price. i believe that i have already stated that the emperor was extremely economical in everything which concerned him personally, and that he was afraid of spending twenty francs unless for some directly useful purpose. among many other accounts to be audited, the grand marshal of the palace received that of sordi, engineer of military roads, whom he had ordered to decorate his majesty's barrack, both inside and out. the account amounted to fifty thousand francs. the grand marshal exclaimed aloud at this frightful sum. he was not willing to approve the account of sordi, and sent it back to him, saying that he could not authorize the payment without first receiving the orders of the emperor. the engineer assured the grand marshal that he had overcharged nothing, and that he had closely followed his instructions, and added, that being the case, it was impossible for him to make the slightest reduction. the next day sordi received instructions to attend his majesty. the emperor was in his barrack, which was the subject under discussion, and spread out before him was, not the account of the engineer, but a map, upon which he was tracing the intended march of his army. sordi came, and was admitted by general caffarelli. the half-open door permitted the general, as well as myself, to hear the conversation which followed. "monsieur," said his majesty, "you have spent far too much money in decorating this miserable barrack. yes; certainly far too much. fifty thousand francs! just think of it, monsieur! that is frightful; i will not pay you!" the engineer, silenced by this abrupt entrance upon business, did not at first know how to reply. happily the emperor, again casting his eyes on the map which lay unrolled before him, gave him time to recover himself; and he replied, "sire, the golden clouds which ornament this ceiling" (for all this took place in the council-chamber), "and which surround the guardian star of your majesty, cost twenty thousand francs in truth; but if i had consulted the hearts of your subjects, the imperial eagle which is again about to strike with a thunderbolt the enemies of france and of your throne, would have spread its wings amid the rarest diamonds."--"that is very good," replied the emperor, laughing, "very good; but i will not have you paid at present, and since you tell me that this eagle which costs so dear will strike the austrians with a thunderbolt, wait until he has done so, and i will then pay your account in rix dollars of the emperor of germany, and the gold frederics of the king of prussia." his majesty, resuming his compass, began to move his armies upon the map; and truth to tell, the account of the engineer was not paid until after the battle of austerlitz, and then, as the emperor had said, in rix dollars and frederics. about the end of july (1804), the emperor left boulogne in order to make a tour through belgium before rejoining the empress, who had gone direct to aix-la-chapelle. everywhere on this tour he was welcomed, not only with the honors reserved for crowned heads, but with hearty acclamations, addressed to him personally rather than to his official position. i will say nothing of the fetes which were given in his honor during this journey, nor of the remarkable things which occurred. descriptions of these can easily be found elsewhere; and it is my purpose to relate only what came peculiarly under my own observation, or at least details not known to the general public. let it suffice, then, to say that our journey through arras, valenciennes, mons, brussels, etc., resembled a triumphal progress. at the gate of each town the municipal council presented to his majesty the wine of honor and the keys of the place. we stopped a few days at lacken; and being only five leagues from alost, a little town where my relatives lived, i requested the emperor's permission to leave him for twenty-four hours, and it was granted, though reluctantly. alost, like the remainder of belgium at this time, professed the greatest attachment for the emperor, and consequently i had hardly a moment to myself. i visited at the house of monsieur d----, one of my friends, whose family had long held positions of honor in the government of belgium. there i think all the town must have come to meet me; but i was not vain enough to appropriate to myself all the honor of this attention, for each one who came was anxious to learn even the most insignificant details concerning the great man near whom i was placed. on this account i was extraordinarily feted, and my twenty-four hours passed only too quickly. on my return, his majesty deigned to ask innumerable questions regarding the town of alost and its inhabitants, and as to what was thought there of his government and of himself. i was glad to be able to answer without flattery, that he was adored. he appeared gratified, and spoke to me most kindly of my family and of my own small interests. we left the next day for lacken, and passed through alost; and had i known this the evening before, i might perhaps have rested a few hours longer. however, the emperor found so much difficulty in granting me even one day, that i would not probably have dared to lose more, even had i known that the household was to pass by this town. the emperor was much pleased with lacken; he ordered considerable repairs and improvements to be made there, and the palace, owing to this preference, became a charming place of sojourn. this journey of their majesties lasted nearly three months; and we did not return to paris, or rather to saint-cloud, until november. the emperor received at cologne and at coblentz the visits of several german princes and princesses; but as i know only from hearsay what passed in these interviews, i shall not undertake to describe them. chapter xix. nothing is too trivial to narrate concerning great men; for posterity shows itself eager to learn even the most insignificant details concerning their manner of life, their tastes, their slightest peculiarities. when i attended the theater, whether in my short intervals of leisure or in the suite of his majesty, i remarked how keenly the spectators enjoyed the presentation on the stage, of some grand historic personage; whose costume, gestures, bearing, even his infirmities and faults, were delineated exactly as they have been transmitted to us by contemporaries. i myself always took the greatest pleasure in seeing these living portraits of celebrated men, and well remember that on no occasion did i ever so thoroughly enjoy the stage as when i saw for the first time the charming piece of the two pages. fleury in the role of frederick the great reproduced so perfectly the slow walk, the dry tones, the sudden movements, and even the short-sightedness of this monarch, that as soon as he appeared on the stage the whole house burst into applause. it was, in the opinion of persons sufficiently well informed to judge, a most perfect and faithful presentation; and though for my own part, i was not able to say whether the resemblance was perfect or not, i felt that it must be. michelot, whom i have since seen in the same role, gave me no less pleasure than his predecessor; and it is evident that both these talented actors must have studied the subject deeply, to have learned so thoroughly and depicted so faithfully the characteristics of their model. i must confess a feeling of pride in the thought that these memoirs may perhaps excite in my readers some of the same pleasurable emotions which i have here attempted to describe; and that perhaps in a future, which will inevitably come, though far distant now perhaps, the artist who will attempt to restore to life, and hold up to the view of the world, the greatest man of this age, will be compelled, in order to give a faithful delineation, to take for his model the portrait which i, better than any one else, have been able to draw from fife. i think that no one has done this as yet; certainly not so much in detail. on his return from egypt the emperor was very thin and sallow, his skin was copper-colored, his eyes sunken, and his figure, though perfect, also very thin. the likeness is excellent in the portrait which horace vernet drew in his picture called "a review of the first consul on the place du carrousel." his forehead was very high, and bare; his hair thin, especially on the temples, but very fine and soft, and a rich brown color; his eyes deep blue, expressing in an almost incredible manner the various emotions by which he was affected, sometimes extremely gentle and caressing, sometimes severe, and even inflexible. his mouth was very fine, his lips straight and rather firmly closed, particularly when irritated. his teeth, without being very regular, were very white and sound, and he never suffered from them. his nose of grecian shape, was well formed, and his sense of smell perfect. his whole frame was handsomely proportioned, though at this time his extreme leanness prevented the beauty of his features being especially noticed, and had an injurious effect on his whole physiognomy. it would be necessary to describe his features separately, one by one, in order to form a correct idea of the whole, and comprehend the perfect regularity and beauty of each. his head was very large, being twenty-two inches in circumference; it way a little longer than broad, consequently a little flattened on the temples; it was so extremely sensitive, that i had his hats padded, and took the trouble to wear them several days in my room to break them. his ears were small, perfectly formed, and well set. the emperor's feet were also very tender; and i had his shoes broken by a boy of the wardrobe, called joseph, who wore exactly the same size as the emperor. his height was five feet, two inches, three lines. he had a rather short neck, sloping shoulders, broad chest, almost free from hairs, well shaped leg and thigh, a small foot, and well formed fingers, entirely free from enlargements or abrasions; his arms were finely molded, and well hung to his body; his hands were beautiful, and the nails did not detract from their beauty. he took the greatest care of them, as in fact of his whole person, without foppishness, however. he often bit his nails slightly, which was a sign of impatience or preoccupation. later on he grew much stouter, but without losing any of the beauty of his figure; on the contrary, he was handsomer under the empire than under the consulate; his skin had become very white, and his expression animated. the emperor, during his moments, or rather his long hours, of labor and of meditation, was subject to a peculiar spasmodic movement, which seemed to be a nervous affection, and which clung to him all his life. it consisted in raising his right shoulder frequently and rapidly; and persons who were not acquainted with this habit sometimes interpreted this as a gesture of disapprobation and dissatisfaction, and inquired with anxiety in what way they could have offended him. he, however, was not at all affected by it, and repeated the same movement again and again without being conscious of it. one most remarkable peculiarity was that the emperor never felt his heart beat. he mentioned this often to m. corvisart, as well as to me; and more than once he made us pass our hands over his breast, in order to prove this singular exception. never did we feel the slightest pulsation. [another peculiarity was that his pulse was only forty to the minute.] the emperor ate very fast, and hardly spent a dozen minutes at the table. when he had finished he arose, and passed into the family saloon; but the empress josephine remained, and made a sign to the guests to do the same. sometimes, however, she followed his majesty; and then, no doubt, the ladies of the palace indemnified themselves in their apartments, where whatever they wished was served them. one day when prince eugene rose from the table immediately after the emperor, the latter, turning to him, said, "but you have not had time to dine, eugene."--"pardon me," replied the prince, "i dined in advance!" the other guests doubtless found that this was not a useless precaution. it was before the consulate that things happened thus; for afterwards the emperor, even when he was as yet only first consul, dined tete-a-tete with the empress, except when he invited some of the ladies of the household, sometimes one, sometimes another, all of whom appreciated highly this mark of favor. at this time there was already a court. most frequently the emperor breakfasted alone, on a little mahogany candle-stand with no cover, which meal, even shorter than the other, lasted only eight or ten minutes. i will mention, later on, the bad effects which the habit of eating too quickly often produced on the emperor's health. besides this, and due in a great measure to his haste, the emperor lacked much of eating decently; and always preferred his fingers to a fork or spoon. much care was taken to place within his reach the dish he preferred, which he drew toward him in the manner i have just described, and dipped his bread in the sauce or gravy it contained, which did not, however, prevent the dish being handed round, and those eating from it who could; and there were few guests who could not. i have seen some who even appeared to consider this singular act of courage a means of making their court. i can easily understand also that with many their admiration for his majesty silenced all repugnance, for the same reason that we do not scruple to eat from the plate, or drink from the glass, of a person whom we love, even though it might be considered doubtful on the score of refinement; this is never noticed because love is blind. the dish which the emperor preferred was the kind of fried chicken to which this preference of the conqueror of italy has given the name of poulet a la marengo. he also ate with relish beans, lentils, cutlets, roast mutton, and roast chicken. the simplest dishes were those he liked best, but he was fastidious in the article of bread. it is not true, as reported, that he made an immoderate use of coffee, for he only took half a cup after breakfast, and another after dinner; though it sometimes happened when he was much preoccupied that he would take, without noticing it, two cups in succession, though coffee taken in this quantity always excited him and kept him from sleeping. it also happened frequently that he took it cold, or without sugar, or with too much sugar. to avoid all which mischances, the empress josephine made it her duty to pour out the emperor's coffee herself; and the empress marie louise also adopted the same custom. when the emperor had risen from the table and entered the little saloon, a page followed him, carrying on a silvergilt waiter a coffee-pot, sugar-dish and cup. her majesty the empress poured out the coffee, put sugar in it, tried a few drops of it, and offered it to the emperor. the emperor drank only chambertin wine, and rarely without water; for he had no fondness for wine, and was a poor judge of it. this recalls that one day at the camp of boulogne, having invited several officers to his table, his majesty had wine poured for marshal augereau, and asked him with an air of satisfaction how he liked it. the marshal tasted it, sipped it critically, and finally replied, "there is better," in a tone which was unmistakable. the emperor, who had expected a different reply, smiled, as did all the guests, at the marshal's candor. every one has heard it said that his majesty used great precautions against being poisoned, which statement must be placed beside that concerning the cuirass proof against bullet and dagger. on the contrary, the emperor carried his want of precaution only too far. his breakfast was brought every day into an antechamber open to all to whom had been granted a private audience, and who sometimes waited there for several hours, and his majesty's breakfast also waited a long time. the dishes were kept as warm as possible until he came out of his cabinet, and took his seat at the table. their majesties' dinner was carried from the kitchen to the upper rooms in covered, hampers, and there was every opportunity of introducing poison; but in spite of all this, never did such an idea enter the minds of the people in his service, whose devotion and fidelity to the emperor, even including the very humblest, surpassed any idea i could convey. the habit of eating rapidly sometimes caused his majesty violent pains in his stomach, which ended almost always in a fit of vomiting. one day the valet on duty came in great haste to tell me that the emperor desired my presence immediately. his dinner had caused indigestion, and he was suffering greatly. i hurried to his majesty's room, and found him stretched at full length on the rug, which was a habit of the emperor when he felt unwell. the empress josephine was seated by his side, with the sick man's head on her lap, while he groaned or stormed alternately, or did both at once: for the emperor bore this kind of misfortune with less composure than a thousand graver mischances which the life of a soldier carries with it; and the hero of arcola, whose life had been endangered in a hundred battles, and elsewhere also, without lessening his fortitude, showed himself unequal to the endurance of the slightest pain. her majesty the empress consoled and encouraged him as best she could; and she, who was so courageous herself in enduring those headaches which, on account of their excessive violence, were a genuine disease, would, had it been possible, have taken on herself most willingly the ailment of her husband, from which she suffered almost as much as he did, in witnessing his sufferings. "constant," said she, as i entered, "come quick; the emperor needs you; make him some tea, and do not go out till he is better." his majesty had scarcely taken three cups before the pain decreased, while she continued to hold his head on her knees, pressing his brow with her white, plump hands, and also rubbing his breast. "you feel better, do you not? would you like to lie down a little while? i will stay by your bed with constant." this tenderness was indeed touching, especially in one occupying so elevated a rank. my intimate service often gave me the opportunity of enjoying this picture of domestic felicity. while i am on the subject of the emperor's ailments, i will say a few words concerning the most serious which he endured, with the exception of that which caused his death. at the siege of toulon, in 1793, the emperor being then only colonel of artillery, a cannoneer was killed at his gun; and colonel bonaparte picked up the rammer and rammed home the charge several times. the unfortunate artilleryman had an itch of the most malignant kind, which the emperor caught, and of which he was cured only after many years; and the doctors thought that his sallow complexion and extreme leanness, which lasted so long a time, resulted from this disease being improperly treated. at the tuileries he took sulphur baths, and wore for some time a blister plaster, having suffered thus long because, as he said, he had not time to take care of himself. corvisart warmly insisted on a cautery; but the emperor, who wished to preserve unimpaired the shapeliness of his arm, would not agree to this remedy. it was at this same siege that he was promoted from the rank of chief of battalion to that of colonel in consequence of a brilliant affair with the english, in which he received a bayonet wound in the left thigh, the scar of which he often showed me. the wound in the foot which he received at the battle of ratisbonne left no trace; and yet, when the emperor received it, the whole army became alarmed. we were about twelve hundred yards from ratisbonne, when the emperor, seeing the austrians fleeing on all sides, thought the combat was over. his dinner had been brought in a hamper to a place which the emperor had designated; and as he was walking towards it, he turned to marshal berthier, and exclaimed, "i am wounded!" the shock was so great that the emperor fell in a sitting posture, a bullet having, in fact, struck his heel. from the size of this ball it was apparent that it had been fired by a tyrolean rifleman, whose weapon easily carried the distance we were from the town. it can well be understood that such an event troubled and frightened the whole staff. an aide-de-camp summoned me; and when i arrived i found dr. yvan cutting his majesty's boot, and assisted him in dressing the wound. although the pain was still quite severe, the emperor was not willing to take time to put on his boot again; and in order to turn the enemy, and reassure the army as to his condition, he mounted his horse, and galloped along the line accompanied by his whole staff. that day, as may be believed, no one delayed to take breakfast, but all dined at ratisbonne. his majesty showed an invincible repugnance to all medicine; and when he used any, which was very rarely, it was chicken broth, chicory, or cream of tartar. corvisart recommended him to refuse every drink which had a bitter or disagreeable taste, which he did, i believe, in the fear that an attempt might be made to poison him. at whatever hour the emperor had retired, i entered his room at seven or eight o'clock in the morning; and i have already said that his first questions invariably were as to the hour and the kind of weather. sometimes he complained to me of looking badly; and if this was true, i agreed with him, and if it were not, i told him the truth. in this case he pulled my ears, and called me, laughing, "grosse bete," and asked for a mirror, sometimes saying he was trying to fool me and that he was very well. he read the daily papers, asked the names of the people in the waiting-room, named those he wished to see, and conversed with each one. when corvisart came, he entered without waiting for orders; and the emperor took pleasure in teasing him by speaking of medicine, which he said was only a conjectural art, that the doctors were charlatans, and cited instances in proof of it, especially in his own experience, the doctor never yielding a point when he thought he was right. during these conversations, the emperor shaved himself; for i had prevailed on him to take this duty on himself, often forgetting that he had shaved only one side of his face, and when i called his attention to this, he laughed, and finished his work. yvan, doctor-in-ordinary, as well as corvisart, came in for his share in the criticisms and attacks on his profession; and these discussions were extremely amusing. the emperor was very gay and talkative at such times, and i believe, when he had at hand no examples to cite in support of his theories, did not scruple to invent them; consequently these gentlemen did not always rely upon his statements. one day his majesty pulled the ears of one of his physicians (halle, i believe). the doctor abruptly drew himself away, crying, "sire, you hurt me." perhaps this speech was tinged with some irritation, and perhaps, also, the doctor was right. however that may be, his ears were never in danger again. sometimes before beginning my labors, his majesty questioned me as to what i had done the evening before, asked me if i had dined in the city, and with whom, if i had enjoyed myself, and what we had for dinner. he often inquired also what such or such a part of my clothing cost me; and when i told him he would exclaim at the price, and tell me that when he was a sub-lieutenant everything was much cheaper, and that he had often during that time taken his meals at roze's restaurant, and dined very well for forty cents. several times he spoke to me of my family, and of my sister, who was a nun before the revolution, and who had been compelled to leave her convent; and one day asked me if she had a pension, and how much it was. i told him, and added, that this not being sufficient for her wants, i myself gave an allowance to her, and also to my mother. his majesty told me to apply to the duke of bassano, and report the matter to him, as he wished to treat my family handsomely. i did not avail myself of this kind intention of his majesty; for at that time i had sufficient means to be able to assist my relatives, and did not foresee the future, which i thought would not change my condition, and felt a delicacy in putting my people, so to speak, on the charge of the state. i confess that i have been more than once tempted to repent this excessive delicacy, which i have seen few persons above or below my condition imitate. on rising, the emperor habitually took a cup of tea or orange water; and if he desired a bath, had it immediately on getting out of bed, and while in it had his dispatches and newspapers read to him by his secretary (bourrienne till 1804). if he did not take a bath, he seated himself by the fire, and had them read to him there, often reading them himself. he dictated to the secretary his replies, and the observations which the reading of these suggested to him; as he went through each, throwing it on the floor without any order. the secretary afterwards gathered them all up, and arranged them to be carried into the emperor's private room. his majesty, before making his toilet, in summer, put on pantaloons of white pique and a dressing-gown of the same, and in winter, pantaloons and dressing-gown of swanskin, while on his head was a turban tied in front, the two ends hanging down on his neck behind. when the emperor donned this headdress, his appearance was far from elegant. when he came out of the bath, we gave him another turban; for the one he wore was always wet in the bath, where he turned and splashed himself incessantly. having taken his bath and read his dispatches, he began his toilet, and i shaved him before he learned to shave himself. when the emperor began this habit, he used at first, like every one, a mirror attached to the window; but he came up so close to it, and lathered himself so vigorously with soap, that the mirror, window-panes, curtains, his dressing-gown, and the emperor himself, were all covered with it. to remedy this inconvenience, the servants assembled in council, and it was decided that roustan should hold the looking-glass for his majesty. when the emperor had shaved one side, he turned the other side to view, and made roustan pass from left to right, or from right to left, according to the side on which he commenced. after shaving, the emperor washed his face and hands, and had his nails carefully cleaned; then i took off his flannel vest and shirt, and rubbed his whole bust with an extremely soft silk brush, afterwards rubbing him with eau-de-cologne, of which he used a great quantity, for every day he was rubbed and dressed thus. it was in the east he had acquired this hygienic custom, which he enjoyed greatly, and which is really excellent. all these preparations ended, i put on him light flannel or cashmere slippers, white silk stockings, the only kind he ever wore, and very fine linen or fustian drawers, sometimes knee-breeches of white cassimere, with soft riding-boots, sometimes pantaloons of the same stuff and color, with little english half-boots which came to the middle of the leg, and were finished with small silver spurs which were never more than six lines in length. all his, boots were finished with these spurs. i then put on him his flannel vest and shirt, a neck-cloth of very fine muslin, and over all a black silk stock; finally a round vest of white pique, and either a chasseur's or grenadier's coat, usually the former. his toilet ended, he was presented with his handkerchief, his tobacco-box, and a little shell bog filled with aniseed and licorice, ground very fine. it will be seen by the above that the emperor had himself dressed by his attendants from head to foot. he put his hand to nothing, but let himself be dressed like an infant, his mind filled with business during the entire performance. i had forgotten to say that he used boxwood toothpicks, and a brush dipped in some opiate. the emperor was born, so to speak, to be waited on (homme d valets de chambre). when only a general, he had as many as three valets, and had himself served with as much luxury as at the height of his fortunes, and from that time received all the attentions i have just described, and which it was almost impossible for him to do without; and in this particular the etiquette was never changed. he increased the number of his servants, and decorated them with new titles, but he could not have more services rendered him personally. he subjected himself very rarely to the grand etiquette of royalty, and never, for example, did the grand chamberlain hand him his shirt; and on one occasion only, when the city of paris gave him a dinner at the time of his coronation, did the grand marshal hand him water to wash his hands. i shall give a description of his toilet on the day of his coronation; and it will be seen that even on that day his majesty, the emperor of the french, did not require any other ceremonial than that to which he had been accustomed as general and first consul of the republic. the emperor had no fixed hour for retiring: sometimes he retired at ten or eleven o'clock in the evening; oftener he stayed awake till two, three, or four o'clock in the morning. he was soon undressed; for it was his habit, on entering the room, to throw each garment right and left,--his coat on the floor, his grand cordon on the rug, his watch haphazard at the bed, his hat far off on a piece of furniture; thus with all his clothing, one piece after another. when he was in a good humor, he called me in a loud voice, with this kind of a cry: "ohe, oh! oh!" at other times, when he was not in good humor, "monsieur, monsieur constant!" at all seasons his bed had to be warmed with a warming-pan, and it was only during the very hottest weather that he would dispense with this. his habit of undressing himself in haste rarely left me anything to do, except to hand him his night-cap. i then lighted his night-lamp, which was of gilded silver, and shaded it so that it would give less light. when he did not go to sleep at once, he had one of his secretaries called, or perhaps the empress josephine, to read to him; which duty no one could discharge better than her majesty, for which reason the emperor preferred her to all his readers, for she read with that especial charm which was natural to her in all she did. by order of the emperor, there was burnt in his bedroom, in little silver perfume-boxes, sometimes aloes wood, and sometimes sugar or vinegar; and almost the year round it was necessary to have a fire in all his apartments, as he was habitually very sensitive to cold. when he wished to sleep, i returned to take out his lamp, and went up to my own room, my bedroom being just above that of his majesty. roustan and a valet on service slept in a little apartment adjoining the emperor's bedroom; and if he needed me during the night, the boy of the wardrobe, who slept in an antechamber, came for me. water was always kept hot for his bath, for often at any hour of the night as well as the day he might suddenly be seized with a fancy to take one. doctor yvan appeared every morning and evening, at the rising and retiring of his majesty. it is well known that the emperor often had his secretaries, and even his ministers, called during the night. during his stay at warsaw, the prince de talleyrand once received a message after midnight; he came at once, and had a long interview with the emperor, and work was prolonged late into the night, when his majesty, fatigued, at last fell into a deep slumber. the prince of benevento, who was afraid to go out, fearing lest he might awaken the emperor or be recalled to continue the conversation, casting his eyes around, perceived a comfortable sofa, so he stretched himself out on it, and went to sleep. meneval, secretary to his majesty, not wishing to retire till after the minister had left, knowing that the emperor would probably call for him as soon as talleyrand had retired, became impatient at such a long interview; and as for me, i was not in the best humor, since it was impossible for me to retire without taking away his majesty's lamp. meneval came a dozen times to ask me if prince talleyrand had left. "he is there yet," said i. "i am sure of it, and yet i hear nothing." at last i begged him to place himself in the room where i then was, and on which the street-door opened, whilst i went to act as sentinel in a vestibule on which the emperor's room had another opening; and it was arranged that the one of us who saw the prince go out would inform the other. two o'clock sounded, then three, then four; no one appeared, and there was not the least movement in his majesty's room. losing patience at last, i half opened the door as gently as possible; but the emperor, whose sleep was very light, woke with a start, and asked in a loud tone: "who is that? who comes there?" "what is that?" i replied, that, thinking the prince of benevento had gone out, i had come for his majesty's lamp. "talleyrand! talleyrand!" cried out his majesty vehemently. "where is he, then?" and seeing him waking up, "well, i declare he is asleep! come, you wretch; how dare you sleep in my room! ah! ah!" i left without taking out the lamp; they began talking again, and meneval and i awaited the end of the tete-a-tete, until five o'clock in the morning. the emperor had a habit of taking, when he thus worked at night, coffee with cream, or chocolate; but he gave that up, and under the empire no longer took anything, except from time to time, but very rarely, either punch mild and light as lemonade, or when he first awoke, an infusion of orange-leaves or tea. the emperor, who so magnificently endowed the most of his generals, who showed himself so liberal to his armies, and to whom, on the other hand, france owes so many and such handsome monuments, was not generous, and it must even be admitted was a little niggardly, in his domestic affairs. perhaps he resembled those foolishly vain rich persons, who economize very closely at home, and in their own households, in order to shine more outside. he made very few, not to say no, presents to members of his household; and the first day of the year even passed without loosening his purse-strings. while i was undressing him the evening before, he said, pinching my ear, "well, monsieur constant, what will you give me for my present?" the first time he asked this question i replied i would give him whatever he wished; but i must confess that i very much hoped it would not be i who would give presents next day. it seemed that the idea never occurred to him; for no one had to thank him for his gifts, and he never departed afterwards from this rule of domestic economy. apropos of this pinching of ears, to which i have recurred so often, because his majesty repeated it so often, it is necessary that i should say, while i think of it, and in closing this subject, that any one would be much mistaken in supposing that he touched lightly the party exposed to his marks of favor; he pinched, on the contrary, very hard, and pinched as much stronger in proportion as he happened to be in a better humor. sometimes, when i entered his room to dress him, he would run at me like a mad man, and saluting me with his favorite greeting, "well, monsieur le drole," would pinch my ears in such a manner as to make me cry out; he often added to these gentle caresses one or two taps, also well applied. i was then sure of finding him all the rest of the day in a charming humor, and full of good-will, as i have seen him, so often. roustan, and even marshal berthier, received their due proportion of these imperial tendernesses. chapter xx. the allowance made by his majesty for the yearly expenses of his dress was twenty thousand francs; and the year of, the coronation he became very angry because that sum had been exceeded. it was never without trepidation that the various accounts of household expenses were presented to him; and he invariably retrenched and cut down, and recommended all sort of reforms. i remember after asking for some one a place of three thousand francs, which he granted me, i heard him exclaim, "three thousand francs! but do you understand that this is the revenue of one of my communes? when i was sub-lieutenant i did not spend as much as that." this expression recurred incessantly in his conversations with those with whom he was familiar; and "when i had the honor of being sub-lieutenant" was often on his lips, and always in illustration of comparisons or exhortations to economy. while on the subject of accounts, i recall a circumstance which should have a place in my memoirs, since it concerns me personally, and moreover gives an idea of the manner in which his majesty understood economy. he set out with the idea, which was, i think, often very correct, that in private expenses as in public ones, even granting the honesty of agents (which the emperor was always, i admit, very slow to do), the same things could have been done with much less money. thus, when he required retrenchment, it was not in the number of objects of expense, but only in the prices charged for these articles by the furnishers; and i will elsewhere cite some examples of the effect which this idea produced on the conduct of his majesty towards the accounting agents of his government. now i am relating only private matters. one day when investigating various accounts, the emperor complained much of the expenses of the stables, and cut off a considerable sum; and the grand equerry, in order to put into effect the required economy, found it necessary to deprive several persons in the household of their carriages, mine being included in this number. some days after the execution of this measure, his majesty charged me with a commission, which necessitated a carriage; and i was obliged to inform him that, no longer having mine, i should not be able to execute his orders. the emperor then exclaimed that he had not intended this, and m. caulaincourt must have a poor idea of economy. when he again saw the duke of vicenza, he said to him that he did not wish anything of mine to be touched. the emperor occasionally read in the morning the new works and romances of the day; and when a work displeased him, he threw it into the fire. this does not mean that only improper books were thus destroyed; for if the author was not among his favorites, or if he spoke too well of a foreign country, that was sufficient to condemn the volume to the flames. on this account i saw his majesty throw into the fire a volume of the works of madame de stael, on germany. if he found us in the evening enjoying a book in the little saloon, where we awaited the hour for retiring, he examined what we were reading; and if he found they were romances, they were burned without pity, his majesty rarely failing to add a little lecture to this confiscation, and to ask the delinquent "if a man could not find better reading than that." one morning he had glanced over and thrown in the fire a book (by what author i do not know); and when roustan stooped down to take it out the emperor stopped him, saying, "let that filthy thing burn; it is all that it deserves." the emperor mounted his horse most ungracefully, and i think would not have always been very safe when there, if so much care had not been taken to give him only those which were perfectly trained; but every precaution was taken, and horses destined for the special service of the emperor passed through a rude novitiate before arriving at the honor of carrying him. they were habituated to endure, without making the least movement, torments of all kinds; blows with a whip over the head and ears; the drum was beaten; pistols were fired; fireworks exploded in their ears; flags were shaken before their eyes; heavy weights were thrown against their legs, sometimes even sheep and hogs. it was required that in the midst of the most rapid gallop (the emperor liked no other pace), he should be able to stop his horse suddenly; and in short, it was absolutely necessary to have only the most perfectly trained animals. m. jardin, senior, equerry of his majesty, acquitted himself of this laborious duty with much skill and ability, as the emperor attached such importance to it; he also insisted strongly that his horses should be very handsome, and in the last years of his reign would ride only arab horses. there were a few of those noble animals for which the emperor had a great affection; among others, styria, which he rode over the st. bernard and at marengo. after this last campaign, he wished his favorite to end his days in the luxury of repose, for marengo and the great st. bernard were in themselves a well-filled career. the emperor rode also for many years an arab horse of rare intelligence, in which he took much pleasure. during the time he was awaiting his rider, it would have been hard to discover in him the least grace; but as soon as he heard the drums beat the tattoo which announced the presence of his majesty, he reared his head most proudly, tossed his mane, and pawed the ground, and until the very moment the emperor alighted, was the most magnificent animal imaginable. his majesty made a great point of good equerries, and nothing was neglected in order that the pages should receive in this particular the most careful education. to accustom them to mount firmly and with grace, they practiced exercises in vaulting, for which it seemed to me they would have no use except at the olympic circus. and, in fact, one of the horsemen of messieurs franconi had charge of this part of the pages' education. the emperor, as has been said elsewhere, took no pleasure in hunting, except just so far as was necessary to conform to the usage which makes this exercise a necessary accompaniment to the throne and the crown; and yet i have seen him sometimes continue it sufficiently long to justify the belief that he did not find it altogether distasteful. he hunted one day in the forest of rambouillet from six in the morning to eight in the evening, a stag being the object of this prolonged excursion; and i remember they returned without having taken him. in one of the imperial hunts at rambouillet, at which the empress josephine was present, a stag, pursued by the hunters, threw himself under the empress's carriage; which refuge did not fail him, for her majesty, touched by the misery of the poor animal, begged his life of the emperor. the stag was spared; and josephine placed round its neck a silver collar to attest its deliverance, and protect it against the attacks of all hunters. one of the ladies of the empress one day showed less humanity than she, however; and the reply which she made to the emperor displeased him exceedingly, for he loved gentleness and pity in women. when they had hunted for several hours in the bois de boulogne, the emperor drew near the carriage of the empress josephine, and began talking with a lady who bore one of the most noble and most ancient names in all france, and who, it is said, had been placed near the empress against her wishes. the prince of neuchatel (berthier) announced that the stag was at bay. "madame," said the emperor gallantly to madame de c---, "i place his fate in your hands."--"do with him, sire," replied she, "as you please. it is no difference to me." the emperor gave her a glance of disapproval, and said to the master of the hounds, "since the stag in his misery does not interest madame c----, he does not deserve to live; have him put to death;" whereupon his majesty turned his horse's bridle, and rode off. the emperor was shocked by such an answer, and repeated it that evening, on his return from the hunt, in terms by no means flattering to madame de c----. it is stated in the memorial of saint-helena that the emperor, while hunting, was thrown and wounded by a wild boar, from which one of his fingers bore a bad scar. i never saw this, and never knew of such an accident having happened to the emperor. the emperor did not place his gun firmly to his shoulder, and as he always had it heavily loaded and rammed, never fired without making his arm black with bruises; but i rubbed the injured place with eau de cologne, and he gave it no further thought. the ladies followed the hunt in their coaches; a table being usually arranged in the forest for breakfast, to which all persons in the hunt were invited. the emperor on one occasion hunted with falcons on the plain of rambouillet, in order to make a trial of the falconry that the king of holland (louis) had sent as a present to his majesty. the household made a fete of seeing this hunt, of which we had been hearing so much; but the emperor appeared to take less pleasure in this than in the chase or shooting, and hawking was never tried again. his majesty was exceedingly fond of the play, preferring greatly french tragedy and the italian opera. corneille was his favorite author; and he had always on his table some volume of the works of this great poet. i have often heard the emperor declaim, while walking up and down in his room, verses of cinna, or this speech on the death of caesar: "caesar, you will reign; see the august day in which the roman people, always unjust to thee," etc. at the theater of saint-cloud, the piece for the evening was often made up of fragments and selections from different authors, one act being chosen from one opera, one from another, which was very vexatious to the spectators whom the first piece had begun to interest. often, also, comedies were played; on which occasions there was great rejoicing in the household, and the emperor himself took much pleasure in them. how many times have i seen him perfectly overcome with laughter, when seeing baptiste junior in 'les heritiers', and michaut also amused him in 'la partie de chasse de henry iv'. i cannot remember in what year, but it was during one of the sojourns of the court at fontainebleau, that the tragedy of the venetians was presented before the emperor by arnault, senior. that evening, as he was retiring, his majesty discussed the piece with marshal duroc, and gave his opinion, adducing many reasons, in support of it. these praises, like the criticisms, were all explained and discussed; the grand marshal talking little, and the emperor incessantly. although a poor judge myself of such matters, it was very entertaining, and also very instructive, to hear the emperor's opinion of pieces, ancient and modern, which had been played before him; and his observations and remarks could not have failed, i am sure, to be of great profit to the authors, had they been able like myself to hear them. as for me, if i gained anything from it, it is being enabled to speak of it here a little (although a very little), more appropriately than a blind man would of colors; nevertheless, for fear of saying the wrong thing, i return to matters which are in my department. it has been said that his majesty used a great quantity of tobacco, and that in order to take it still more frequently and quickly, he put it in a pocket of his vest, lined with skin for that purpose. this is an error. the emperor never took tobacco except in his snuff-boxes; and although he wasted a great quantity of it, he really used very little, as he took a pinch, held it to his nose simply to smell it, and let it fall immediately. it is true that the place where he had been was covered with it; but his handkerchiefs, irreproachable witnesses in such matters, were scarcely stained, and although they were white and of very fine linen, certainly bore no marks of a snuff-taker. sometimes he simply passed his open snuff-box under his nose in order to breathe the odor of the tobacco it contained. these boxes were of black shell, with hinges, and of a narrow, oval shape; they were lined with gold, and ornamented with antique cameos, or medallions, in gold or silver. at one time he used round tobacco-boxes; but as it took two hands to open them, and in this operation he sometimes dropped either the box or the top, he became disgusted with them. his tobacco was grated very coarse, and was usually composed of several kinds of tobacco mixed together. frequently he amused himself by making the gazelles that he had at saint-cloud eat it. they were very fond of it, and although exceedingly afraid of every one else, came close to his majesty without the slightest fear. the emperor took a fancy on one occasion, but only one, to try a pipe, as i shall now relate. the persian ambassador (or perhaps it was the turkish ambassador who came to paris under the consulate) had made his majesty a present of a very handsome pipe such as is used by the orientals. one day he was seized with a desire to try it, and had everything necessary for this purpose prepared. the fire having been applied to the bowl, the only question now was to light the tobacco; but from the manner in which his majesty attempted this it was impossible for him to succeed, as he alternately opened and closed his lips repeatedly without drawing in his breath at all. "why, what is the matter?" cried he; "it does not work at all." i called his attention to the fact that he was not inhaling properly, and showed him how it ought to be done; but the emperor still continued his performances, which were like some peculiar kind of yawning. tired out by his fruitless efforts at last, he told me to light it for him, which i did, and instantly handed it back to him. but he had hardly taken a whiff when the smoke, which he did not know how to breathe out again, filled his throat, got into his windpipe, and came out through his nose and eyes in great puffs. as soon as he could get his breath, he panted forth, "take it away! what a pest! oh, the wretches! it has made me sick." in fact, he felt ill for at least an hour after, and renounced forever the "pleasure of a habit, which," said he, "is only good to enable do-nothings to kill time." the only requirements the emperor made as to his clothing was that it should be of fine quality and perfectly comfortable; and his coats for ordinary use, dress-coats, and even the famous gray overcoat, were made of the finest cloth from louviers. under the consulate he wore, as was then the fashion, the skirts of his coat extremely long; afterwards fashion changed, and they were worn shorter; but the emperor held with singular tenacity to the length of his, and i had much trouble in inducing him to abandon this fashion, and it was only by a subterfuge that i at last succeeded. each time i ordered a new coat for his majesty, i directed the tailor to shorten the skirts by an inch at least, until at last, without his being aware of it, they were no longer ridiculous. he did not abandon his old habits any more readily on this point than on all others; and his greatest desire was that his clothes should not be too tight, in consequence of which there were times when he did not make a very elegant appearance. the king of naples, the man in all france who dressed with the most care, and nearly always in good taste, sometimes took the liberty of bantering the emperor slightly about his dress. "sire," said he to the emperor, "your majesty dresses too much like a good family man. pray, sire, be an example to your faithful subjects of good taste in dress."--"would you like me, in order to please you," replied the emperor, "to dress like a scented fop, like a dandy, in fine, like the king of naples and the two sicilies. as for me, i must hold on to my old habitudes."--"yes, sire, and to your 'habits tues'," added the king on one occasion. "detestable!" cried the emperor; "that is worthy of brunet;" and they laughed heartily over this play on words, while declaring it what the emperor called it. however, these discussions as to his dress being renewed at the time of his majesty's marriage to the empress marie louise, the king of naples begged the emperor to allow him to send him his tailor. his majesty, who sought at that time every means of pleasing his young wife, accepted the offer of his brother-in-law; and that very day i went for leger, king joachim's tailor, and brought him with me to the chateau, recommending him to make the suits which would be ordered as loose as possible, certain as i was in advance, that, monsieur jourdain [a character in a moliere comedy] to the contrary, if the emperor could not get into them easily, he would not wear them. leger paid no attention to my advice, but took his measure very closely. the two coats were beautifully made; but the emperor pronounced them uncomfortable, and wore them only once, and leger did no more work for his majesty. at one time, long before this, he had ordered a very handsome coat of chestnut brown velvet, with diamond buttons, which he wore to a reception of her majesty the empress, with a black cravat, though the empress josephine had prepared for him an elegant lace stock, which all my entreaties could not induce him to put on. the emperor's vest and breeches were always of white cassimere; he changed them every morning, and they were washed only three or four times. two hours after he had left his room, it often happened that his breeches were all stained with ink, owing to his habit of wiping his pen on them, and scattering ink all around him by knocking his pen against the table. nevertheless, as he dressed in the morning for the whole day, he did not change his clothes on that account, and remained in that condition the remainder of the day. i have already said that he wore none but white silk stockings, his shoes, which were very light and thin, being lined with silk, and his boots lined throughout inside with white fustian; and when he felt an itching on one of his legs, he rubbed it with the heel of his shoe or the boot on the other leg, which added still more to the effect of the ink blotches. his shoe-buckles were oval, either plain gold or with medallions, and he also wore gold buckles on his garters. i never saw him wear pantaloons under the empire. owing to the emperor's tenacity to old customs, his shoemaker in the first days of the empire was still the same he employed at the military school; and as his shoes had been made by the same measure, from that time, and no new one ever taken, his shoes, as well as his boots, were always badly made and ungraceful. for a long time he wore them pointed; but i persuaded him to have them 'en bec de canne', as that was the fashion. at last his old measure was found too small, and i got his majesty's consent to have a new one-taken; so i summoned the shoemaker, who had succeeded his father, and was exceedingly stupid. he had never seen the emperor, although he worked for him; and when he learned that he was expected to appear before his majesty, his head was completely turned. how could he dare to present himself before the emperor? what costume must he wear? i encouraged him, and told him he would need a black french coat, with breeches, and hat, etc.; and he presented himself thus adorned at the tuileries. on entering his majesty's chamber he made a deep bow, and stood much embarrassed. "it surely cannot be you who made shoes for me at the l'ecole militaire?"--"no, your majesty, emperor and king, it was my father."--"and why don't he do so now?"--"sire, the emperor and king, because he is dead."--"how much do you make me pay for my shoes?"--"your majesty, emperor and king, pays eighteen francs for them."--"that is very dear."--"your majesty, emperor and king, could pay much more for them if he would." the emperor laughed heartily at this simplicity, and let him take his measure; but the emperor's laughter had so completely disconcerted the poor man that, when he approached him, his hat under his arm, making a thousand bows, his sword caught between his legs, was broken in two, and made him fall on his hands and knees, not to remain there long, however, for his majesty's roars of laughter increasing, and being at last freed from his sword, the poor shoemaker took the emperor's measure with more ease, and withdrew amidst profuse apologies. all his majesty's linen was of extremely fine quality, marked with an "n" in a coronet; at first he wore no suspenders, but at last began using them, and found them very comfortable. he wore next his body vests made of english flannel, and the empress josephine had a dozen cashmere vests made for his use in summer. many persons have believed that the emperor wore a cuirass under his clothes when walking and while in the army. this is entirely false: the emperor never put on a cuirass, nor anything resembling one, under his coat any more than over it. the emperor wore no jewelry; he never had in his pockets either purse or silver, but only his handkerchief, his snuff-box, and his bonbon-box. he wore on his coat only a star and two crosses, that of the legion of honor, and that of the iron crown. under his uniform and on his vest he wore a red ribbon, the ends of which could just be seen. when there was a reception at the chateau, or he held a review, he put this grand cordon outside his coat. his hat, the shape of which it will be useless to describe while portraits of his majesty exist, was-extremely fine and very light, lined with silk and wadded; and on it he wore neither tassels nor plumes, but simply a narrow, flat band of silk and a little tricolored cockade. the emperor purchased several watches from breguet and meunier,--very plain repeaters, without ornamentation or figures, the face covered with glass, the back gold. m. las casas speaks of a watch with a double gold case, marked with the cipher "b," and which never left the emperor. i never saw anything of the sort, though i was keeper of all the jewels, and even had in my care for several days the crown diamonds. the emperor often broke his watch by throwing it at random, as i have said before, on any piece of furniture in his bedroom. he had two alarm-clocks made by meunier, one in his carriage, the other at the head of his bed, which he set with a little green silk cord, and also a third, but it was old and wornout so that it would not work; it is this last which had belonged to frederick the great, and was brought from berlin. the swords of his majesty were very plain, with gold mountings, and an owl on the hilt. the emperor had two swords similar to the one he wore the day of the battle of austerlitz. one of these swords was given to the emperor alexander, as the reader will learn later, and the other to prince eugene in 1814. that which the emperor wore at austerlitz, and on which he afterwards had engraved the name and date of that memorable battle, was to have been inclosed in the column of the place vendome; but his majesty still had it, i think, while he was at st. helena. he had also several sabers that he had worn in his first campaigns, and on which were engraved the names of the battles in which he had used them. they were distributed among the various general officers of his majesty the emperor, of which distribution i will speak later. when the emperor was about to quit his capital to rejoin his army, or for a simple journey through the departments, we never knew the exact moment of his departure. it was necessary to send in advance on various roads a complete service for the bedroom, kitchen, and stables; this sometimes waited three weeks, or even a month, and when his majesty at length set out, that which was waiting on the road he did not take was ordered to return. i have often thought that the emperor acted thus in order to disconcert those who spied on his proceedings, and to baffle their schemes. the day he was to set out no one could discover that fact from him, and everything went on as usual. after a concert, a play, or any other amusement which had collected a large number of people, his majesty would simply remark on retiring, "i shall leave at two o'clock!" sometimes the time was earlier, sometimes later; but he always began his journey at the designated hour. the order was instantly announced by each of the head servants; and all were ready at the appointed time, though the chateau was left topsy-turvy, as may be seen from the picture i have given elsewhere of the confusion at the chateau which preceded and followed the emperor's departure. wherever his majesty lodged on the journey, before leaving he had all the expenses of himself and of his household paid, made presents to his hosts, and gave gratuities to the servants of the house. on sunday the emperor had mass celebrated by the curate of the place, giving always as much as twenty napoleons, sometimes more, and regulating the gift according to the needs of the poor of the parish. he asked many questions of the cures concerning their resources, that of their parishioners, the intelligence and morality of the population, etc. he rarely failed to ask the number of births, deaths, marriages, and if there were many young men and girls of a marriageable age. if the cure replied to these questions in a satisfactory manner, and if he had not been too-long in saying mass, he could count on the favor of his majesty; his church and his poor would find themselves well provided for; and as for himself, the emperor left on his departure, or had sent to him, a commission as chevalier of the legion of honor. his majesty preferred to be answered with confidence and without timidity; he even endured contradiction; and one could without any risk reply inaccurately; this was almost always overlooked, for he paid little attention to the reply, but he never failed to turn away from those who spoke to him in a hesitating or embarrassed manner. whenever the emperor took up his residence at any place, there were on duty, night and day, a page and an aide-decamp, who slept on sacking beds. there was also constantly in attendance, in an antechamber, a quartermaster and sergeant of the stables prepared to order, when necessary, the equipages, which they took care to keep always in readiness to move; horses fully saddled and bridled, and carriages harnessed with two horses, left the stables on the first signal of his majesty. these attendants were relieved every two hours, like sentinels. i said above that his majesty liked prompt replies, and those which showed vivacity and sprightliness. i will give two anecdotes in support of this assertion. once, while the emperor was holding a review on the place du carrousel, his horse reared, and in the efforts his majesty made to control him, his hat fell to the ground; a lieutenant (his name, i think, was rabusson), at whose feet the hat fell, picked it up, and came out from the front ranks to offer it to his majesty. "thanks, captain," said the emperor, still engaged in quieting his horse. "in what regiment?"--"sire?" asked the officer. the emperor, then regarding him more attentively, and perceiving his mistake, said to him, smiling, "ah, that is so, monsieur; in the guard." the new captain received the commission which he owed to his presence of mind, but which he had in fact well earned by his bravery and devotion to duty. at another review, his majesty perceived in the ranks of a regiment of the line an old soldier, whose arms were decorated with three chevrons. he recognized him instantly as having seen him in the army of italy, and approaching him, said, "well, my brave fellow, why have you not the cross? you do not look like a bad fellow."--"sire," replied the old soldier, with sorrowful gravity, "i have three times been put on the list for the cross."--"you shall not be disappointed a fourth time," replied the emperor; and he ordered marshal berthier to place on the list, for the next promotion, the brave soldier, who was soon made a chevalier of the legion of honor. chapter xxi. pope pius vii. had left rome early in november, 1804; and his holiness, accompanied by general menou, administrator of piedmont, arrived at mont cenis, on the morning of nov. 15. the road of mont cenis had been surveyed and smoothed, and all dangerous points made secure by barriers. the holy father was received by m. poitevin-maissemy, prefect of mont blanc, and after a short visit to the hospice, crossed the mountain in a sedan chair, escorted by an immense crowd, who knelt to receive his blessing as he passed. nov. 17 his holiness resumed his carriage, in which he made the remainder of the journey, accompanied in the same manner. the emperor went to meet the holy father, and met him on the road to nemours in the forest of fontainebleau. the emperor dismounted from his horse, and the two sovereigns returned to fontainebleau in the same carriage. it is said that neither took precedence over the other, and that, in order to avoid this, they both entered the carriage at the same instant, his majesty by the door on the right, and his holiness by that on the left. i do not know whether it is true that the emperor used devices and stratagems in order to avoid compromising his dignity, but i do know that it would have been impossible to show more regard and attention to the venerable old man. the day after his arrival at fontainebleau, the pope made his entrance into paris with all the honors usually rendered to the head of the empire. apartments had been prepared for him at the tuileries in the pavilion of flora; and as a continuation of the delicate and affectionate consideration which his majesty had shown from the beginning in welcoming the holy father, he found his apartments, in arrangement and furniture, an exact duplicate of those he occupied at rome. he evinced much surprise and gratitude at this attention, which he himself, it is said, with his usual delicacy, called entirely filial; desiring thus to acknowledge the respect which the emperor had shown him on every occasion, and the new title of eldest son of the church, which his majesty was about to assume with the imperial crown. every morning i went, by order of his majesty, to inquire after the health of the holy father. pius vii. had a noble and handsome countenance, an air of angelic sweetness, and a gentle, well modulated voice; he spoke little, and always slowly, but with grace; his tastes were extremely simple, and his abstemiousness incredible; he was indulgent to others and most lenient in his judgments. i must admit that on the score of good cheer the persons of his suite made no pretense of imitating the holy father, but, on the contrary, took most unbecoming advantage of the emperor's orders, that everything requested should be furnished. the tables set for them were abundantly and even magnificently served; which, however; did not prevent a whole basket of chambertin being requested each day for the pope's private table, though he dined alone and drank only water. the sojourn of nearly five months which the holy father made at paris was a time of edification for the faithful; and his holiness must have carried away a most flattering opinion of the populace, who, having ceased to practice, and not having witnessed for more than ten years, the ceremonies of the catholic religion, had returned to them with irrepressible zeal. when the pope was not detained in his apartments by his delicate health in regard to which the difference in the climate, compared with that of italy, and the severity of the winter, required him to take great precautions, he visited the churches, the museum, and the establishments of public utility; and if the severe weather prevented his going out, the persons who requested this favor were presented to pius vii. in the grand gallery of the museum napoleon. i was one day asked by some ladies of my acquaintance to accompany them to this audience of the holy father, and took much pleasure in doing so. the long gallery of the museum was filled with ladies and gentlemen, arranged in double lines, the greater part of whom were mothers of families, with their children at their knees or in their arms, ready to be presented for the holy father's blessing; and pius vii. gazed on these children with a sweetness and mildness truly angelic. preceded by the governor of the museum, and followed by the cardinals and lords of his household, he advanced slowly between these two ranks of the faithful, who fell on their knees as he passed, often stopping to place his hand on the head of a child, to address a few words to the mother, or to give his ring to be kissed. his dress was a plain white cassock without ornament. just as the pope reached us, the director of the museum presented a lady who, like the others, was awaiting the blessing of his holiness on her knees. i heard the director call this lady madame, the countess de genlis, upon which the holy father held out to her his ring, raised her in the most affable manner, and said a few flattering words complimenting her on her works, and the happy influence which they had exercised in re-establishing the catholic religion in france. sellers of chaplets and rosaries must have made their fortunes during this winter, for in some shops more than one hundred dozen were sold per day. during the month of january, by this branch of industry alone, one merchant of the rue saint-denis made forty thousand francs. all those who presented themselves at the audience of the holy father, or who pressed around him as he went out, made him bless chaplets for themselves, for all their relations, and for their friends in paris or in the provinces. the cardinals also distributed an incredible quantity in their visits to the various hospitals, to the hotel des invalides, etc., and even at private houses. it was arranged that the coronation of their majesties should take place on dec. 2. on the morning of this great day all at the chateau were astir very early, especially the persons attached to the service of the wardrobe. the emperor himself arose at eight o'clock. it was no small affair to array his majesty in the rich costume which had been prepared for the occasion; and the whole time i was dressing him he uttered unlimited maledictions and apostrophes against embroiderers, tailors, and furnishers generally. as i passed him each article of his dress, "now, that is something handsome, monsieur le drole," said he (and my ears had their part in the play), "but we shall see the bills for it." this was the costume: silk stockings embroidered in gold, with the imperial coronet on the clocks; white velvet boots laced and embroidered with gold; white velvet breeches embroidered in gold on the seams; diamond buckles and buttons on his garters; his vest, also of white velvet, embroidered in gold with diamond buttons; a crimson velvet coat, with facings of white velvet, and embroidered on all the seams, the whole sparkling with gold and gems. a short cloak, also of crimson, and lined with white satin, hung from his left shoulder, and was caught on the right over his breast with a double clasp of diamonds. on such occasions it was customary for the grand chamberlain to pass the shirt; but it seems that his majesty did not remember this law of etiquette, and it was i alone who performed that office, as i was accustomed. the shirt was one of those ordinarily worn by his majesty, but of very beautiful cambric, for the emperor would wear only very fine linen; but ruffles of very handsome lace had been added, and his cravat was of the most exquisite muslin, and his collar of superb lace. the black velvet cap was surmounted by two white aigrettes, and surrounded with a band of diamonds, caught together by the regent. the emperor set out, thus dressed, from the tuileries; and it was not till he had reached notre-dame, that he placed over his shoulders the grand coronation mantle. this was of crimson velvet, studded with golden bees, lined with white satin, and fastened with a gold cord and tassel. the weight of it was at least eighty pounds, and, although it was held up by four grand dignitaries, bore him down by its weight. therefore, on returning to the chateau, he freed himself as soon as possible from all this rich and uncomfortable apparel; and while resuming his grenadier uniform, he repeated over and over, "at last i can get my breath." he was certainly much more at his ease on the day of battle. the jewels which were used at the coronation of her majesty the empress, and which consisted of a crown, a diadem, and a girdle, came from the establishment of m. margueritte. the crown had eight branches, which supported a golden globe surmounted by a cross, each branch set with diamonds, four being in the shape of palm and four of myrtle leaves. around the crown ran a band set with eight enormous emeralds, while the bandeau which rested on the brow shone with amethysts. the diadem was composed of four rows of magnificent pearls entwined with leaves made of diamonds, each of which matched perfectly, and was mounted with a skill as admirable as the beauty of the material. on her brow were several large brilliants, each one alone weighing one hundred and forty-nine grains. the girdle, finally, was a golden ribbon ornamented with thirty-nine rose-colored stones. the scepter of his majesty the emperor had been made by m. odiot; it was of silver, entwined with a golden serpent, and surmounted by a globe on which charlemagne was seated. the hand of justice and the crown, as well as the sword, were of most exquisite workmanship, but it would take too long to describe them; they were from the establishment of m. biennais. at nine o'clock in the morning the pope left the tuileries for notre dame, in a carriage drawn by eight handsome gray horses. from the imperial of the coach rose a tiara surrounded by the insignia of the papacy in gilt bronze, while the first chamberlain of his holiness, mounted on a mule, preceded the carriage, bearing a silver gilt cross. there was an interval of about one hour between the arrival of the pope at notre dame and that of their majesties, who left the tuileries precisely at eleven o'clock, which fact was announced by numerous salutes of artillery. their majesties' carriage, glittering with gold and adorned with magnificent paintings, was drawn by eight bay horses superbly caparisoned. above the imperial of this coach was a crown supported by four eagles with extended wings. the panels of this carriage, which was the object of universal admiration, were of glass instead of wood; and it was so built that the back was exactly like the front, which similarity caused their majesties, on entering it, to make the absurd mistake of placing themselves on the front seat. the empress was first to perceive this, and both she and her husband were much amused. i could not attempt to describe the cortege, although i still retain most vivid recollections of the scene, because 1 should have too much to say. picture to yourself, then, ten thousand cavalry superbly mounted, defiling between two rows of infantry equally imposing, each body covering a distance of nearly half a league. then think of the number of the equipages, of their magnificence, the splendor of the trappings of the horses, and of the uniforms of the soldiers; of the crowds of musicians playing coronation marches, added to the ringing of bells and booming of cannon; then to all this add the effect produced by this immense multitude of from four to five hundred thousand spectators; and still one would be very far from obtaining a correct idea of this astonishing magnificence. in the month of december it is very rare that the weather is fine, but on that day the heavens seemed auspicious to the emperor and just as he entered the archiepiscopal church, quite a heavy fog, which had lasted all the morning, was suddenly dissipated, and a brilliant flood of sunlight added its splendor to that of the cortege. this singular circumstance was remarked by the spectators, and increased the enthusiasm. all the streets through which the cortege passed were carefully cleared and sanded; and the inhabitants decorated the fronts of their houses according to their varied taste and means, with drapery, tapestry, colored paper, and some even with garlands of yew-leaves, almost all the shops on the quai des orfevres being ornamented with festoons of artificial flowers. the religious ceremony lasted nearly four hours, and must have been extremely fatiguing to the principal actors. the personal attendants were necessarily on duty continually in the apartment prepared for the emperor at the archiepiscopal palace; but the curious (and all were so) relieved each other from time to time, and each thus had an opportunity of witnessing the ceremony at leisure. i have never heard before or since such imposing music: it was the composition of messieurs paesiello, rose, and lesueur, precentors of their majesties; and the orchestra and choruses comprised the finest musicians of paris. two orchestras with four choruses, including more than three hundred musicians, were led, the one by m. persuis, the other by m. rey, both leaders of the emperor's bands. m. lais, first singer to his majesty, m. kreutzer, and m. baillot, first violinists of the same rank, had gathered the finest talent which the imperial chapel, the opera, and the grand lyric theaters possessed, either as instrumental players or male and female singers. innumerable military bands, under the direction of m. lesuem, executed heroic marches, one of which, ordered by the emperor from m. lesueur for the army of boulogne, is still to-day, according to the judgment of connoisseurs, worthy to stand in the first rank of the most beautiful and most imposing musical compositions. as for me, this music affected me to such an extent that i became pale and trembling, and convulsive tremors ran through all my body while listening to it. his majesty would not allow the pope to touch the crown, but placed it on his head himself. it was a golden diadem, formed of oak and laurel leaves. his majesty then took the crown intended for the empress, and, having donned it himself for a few moments, placed it on the brow of his august wife, who knelt before him. her agitation was so great that she shed tears, and, rising, fixed on the emperor a look of tenderness and gratitude; and the emperor returned her glance without abating in the least degree the dignity required by such an imposing ceremony before so many witnesses. in spite of this constraint their hearts understood each other in the midst of the brilliancy and applause of the assembly, and assuredly no idea of divorce entered the emperor's mind at that moment; and, for my part, i am very sure that this cruel separation would never have taken place if her majesty the empress could have borne children, or even if the young napoleon, son of the king of holland and queen hortense, had not died just at the time the emperor had decided to adopt him. yet i must admit that the fear, or rather the certainty, of josephine not bearing him an heir to the throne, drove the emperor to despair; and i have many times heard him pause suddenly in the midst of his work, and exclaim with chagrin, "to whom shall i leave all this?" after the mass, his excellency, cardinal fesch, grand almoner of france, bore the book of the gospels to the emperor, who thereupon, from his throne, pronounced the imperial oath in a voice so firm and distinct that it was heard by all present. then, for the twentieth time perhaps, the cry of 'vive l'empereur' sprang to the lips of all, the 'te deum' was chanted, and' their majesties left the church in the same manner as they had entered. the pope remained in the church about a quarter of an hour after the sovereigns; and, when he rose to withdraw, universal acclamations accompanied him from the choir to the portal. their majesties did not return to the chateau until half-past six, and the pope not till nearly seven. on their entrance to the church, their majesties passed through the archbishop's palace, the buildings of which, as i have said, communicated with notre dame by means of a wooden gallery. this gallery, covered with slate, and hung with magnificent tapestry, ended in a platform, also of wood, erected before the principal entrance, and made to harmonize perfectly with the gothic architecture of this handsome metropolitan church. this platform rested upon four columns, decorated with inscriptions in letters of gold, enumerating the names of the principal towns of france, whose mayors had been deputized to attend the coronation. above these columns was a painting in relief, representing clovis and charlemagne seated on their thrones, scepter in hand; and in the center of this frontispiece were presented the arms of the empire, draped with the banners of the sixteen cohorts of the legion of honor, while on each side were towers, surmounted by golden eagles. the inside of this portico, as well as the gallery, was shaped like a roof, painted sky-blue, and sown with stars. the throne of their majesties was erected on a stage in the shape of a semicircle, and covered with a bluff carpet studded with bees, and was reached by twenty-two steps. the throne, draped in red velvet, was also covered by a pavilion of the same color, the left wing of which extended over the empress, the princesses, and their maids of honor, and the right over the two brothers of the emperor, with the arch-chancellor and the arch-treasurer. nothing could be grander than the bird's-eye view of the garden of the tuileries on the evening of this auspicious day, the grand parterre, encircled by illuminated colonnades from arch to arch of which were festooned garlands of rose-colored lights; the grand promenade outlined by columns, above which stars glittered; the terraces on each side filled with orange-trees, the branches of which were covered with innumerable lights; while every tree on the adjoining walks presented as brilliant a spectacle; and finally, to crown all this magnificent blaze of light, an immense star was suspended above the place de la concorde, and outshone all else. this might in truth be called a palace of fire. on the occasion of the coronation his majesty made magnificent presents to the metropolitan church. i remarked, among other things, a chalice ornamented with bas-reliefs, designed by the celebrated germain, a pyx, two flagons with the waiter, a holy-water vessel, and a plate for offerings, the whole in silver gilt, and beautifully engraved. by the orders of his majesty, transmitted through the minister of the interior, there was also presented to m. d'astros, canon of notre dame, a box containing the crown of thorns, a nail, and a piece of the wood of the true cross, and a small vial, containing, it was said, some of the blood of our lord, with an iron scourge which saint louis had used, and a tunic which had also belonged to that king. in the morning marshal murat, governor of paris, had given a magnificent breakfast to the princes of germany who had come to paris in order to be present at the coronation; and after breakfast the marshal-governor conveyed them to notre dame in four carriages, each drawn by six horses, accompanied by an escort of a hundred men on horseback, and commanded by one of his aides-de-camp. this escort was especially noticeable for the elegance and richness of its uniforms. the day after this grand and memorable solemnity was one of public rejoicing. from the early morning an immense crowd of the populace, enjoying the magnificent weather, spread itself over the boulevards, the quays, and the public squares, on which were prepared an infinite variety of amusements. the heralds-at-arms went at an early hour through all the public places, throwing to the crowd, which pressed around them, medals struck in memory of the coronation. these medals represented on one side the likeness of the emperor, his brow encircled with the crown of the caesars, with this motto: napoleon, empereur. on the reverse side was the figure of a magistrate, with the attributes of his office around him, and that of an ancient warrior, bearing on a shield a hero crowned, and covered with the imperial mantle. above was written: the senate and the people. soon after the passage of the heralds-at-arms the rejoicings commenced, and were prolonged far into the evening. there had been erected on the place louis xv., which was called then the place de la concorde, four large square rooms of temporary woodwork, for dancing and waltzing. stages for the presentation of pantomimes and farces were placed on the boulevards here and there; groups of singers and musicians executed national airs and warlike marches; greased poles, rope-dancers, sports of all kinds, attracted the attention of promenaders at every step, and enabled them to await without impatience the illuminations and the fireworks. the display of fireworks was most admirable. from the place louis xv. to the extreme end of the boulevard saint-antoine, ran a double line of colored lights in festoons. the palace of the corps-legislatif, formerly the garde-meuble, was resplendent with lights, and the gates of saint-denis and saint-martin were covered with lamps from top to bottom. in the evening all those interested betook themselves to the quays and bridges, in order to witness the fireworks which were set off from the bridge de la concorde (now called bridge louis xvi.), and which far surpassed in magnificence all that had ever been seen. chapter xxii. wednesday, dec. 5, three days after the coronation, the emperor made a distribution of the colors on the champ-de-mars. in front of ecole-militaire a balcony was erected, covered with awnings, and placed on a level with the apartments on the first floor. the middle awning, supported by four columns, each one of which was a gilded figure representing victory, covered the throne on which their majesties were seated. a most fortunate precaution, for on that day the weather was dreadful; the thaw had come suddenly, and every one knows what a paris thaw is. around the throne were ranged princes and princesses, grand dignitaries, ministers, marshals of the empire, grand officers of the crown, the ladies of the court, and the council of state. this balcony was divided on the right and left into sixteen compartments, decorated with banners, and crowned with eagles, these divisions representing the sixteen cohorts of the legion of honor. those on the right were occupied by the senate, the officers of the legion of honor, the court of appeals, and the chiefs of the national treasury, and those on the left by the tribunate and the corps-legislatif. at each end of the balcony was a pavilion. that on the side next the city was styled the imperial tribune, and intended for foreign princes, while the diplomatic corps and foreign personages of distinction filled the other pavilion. from this gallery an immense staircase descended into the champ-de-mars, the first step of which formed a bench below the tribunes, and was occupied by the presidents of the cantons, the prefects, the sub-prefects, and the members of the municipal council. on each side of this staircase were placed the colossal figures of france making peace and france making war. upon the steps were seated the colonels of regiments, and the presidents of the electoral colleges of the department, holding aloft the imperial eagles. the cortege of their majesties set out at noon from the chateau of the tuileries, in the same order adopted at the coronation: the chasseurs of the guard and the squadrons of mamelukes marching in front, the legion d' elite and the mounted grenadiers following the municipal guard; while the grenadiers of the guard closed up the line. their majesties having entered l'ecole-militaire, received the homage of the diplomatic corps, who were stationed for this purpose in the reception-rooms. then the emperor and empress, having donned their insignia of royalty, took their seats upon the throne, while the air was rent with reiterated discharges of artillery and universal acclamations. at a given signal the deputations of the army, scattered over the champ-de-mars, placed themselves in solid column, and approached the throne amid a flourish of trumpets. the emperor then rose, and immediately a deep silence ensued, while in a loud, clear tone he pronounced these words, "soldiers, behold your standards! these eagles will serve you always as a rallying point. they will go wherever your emperor may judge their presence necessary for the defense of his throne and of his people. will you swear to sacrifice even your lives in their defense, and to keep them always by your valor in the path to victory? do you swear it?"--"we swear it," repeated all the colonels in chorus, while the presidents of the colleges waved the flags they bore. "we swear it," said in its turn the whole army, while the bands played the celebrated march known as "the march of the standards." this intense enthusiasm was communicated to the spectators, who, in spite of the rain, pressed in crowds upon the terraces which surrounded the enclosure of the champ-de-mars. soon the eagles took their designated places, and the army defiled in divisions before the throne of their majesties. although nothing had been spared to give this ceremony every possible magnificence, it was by no means brilliant. it is true, the object of the occasion was imposing; but how could an impressive ceremony be held in a deluge of melted snow, and amid a sea of mud, which was the appearance the champ-de-mars presented that day? the troops were under arms from six in the morning, exposed to rain, and forced to endure it with no apparent necessity so at least they regarded it. the distribution of standards was to these men nothing more than a review; and surely it must strike a soldier as a very different matter to brave the weather on the field of battle, from what it is to stand idle, exposed to it for hours, with shining gun and empty cartridge-box, on a parade-day. the cortege returned to the tuileries at five o'clock, after which there was a grand banquet in the gallery of diana, at which the pope, the sovereign elector of ratisbonne, the princes and princesses, the grand dignitaries, the diplomatic corps, and many other persons were guests. their majesties' table was placed in the midst of the gallery, upon a platform, and covered with a magnificent canopy, under which the emperor seated himself on the right of the empress, and the pope on her left. the serving was done by the pages. the grand chamberlain, the grand equerry, and the colonel-general of the guard stood before his majesty; the grand marshal of the palace on his right, and in front of the table, and lower down, the prefect of the palace; on the left, and opposite the grand marshal, was the grand master of ceremonies; all these also standing. on either side of their majesties' table were those of their imperial highnesses, of the diplomatic corps, of the ministers and grand officers, and lastly that of the ladies of honor. at night there was given a reception, concert, and ball. the day after the distribution of the eagles, his imperial highness prince joseph presented to his majesty the presidents of the electoral colleges of the departments; and the presidents of the colleges of the arrondissements and their prefects were next introduced, and received by his majesty. the emperor conversed with the greater part of these officials on the needs of each department, and thanked them for their zeal in assisting him. then he recommended to them especially the execution of the conscript law. "without conscription," said his majesty, "we should have neither power nor national independence. all europe is subject to conscription. our success and the strength of our position depend on our having a national army, and it is necessary to maintain this advantage with the greatest care." these presentations occupied several days, during which his majesty received in turn, and always with the same ceremonial, the presidents of the high courts of justice, the presidents of the councils-general of departments, the subprefects, the deputies of the colonies, the mayors of the thirty-six principal cities, the presidents of the cantons, the vice-presidents of the chambers of commerce, and the presidents of the consistories. some days later the city of paris gave, in honor of their majesties, a fete whose brilliance and magnificence surpassed any description that could possibly be given. on this occasion the emperor, the empress, and the princes joseph and louis, rode together in the coronation carriage; and batteries placed upon the pont-neuf announced the moment at which their majesties began to ascend the steps of the hotel de ville. at the same time, buffets with pieces of fowl and fountains of wine attracted an immense crowd to the chief squares of each of the twelve municipalities of paris, almost every individual of which had his share in the distribution of eatables, thanks to the precaution which the authorities took of distributing to none except those who presented tickets. the front of the hotel de ville was brilliant with colored lamps; but what seemed to me the finest part of the whole display was a vessel pierced for eighty cannon, whose decks, masts, sails, and cordage were distinctly outlined in colored lights. the crowning piece of all, which the emperor himself set off, represented the saint-bernard as a volcano in eruption, in the midst of glaciers covered with snow. in it appeared the emperor, glorious in the light, seated on his horse at the head of his army, climbing the steep summit of the mountain. more than seven hundred persons attended the ball, and yet there was no confusion. their majesties withdrew early. the empress, on entering the apartment prepared for her at the hotel de ville, had found there a most magnificent toilets-service, all in gold. after it was brought to the tuileries it was for many days her majesty's chief source of entertainment and subject of conversation. she wished every one to see and admire it; and, in truth, no one who saw it could fail to do so. their majesties gave permission that this, with a service which the city had presented to the emperor, should be placed on exhibition for several days, for the gratification of the public. after the fireworks a superb balloon was sent up, the whole circumference of which, with the basket, and the ropes which attached it to the balloon, were decorated with countless festoons of colored lights. this enormous body of colored fire rising slowly and majestically into the air was a magnificent spectacle. it remained suspended for a while exactly over the city of paris, as if to wait till public curiosity was fully satisfied, then, having reached a height at which it encountered a more rapid current of air, it suddenly disappeared, driven by the wind towards the south. after its disappearance it was thought of no more, but fifteen days later a very singular incident recalled it to public attention. while i was dressing the emperor the first day of the year, or the day before, one of his ministers was introduced; and the emperor having inquired the news in paris, as he always did of those whom he saw early in the morning, the minister replied, "i saw cardinal caprara late yesterday evening, and i learned from him a very singular circumstance." --"what was it? about what?" and his majesty, imagining doubtless that it was some political incident, was preparing to carry off his minister into his cabinet, before having completed his toilet, when his excellency hastened to add, "oh, it is nothing very serious, sire! your majesty doubtless remembers that they have been discussing lately in the circle of her majesty the empress the chagrin of poor garnerin, who has not succeeded up to this time in finding the balloon which he sent up on the day of the fete given to your majesty by the city of paris. he has at last received news of his balloon."--"where did it fall?" asked the emperor. "at rome, sire!"--"ah, that is really very singular."--"yes, sire; garnerin's balloon has thus, in twenty-four hours, shown your imperial crown in the two capitals of the world." then the minister related to his majesty the following details, which were published at the time, but which i think sufficiently interesting to be repeated here. garnerin had attached to his balloon the following notice: "the balloon carrying this letter was sent up at paris on the evening of the 25th frimaire (dec. 16) by monsieur garnerin, special aeronaut of his majesty the emperor of russia, and ordinary aeronaut of the french government, on the occasion of a fete given by the city of paris to the emperor napoleon, celebrating his coronation. whoever finds this balloon will please inform m. garnerin, who will go to the spot." the aeronaut expected, doubtless, to receive notice next day that his balloon had fallen in the plain of saint-denis, or in that of grenelle; for it is to be presumed that he hardly dreamed of going to rome when he engaged to go to the spot. more than fifteen days passed before he received the expected notice; and he had probably given up his balloon as lost, when there came the following letter from the nuncio of his holiness: "cardinal caprara is charged by his excellency cardinal gonsalvi, secretary of state of his holiness, to remit to m. garnerin a copy of a letter dated dec. 18. he hastens to send it, and also to add a copy of the note which accompanied it. the cardinal also takes this occasion to assure monsieur garnerin of his highest esteem." to this letter was added a translation of the report made to the cardinal, secretary of state at rome, by the duke of mondragone, and dated from anguillora, near rome, dec. 18: "yesterday evening about twenty-four o'clock there passed through the air a globe of astonishing size, which fell upon lake bracciano, and had the appearance of a house. boatmen were sent to bring it to land; but they were not able to do so, as a high wind prevailed, accompanied by snow. this morning early they succeeded in bringing it ashore. this globe is of oiled silk, covered with netting, and the wire gallery is a little broken. it seems to have been lighted by lamps and colored lanterns, of which much debris remains. attached to the globe was found the following notice." (which is given above). thus we see that this balloon, which left paris at seven o'clock on the evening of dec. 16, had fallen next day, the 17th, near rome, at twenty-four o'clock, that is to say, at sunset. it had crossed france, the alps, etc., and passed over a space of more than three hundred leagues in twenty-two hours, its rate of speed being then fifteen leagues (45 miles) per hour; and, what renders this still more remarkable, is the fact that its weight was increased by decorations weighing five hundred pounds. an account of the former trips of this balloon will not be without interest. its first ascension was made in the presence of their prussian majesties and the whole court, upon which occasion it carried m. garnerin, his wife, and m. gaertner, and descended upon the frontiers of saxony. the second ascension was at st. petersburg, in the presence of the emperor, the two empresses, and the court, carrying monsieur and madame garnerin; and it fell a short distance off in a marsh. this was the first balloon ascension ever seen in russia. the third trial was also at st. petersburg, in the presence of the imperial family. m. garnerin ascended, accompanied by general suolf; and the two travelers were transported across the gulf of friedland in three-quarters of an hour, and descended at krasnoe-selo, twenty-five versts from st. petersburg. the fourth trial took place at moscow, and garnerin ascended more than four thousand toises [24,000 ft.] he had many harrowing experiences, and at the end of seven hours descended three hundred and thirty versts [200 miles] from moscow, in the neighborhood of the old frontiers of russia. this same balloon was again used at the ascension which madame garnerin made at moscow with madame toucheninolf, in the midst of a frightful storm, and amid flashes of lightning which killed three men within three hundred paces of the balloon, at the very instant of the ascension. these ladies descended without accident twenty-one versts from moscow. the city of paris gave a gratuity of six hundred francs to the boatmen who had drawn out of lake bracciano the balloon, which was brought back to paris, and placed in the museum of the hotel de ville. i was a witness that same day of the kindness with which the emperor received the petition of a poor woman, a notary's wife, i believe, whose husband had been condemned on account of some crime, i know not what, to a long imprisonment. as the carriage of their imperial majesties passed before the palais-royal, two women, one already old, the other sixteen or seventeen years of age, sprang to the door, crying, "pardon for my husband, pardon for my father." the emperor immediately, in a loud tone, gave the order to stop his carriage, and held out his hand for the petition which the older of the two women would give to no one but him, at the same time consoling her with kind words, and showing a most touching interest lest she might be hurt by the horses of the marshals of the empire, who were on each side of the carriage. while this kindness of his august brother was exciting to the highest pitch the enthusiasm and sensibilities of the witnesses of this scene, prince louis, seated on the front seat of the carriage, also leaned out, trying to reassure the trembling young girl, and urging her to comfort her mother, and count with certainty on the emperor's favorable consideration. the mother and daughter, overcome by their emotion, could make no reply; and as the cortege passed on, i saw the former on the point of falling in a swoon. she was carried into a neighboring house, where she revived, and with her daughter shed tears of gratitude and joy. the corps legislatif had decreed that a statue, in white marble, should be erected to the emperor in their assembly hall, to commemorate the completion of the civil code. on the day of the unveiling of this monument, her majesty the empress, the princes joseph, louis, borghese, bacciochi, and their wives, with other members of the imperial family, deputations of the principal orders of the state, the diplomatic corps, and many foreigners of distinction, the marshals of the empire, and a considerable number of general officers, assembled at seven o'clock in the evening at the palace of the legislative corps. as the empress appeared in the hall, the entire assembly rose, and a band of music, stationed in the neighboring stand, rendered the well-known chorus from gluck, "how many charms! what majesty!" scarcely had the first strains of this chorus been heard than each one was struck with the happy coincidence, and applause burst forth from all sides. by invitation of the president, marshals murat and massena unveiled the statue; and all eyes were fixed on this image of the emperor, his brows encircled with a crown of laurel, and entwined with oak and olive leaves. when silence had succeeded to the acclamations excited by this sight, m. de vaublanc mounted the tribune, and pronounced a discourse, which was loudly applauded in the assembly, whose sentiments it faithfully expressed. "gentlemen," said the orator, "you have celebrated the completion of the civil code of france by an act of admiration and of gratitude; you have awarded a statue to the illustrious prince whose firmness and perseverance have led to the completion of that grand work, while at the same time his vast intelligence has shed a most glorious light over this noble department of human institutions. first consul then, emperor of the french to-day, he appears in the temple of the laws, his head adorned with a triumphal crown as victory has so often adorned it, while foretelling that this should change to the diadem of kings, and covered with the imperial mantle, noble attribute of the highest of dignities. "doubtless, on this solemn day, in presence of the princes and the great of the state, before the august person whom the empire honors for her beautiful character even more than for the high rank of which her virtues render her so worthy, in this glorious fete in which we would reunite all france, you will permit my feeble voice to be raised a moment, and to recall to you by what immortal actions napoleon entered upon this wonderful career of power and honor. "if praise corrupts weak minds, it is the nourishment of great souls; and the grand deeds of heroes are ties which bind them to their country. to recapitulate them is to say that we expect from them a combination of those grand thoughts, those generous sentiments, those glorious deeds, so nobly rewarded by the admiration and gratitude of the public. "victorious in the three quarters of the world, peacemaker of europe, legislator of france, having bestowed and added provinces to the empire, does not this glorious record suffice to render him worthy at one and the same time both of this august title of emperor of the french, and this monument erected in the temple of the laws? and yet i would wish to make you forget these brilliant recollections which i have just recalled. with a stronger voice than that which sounded his praises, i would say to you: erase from your minds this glory of the legislator, this glory of the warrior, and say to yourselves, before the 18th brumaire, when fatal laws were promulgated, and when the destructive principles proclaimed anew were already dragging along men and things with a rapidity which it would soon have been impossible to arrest--who appeared suddenly like a beneficent star, who came to abrogate these laws, who filled up the half-open abyss? you have survived, each one of you, through those threatening scenes; you live, and you owe it to him whose image you now behold. you, who were miserable outlaws, have returned, you breathe again the gentle air of your native land, you embrace your children, your wives, your friends; and you owe it to this great man. i speak no longer of his glory, i no longer bear witness to that; but i invoke humanity on the one side, gratitude on the other; and i demand of you, to whom do you owe a happiness so great so extraordinary, so unexpected? . . . and you, each and all, reply with me--to the great man whose image we behold." the president repeated in his turn a similar eulogium, in very similar terms; and few persons then dreamed of thinking these praises exaggerated, though their opinions have perhaps changed since. after the ceremony the empress, on the arm of the president, passed into the hall of conference, where her majesty's table had been prepared under a magnificent dais of crimson silk, and covers for nearly three hundred guests had been laid by the caterer robert, in the different halls of the palace. to the dinner succeeded a brilliant ball. the most remarkable thing in this fete was the indescribable luxury of flowers and shrubs, which must doubtless have been collected at great expense, owing to the severity of the winter. the halls of lucrece and of la reunion, in which the dancing quadrilles were formed, resembled an immense parterre of roses, laurel, lilac, jonquils, lilies, and jessamine. chapter xxiii. it was the 2d of january, 1805, exactly a month after the coronation, that i formed with the eldest daughter of m. charvet a union which has been, and will i trust ever be, the greatest happiness of my life. i promised the reader to say very little of myself; and, in fact, how could he be interested in any details of my own private life which did not throw additional light upon the character of the great man about whom i have undertaken to write? nevertheless, i will ask permission to return for a little while to this, the most interesting of all periods to me, and which exerted such an influence upon my whole life. surely he who recalls and relates his souvenirs is not forbidden to attach some importance to those which most nearly concern himself. moreover, even in the most personal events of my life, there were instances in which their majesties took a part, and which, from that fact, are of importance in enabling the reader to form a correct estimate of the characters of both the emperor and the empress. my wife's mother had been presented to madame bonaparte during the first campaign in italy, and she had been pleased with her; for madame bonaparte, who was so perfectly good, had, in her own experience, also endured trials, and knew how to sympathize with the sorrows of others. she promised to interest the general in the fate of my father-in-law, who had just lost his place in the treasury. during this time madame charvet was in correspondence with a friend of her husband, who was, i think, the courier of general bonaparte; and the latter having opened and read these letters addressed to his courier, inquired who was this young woman that wrote such interesting and intelligent letters, and madame charvet well deserved this double praise. my father-in-law's friend, while replying to the question of the general-in-chief, took occasion to relate the misfortunes of the family, and the general remarked that, on his return to paris, he wished to meet m. and madame charvet; in consequence of which they were presented to him, and madame bonaparte rejoiced to learn that her protegees had also become those of her husband. it had been decided that m. charvet should follow the general to egypt; but when my father-in-law arrived at toulon, madame bonaparte requested that he should accompany her to the waters of plombieres. i have previously related the accident which occurred at plombieres, and that m. charvet was sent to saint-germain to bring mademoiselle hortense from the boarding-school to her mother. on his return to paris, m. charvet searched through all the suburbs to find a country-seat, as the general had charged his wife to purchase one during his absence. when madame bonaparte decided on malmaison, m. charvet, his wife, and their three children were installed in this charming residence. my father-in-law was very faithful to the interests of these benefactors of his family, and madame charvet often acted as private secretary to madame bonaparte. mademoiselle louise, who became my wife, and mademoiselle zoe, her younger sister, were favorites of madame bonaparte, especially the latter, who passed more time than louise at malmaison. the condescension of their noble protectress had rendered this child so familiar, that she said thou habitually to madame bonaparte. one day she said to her, "thou art happy. thou hast no mamma to scold thee when thou tearest thy dresses." during one of the campaigns that i made while in the service of the emperor, i wrote to my wife, inquiring about the life that her sister led at malmaison. in her answer, among other things, she said (i copy a passage from one of her letters): "sometimes we take part in performances such as i had never dreamed of. for instance, one evening the saloon was divided in half by a gauze curtain, behind which was a bed arranged in greek style, on which a man lay asleep, clothed in long white drapery. near the sleeper madame bonaparte and the other ladies beat in unison (not in perfect accord, however) on bronze vases, making, as you may imagine, a terrible kind of music. during this charivari, one of the gentlemen held me around the waist, and raised me from the ground, while i shook my arms and legs in time to the music. the concert of these ladies awoke the sleeper, who stared wildly at me, frightened at my gestures, then sprang up and ran with all his might, followed by my brother, who crept on all fours, representing a dog, i think, which belonged to this strange person. as i was then a mere child, i have only a confused idea of all this; but the society of madame bonaparte seemed to be much occupied with similar amusements." when the first consul went to live at saint-cloud, he expressed his high opinion of my father-in-law in the most flattering manner, and made him concierge of the chateau, which was a confidential position, the duties and responsibilities of which were considerable. m. charvet was charged with organizing the household; and, by orders of the first consul, he selected from among the old servants of the queen those to whom he gave places as porters, scrubbers, and grooms of the chateau, and he gave pensions to those unable to work. when the chateau took fire in 1802, as i have related previously, madame charvet, being several months pregnant, was terribly frightened; and as it was not thought best to bleed her, she became very ill, and died at the age of thirty years. louise had been at a boarding-school for several years; but her father now brought her home to keep house for him, though she was then only twelve years old. one of her friends has kindly allowed me to see a letter which louise addressed to her a short time after our marriage, and from which i have made the following extracts: "on my return from boarding-school i went to see her majesty the empress (then madame bonaparte) at the tuileries. i was in deep mourning. she took me on her knee, and tried to console me, saying that she would be a mother to me, and would find me a husband. i wept, and said that i did not wish to marry. not at present,' replied her majesty, i but that will come; be sure of it. i was, however, by no means persuaded that this would be the case. she caressed me a while longer, and i withdrew. when the first consul was at saint-cloud, all the chiefs of the different departments of the household service assembled in the apartments of my father, who was the most popular, as well as the eldest, member of the household. m. constant, who had seen me as a child at malmaison, found me sufficiently attractive at saint-cloud to ask me of my father, subject to the approval of their majesties; and it was decided that we should be married after the coronation. i was fourteen years old fifteen days after our marriage. "both my sister and i are always received with extreme kindness by her majesty the empress; and whenever, for fear of annoying her, we let some time pass without going to see her, she complains of it to my father. she sometimes admits us to her morning toilet, which is conducted in our presence, and to which are admitted in her apartments only her women; and a few persons of her household, who, like us, count among their happiest moments those in which they can thus behold this adored princess. the conversations are almost always delightful, and her majesty frequently relates anecdotes which a word from one or another of us recalls to her." her majesty the empress had promised louise a dowry; but the money which she intended for that she spent otherwise, and consequently my wife had only a few jewels of little value and two or three pieces of stuff. m. charvet was too refined to recall this promise to her majesty's recollection. however, that was the only way to get anything from her; for she knew no better how to economize than how to refuse. the emperor asked me a short time after my marriage what the empress had given my wife, and on my reply showed the greatest possible vexation; no doubt because the sum that had been demanded of him for louise's dowry had been spent otherwise. his majesty the emperor had the goodness, while on this subject, to assure me that he himself would hereafter look after my interests, and that he was well satisfied with my services, and would prove it to me. i have said above that my wife's younger sister was the favorite of her majesty the empress; and yet she received on her marriage no richer dowry than louise, nevertheless, the empress asked to have my sister-in-law's husband presented to her, and said to him in the most maternal tone, "monsieur, i recommend my daughter to you, and i entreat you to make her happy. she deserves it, and i earnestly hope that you know how to appreciate her!" when my sister-in-law, fleeing from compiegne, in 1814, went with her husband's mother to evreux for her confinement, the empress sent by her first valet de chambre every thing necessary for a young woman in that condition, and, even reproached her with not having come to navarre. my sister-in-law had been reared in the same boarding-school as mademoiselle josephine tallien, god-daughter of the empress, who has since married m. pelet de la lozere, and another daughter of madame tallien, mademoiselle clemence cabarus. the school was conducted by madame vigogne, widow of the colonel of that name, and an old friend of the empress, who had advised her to take a boarding-school, and promised to procure for her as many pupils as she could. this institution prospered under the direction of this lady, who was distinguished for her intelligence and culture; and she frequently brought to the empress these protegees, with other young persons who by good conduct had earned this reward; and this was made a powerful means of exciting the emulation of these children, whom her majesty overwhelmed with caresses, and presented with little gifts. one morning just as madame vigogne was about to visit the empress, and was descending the staircase to enter her carriage, she heard piercing cries in one of the schoolrooms, and, hastening to the spot, saw a young girl with her clothing on fire. with a presence of mind worthy of a mother, madame vigogne wrapped her pupil in the long train of her dress, and thus extinguished the flames, not, however, until the hands of the courageous instructress had been most painfully burned. she made the visit to her majesty in this condition, and related to her the sad accident which had occurred; while her majesty, who was easily moved by everything noble and generous, overwhelmed her with praises for her courage, and was so deeply touched that she wept with admiration, and ordered, her private physician to give his best services to madame vigogne and her young pupil. chapter xxiv. the empress josephine was of medium height, with an exquisite figure; and in all her movements there was an airiness and grace which gave to her walk something ethereal, without detracting from the majesty of the sovereign. her expressive countenance portrayed all the emotions of her soul, while retaining the charming sweetness which was its ruling expression. in pleasure, as in grief, she was beautiful, and even against your will you would smile when she smiled; if she was sad, you would be also. never did a woman justify better than she the expression that the eyes are the mirror of the soul. hers were of a deep blue, and nearly always half closed by her long lids, which were slightly arched, and fringed with the most beautiful lashes in the world; in regarding her you felt yourself drawn to her by an irresistible power. it must have been difficult for the empress to give severity to that seductive look; but she could do this, and well knew how to render it imposing when necessary. her hair was very beautiful, long and silken, its nut-brown tint contrasting exquisitely with the dazzling whiteness of her fine fresh complexion. at the commencement of her supreme power, the empress still liked to adorn her head in the morning with a red madras handkerchief, which gave her a most piquant creole air, and rendered her still more charming. but what more than all else constituted the inexpressible charm of the empress's presence were the ravishing tones of her voice. how many times have i, like many others, stopped suddenly on hearing that voice; simply to enjoy the pleasure of listening to it. it cannot perhaps be said that the empress was a strictly beautiful woman; but her lovely countenance, expressing sweetness and good nature, and the angelic grace diffused around her person, made her the most attractive of women. during her stay at saint-cloud, the empress rose habitually at nine o'clock, and made her first toilet, which lasted till ten; then she passed into a saloon, where she found assembled those persons who had solicited and obtained the favor of an audience; and sometimes also at this hour, and in the same saloon, her majesty received her tradespeople; and at eleven o'clock, when the emperor was absent, she breakfasted with her first lady of honor and a few others. madame de la rochefoucauld, first lady of honor to the empress, was a hunchback, and so small that it was necessary, when she was to have a place at the table, to heighten the seat of her chair by another very thick cushion made of violet satin. madame de la rochefoucauld knew well how to efface, by means of her bright and sparkling, though somewhat caustic wit, her striking elegance, and her exquisite court manners, any unpleasant impression which might be made by her physical deformity. before breakfast the empress had a game of billiards; or, when the weather was good, she walked in the gardens or in the inclosed park, which recreation lasted only a short while, and her majesty soon returned to her apartments, and occupied herself with embroidery, while talking with her ladies, like herself, occupied with some kind of needlework. when it happened that they were not interrupted by visits, between two and three o'clock in the afternoon the empress took a drive in an open barouche; and on her return from this the grand toilet took place, at which the emperor was sometimes present. now and then, also, his majesty surprised the empress in her saloon; and we were sure to find him, on those occasions, amusing, amiable, and in fine spirits. at six o'clock dinner was served; this the emperor frequently forgot, and delayed it indefinitely, in consequence of which dinner was more than once eaten at nine or ten o'clock in the evening. their majesties dined together alone, or in the company of a few invited guests, princes of the imperial family, or ministers, after which there was a concert, reception, or the theater; and at midnight every one retired except the empress, who greatly enjoyed sitting up late, and then played backgammon with one of the chamberlains. the count de beaumont was thus honored most frequently. on the days of the chase the empress and her ladies followed in the coach. they had a special costume for this occasion, consisting of a kind of green riding-habit, and a hat ornamented with white plumes. all the ladies who followed the chase dined with their majesties. when the empress spent the night in the emperor's apartment, i entered in the morning, as usual, between seven and eight o'clock, and nearly always found the august spouses awake. the emperor usually ordered tea, or an infusion of orange flowers, and rose immediately, the empress saying to him, with a laugh, "what, rising already? rest a little longer."--"well, you are not asleep, then?" replied his majesty, rolling her over in the covering, giving her little slaps on her cheeks and shoulders, laughing, and kissing her. at the end of a few moments the empress rose also, put on a wrapper, and read the journals, or descended by the little communicating stairway to her own apartment, never leaving the emperor without a few words expressing the most touching affection and good-will. elegant and simple in her dress, the empress submitted with regret to the necessity of toilets of state. jewels, however, were much to her taste; and, as she had always been fond of them; the emperor presented her with them often and in great quantities; and she greatly enjoyed adorning herself with them, and still more exhibiting them to the admiration of others. one morning, when my wife was present at her toilet, her majesty related that, being newly married to m. de beauharnais, and much delighted with the ornaments he had given her, she was in the habit of carrying them around in her reticule (reticules were then an essential part of a woman's dress), and showing them to her young friends. as the empress spoke of her reticule, she ordered one of her ladies to hunt for one to show my wife. the lady whom the empress addressed could scarcely repress a laugh at this singular request, and assured her majesty that there was nothing similar to that now in her wardrobe; to which the empress replied, with an air of regret, that she would have really liked to see again one of her old reticules, and that the years hall brought great changes. the jewels of the empress josephine could hardly have been contained in the reticule of madame de beauharnais, however long or deep it might have been; for the jewel case which had belonged to queen marie antoinette, and which had never been quite full, was too small for the empress. one day, when she wished to exhibit all her ornaments to several ladies who expressed a desire to see them, it was necessary to prepare a large table on which to place the caskets; and, as this table was not sufficient, several other pieces of furniture were also covered with them. good to excess, as everyone knows, sympathetic beyond all expression, generous even to prodigality, the empress made the happiness of all who surrounded her; loving her husband with a devotion which nothing ever changed, and which was as deep in her last moments as at the period when madame beauharnais and general bonaparte made to each other a mutual avowal of their love. josephine was long the only woman loved by the emperor, as she well deserved to have ever been; and for several years the harmony of this imperial household was most touching. attentive, loving, and entirely devoted to josephine, the emperor took pleasure in embracing her neck, her figure, giving her taps, and calling her 'ma grosse bete'; all of which did not prevent, it is true, his being guilty of some infidelities, but without failing otherwise in his conjugal duties. on her side the empress adored him, sought by every means to please him, to divine his wishes, and to forestall his least desires. at first she gave her husband cause for jealousy. having been strongly prejudiced against her by indiscreet reports, during the campaign of egypt, the emperor on his return had explanations with her, which did not always end without lamentations and violent scenes; but peace was soon restored, and was thereafter very rarely broken, for the emperor could not fail to feel the influence of so many attractions and such loveliness. the empress had a remarkable memory, of which the emperor often availed himself; she was also an excellent musician, played well on the harp, and sang with taste. she had perfect tact, an exquisite perception of what was suitable, the soundest, most infallible judgment imaginable, and, with a disposition always lovely, always the same, indulgent to her enemies as to her friends, she restored peace wherever there was quarrel or discord. when the emperor was vexed with his brothers or other persons, which often happened, the empress spoke a few words, and everything was settled. if she demanded a pardon, it was very rare that the emperor did not grant it, however grave the crime committed; and i could cite a thousand examples of pardons thus solicited and obtained. one occurrence which is almost personal to me will sufficiently prove how all-powerful was the intercession of this good empress. her majesty's head valet being one day a little affected by the wine he had taken at a breakfast with some friends, was obliged, from the nature of his duties, to be present at the time of their majesties' dinner, and to stand behind the empress in order to take and hand her the plates. excited by the fumes of the champagne, he had the misfortune to utter some improper words, which, though pronounced in a low tone, the emperor unfortunately overheard. his majesty cast lightning glances at m. frere, who thus perceived the gravity of his fault; and, when dinner was over, gave orders to discharge the impudent valet, in a tone which left no hope and permitted no reply. monsieur frere was an excellent servant, a gentle, good, and honest man; it was the first fault of this kind of which he could be accused, and consequently he deserved indulgence. application was made to the grand marshal, who refused to intercede, well knowing the inflexibility of the emperor; and many other persons whom the poor man begged to intercede for him having replied as the grand marshal had done, m. frere came in despair to bid us adieu. i dared to take his cause in hand, with the hope that by seizing a favorable moment i might succeed in appeasing his majesty. the order of discharge required m. frere to leave the palace in twenty-four hours; but i advised him not to obey it, but to keep himself, however, constantly concealed in his room, which he did. that evening on retiring, his majesty spoke to me of what had passed, showing much anger, so i judged that silence was the best course to take; and therefore waited; but the next day the empress had the kindness to tell me that she would be present at her husband's toilet, and that, if i thought proper to open the matter, she would sustain me with all her influence. consequently, finding the emperor in a good humor, i spoke of m. frere; and depicting to his majesty the despair of this poor man, i pointed out to him the reasons which might excuse the impropriety of his conduct. "sire," said i, "he is a good man, who has no fortune, and supports a numerous family; and if he has to quit the service of her majesty the empress, it will not be believed that it was on account of a fault for which the wine was more to be blamed than he, and he will be utterly ruined." to these words, as well as to many other suggestions, the emperor only replied by interruptions, made with every appearance of a decided opposition to the pardon which i had requested. fortunately the empress was good enough to come to my assistance, and said to her husband in her own gentle tones, always so touching and full of expression, "mon ami, if you are willing to pardon him, you will be doing me a favor." emboldened by this powerful patronage, i renewed my solicitations; to which the emperor at last replied abruptly, addressing himself to both the empress and myself, "in short, you wish it; well, let him stay then." monsieur frere thanked me with his whole heart, and could hardly believe the good news which i brought him; and as for the empress, she was made happy by the joy of this faithful servant, who gave her during the remainder of his life every proof of his entire devotion. i have been assured that, in 1814, on the departure of the emperor for the island of elba, monsieur frere was by no means the last to blame my conduct, the motive of which he could not possibly know; but i am not willing to believe this, for it seems to me that in his place, if i thought i could not defend an absent friend, i should at least have kept silence. as i have said, the empress was extremely generous, and bestowed much in alms, and was most ingenious in finding occasions for their bestowal. many emigres lived solely on her benefactions; she also kept up a very active correspondence with the sisters of charity who nursed the sick, and sent them a multitude of things. her valets were ordered to go in every direction, carrying to the needy the assistance of her inexhaustible benevolence, while numerous other persons also received each day similar commissions; and all these alms, all these multiplied gifts which were so widely diffused, received an inestimable value from the grace with which they were offered, and the good judgment with which they were distributed. i could cite a thousand instances of this delicate generosity. monsieur de beauharnais had at the time of his marriage to josephine a natural daughter named adele. the empress reared her as if she had been her own daughter, had her carefully educated, gave her a generous dowry, and married her to a prefect of the empire. if the empress showed so much tenderness for a daughter who was not her own, it is impossible to give an idea of her love and devotion to queen hortense and prince eugene, which devotion her children fully returned; and there was never a better or happier mother. she was very proud of her children, and spoke of them always with an enthusiasm which seemed very natural to all who knew the queen of holland and the vice-king of italy. i have related how, having been left an orphan at a very early age by the revolutionary scaffold, young beauharnais had gained the heart of general bonaparte by an interview in which he requested of him his father's sword, and that this action inspired in the general a wish to become acquainted with josephine, and the result of that interview, all of which events are matters of history. when madame de beauharnais had become the wife of general bonaparte, eugene entered on a military career, and attached himself immediately to the fortunes of his step-father, whom he accompanied to italy in the capacity of aide-de-camp. he was chief of squadron in the chasseurs of the consular guard, and at the immortal battle of marengo shared all the dangers of the one who took so much pleasure in calling him his son. a few years later the chief of squadron had become vice-king of italy, the presumptive heir of the imperial crown (a title which, in truth, he did not long preserve), and husband of the daughter of a king. the vice-queen (augusta amelia of bavaria) was handsome and good as an angel. i happened to be at malmaison on the day the empress received the portrait of her daughter-in-law, surrounded by three or four children, one upon her shoulder, another at her feet, and a third in her arms, all of whom had most lovely faces. the empress, seeing me, deigned to call me to admire with her this collection of charming heads; and i perceived that, while speaking, her eyes were full of tears. the portraits were well painted, and i had occasion later to find that they were perfect likenesses. from this time the only question was playthings and rare articles of all sorts to be bought for these dear children, the empress going in person to select the presents she desired for them, and having them packed under her own eyes. the prince's valet has assured me that, at the time of the divorce, prince eugene wrote his wife a very desponding letter, and perhaps expressed in it some regret at not being an adopted son of the emperor, to which the princess replied most tenderly, saying, among other things, "it is not the heir of the emperor whom i married and whom i love, but it is eugene de beauharnais." the prince read this sentence and some others in the presence of the person from whom i have these facts, and who was touched even to tears. such a woman deserved more than a throne. after that event, so grievous to the heart of the empress, and for which she never found consolation, she left malmaison no more, except to make a few visits to navarre. each time that i returned to paris with the emperor, i had no sooner arrived than my first duty was to go to malmaison, though i was rarely the bearer of a letter from the emperor, as he wrote to josephine only on extraordinary occasions. "tell the empress i am well, and that i wish her to be happy," were almost invariably the parting words of the emperor as i set out. the moment i arrived the empress quitted everything to speak to me; and i frequently remained an hour and often two hours with her; during which time there was no question of anything save the emperor. i must tell her all that he had suffered on the journey, if he had been sad or gay, sick or well; while she wept over the details as i repeated them, and gave me a thousand directions regarding his health, and the cares with which she desired i should surround him. after this she deigned to question me about myself, my prospects, the health of my wife, her former protegee; and at last dismissed me, with a letter for his majesty, begging me to say to the emperor how happy she would be if he would come to see her. before his departure for russia, the empress, distressed at this war, of which she entirely disapproved, again redoubled her recommendations concerning the emperor, and made me a present of her portrait, saying to me, "my good constant, i rely on you; if the emperor were sick, you would inform me of it, would you not? conceal nothing from me, i love him so much." certainly the empress had innumerable means of hearing news of his majesty; but i am persuaded that, had she received each day one hundred letters from those near the emperor, she would have read and reread them with the same avidity. when i had returned from saint-cloud to the tuileries, the emperor asked me how josephine was, and if i found her in good spirits; he received with pleasure the letters i brought, and hastened to open them. all the time i was traveling, or on the campaign in the suite of his majesty, in writing to my wife, i spoke of the emperor, and the good princess was delighted that she showed my letters to her. in fact, everything having the least connection with her husband interested the empress to a degree which proved well the singular devotion that she still felt for him after, as before, their separation. too generous, and unable to keep her expenses within her income, it often happened that the empress was obliged to send away her furnishers unpaid the very day she had herself fixed for the settlement of their bills; and as this reached the ears of the emperor on one occasion, there ensued a very unpleasant scene between the empress and himself, ending in a decision, that in future no merchant or furnisher should come to the chateau without a letter from the lady of attire or secretary of orders; and this plan, once decided upon, was followed very closely until the divorce. during this explanation the empress wept freely, and promised to be more economical, upon which the emperor pardoned and embraced her, and peace was made, this being, i think, the last quarrel of this nature which disturbed the imperial household. i have heard that after the divorce, the allowance of the empress having been exceeded, the emperor reproached the superintendent of malmaison with this fact, who in turn informed josephine. his kind-hearted mistress, much distressed at the annoyance which her steward had experienced, and not knowing how to establish a better order of things, assembled a council of her household, over which she presided in a linen dress without ornament; this dress had been made in great haste, and was used only this once. the empress, whom the necessity for a refusal always reduced to despair, was continually besieged by merchants, who assured her that they had made such or such a thing expressly for her own use, begging her not to return it because they would not be able to dispose of it; in consequence of which the empress kept everything they brought, though they afterwards had to be paid for. the empress was always extremely polite in her intercourse with the ladies of her household; and a reproach never came from those lips which seemed formed to say only pleasant things; and if any of her ladies gave her cause of dissatisfaction, the only punishment she inflicted was an absolute silence on her part, which lasted one, two, three, or even eight days, the time being longer or shorter according to the gravity of the fault. and indeed this penalty, apparently so mild, was really very cruel to many, so well did the empress know how to make herself adored by those around her. in the time of the consulate, madame bonaparte often received from cities which had been conquered by her husband, or from those persons who desired to obtain her intercession with the first consul, quantities of valuable furniture, curiosities of all kinds, pictures, stuffs, etc. at first these presents delighted madame bonaparte greatly; and she took a childish pleasure in having the cases opened to find what was inside, personally assisting in unpacking them, and rummaging through all these pretty things. but soon these consignments became so considerable, and were so often repeated, that it was found necessary to place them in an apartment, of which my father-in-law kept the key, and where the boxes remained untouched until it pleased madame bonaparte to have them opened. when the first. consul decided that he would take up his residence at saint-cloud, my father-in-law was obliged to leave malmaison, and install himself in the new palace, as the master wished him to take charge there. before leaving malmaison, my father-in-law rendered an account to madame bonaparte of everything committed to his care, and all the cases which were piled up from floor to ceiling in two rooms were opened in her presence. madame bonaparte was astonished at such marvelous riches, comprising marbles, bronzes, and magnificent pictures, of which eugene, hortense, and the sisters of the first consul received a large part, and the remainder was used in decorating the apartments of malmaison. the empress's love of ornaments included for a while antique curiosities, cut stones, and medals. m. denon flattered this whim, and ended by persuading the good josephine that she was a perfect connoisseur in antiques, and that she should have at malmaison a cabinet, a keeper for it, etc. this proposition, which flattered the self-love of the empress, was favorably received; the room was selected, m. de m---made keeper, and the new cabinet enriched by diminishing in the same proportion the rich furniture of the apartments of the chateau. m. denon, who had originated this idea, took upon himself to make a collection of medals; but this idea, which came so suddenly, vanished as suddenly; the cabinet was changed into a saloon for guests, and the antiques relegated to the antechamber of the bathing hall, while m. de m----, having no longer anything to keep, remained constantly in paris. a short time after this, two ladies of the palace took a fancy to persuade the empress that nothing could be handsomer or more worthy of her than a necklace of greek and roman antique stones perfectly matched. several chamberlains approved the idea, which, of course, pleased the empress, for she was very fond of anything unique; and consequently one morning, as i was dressing the emperor, the empress entered, and, after a little conversation, said, "bonaparte, some ladies have advised me to have a necklace made of antique stones, and i came to ask you to urge m. denon to select only very handsome ones." the emperor burst out laughing, and refused flatly at first; but just then the grand marshal of the palace arrived, and the emperor informed him of this request of the empress, asking his opinion. m. le due de frioul thought it very reasonable, and joined his entreaties to those of the empress. "it is an egregious folly," said the emperor; "but we are obliged to grant it, because the women wish it, so, duroc, go to the cabinet of antiques, and choose whatever is necessary." m. le due de frioul soon returned with the finest stones in the collection, which the crown jeweler mounted magnificently; but this ornament was of such enormous weight that the empress never wore it. though i may be accused of making tiresome repetitions, i must say that the empress seized, with an eagerness which cannot be described, on all occasions of making benefactions. for instance, one morning when she was breakfasting alone with his majesty, the cries of an infant were suddenly heard proceeding from a private staircase. the emperor was annoyed at this, and with a frown, asked sharply what that meant. i went to investigate, and found a new-born child, carefully and neatly dressed, asleep in a kind of cradle, with a ribbon around its body from which hung a folded paper. i returned to tell what i had seen; and the empress at once exclaimed, "o constant! bring me the cradle." the emperor would not permit this at first, and expressed his surprise and disapprobation that it should have been thus introduced into the interior of his apartments, whereupon her majesty, having pointed out to him that it must have been done by some one of the household, he turned towards me, and gave me a searching look, as if to ask if it was i who had originated this idea. i shook my head in denial. at that moment the baby began to cry, and the emperor could not keep from smiling, still growling, and saying, "josephine, send away that monkey!" the empress, wishing to profit by this return of good humor, sent me for the cradle, which i brought to her. she caressed the little new-born babe, quieted it, and read the paper attached to which was a petition from its parents. then she approached the emperor, insisting on his caressing the infant himself, and pinching its fat little cheeks; which he did without much urging, for the emperor himself loved to play with children. at last her majesty the empress, having placed a roll of napoleons in the cradle, had the little bundle in swaddling clothes carried to the concierge of the palace, in order that he might restore it to its parents. i will now give another instance of the kindness of heart of her majesty the empress, of which i had the honor to be a witness, as well as of the preceding. a few days before the coronation, a little girl four and a half years old had been rescued from the seine; and a charitable lady, madame fabien pillet, was much interested in providing a home for the poor orphan. at the time of the coronation, the empress, who had been informed of this occurrence, asked to see this child, and having regarded it a few moments with much emotion, offered her protection most gracefully and sincerely to madame pillet and her husband, and announced to them that she would take upon herself the care of the little girl's future; then, with her usual delicacy and in the affectionate tone which was so natural to her, the empress added, "your good action has given you too many claims over the poor little girl for me to deprive you of the pleasure of completing your work, i therefore beg your permission to furnish the expenses of her education. you have the privilege of putting her in boarding-school, and watching over her; and i wish to take only a secondary position, as her benefactress." it was the most touching sight imaginable to see her majesty, while uttering these delicate and generous words, pass her hands through the hair of the poor little girl, as she had just called her, and kiss her brow with the tenderness of a mother. m. and madame pillet withdrew, for they could no longer bear this touching scene. chapter xxv. the appointment of general junot as ambassador to portugal recalled to my recollection a laughable anecdote concerning him, which greatly amused the emperor. while in camp at boulogne, the emperor had published in the order of the day that every soldier should discard powder, and arrange his hair 'a la titus', on which there was much murmuring; but at last all submitted to the order of the chief, except one old grenadier belonging to the corps commanded by general junot. not being able to decide on the sacrifice of his oily tresses or his queue, the old soldier swore he would submit to it only in case his general would himself cut off the first lock; and all the officers interested in this affair having succeeded in getting no other reply, at last reported him to the general. "that can be managed; bring the idiot to me!" replied he. the grenadier was called, and general junot himself applied the scissors to an oiled and powdered lock; after which he gave twenty francs to the grumbler, who went away satisfied to let the barber of the regiment finish the operation. the emperor having been informed of this adventure, laughed most heartily, and praised junot, complimenting him on his condescension. i could cite a thousand similar instances of the kindness of heart joined to military brusqueness which characterized general junot, and could also cite those of another kind, which would do less honor to his name. the slight control he had over himself often threw him into transports of rage, the most ordinary effect of which was forgetfulness of his rank and the dignity of demeanor which it demanded of him. every one has heard the adventure of the gambling-house, when he tore up the cards, upset the furniture, and beat both bankers and croupiers, to indemnify himself for the loss of his money; and the worst of it was, he was at that very time governor of paris. the emperor, informed of this scandal, sent for him, and demanded of him (he was still very angry), if he had sworn to live and die mad. this might have been, from the sequel, taken as a prediction; for the unfortunate general died at last in a fit of mental aberration. he replied in such improper terms to the reprimands of the emperor that he was sent, perhaps in order that he might have time to calm himself, to the army of england. it was not only in gaming-houses, however, that the governor thus compromised his dignity; for i have heard other stories about him of a still more shocking character, which i will not allow myself to repeat. the truth is, general junot prided himself much less on respecting the proprieties than on being one of the best pistol-shots in the army. while riding in the country, he would often put his horse into a gallop, and with a pistol in each hand, never fail to cut off, in passing, the heads of the ducks or chickens which he took as his target. he could cut off a small twig from a tree at twenty-five paces; and i have even heard it said (i am far from guaranteeing the truth of this) that on one occasion, with the consent of the party whose imprudence thus put his life in peril, he cut half in two the stem of a clay pipe, hardly three inches long, which a soldier held between his teeth. in the first journey which madame bonaparte made into italy to rejoin her husband, she remained some time at milan. she had at that time in her service a 'femme de chambre' named louise, a large and very beautiful woman, and who showed favors, well remunerated however, to the brave junot. as soon as her duties were ended, louise, far more gorgeously attired than madame bonaparte, entered an elegant carriage, and rode through the city and the principal promenades, often eclipsing the wife of the general-in-chief. on his return to paris, the latter obliged his wife to dismiss the beautiful louise, who, abandoned by her inconstant lover, fell into great destitution; and i often saw her afterwards at the residence of josephine begging aid, which was always most kindly granted. this young woman, who had dared to rival madame bonaparte in elegance, ended by marrying, i think, an english jockey, led a most unhappy life, and died in a miserable condition. the first consul of the french republic, now become emperor of the french, could no longer be satisfied with the title of president of italy. therefore, when new deputies of the cisalpine republic passed over the mountains, and gathered at paris for consultation, they conferred on his majesty the title of king of italy, which he accepted, and a few days after his acceptance he set out for milan, where he was to be crowned. i returned with the greatest pleasure to that beautiful country, of which, notwithstanding the fatigues and dangers of war, i retained the most delightful recollections. how different the circumstances now! as a sovereign the emperor was now about to cross the alps, piedmont, and lombardy, each gorge, each stream, each defile of which we had been obliged in a former visit to carry by force of arms. in 1800 the escort of the first consul was a warlike army; in 1805 it was a peaceful procession of chamberlains, pages, maids of honor, and officers of the palace. before his departure the emperor held in his arms at the baptismal font, in company with madame his mother, prince napoleon louis, second son of his brother prince louis. [the third son lived to become napoleon iii.] the three sons of queen hortense had, if i am not much mistaken, the emperor as godfather; but he loved most tenderly the eldest of the three, prince napoleon charles, who died at the age of five years, prince royal of holland. i shall speak afterwards of this lovely child, whose death threw his father and mother into the most overwhelming grief, was the cause of great sorrow to the emperor, and may be considered as the source of the gravest events. after the baptismal fetes we set out for italy, accompanied by the empress josephine. whenever it was convenient the emperor liked to take her with him; but she always desired to accompany her husband, whether or not this was the case. the emperor usually kept his journey a profound secret up to the moment of his departure, and ordered at midnight horses for his departure to mayence or milan, exactly as if a hunt at saint-cloud or rambouillet was in question. on one of his journeys (i do not remember which), his majesty had decided not to take the empress josephine. the emperor was less disturbed by this company of ladies and women who formed her majesty's suite, than he was by the annoyance of the bandboxes and bundles with which they were usually encumbered, and wished on this occasion to travel rapidly, and without ostentation, and spare the towns on his route an enormous increase of expense. he therefore ordered everything to be in readiness for his departure, at one o'clock in the morning, at which hour the empress was generally asleep; but, in spite of all precautions, some slight noise warned the empress of what was taking place. the emperor had promised her that she should accompany him on his first journey; but he had deceived her, nevertheless, and was about to set out without her! she instantly called her women; but vexed at their slowness, her majesty sprang out of bed, threw on the first clothing she found at hand, and ran out of her room in slippers and without stockings. weeping like a little child that is being taken back to boarding-school, she crossed the apartments, flew down the staircase, and threw herself into the arms of the emperor, as he was entering his carriage, barely in time, however, for a moment later he set out. as almost always happened at the sight of his wife's tears, the emperor's heart was softened; and she, seeing this, had already entered the carriage, and was cowering down in the foot, for the empress was scantily clad. the emperor covered her with his cloak, and before starting gave the order in person that, with the first relay, his wife should receive all she needed. the emperor, leaving his wife at fontainebleau, repaired to brienne, where he arrived at six o'clock in the evening, and found mesdames de brienne and lomenie, with several ladies of the city, awaiting him at the foot of the staircase to the chateau. he entered the saloon, and received most graciously all persons who were presented to him, and then passed into the garden, conversing familiarly with mesdames brienne and lomenie, and recalling with surprising accuracy the smallest particulars of the stay which he made during his childhood at the military school of brienne. his majesty invited to his table at dinner his hostesses and a few of their friends, and afterwards made a party at a game of whist with mesdames de brienne, de vandeuvre, and de nolivres. during this game, as also at the table, his conversation was animated and most interesting, and he displayed such liveliness and affability that every one was delighted. his majesty passed the night at the chateau of brienne, and rose early to visit the field of la rothiere, one of his favorite walks in former days. he revisited with the greatest pleasure those spots where his early youth had been passed, and pointed them out with a kind of pride, all his movements, all his reflections, seeming to say, "see whence i set out, and where i have arrived." his majesty walked in advance of the persons who accompanied him, and took much pleasure in being first to call by their names the various localities he passed. a peasant, seeing him thus some distance from his suite, cried out to him familiarly, "oh, citizen, is the emperor going to pass soon?"--"yes," replied the emperor, "have patience." the emperor had inquired the evening before, of madame brienne, news of mother marguerite. thus was styled a good woman who dwelt in a cottage, in the midst of the forest, and on whom the, pupils of the military academy were accustomed to make frequent visits. he had not forgotten her name, and learning, with as much joy as surprise, that she still lived, the emperor, extended his morning ride, and galloping up to the door of the cottage, alighted from his horse, and entered the home of the good old peasant. her sight was impaired by age; and besides, the emperor had changed so much since she had seen him that it would have been difficult even for the best eyes to recognize him. "good-day, mother marguerite," said his majesty, saluting the old woman; "so you are not curious to see the emperor?"--"yes, indeed, my good sir; i am very curious to see him; so much so, that here is a little basket of fresh eggs that i am going to carry to madame; and i shall then remain at the chateau, and endeavor to see the emperor. but the trouble is, i shall not be able to see him so well to-day as formerly, when he came with his comrades to drink milk at mother marguerite's. he was not emperor then; but that was nothing, he made the others step around! indeed, you should have seen him! the milk, the eggs, the brown bread, the broken dishes though he took care to have me paid for everything, and began by paying his own bill."--"what! mother marguerite," replied his majesty, smiling, "you have not forgotten bonaparte!"--"forgotten! my good sir; you think that any one would forget such a young man as he, who was wise, serious, and sometimes even sad, but always good to poor people? i am only a poor peasant woman, but i could have predicted that this young man would make his way. he has not done it very badly, has he? ah, no, indeed!" during this short dialogue, the emperor had at first turned his back to the door, and consequently to the light, which entered the cottage only by that means. but, by degrees; the emperor approached the good woman; and when he was quite near her, with the light shining full on his face from the door, he began to rub his hands and say, trying to recall the tone and manner of the days of his early youth, when he came to the peasant's house, "come, mother marguerite, some milk and fresh eggs; we are famishing." the good old woman seemed trying to revive her memories, and began to observe the emperor with the closest attention. "oh, yes, mother, you were so sure a while ago of knowing bonaparte again. are we not old acquaintances, we two?" the peasant, while the emperor was addressing these last words to her, had fallen at his feet; but he raised her with the most touching kindness, and said to her, "the truth is, mother marguerite, i have still a schoolboy's appetite. have you nothing to give me?" the good woman, almost beside herself with happiness, served his majesty with eggs and milk; and when this simple repast was ended, his majesty gave his aged hostess a purse full of gold, saying to her, "you know, mother marguerite, that i believe in paying my bills. adieu, i shall not forget you." and while the emperor remounted his horse, the good old woman, standing on the threshold of her door, promised him, with tears of joy, to pray to the good god for him. one morning, when he awoke, his majesty was speaking of the possibility of finding some of his old acquaintances; and an anecdote concerning general junot was related to him, which amused him greatly. the general finding himself, on his return from egypt, at montbard, where he had passed several years of his childhood, had sought with the greatest care for his companions in school and mischief, and had found several, with whom he had talked gayly and freely of his early frolics and his schoolboy excursions. as they went together to revisit the different localities, each of which awakened in them some memory of their youth, the general saw an old man majestically promenading on the public square with a large cane in his hand. he immediately ran up to him, threw his arms around him, and embraced him many times, almost suffocating him. the promenader disengaged himself with great difficulty from his warm embraces, regarded general junot with an amazed air, and remarked that he was ignorant to what he could attribute such excessive tenderness from a soldier wearing the uniform of a superior officer, and all the indications of high rank. "what," cried he, "do you not recognize me?"--"citizen general, i pray you to excuse me, but i have no idea"--"ah, morbleu, my dear master, have you forgotten the most idle, the most lawless, the most incorrigible of your scholars?"--"a thousand pardons, you are monsieur junot."--"himself!" replied junot, renewing his embraes, and laughing with his friends at the singular characteristics by which he had caused himself to be recognized. as for his majesty the emperor, if any of his old masters had failed to recognize him, it could not be by reminiscences of this kind that he could have recalled himself to them; for every one knows that he was distinguished at the military school for his application to work, and the regularity and sobriety of his life. a meeting of the same nature, saving the difference in recollections, awaited the emperor at brienne. while he was visiting the old military school, now falling to ruin, and pointing out to the persons who surrounded him the situation of the study halls, dormitories, refectories, etc., an ecclesiastic who had been tutor of one of the classes in the school was presented to him. the emperor recognized him immediately; and, uttering an exclamation of surprise, his majesty conversed more than twenty minutes with this gentleman, leaving him full of gratitude. the emperor, before leaving brienne to return to fontainebleau, required the mayor to give him a written account of the most pressing needs of the commune, and left on his departure a considerable sum for the poor and the hospitals. passing through troyes, the emperor left there, as everywhere else, souvenirs of his generosity. the widow of a general officer, living in retirement at joinville (i regret that i have forgotten the name of this venerable lady, who was more than an octogenarian), came to troyes, notwithstanding her great age, to ask aid from his majesty. her husband having served only before the revolution, the pension which she had enjoyed had been taken from her under the republic, and she was in the greatest destitution. the brother of general vouittemont, mayor of a commune in the suburbs of troyes, was kind enough to consult me as to what should be done in order to present this lady to the emperor; and i advised him to have her name placed on the list of his majesty's private audiences. i myself took the liberty of speaking of madame de to the emperor; and the audience was granted, though i do not pretend to attribute the merit of it to myself, for in traveling the emperor was always very accessible. when the good lady came to attend the audience with m. de vouittemont, to whom his municipal scarf gave the right of entrance, i happened to meet them, and she stopped to thank me for the little service which she insisted i had rendered her, and mentioned that she had been obliged to pawn the six silver plates which alone remained to her, in order to pay the expenses of her journey; that, having arrived at troyes in a poor farm wagon, covered with a cloth thrown over a hoop, and which had shaken her terribly, she could find no place in the inns, all of which were filled on account of the arrival of their majesties; and she would have been obliged to sleep in her wagon had it not been for the kind consideration of m. de vouittemont, who had given up his room to her, and offered his services. in spite of her more than eighty years, and her distress, this respectable lady related her story with an air of gentle gayety, and at the close threw a grateful glance at her guide, on whose arm she was leaning. at that moment the usher came to announce that her turn had come, and she entered the saloon of audience. m. de vouittemont awaited her return while conversing with me; and on her return she related to us, scarcely able to control her emotion, that the emperor had in the kindest manner received the memorial she presented to him, had read it attentively, and passed it to a minister who was near him, with the order to do her justice this very day. the next day she received the warrant for a pension of three thousand francs, the first year's pay being handed her at once. at lyons, of which cardinal fesch was archbishop, the emperor lodged in the archiepiscopal palace. [joseph fesch, born in corsica, 1763, was half-brother to napoleon's mother. archbishop of lyons 1801, cardinal 1803, died 1839] during the stay of their majesties the cardinal exerted himself to the utmost to gratify every wish of his nephew; and in his eagerness to please, monseigneur applied to me many times each day to be assured that nothing was lacking; so everything passed off admirably. the zeal of the cardinal was remarked by all the household; but for my part i thought i perceived that the zeal displayed by monseigneur in the reception of their majesties took on an added strength whenever there was a question of all the expenses incurred by this visit, which were considerable, being paid by them. his eminence, i thought, drew very fine interest on his investment, and his generous hospitality was handsomely compensated by the liberality of his guests. the passage of mont cenis was by no means so difficult as had been that of mont st. bernard; although the road, which has since been made by the emperor's orders, was not then commenced. at the foot of the mountain they were obliged to take the carriage to pieces, and transport it on the backs of mules; and their majesties crossed the mountain partly on foot, partly in very handsome sedan chairs which had been made at turin, that of the emperor lined with crimson satin, and ornamented with gold lace and fringes, and that of the empress in blue satin, with silver lace and fringes. the snow had been carefully swept off and removed. on their arrival at the convent they were most warmly received by the good monks; and the emperor, who had a singular affection for them, held a long conversation with them, and did not depart without leaving rich and numerous tokens of his liberality. as soon as he arrived at turin he gave orders for the improvement of their hospice, which he continued to support till his fall. their majesties remained several days at turin, where they occupied the former palace of the kings of sardinia, constituted the imperial residence by a decree of the emperor during our stay, as was also the castle of stupinigi, situated a short distance from the town. the pope rejoined their majesties at stupinigi; the holy father had left paris almost at the same time as ourselves, and before his departure had received from the emperor magnificent presents. among these was a golden altar with chandeliers, and holy vessels of the richest workmanship, a superb tiara, gobelin tapestries, and carpets from the savonnerie, with a statue of the emperor in sevres porcelain. the empress also made to his holiness a present of a vase of the same manufacture, adorned with paintings by the best artists. this masterpiece was at least four feet in height, and two feet and a half in diameter at the mouth, and was made expressly to be offered to the holy father, the painting representing, if my memory is correct, the ceremony of the coronation. each of the cardinals in the suite of the pope had received a box of beautiful workmanship, with the portrait of the emperor set in diamonds; and all the persons attached to the service of pius vii. had presents more or less considerable, all these various articles being brought by the furnishers to the apartments of his majesty, where i took a list of them, by order of his majesty, as they arrived. the holy father also made in return very handsome presents to the officers of the emperor's household whose duties had brought them near his person during his stay at paris. from stupinigi we went to alexandria. the emperor, the next day after his arrival, rose early, visited the fortifications of the town, reviewed all the positions of the battlefield of marengo, and returned only at seven o'clock, and after having broken down five horses. a few days after he wished the empress to see this famous plain, and by his orders an army of twenty-five or thirty thousand men was assembled. the morning of the day fixed for the review of these troops, the emperor left his apartment dressed in a blue coat with long skirts, much worn, and even with holes in some places. these holes were the work of moths and not of balls, as has been said in certain memoirs. on his head his majesty wore an old hat edged with gold lace, tarnished and frayed, and at his side a cavalry saber, such as the generals of the republic wore; this was the coat, hat, and sword that he had worn on the day of the battle of marengo. i afterwards lent these articles to monsieur david, first painter to his majesty, for his picture of the passage of mont st. bernard. a vast amphitheater had been raised on this plain for the empress and the suite of their majesties; the day was perfect, as is each day of the month of may in italy. after riding along the ranks, the emperor took his seat by the side of the empress, and made to the troops a distribution of the cross of the legion of honor, after which he laid the corner stone of a monument, which he had directed to be raised on the plain to the memory of the soldiers who had fallen on the battlefield. when his majesty, in the short address which he made to the army on this occasion, pronounced in a strong voice, vibrating with emotion, the name of desaix, who here died gloriously for his country, a murmur of grief ran through the ranks of the soldiers. as for me, i was moved to tears; and as my eyes fell on this army, on its banners, on the costume of the emperor, i was obliged to turn from time to time towards the throne of her majesty the empress, to realize that this was not the 14th of june in the year 1800. i think it was during this stay at alexandria, that prince jerome bonaparte had an interview with the emperor, in which the latter seriously and earnestly remonstrated with his brother, and prince jerome left the cabinet visibly agitated. this displeasure of the emperor arose from the marriage contracted by his brother, at the age of nineteen, with the daughter of an american merchant. his majesty had this union annulled on the plea of minority, and made a decree forbidding the officers of the civil state to receive, on their registers, the record of the certificate of the celebration of the marriage of monsieur jerome with mademoiselle patterson. for some time the emperor treated him with great coolness, and kept him at a distance; but a few days after the interview at alexandria, he sent him to algiers to claim as subjects of the empire two hundred genoese held as slaves. the young prince acquitted himself handsomely of this mission of humanity, and returned in the month of august to the port of genoa, with the captives whom he had just released. the emperor was well satisfied with the manner in which his brother had carried out his instructions, and said on this occasion, that "prince jerome was very young and very thoughtless, that he needed more weight in his head, but that, nevertheless, he hoped to make something of him." this brother of his majesty was one among the few persons whom he really loved, although he had often given him just cause for anger. chapter xxvi. their majesties remained more than a month at milan, and i had ample leisure to acquaint myself with this beautiful capital of lombardy. this visit was a continual succession of fetes and gayeties; and it seemed that the emperor alone had time to give to work, for he shut himself up, as was his custom, with his ministers, while all the persons of his suite and of his household, whose duties did not detain them near his majesty, were eagerly taking part in the sports and diversions of the milanese. i will enter into no details of the coronation, as it was almost a repetition of what had taken place at paris a few months before; and as all solemnities of this sort are alike, every one is familiar with the least details. amid all these fete days there was one day of real happiness to me: it was that on which prince eugene, whose kindness to me i have never forgotten, was proclaimed viceroy of italy. truly, no one could be more worthy than he of a rank so elevated, if to attain it only nobility, generosity, courage, and skill in the art of governing, were needed; for never did prince more sincerely desire the prosperity of the people confided to his care. i have often observed how truly happy he was, and what genuine delight beamed from his countenance when he had shed happiness around him. the emperor and empress went one day to breakfast in the environs of milan, on a little island called olona. while walking over it, the emperor met a poor woman, whose cottage was near the place where their majesties' table had been set, and he addressed to her a number of questions. "monsieur," replied she (not knowing the emperor), "i am very poor, and the mother of three children, whom i have great difficulty in supporting, because my husband, who is a day laborer, has not always work."--"how much would it take," replied his majesty, "to make you perfectly happy?"--"o sire, it would take a great deal of money."--"but how much, my good woman, how much would be necessary?"--"ah, monsieur, unless we had twenty louis, we would not be above want; but what chance is there of our ever having twenty louis?" the emperor gave her, on the spot, the sum of three thousand francs in gold, and ordered me to untie the rolls and pour them all into the good woman's lap. at the sight of so much gold the latter grew pale, reeled, and i saw she was fainting. "all, that is too much, monsieur, that is indeed too much. surely you could not be making sport of a poor woman!" the emperor assured her that it was indeed all hers, and that with this money she could buy a little field, a flock of goats, and raise her children well. his majesty did not make himself known; for he liked, in dispensing his benefits, to preserve his incognito, and i knew, during his life, a large number of instances similar to the foregoing. it seems that historians have made it a point to pass them over in silence; and yet it is, i think, by the rehearsal of just such deeds that a correct idea of the emperor's character can and should be formed. deputations from the ligurian republic, with the doge at their head, had come to milan to entreat the emperor to annex genoa and its territory to the empire, which demand his majesty took care not to refuse, and by a decree formed of the genoese states three departments of his italian kingdom. the emperor and empress set out from milan to visit these departments and some others. we had been at mantua a short time, when one evening, about six o'clock, grand marshal duroc gave me an order to remain alone in a little room adjoining that of the emperor, and informed me that count lucien bonaparte would arrive soon. he came in a few moments; and as soon as he announced himself, i introduced him into, the emperor's bedroom, and then knocked at the door of the emperor's cabinet, to inform him of his arrival. after saluting each other, the two brothers shut themselves up in the room, and there soon arose between them a very animated discussion; and being compelled to remain in the little saloon, much against my will, i overheard a great part of the conversation. the emperor was urging his brother to get a divorce, and promised him a crown if he would do this; but lucien replied that he would never abandon the mother of his children, which refusal irritated the emperor so greatly, that his expressions became harsh and even insulting. when this altercation had lasted more than an hour, m. lucien came out from it in a deplorable condition, pale and disheveled, his eyes red and filled with tears; and we did not see him again, for, on quitting his brother, he returned to rome. the emperor was greatly troubled by this refusal of his brother, and did not open his mouth on retiring. it has been maintained that the disagreement between the brothers was caused by the elevation of the first consul to the empire, and lucien's disapproval of this step; but that is a mistake. it is indeed true that the latter had proposed to continue the republic under the government of two consuls, who were to be napoleon and lucien, one to be at the head of the department of war and foreign relations, the other of everything connected with the affairs of the interior; but although the failure of this plan must have disappointed lucien, the avidity with which he accepted the titles of senator and count of the empire proved that he cared very little for a republic of which he was not to be one of the heads. i am sure that the marriage of monsieur lucien to madame jouberthon was the only cause of this disagreement. the emperor disapproved of this union because the lady's reputation was somewhat doubtful, and she was also divorced from her husband, who had become insolvent, and had fled to america. this insolvency, and the divorce especially, offended napoleon deeply, who always felt a great repugnance for divorced people. before this, the emperor had wished to raise his brother to the rank of sovereign, by making him marry the queen of etruria, who had lost her husband. lucien had refused this alliance on several different occasions; and at last the emperor became angry, and said to him, "you see how far you are carrying your infatuation and your foolish love for a femme galante."--"at least," replied lucien, "mine is young and pretty," alluding to the empress josephine, who had been both the one and the other. the boldness of this reply excited the emperor's anger beyond all bounds. at that moment he held in his hands his watch, which he dashed with all his might on the floor, crying out, "since you will listen to nothing, see, i will break you like this watch." differences had arisen between the brothers before the establishment of the empire; and among the acts which caused the disgrace of lucien, i have often heard the following cited. lucien, being minister of the interior, received the order of the first consul to let no wheat go out of the territory of the republic. our warehouses were filled, and france abundantly supplied; but this was not the case in england, and the scarcity of it was beginning to be felt there. it was never known how it happened; but the larger part of this grain passed the strait of calais, and it was stated positively that the sum of twenty millions was received for it. on learning this, the first consul took away the portfolio of the interior from his brother, and appointed him ambassador to spain. at madrid, monsieur lucien was well received by the king and the royal family, and became the intimate friend of don manuel godoy, prince de la paix. it was during this mission, and by agreement with the prince de la paix, that the treaty of badajos was concluded, in order to procure which it is said that portugal gave thirty millions. it has been also declared that more than this sum, paid in gold and diamonds, was divided between the two plenipotentiaries, who did not think it necessary to render an account of this transaction to their respective courts. charles iv. loved lucien tenderly, and felt for the first consul the greatest veneration. after examining carefully several spanish horses which he intended for the first consul, he said to his head groom: "how fortunate you are, and how i envy your happiness! you are going to see the great man, and you will speak to him; how i should like to take your place!" during his embassage lucien had paid his court to a person of most elevated rank, and had received her portrait in a medallion surrounded with very fine brilliants. i have seen a hundred times this portrait which he wore suspended from his neck by a chain of most beautiful black hair; and far from making a mystery of it, he endeavored, on the contrary, to show it, and bent over so that the rich medallion could be seen hanging on his breast. before his departure from madrid, the king likewise made him a present of his own portrait in miniature, also set in diamonds. these stones, remounted and set in the form of a hat buckle, passed to the second wife of lucien. i will now give an account of his marriage with madame jouberthon, as related to me by a person who resided in the same house. the first consul was informed each day, and very promptly, of all that took place in the interior of the homes of his brothers, a circumstantial account being rendered, even as to the smallest particulars and the slightest details. lucien, wishing to marry madame jouberthon, whom he had met at the house of the count de l----, an intimate friend of his, wrote between two and three o'clock in the afternoon to duquesnoy, mayor of the tenth arrondissement, requesting him to come to his residence, rue saint dominique, about eight o'clock in the evening, and bring the marriage register. between five and six o'clock monsieur duquesnoy, mayor of the tenth arrondissement, received from the chateau of the tuileries an order not to take the register out of the municipality, and above all not to celebrate any marriage whatever, unless, in accordance with the law, the names of the parties thereto had been published for eight days. at the hour indicated duquesnoy arrived at the residence, and asked to speak in private to the count, to whom he communicated the order emanating from the chateau. beside himself with anger, lucien immediately hired a hundred post-horses for himself and friends; and without delay he and madame jouberthon, with these friends and the people of his household, took carriages for the chateau of plessis-chamant, a pleasure-house half a league beyond senlis. the cure of the place, who was also associate mayor, was summoned, and at midnight pronounced the civil marriage; then, putting on his sacerdotal robes over the scarf he wore as an officer of the civil state, he bestowed on the fugitives the nuptial benediction. a good supper was then served, at which the assistant and cure were present; but, as he returned to his vicarage about six o'clock in the morning, he saw at his gate a post-chaise, guarded by two soldiers, and on entering his house, found there an officer of the armed police, who invited him politely to be kind enough to accompany him to paris. the poor curate thought himself lost; but he was compelled to obey, under penalty of being carried to paris from one guard-house to another by the police. nothing was left for him but to enter the fatal chaise, which was drawn at a gallop by two good horses, and soon arrived at the tuileries, where he was brought into the cabinet of the first consul, who said to him in a voice of thunder, "it is you, then, monsieur, who marry members of my family without my consent, and without having published the bans, as is your duty in your double character of cure and assistant mayor. you well know that you deserve to be deprived of your office, excommunicated, and tried before the courts." the unfortunate priest believed himself already in prison; but after a severe lecture he was sent back to his curacy, and the two brothers were never reconciled. in spite of all these differences, lucien always counted on the affection of his brother to obtain him a kingdom. i guarantee the authenticity of the following incident, which was related to me by a reliable person: lucien had in charge of his establishment a friend of his early youth, the same age as himself, and like him born in corsica, who was named campi, and enjoyed the most confidential relations in the count's household. on the day that the 'moniteur' gave a list of the new french princes, campi was promenading in the handsome gallery of pictures collected by lucien, with the latter's young secretary, when the following conversation occurred between them. "you have no doubt read the 'moniteur' of to-day?"--"yes."--"you have seen that all the members of the family have had the title of french princes bestowed on them, and the name of monsieur le count alone is wanting to the list."--"what matters that? there are kingdoms."--"considering the care that sovereigns take to keep them, there will hardly be any vacancy."--"ah, well, they will be made. all the royal families of europe are worn out, and we must have new ones." thereupon campi was silent, and advised the young man to hold his tongue, if he wished to preserve the favor of the count. however, it was not long after this before the young secretary repeated this confidential conversation, which, without being singularly striking, gives, however, an idea of the amount of confidence which should be placed in the pretended moderation of count lucien, and in the epigrams against his brother and his family which have been attributed to him. no one in the chateau was ignorant of the hostility which existed between lucien bonaparte and the empress josephine; and to make their court to the latter the former habitues of malmaison, now become the courtiers of the tuileries; were in the habit of relating to her the most piquant anecdotes they could collect relative to the younger brother of the emperor. thus it happened that by chance one day i heard a dignified person and a senator of the empire give the empress, in the gayest manner imaginable, very minute details as to one of the temporary liaisons of count lucien. i do not guarantee the authenticity of the anecdote, and i experience in writing it more embarrassment than the senator displayed in relating it, and omit, indeed, a mass of details which the narrator gave without blushing, and without driving off his audience; for my object is to throw light upon the family secrets of the imperial household, and on the habits of the persons who were nearest the emperor, and not to publish scandal, though i could justify myself by the example of a dignitary of the empire. count lucien (i do not know in what year) established himself in the good graces of mademoiselle meserai, an actress of the theatre francais, who was both pretty and sprightly. the conquest was not difficult, in the first place, because this had never been her character towards any one, and, secondly, because the artiste knew the great wealth of the count, and believed him to be prodigal. the first attentions of her lover confirmed her in this opinion, and she demanded a house. he at once presented her with one richly and elegantly furnished, the deed being put in her hands on the day she took possession; and each visit of the count added to the actress's wardrobe or jewel-case some new gifts. this lasted some months, at the end of which lucien became disgusted with his bargain, and began to consider by what means to break it without losing too much. among other things, he had made mademoiselle a present of a pair of girandoles, containing diamonds of great value. in one of the last interviews, before the count had allowed any signs of coldness to be seen, he perceived the girandoles on the toilet-table of his mistress, and, taking them in his hands, said, "really, my dear, you do me injustice; why do you not show more confidence in me? i do not wish you to wear jewelry so much out of date as these."--"why, it has been only six months since you gave them to me."--"i know it; but a woman of good taste, a woman who respects herself, should never wear anything six months old. i will take the ear-rings and send them to de villiers [he was the count's jeweler] with orders to mount them as i wish." the count was tenderly thanked for so delicate an attention, and put the girandoles in his pocket, with one or two necklaces which had also been his gift, and which did not appear to him sufficiently new in style, and the breach took place before any of these had been returned. notwithstanding this, mademoiselle believed herself well provided for with her furniture and her house, until one morning the true proprietor came to ask her wishes as to making a new lease. she ran to examine her deed, which she had not yet thought to do, and found that it was simply a description of the property, at the end of which was a receipt for two years' rent. during our stay at genoa the heat was insupportable; from this the emperor suffered greatly, saying he had never experienced the like in egypt, and undressed many times a day. his bed was covered with a mosquito netting, for the insects were numerous and worrying. the windows of the bedroom looked out upon a grand terrace on the margin of the sea, and from them could be seen the gulf and all the surrounding country. the fetes given by the city were superb. an immense number of vessels were fastened together, and filled with orange and citrontrees and shrubs, some covered with flowers, some with fruits, and all combined formed a most exquisite floating garden which their majesties visited on a magnificent yacht. on his return to france, the emperor made no halt between turin and fontainebleau. he traveled incognito, in the name of the minister of the interior, and went at such speed that at each relay they were obliged to throw water on the wheels; but in spite of this his majesty complained of the slowness of the postilions, and cried continually, "hurry up! hurry up! we are hardly moving." many of the servants' carriages were, left in the rear; though mine experienced no delay, and i arrived at each relay at the same time as the emperor. in ascending the steep hill of tarare, the emperor alighted from the carriage, as did also berthier, who accompanied him; the carriages of the suite being some distance behind, as the drivers had stopped to breathe their horses. his majesty saw, climbing the hill a few steps before him, an old, decrepit woman, who hobbled along with great difficulty. as the emperor approached her he inquired why, infirm as she was, and apparently so fatigued, she should attempt to travel so difficult a road. "sir," replied she, "they tell me the emperor is to pass along here, and i wish to see him before i die." his majesty, who liked to be amused, said to her, "ah, but why trouble yourself about him? he is a tyrant, like all the rest." the good woman, indignant at this remark, angrily replied, "at least, sir, he is our choice; and since we must have a master, it is at least right that we should choose him." i was not an eye-witness of this incident; but i heard the emperor himself relate it to dr. corvisart, with some remarks upon the good sense of the masses, who, according to the opinion of his majesty and his chief doctor, had generally formed very correct opinions. chapter xxvii. his majesty the emperor passed the month of january, 1806, at munich and stuttgard, during which, in the first of these two capitals, the marriage of the vice-king and the princess of bavaria was celebrated. on this occasion there was a succession of magnificent fetes, of which the emperor was always the hero, and at which his hosts tried, by every variety of homage, to express to this great man the admiration with which his military genius inspired them. the vice-king and vice-queen had never met before their marriage, but were soon as much attached to each other as if they had been acquainted for years, for never were two persons more perfectly congenial. no princess, and indeed no mother, could have manifested more affection and care for her children than the vice-queen; and she might well serve as a model for all women. i have been told an incident concerning this admirable princess which i take pleasure in relating here. one of her daughters, who was quite young, having spoken in a very harsh tone to her maid, her most serene highness the vice-queen was informed of it, and in order to give her daughter a lesson, forbade the servants to render the young princess any service, or to reply to any of her demands, from that time. the child at once complained to her mother, who told her gravely that when any one received, like her, the care and attention of all around them, it was necessary to merit this, and to show her appreciation by consideration and an obliging politeness. then she required her to ask pardon of the 'femme de chambre', and henceforward to speak to her politely, assuring her that by this means she would always obtain compliance with all reasonable and just requests she might make. the child obeyed; and the lesson was of such benefit to her that she became, if general report is to be believed, one of the most accomplished princesses of europe. the report of her perfections spread abroad even to the new world, which contended for her with the old, and has been fortunate enough to obtain her. she is at this time, i think, empress of brazil. his majesty the king of bavaria, maximilian joseph, then about fifty years of age, was very tall, with a noble and attractive physiognomy and fascinating manners. before the revolution he had been colonel of an alsatian regiment in the service of france, under the name of prince maximilian, or prince max as the soldiers called him, and stationed at strasburg, where he left a reputation for elegance and chivalrous gallantry. his subjects, his family, his servants, everybody, adored him. he often took long walks through the city of munich in the morning, went to the market, inquired the price of grain, entered the shops, spoke to every one, especially the children, whom he persuaded to go to school. this excellent prince did not fear to compromise his dignity by the simplicity of his manners; and he was right, for i do not think any one ever failed to show him respect, and the love which he inspired lessened in no wise the veneration which was felt for him. such was his devotion to the emperor, that his kindly feelings extended even to the persons who by their functions approached nearest to his majesty, and were in the best position to know his needs and wishes. thus (i do not relate it out of vanity, but in proof of what i have just said) his majesty the king of bavaria never came to see the emperor, that he did not take my hand and inquire first after the health of his imperial majesty, then after my own, adding many things which plainly showed his attachment for the emperor and his natural goodness. his majesty the king of bavaria is now in the tomb, like him who gave him a throne; but this tomb is still a royal tomb, and the loyal bavarians can come to kneel and weep over it. the emperor, on the contrary- [constant wrote this before the return, in 1840, of the ashes of napoleon to rest on "the banks of the seine, amid the french people whom he loved so well," where in a massive urn of porphyry, and beneath the gilded dome of the invalides, in the most splendid tomb of the centuries, sleeps now the soldier of lodi, marengo, austerlitz, wagram, and waterloo.--trans.] the virtuous maximilian was able to leave to a worthy son the scepter which he had received from him who perished an exile at st. helena. prince louis, the present king of bavaria, and to-day perhaps the best king in europe, was not so tall as his august father, neither was his face so handsome; and, unfortunately, he was afflicted with an extreme deafness, which made him raise his voice without knowing it, and in addition to this his utterance was impeded by a slight stammering. this prince was grave and studious; and the emperor recognized his merit, but did not rely upon his friendship. this was not because he thought him wanting in loyalty, for the prince royal was above such suspicion; but the emperor was aware that he belonged to a party which feared the subjection of germany, and who suspected that the french, although they had so far attacked only austria, had ideas of conquest over all the german powers. however, what i have just stated in regard to the prince royal relates only to the years subsequent to 1806; for i am certain that at that epoch his sentiments did not differ from those of the good maximilian, who was, as i have said, full of gratitude to the emperor. prince louis came to paris at the beginning of this year; and i saw him many times at the court theater in the box of the prince arch-chancellor, where they both slept in company and very profoundly. this was also such a habit with cambaceres, that when the emperor asked for him, and was told that monseigneur was at the theater, he replied, "very well, very well; he is taking his siesta; let us not disturb him!" the king of wurtemburg was large, and so fat that it was said of him god had put him in the world to prove how far the skin of a man could be stretched. his stomach was of such dimensions that it was found necessary to make a broad, round incision in front of his seat at the table; and yet, notwithstanding this precaution, he was obliged to hold his plate on a level with his chin to drink his soup. he was very fond of hunting, either on horseback, or in a little russian carriage drawn by four horses, which he often drove himself. he was fond of horseback riding, but it was no easy task to find a mount of size and strength sufficient to carry so heavy a burden. it was necessary that the poor animal should be progressively trained; and in order to accomplish this the king's equerry fastened round the horse a girth loaded with pieces of lead, increasing the weight daily till it equalled that of his majesty. the king was despotic, hard, and even cruel, ever ready to sign the sentence of the condemned, and in almost all cases, if what is said at stuttgart be true, increased the penalty inflicted by the judges. hard to please, and brutal, he often struck the people of his household; and it is even said that he did not spare her majesty the queen, his wife, who was a sister of the present king of england. notwithstanding all this, he was a prince whose knowledge and brilliant mind the emperor esteemed; for they had a mutual affection for each other, and he found him faithful to his alliance to the very end. king frederic of wurtemburg had a brilliant and numerous court, at which he displayed great magnificence. the hereditary prince was much beloved; he was less haughty and more humane than his father, and was said to be just and liberal. besides those crowned by his hand, the emperor, while in bavaria, received a great number of the princes of the confederation; and they usually dined with his majesty. in this crowd of royal courtiers the prince primate was noticeable, who differed in nothing as to manners, bearing, and dress from the most fashionable gentlemen of paris. the emperor paid him special attention. i cannot pay the same eulogy to the toilet of the princesses, duchesses, and other noble ladies; for most of them dressed in exceedingly bad taste, and, displaying neither art nor grace, covered their heads with plumes, bits of gold, and silver gauze, fastened with a great quantity of diamond-headed pins. the equipages the german nobility used were all very large coaches, which were a necessity from the enormous hoops still worn by those ladies; and this adherence to antiquated fashions was all the more surprising, because at that time germany enjoyed the great advantage of possessing two fashion journals. one was the translation of the magazine published by mesangere; and the other, also edited at paris, was translated and printed at mannheim. these ridiculous carriages, which much resembled our ancient diligences, were drawn by very inferior horses, harnessed with ropes, and placed so far apart that an immense space was needed to turn the carriage. the prince of saxe-gotha was long and thin. in spite of his great age, he was enough of a dandy to order at paris, from our hairdresser michalon, some pretty little wigs of youthful blonde, curled like the hair of cupid; but, apart from this, he was an excellent man. i recollect, a propos of the noble german ladies, to have seen at the court theater at fontainebleau a princess of the confederation who was being presented to their majesties. the toilet of her highness announced an immense progress in the elegance of civilization beyond the rhine; for, renouncing the gothic hoops, the princess had adopted the very latest fashions, and, though nearly seventy years of age, wore a dress of black lace over red satin, and her coiffure consisted of a white muslin veil, fastened by a wreath of roses, in the style of the vestals of the opera. she had with her a granddaughter, brilliant with the charm of youth, and admired by the whole court, although her costume was less stylish than that of her grandmother. i heard her majesty, the empress josephine, relate one day that she had much difficulty in repressing a smile when, among a number of german princesses presented to her, one was announced under the name of cunegonde [cunegonde was the mistress of candide in voltaire's novel of candide.] her majesty added that, when she saw the princess take her seat, she imagined she saw her lean to one side. assuredly the empress had read the adventures of candide and the daughter of the very noble baron of thunder-ten-trunck. at paris, in the spring of 1806, i saw almost as many members of the confederation as i had seen in the capitals of bavaria and wurtemburg. a french name had the precedence among these names of foreign princes. it was that of prince murat, who in the month of march was made grand-duke of berg and cleves. after prince louis of bavaria, arrived the hereditary prince of baden, who came to paris to marry a niece of the empress. at the beginning this union was not happy. the princess stephanie (de beauharnais) was a very pretty woman, graceful and witty; and the emperor had wished to make a great lady of her, and had married her without consulting her wishes. prince charles-louis-frederic was then twenty years of age, and though exceedingly good, brave, and generous, and possessing many admirable traits, was heavy and phlegmatic, ever maintaining an icy gravity, and entirely destitute of the qualities which would attract a young princess accustomed to the brilliant elegance of the imperial court. the marriage took place in april, to the great satisfaction of the prince, who that day appeared to do violence to his usual gravity, and even allowed a smile to approach his lips. the day passed off very well; but, when the time came for retiring, the princess refused to let him share her room, and for eight days was inexorable. he was told that the princess did not like the arrangement of his hair, and that nothing inspired her with more aversion than a queue; upon which the good prince hastened to have his hair cut close, but when she saw him thus shorn, she laughed immoderately, and exclaimed that he was more ugly a la titus than he was before. it was impossible that the intelligence and the kind heart of the princess could fail to appreciate the good and solid qualities of her husband; she learned to love him as tenderly as she was loved, and i am assured that the august couple lived on excellent terms. three months after this marriage, the prince left his wife to follow the emperor, first on the campaign in prussia, and afterwards in poland. the death of his grandfather, which happened some time after the austrian campaign of 1809, put him in possession of the grand duchy, whereupon he resigned the command of his troops to his uncle the count of hochberg, and returned to his government, never more to leave it. i saw him again with the princess at erfurt, where they told me he had become jealous of the emperor alexander, who paid assiduous court to his wife; at which the prince took alarm and abruptly left erfurt, carrying with him the princess, of whom it must in justice be said that there had been on her part not the slightest imprudence to arouse this jealousy, which seems very pardonable, however, in the husband of so charming a woman. the prince's health was always delicate, and from his earliest youth alarming symptoms had been noticed in him; and this physical condition was no doubt, in a great measure, the main source of the melancholy which marked his character. he died in 1818, after a very long and painful illness, during which his wife nursed him with the most affectionate care, leaving four children, two sons and two daughters. the two sons died young, and would have left the grand duchy of baden without heirs, if the counts hochberg had not been recognized as members of the ducal family. the grand-duchess is to-day devoting her life to the education of her daughters, who promise to equal her in graces and virtues. the nuptials of the prince and princess of baden were celebrated by brilliant fetes; at rambouillet took place a great hunting-party, in which their majesties, with many members of their family, and all the princes of baden, cleves, etc., traversed on foot the forests of rambouillet. i recollect another hunting-party, which took place about the same time in the forest of saint-germain, to which the emperor invited the ambassador of the sublime porte, then just arrived at paris. his turkish excellency followed the chase with ardor, but without moving a muscle of his austere countenance. the animal having been brought to bay, his majesty had a gun handed to the turkish ambassador, that he might have, the honor of firing the first shot; but he refused, not conceiving, doubtless, that any pleasure could be found in slaying at short range a poor, exhausted animal, who no longer had the power to protect itself, even by flight. chapter xxviii. the emperor remained only a few days at paris, after our return from italy, before setting out again for the camp of boulogne. the fetes of milan had not prevented him from maturing his political plans, and it was suspected that not without good reason had he broken down his horses between turin and paris. these reasons were plainly evident, when it was learned that austria had entered secretly into the coalition of russia and england against the emperor. the army collected in the camp of boulogne received orders to march on the rhine, and his majesty departed to rejoin his troops about the end of september. as was his custom, he informed us only an hour in advance of his departure; and it was curious to observe the contrast of the confusion which preceded this moment with the silence that followed it. hardly was the order given, than each one busied himself hastily with his own wants and those of his majesty; and nothing could be heard in the corridors but the sound of domestics coming and going, the noise of cases being nailed down, and boxes being carried out. in the courts appeared a great number of carriages and wagons, with men harnessing them, the scene lighted by torches, and everywhere oaths and cries of impatience; while the women, each in her own room, were sadly occupied with the departure of husband, son, or brother. during all these preparations the emperor was making his adieux to her majesty the empress, or taking a few moments of repose; but at the appointed hour he rose, was dressed, and entered his carriage. soon after everything was silent in the chateau, and only a few isolated persons could be seen flitting about like shadows; silence had succeeded to noise, solitude to the bustle of a brilliant and numerous court. next morning this deep silence was broken only by a few scattered women who sought each other with pale faces and eyes full of tears, to communicate their grief and share their apprehensions. many courtiers, who were not of the party, arrived to make their court, and were stupefied on learning of his majesty's absence, feeling as if the sun could not have risen that day. the emperor went without halting as far as strasburg; and the day after his arrival in this town, the army began to file out over the bridge of kehl. on the evening before this march, the emperor had ordered the general officers to be on the banks of the rhine on the following day, at exactly six in the morning. an hour before that set for the rendezvous, his majesty, notwithstanding the rain which fell in torrents, went alone to the head of the bridge, to assure himself of the execution of the orders he had given, and stood exposed to this rain without moving, till the first divisions commenced to file out over the bridge. he was so drenched that the drops which fell from his clothing ran down under his horse, and there formed a little waterfall; and his cocked hat was so wet that the back of it drooped over his shoulders, like the large felt hats of the coal-burners of paris. the generals whom he was awaiting gathered around him; and when he saw them assembled, he said, "all goes well, messieurs; this is a new step taken in the direction of our enemies; but where is vandamme? why is he not here? can he be dead?" no one said a word. "answer me, what has become of vandamme?" general chardon, general of the vanguard, much loved by the emperor, replied, "i think, sire, that general vandamme is still asleep; we drank together last evening a dozen bottles of rhine wine, and doubtless"--"he does very well to drink, sir; but he is wrong to sleep when i am waiting for him." general chardon prepared to send an aide-de-camp to his companion in arms; but the emperor prevented him, saying, "let vandamme sleep; i will speak to him later." at this moment general vandamme appeared. "well, here you are, sir; you seem to have forgotten the order that i gave yesterday."--"sire, this is the first time this has happened, and"--"and to avoid a repetition of it, you will go and fight under the banner of the king of wurtemburg; i hope you will give them lessons in sobriety." general vandamme withdrew, not without great chagrin, and repaired to the army of wurtemburg, where he performed prodigies of valor. after the campaign he returned to the emperor, his breast covered with decorations, bearing a letter from the king of wurtemburg to his majesty, who, after reading it, said to vandamme: "general, never forget that, if i admire the brave, i do not admire those who sleep while i await them." he pressed the general's hand, and invited him to breakfast, in company with general chardon, who was as much gratified by this return to favor as was his friend. on the journey to augsburg, the emperor, who had set out in advance, made such speed that his household could not keep up with him; and consequently he passed the night, without attendants or baggage, in the best house of a very poor village. when we reached his majesty next day, he received us laughing, and threatened to have us taken up as stragglers by the provost guard. from augsburg the emperor went to the camp before ulm, and made preparations to besiege that place. a short distance from the town a fierce and obstinate engagement took place between the french and austrians, and had lasted two hours, when cries of 'vive l'empereur!' were suddenly heard. this name, which invariably carried terror into the enemy's ranks, and always imparted fresh courage to our soldiers, now electrified them to such an extent that they put the austrians to flight, while the emperor showed himself in the front ranks, crying "forward," and making signs to the soldiers to advance, his majesty's horse disappearing from time to time in the smoke of the cannon. during this furious charge, the emperor found himself near a grenadier who was terribly wounded; and yet this brave fellow still shouted with the others, "forward! forward!" the emperor drew near him, and threw his military cloak over him, saying, "try to bring it back to me, and i will give you in exchange the cross that you have just won." the grenadier, who knew that he was mortally wounded, replied that the shroud he had just received was worth as much as the decoration, and expired, wrapped in the imperial mantle. at the close of the battle, the emperor had this grenadier, who was also a veteran of the army of egypt, borne from the field, and ordered that he should be interred in the cloak. another soldier, not less courageous than the one of whom i have just spoken, also received from his majesty marks of distinction. the day after the combat before ulm, the emperor, in visiting the ambulances, had his attention attracted by a, cannoneer of light artillery, who had lost one leg, but in spite of this was still shouting with all his might, 'vive l'empereur!' he approached the soldier and said to him, "is this, then, all that you have to say to me?"--"no, sire, i can also tell you that i, i alone, have dismounted four pieces of the austrian cannon; and it is the pleasure of seeing them silenced which makes me forget that i must soon close my eyes forever." the emperor, moved by such fortitude, gave his cross to the cannoneer, noted the names of his parents, and said to him, "if you recover, the hotel des invalides is at your service." "thanks, sire, but the loss of blood has been too great; my pension will not cost you very dear; i know well that i must soon be off duty, but long live the emperor all the same!" unfortunately this brave man realized his real condition only too well, for he did not survive the amputation of his leg. we followed the emperor into ulm after the occupation of that place, and saw a hostile army of more than thirty thousand men lay down their arms at the feet of his majesty, as they defiled before him; and i have never beheld a more imposing sight. the emperor was seated on his horse, a few steps in front of his staff, his countenance wearing a calm and grave expression, in spite of which the joy which filled his heart was apparent in his glance. he raised his hat every moment to return the salutes of the superior officers of the austrian troops. when the imperial guard entered augsburg, eighty grenadiers marched at the head of the columns, each bearing a banner of the enemy. the emperor, on his arrival at munich, was welcomed with the greatest respect by his ally, the elector of bavaria. his majesty went several times to the theater and the hunt, and gave a concert to the ladies of the court. it was, as has been since ascertained, during this stay of the emperor at munich that the emperor alexander and the king of prussia pledged themselves at potsdam, on the tomb of frederick the great, to unite their efforts against his majesty. a year later napoleon also made a visit to the tomb of the great frederick. the taking of ulm had finished the conquest of the austrians, and opened to the emperor the gates of vienna: but meanwhile the russians were advancing by forced marches to the help of their allies; his majesty hastened to meet them, and the 1st of december the two hostile armies found themselves face to face. by one of those happy coincidences made only for the emperor, the day of the battle of austerlitz was also the anniversary of the coronation. i do not remember why there was no tent for the emperor at austerlitz; but the soldiers made a kind of barrack of limbs of trees, with an opening in the top for the passage of the smoke. his majesty, though he had only straw for his bed, was so exhausted after having passed the day on horseback on the heights of santon, that on the eve of the battle he was sleeping soundly, when general savary, one of his aides-de-camp, entered, to give an account of the mission with which he had been charged; and the general was obliged to touch his shoulder, and shake him, in order to rouse him. he then rose, and mounted his horse to visit his advance posts. the night was dark; but the whole camp was lighted up as if by enchantment, for each soldier put a bundle of straw on the end of his bayonet, and all these firebrands were kindled in less time than it takes to describe it. the emperor rode along the whole line, speaking to those soldiers whom he recognized. "be to-morrow what you have always been, my brave fellows," said he, "and the russians are ours; we have them!" the air resounded with cries of 'vive l'empereur', and there was neither officer nor soldier who did not count on a victory next day. his majesty, on visiting the line of battle, where there had been no provisions for forty-eight hours (for that day there had been distributed only one loaf of ammunition bread for every eight men), saw, while passing from bivouac to bivouac, soldiers roasting potatoes in the ashes. finding himself before the fourth regiment of the line, of which his brother was colonel, the emperor said to a grenadier of the second battalion, as he took from the fire and ate one of the potatoes of the squad, "are you satisfied with these pigeons?"--"humph! they are at least better than nothing; though they are very much like lenten food."--"well, old fellow," replied his majesty to the soldier, pointing to the fires of the enemy, "help me to dislodge those rascals over there, and we will have a mardi gras at vienna." the emperor returned to his quarters, went to bed again, and slept until three o'clock in the morning, while his suite collected around a bivouac fire near his majesty's barracks, and slept on the ground, wrapped in their cloaks, for the night was extremely cold. for four days i had not closed my eyes, and i was just falling asleep, when about three o'clock the emperor asked me for punch. i would have given the whole empire of austria to have rested another hour; but notwithstanding this, i carried his majesty the punch, which i made by the bivouac fire, and the emperor insisted that marshal berthier should also partake of it; the remainder i divided with the attendants. between four and five o'clock the emperor ordered the first movements of his army, and all were on foot in a few moments, and each at his post; aides-de-camp and orderly officers were seen galloping in all directions, and the battle was begun. i will not enter into the details of this glorious day, which, according to the expression of the emperor himself, terminated the campaign by a thunderbolt. not one of the plans of the emperor failed in execution, and in a few hours the french were masters of the field of battle and of the whole of germany. the brave general rapp was wounded at austerlitz, as he was in every battle in which he took part, and was carried to the chateau of austerlitz, where the emperor visited him in the evening, and returned to pass the night in the chateau. two days after, the emperor francis sought an audience of his majesty, to demand peace; and before the end of december a treaty was concluded, by which, the elector of bavaria and the duke of wurtemburg, faithful allies of the emperor napoleon, were made kings. in return for this elevation, of which he alone was the author, his majesty demanded and obtained for prince eugene, viceroy of italy, the hand of the princess augusta amelia of bavaria. during his sojourn at vienna, the emperor had established his headquarters at schoenbrunn, the name of which has become celebrated by the numerous sojourns of his majesty there, and is to-day, by a singular coincidence, the residence of his son. [the duke de reichstadt, born king of rome, died july, 1832, soon after constant wrote.] i am not certain whether it was during this first sojourn at schoenbrunn that his majesty had the extraordinary encounter that i shall now relate. his majesty, in the uniform of colonel of the chasseurs of the guard, rode every day on horseback, and one morning, while on the road to vienna, saw approaching a clergyman, accompanied by a woman weeping bitterly, who did not recognize him. napoleon approached the carriage, and inquired the cause of her grief, and the object and end of her journey. "monsieur," replied she, "i live at a village two leagues from here, in a house which has been pillaged by soldiers, and my gardener has been killed. i am now on my way to demand a safeguard from your emperor, who knew my family well, and is under great obligations to them."--"what is your name, madame?"--"de bunny. i am the daughter of monsieur de marbeuf, former governor of corsica."--"i am charmed, madame," replied napoleon, "to find an opportunity of serving you. i am the emperor." madame de bunny remained speechless with astonishment; but napoleon reassured her, and continuing his route, requested her to go on and await him at his headquarters. on his return he received her, and treated her with remarkable kindness, gave her an escort of the chasseurs of the guard, and dismissed her happy and satisfied. as soon as the day of austerlitz was gained, the emperor hastened to send the courier moustache to france to announce the news to the empress, who was then at the chateau of saint-cloud. it was nine o'clock in the evening when loud cries of joy were suddenly heard, and the galloping of a horse at full speed, accompanied by the sound of bells, and repeated blows of the whip which announced a courier. the empress, who was awaiting with the greatest impatience news from the army, rushed to the window, opened it hurriedly, and the words victory and austerlitz fell on her ears. eager to know the details, she ran down the steps, followed by her ladies; and moustache in the most excited manner related the marvelous news, and handed her majesty the emperor's letter, which josephine read, and then drawing a handsome diamond ring from her finger, gave it to the courier. poor moustache had galloped more than fifty leagues that day, and was so exhausted that he had to be lifted from his horse and placed in bed, which it required four persons to accomplish. his last horse, which he had doubtless spared less than the others, fell dead in the court of the chateau. chapter xxix. the emperor having left stuttgard, stopped only twenty-four hours at carlsruhe, and forty-eight hours at strasburg, and between that place and paris made only short halts, without manifesting his customary haste, however, or requiring of the postilions the break-neck speed he usually demanded. as we were ascending the hill of meaux, and while the emperor was so engrossed in reading a book that he paid no attention to what was passing on the road, a young girl threw herself against the door of his majesty's carriage, and clung there in spite of the efforts to remove her, not very vigorous in truth, made by the cavaliers of the escort. at last she succeeded in opening the door, and threw herself at the emperor's feet. the emperor, much surprised, exclaimed, "what the devil does this foolish creature want with me?" then recognizing the young lady, after having scrutinized her features more closely, he added in very evident anger, "ah, is it you again? will you never let me alone?" the young girl, without being intimidated by this rude welcome, said through her sobs that the only favor she now came to ask for her father was that his prison might be changed, and that he might be removed from the chateau d'if, the dampness of which was ruining his health, to the citadel of strasburg. "no, no," cried the emperor, "don't count on that. i have many other things to do beside receiving visits from you. if i granted you this demand, in eight days you would think of something else you wished." the poor girl insisted, with a firmness worthy of better success; but the emperor was inflexible, and on arriving at the top of the hill he said to her, "i hope you will now alight and let me proceed on my journey. i regret it exceedingly, but what you demand of me is impossible." and he thus dismissed her, refusing to listen longer. while this was occurring i was ascending the hill on foot, a few paces from his majesty's carriage; and when this disagreeable scene was over, the young lady, being forced to leave without having obtained what she desired, passed on before me sobbing, and i recognized mademoiselle lajolais, whom i had already seen in similar circumstances, but where her courageous devotion to her parents had met with better success. general lajolais had been arrested, as well as all his family, on the 18th fructidor. after being confined for twenty-eight months, he had been tried at strasburg by a council of war, held by order of the first consul, and acquitted unanimously. later, when the conspiracy of generals pichegru, moreau, george cadoudal, and of messieurs de polignac, de riviere, etc., were discovered, general lajolais, who was also concerned therein, was condemned to death. his daughter and his wife were transferred from strasburg to paris by the police, and madame lajolais was placed in the most rigorous close confinement, while her daughter, now separated from her, took refuge with friends of her family. it was then that this young person, barely fourteen years old, displayed a courage and strength of character unusual at her age; and on learning that her father was condemned to death, she set out at four o'clock in the morning, without confiding her resolution to any one, alone, on foot, and without a guide, with no one to introduce her, and presented herself weeping at the chateau of saint-cloud, where the emperor then was. she succeeded in gaining an entrance into the chateau only after much opposition; but not allowing herself to be rebuffed by any obstacle, she finally presented herself before me, saying, "monsieur, i have been promised that you would conduct me instantly to the emperor" (i do not know who had told her this). "i ask of you only this favor; do not refuse it, i beg!" and moved by her confidence and her despair, i went to inform her majesty the empress. she was deeply touched by the resolution and the tears of one so young, but did not dare, nevertheless, to promise her support at once, for fear of awakening the anger of the emperor, who was very much incensed against those who were concerned in this conspiracy, and ordered me to say to the young daughter of lajolais that she was grieved to be able to do nothing for her just then; but that she might return to saint-cloud the next day at five o'clock in the morning, and meanwhile she and queen hortense would consult together as to the best means of placing her in the emperor's way. the young girl returned next day at the appointed hour; and her majesty the empress had her stationed in the green saloon, and there she awaited ten hours, the moment when the emperor, coming out from the council-chamber, would cross this room to enter his cabinet. the empress and her august daughter gave orders that breakfast, and then dinner, should be served to her, and came in person to beg her to take some nourishment; but their entreaties were all in vain, for the poor girl had no other thought, no other desire, than that of obtaining her father's life. at last, at five o'clock in the afternoon, the emperor appeared; and a sign being made to mademoiselle lajolais by which she could designate the emperor, who was surrounded by several councilors of state and officers of his household, she sprang towards him; and there followed a touching scene, which lasted a long while. the young girl, prostrating herself at the feet of the emperor, supplicated him with clasped hands, and in the most touching terms, to grant her father's pardon. the emperor at first repulsed her, and said in a tone of great severity, "your father is a traitor; this is the second time he has committed a crime against the state; i can grant you nothing." mademoiselle lajolais replied to this outburst of the emperor, "the first time my father was tried and found innocent; this time it is his pardon i implore!" finally the emperor, conquered by so much courage and devotion, and a little fatigued besides by an interview which the perseverance of the young girl would doubtless have prolonged indefinitely, yielded to her prayers, and the life of general lajolais was spared. [it is well known that the sentence of general lajolais was commuted to four years detention in a prison of state, that his property was confiscated and sold, and that he died in the chateau d'if much beyond the time set for the expiration of his captivity.- note by constant.] exhausted by fatigue and hunger, the daughter fell unconscious at the emperor's feet; he himself raised her, gave her every attention, and presenting her to the persons who witnessed this scene, praised her filial piety in unmeasured terms. his majesty at once gave orders that she should be reconducted to paris, and several superior officers disputed with each other the pleasure of accompanying her. generals wolff, aide-de-camp of prince louis, and lavalette were charged with this duty, and conducted her to the conciergerie where her father was confined. on entering his cell, she threw herself on his neck and tried to tell him of the pardon she had just obtained; but overcome by so many emotions, she was unable to utter a word, and it was general lavalette [marie chamans, count de lavalette, was born in paris, 1769. entered the army 1792, made captain at arcola 1796, and served in egyptian campaign. married emilie de beauharnais, a niece of josephine. postmaster-general, 1800-1814. condemned to death during the hundred days, he escaped from prison in his wife's dress. his wife was tried, but became insane from excitement. he was pardoned 1822, and died 1830, leaving two volumes of memoirs.] who announced to the prisoner what he owed to the brave persistence of his daughter. the next day she obtained, through the favor of the empress josephine, the liberty of her mother, who was to have been transported. having obtained the life of her father and the liberty of her mother, as i have just related, she still further exerted herself to save their companions in misfortune, who had been condemned to death, and for this purpose joined the ladies of brittany, who had been led to seek her cooperation by the success of her former petitions, and went with them to malmaison to beg these additional pardons. these ladies had succeeded in getting the execution of the condemned delayed for two hours, with the hope that the empress josephine would be able to influence the emperor; but he remained inflexible, and their generous attempt met with no success, whereupon mademoiselle lajolais returned to paris, much grieved that she had not been able to snatch a few more unfortunates from the rigor of the law. i have already said two things which i am compelled to repeat here: the first is, that, not feeling obliged to relate events in their chronological order, i shall narrate them as they present themselves to my memory; the second is, that i deem it both an obligation and a duty which i owe to the emperor to relate every event which may serve to make his true character better known, and which has been omitted, whether involuntarily or by design, by those who have written his life. i care little if i am accused of monotony on this subject, or of writing only a panegyric; but, if this should be done, i would reply: so much the worse for him who grows weary of the recital of good deeds! i have undertaken to tell the truth concerning the emperor, be it good or bad; and every reader who expects to find in my memoirs of the emperor only evil, as well as he who expects to find only good, will be wise to go no farther, for i have firmly resolved to relate all that i know; and it is not my fault if the kind acts performed by the emperor are so numerous that my recitals should often turn to praises. i thought it best to make these short observations before giving an account of another pardon granted by his majesty at the time of the coronation, and which the story of mademoiselle lajolais has recalled to my recollection. on the day of the last distribution of the decoration of the legion of honor in the church of the invalides, as the emperor was about to retire at the conclusion of this imposing ceremony, a very young man threw himself on his knees on the steps of the throne, crying out, "pardon, pardon for my father." his majesty, touched by his interesting countenance and deep emotion, approached him and attempted to raise him; but the young man still retained his beseeching posture, repeating his demand in moving tones. "what is your father's name?" demanded the emperor. "sire," replied the young man, hardly able to make himself heard, "it is well known, and has been only too often calumniated by the enemies of my father before your majesty; but i swear that he is innocent. i am the son of hugues destrem."--"your father, sir, is gravely compromised by his connection with incorrigible revolutionists; but i will consider your application. monsieur destrem is happy in having so devoted a son." the emperor added a few consoling words, and the young man retired with the certainty that his father would be pardoned; but unfortunately this pardon which was granted by the emperor came too late, and hugues destrem, who had been transported to the island of oleron after the attempt of the 3d nivose, [the affair of the infernal machine in the rue sainte nicaise] in which he had taken no part, died in his exile before he had even learned that the solicitations of his son had met with such complete success. on our return from the glorious campaign of austerlitz, the commune of saint-cloud, so favored by the sojourn of the court, had decided that it would distinguish itself on this occasion, and take the opportunity of manifesting its great affection for the emperor. the mayor of saint-cloud was monsieur barre, a well informed man, with a very kind heart. napoleon esteemed him highly, and took much pleasure in his conversation, and he was sincerely regretted by his subordinates when death removed him. m. barre had erected an arch of triumph, of simple but noble design, in excellent taste, at the foot of the avenue leading to the palace, which was adorned with the following inscription: "to her beloved sovereign; the most fortunate of the communes." the evening on which the emperor was expected, the mayor and his associates, armed with the necessary harangue, passed a part of the night at the foot of the monument. m. barre, who was old and feeble, then retired, after having placed as sentinel one of his associates, whose duty it was to inform him of the arrival of the first courier; and a ladder was placed across the entrance of the arch of triumph, so that no one might pass under it before his majesty. unfortunately, the municipal argus went to sleep; and the emperor arrived in the early morning, and passed by the side of the arch of triumph, much amused at the obstacle which prevented his enjoying the distinguished honor which the good inhabitants of saint-cloud had prepared for him. on the day succeeding this event, a little drawing was circulated in the palace representing the authorities asleep near the monument, a prominent place being accorded the ladder, which barred the passage, and underneath was written the arch barre, alluding to the name of the mayor. as for the inscription, they had travestied it in this manner: "to her beloved sovereign; the sleepiest of the communes." their majesties were much amused by this episode. while the court was at saint-cloud, the emperor, who had worked very late one evening with monsieur de talleyrand, invited the latter to sleep at the chateau; but the prince, who preferred returning to paris, refused, giving as an excuse that the beds had a very disagreeable odor. there was no truth whatever in this statement, for there was, as may be believed, the greatest care taken of the furniture, even in the store-rooms of the different imperial palaces; and the reason assigned by m. de talleyrand being given at random, he could just as well have given any other; but, nevertheless, the remark struck the emperor's attention, and that evening on entering his bedroom he complained that his bed had an unpleasant odor. i assured him to the contrary, and told his majesty that he would next day be convinced of his error; but, far from being persuaded, the emperor, when he rose next morning, repeated the assertion that his bed had a very disagreeable odor, and that it was absolutely necessary to change it. m. charvet, concierge of the palace, was at once summoned; his majesty complained of his bed, and ordered another to be brought. m. desmasis, keeper of the furniture-room, was also called, who examined mattress, feather-beds, and covering, turned and returned them in every direction; other persons did the same, and each was convinced that there was no odor about his majesty's bed. in spite of so many witnesses to the contrary, the emperor, not because he made it a point of honor not to have what he had asserted proved false, but merely from a caprice to which he was very subject, persisted in his first idea, and required his bed to be changed. seeing that it was necessary to obey, i sent this bed to the tuileries, and had the one which was there brought to the chateau of saint-cloud. the emperor was now satisfied, and, on his return to the tuileries, did not notice the exchange, and thought his bed in that chateau very good; and the most amusing part of all was that the ladies of the palace, having learned that the emperor had complained of his bed, all found an unbearable odor in theirs, and insisted that everything must be overhauled, which created a small revolution. the caprices of sovereigns are sometimes epidemic. chapter xxx. his majesty was accustomed to say that one could always tell an honorable man by his conduct to his wife, his children, and his servants; and i hope it will appear from these memoirs that the emperor conducted himself as an honorable man, according to his own definition. he said, moreover, that immorality was the most dangerous vice of a sovereign, because of the evil example it set to his subjects. what he meant by immorality was doubtless a scandalous publicity given to liaisons which might otherwise have remained secret; for, as regards these liaisons themselves, he withstood women no more than any other man when they threw themselves at his head. perhaps another man, surrounded by seductions, attacks, and advances of all kinds, would have resisted these temptations still less. nevertheless, please god, i do not propose to defend his majesty in this respect. i will even admit, if you wish, that his conduct did not offer an example in the most perfect accord with the morality of his discourses; but it must be admitted also that it was somewhat to the credit of a sovereign that he concealed, with the most scrupulous care, his frailties from the public, lest they should be a subject of scandal, or, what is worse, of imitation; and from his wife, to whom it would have been a source of the deepest grief. on this delicate subject i recall two or three occurrences which took place, i think, about the period which my narrative has now reached. the empress josephine was jealous, and, notwithstanding the prudence which the emperor exercised in his secret liaisons, could not remain in entire ignorance of what was passing. the emperor had known at genoa madame gazani, the daughter of an italian dancer, whom he continued to receive at paris; and one day, having an appointment with her in his private apartments, ordered me to remain in his room, and to reply to whoever asked for him, even if it was her majesty the empress herself, that he was engaged in his cabinet with a minister. the place of the interview was the apartment formerly occupied by bourrienne, communicating by a staircase which opened on his majesty's bedroom. this room had been arranged and decorated very plainly, and had a second exit on the staircase called the black staircase, because it was dark and badly lighted, and it was through this that madame gazani entered, while the emperor came in by the other door. they had been together only a few moments when the empress entered the emperor's room, and asked me what her husband was doing. "madame, the emperor is very busy just now; he is working in his cabinet with a minister."--"constant, i wish to enter."--"that is impossible, madame. i have received a formal order not to disturb his majesty, not even for her majesty the empress;" whereupon she went away dissatisfied and somewhat irritated, and at the end of half an hour returned; and, renewing her demand, i was obliged to repeat my reply, and, though much distressed in witnessing the chagrin of her majesty the empress, i could not disobey my orders. that evening on retiring the emperor said to me, in a very severe tone, that the empress had informed him she had learned from me, that, at the time she came to question me in regard to him, he was closeted with a lady. not at all disturbed, i replied to the emperor, that of course he could not believe that. "no," replied the emperor, returning to the friendly tone with which he habitually honored me, "i know you well enough to be assured of your discretion; but woe to the idiots who are gossiping, if i can get hold of them." the next night the empress entered, as the emperor was retiring, and his majesty said to her in my presence, "it is very bad to impute falsehood to poor monsieur constant; he is not the man to make up such a tale as that you told me." the empress, seated on the edge of the bed, began to laugh, and put her pretty little hand over her husband's mouth; and, as it was a matter concerning myself, i withdrew. for a few days the empress was cool and distant to me; but, as this was foreign to her nature, she soon resumed the gracious manner which attached all hearts to her. the emperor's liaison with madame gazani lasted nearly a year, but they met only at long intervals. the following instance of jealousy is not as personal to me as that which i have just related. madame de remusat, [authoress of the well-known memoirs. born in paris, 1780, died 1821. her husband was first chamberlain to the emperor.] wife of one of the prefects of the palace, and one of the ladies of honor to whom the empress was most attached, found her one evening in tears and despair, and waited in silence till her majesty should condescend to tell her the cause of this deep trouble. she had not long to wait, however; for hardly had she entered the apartment than her majesty exclaimed, "i am sure that he is now with some woman. my dear friend," added she, continuing to weep, "take this candle and let us go and listen at his door. we will hear much." madame de remusat did all in her power to dissuade her from this project, representing to her the lateness of the hour, the darkness of the passage, and the danger they would run of being surprised; but all in vain, her majesty put the candle in her hand, saying, "it is absolutely necessary that you should go with me, but, if you are afraid, i will go in front." madame de remusat obeyed; and behold the two ladies advancing on their tiptoes along the corridor, by the light of a single candle flickering in the air. having reached the door of the emperor's antechamber, they stopped, hardly daring to breathe, and the empress softly turned the knob; but, just as she put her foot into the apartment, roustan, who slept there and was then sleeping soundly, gave a formidable and prolonged snore. these ladies had not apparently remembered that they would find him there; and madame de remusat, imagining that she already saw him leaping out of bed saber and pistol in hand, turned and ran as fast as she could, still holding the candle in her hand, and leaving the empress in complete darkness, and did not stop to take breath until she reached the empress's bedroom, when she remembered that the latter had been left in the corridor with no light. madame de remusat went back to meet her, and saw her returning, holding her sides with laughter, and forgetting her chagrin in the amusement caused by this adventure. madame de remusat attempted to excuse herself. "my dear friend," said her majesty, "you only anticipated me, for that pigheaded roustan frightened me so that i should have run first, if you had not been a greater coward than i." i do not know what these ladies would have discovered if their courage had not failed them before reaching the end of their expedition, but probably nothing at all, for the emperor rarely received at the tuileries any one for whom he had a temporary fancy. i have already stated that, under the consulate, he had his meetings in a small house in the allee des veuves; and after he became emperor, such meetings still took place outside the chateau; and to these rendezvous he went incognito at night, exposing himself to all the chances that a man runs in such adventures. one evening, between eleven o'clock and midnight, the emperor called me, asked for a black frock coat and round hat, and ordered me to follow him; and with prince murat as the third party, we entered a close carriage with caesar as driver, and only a single footman, both without livery. after a short ride, the emperor stopped in the rue de ---, alighted, went a few steps farther, and entered a house alone, while the prince and i remained in the carriage. some hours passed, and we began to be uneasy; for the life of the emperor had been so often menaced, that it was very natural to fear some snare or surprise, and imagination takes the reins when beset by such fears. prince murat swore and cursed with all his might, sometimes the imprudence of his majesty, then his gallantry, then the lady and her complaisance. i was not any better satisfied than he, but being calmer i tried to quiet him; and at last, unable longer to restrain his impatience, the prince sprang out of the carriage, and i followed; but, just as his hand was on the knocker of the door, the emperor came out. it was then already broad daylight, and the prince informed him of our anxiety, and the reflections we had made upon his rashness. "what childishness!" said his majesty; "what is there to fear? wherever i am, am i not in my own house?" it was as volunteers that any courtiers mentioned to the emperor any young and pretty persons who wished to make his acquaintance, for it was in no wise in keeping with his character to give such commissions. i was not enough of a courtier to think such an employment honorable, and never voluntarily took part in any business of the kind. it was not, however, for want of having been indirectly sounded, or even openly solicited, by certain ladies who were ambitious of the title of favorites, although this title would have given very few rights and privileges with the emperor; but i would never enter into such bargains, restricting myself to the duties which my position imposed on me, and not going beyond them; and, although his majesty took pleasure in reviving the usages of the old monarchy, the secret duties of the first valet de chambre were not re-established, and i took care not to claim them. many others (not valets de chambre) were less scrupulous than i. general l---spoke to the emperor one day of a very pretty girl whose mother kept a gambling-house, and who desired to be presented to him; but the emperor received her once only, and a few days afterwards she was married. some time later his majesty wished to see her again, and asked for her; but the young woman replied that she did not belong to herself any longer, and refused all the invitations and offers made to her. the emperor seemed in no wise dissatisfied, but on the contrary praised madame d---for her fidelity to duty, and approved her conduct highly. in 1804 her imperial highness princess murat had in her household a young reader named mademoiselle e----, seventeen or eighteen years of age, tall, slender, well made, a brunette, with beautiful black eyes, sprightly, and very coquettish. some persons who thought it to their interest to create differences between his majesty and the empress, his wife, noticed with pleasure the inclination of this young reader to try the power of her glances upon the emperor, and his disposition to encourage her; so they stirred up the fire adroitly, and one of them took upon himself all the diplomacy of this affair. propositions made through a third party were at once accepted; and the beautiful e---came to the chateau secretly, but rarely, and remained there only two or three, hours. when she became enceinte, the emperor had a house rented for her in the rue chantereine, where she bore a fine boy, upon whom was settled at his birth an income of thirty thousand francs. he was confided at first to the care of madame i----, nurse of prince achille murat, who kept him three or four years, and then monsieur de meneval, his majesty's secretary, was ordered to provide for the education of this child; and when the emperor returned from the island of elba; the son of mademoiselle e---was placed in the care of her majesty, the empress-mother. the liaison of the emperor with mademoiselle e---did not last long. she came one day with her mother to fontainebleau, where the court then happened to be, went up to his majesty's apartment, and asked me to announce her; and the emperor, being exceedingly displeased by this step, directed me to say to mademoiselle e---that he forbade her to present herself before him again without his permission, and not to remain a moment longer at fontainebleau. in spite of this harshness to the mother, the emperor loved the son tenderly; and i brought him to him often, on which occasions he caressed the child, gave him a great many dainties, and was much amused by his vivacity and repartees, which showed remarkable intelligence for his age. this child and that of the polish beauty, of whom i will speak later, [this son of countess walewska became count walewski, a leading statesman of the second empire, ambassador to london, 1852, minister of foreign affairs, 1855, minister of state, 1860, president of corps legislatif, 1865. born 1810, died 1868.--trans.] and the king of rome, were the only children of the emperor. he never had a daughter, and i believe he desired none. i have seen it stated, i know not where, that the emperor, during the long stay we made at boulogne, indemnified himself at night for the labors of the day with a beautiful italian, and i will now relate what i know of this adventure. his majesty complained one morning, while i was dressing him, in the presence of prince murat, that he saw none but moustached faces, which he said was very tiresome; and the prince, ever ready on occasions of this kind to offer his services to his brother-in-law, spoke to him of a handsome and attractive genoese lady, who had the greatest desire to see his majesty. the emperor laughingly granted a tete-a-tete, the prince himself offering to send the message; and two days later, by his kind assistance, the lady arrived, and was installed in the upper town. the emperor, who lodged at pont des briques, ordered me one evening to take a carriage, and find this protegee of prince murat. i obeyed, and brought the beautiful genoese, who, to avoid scandal, although it was a dark night, was introduced through a little garden behind his majesty's apartments. the poor woman was much excited, and shed tears, but controlled herself quickly on finding that she was kindly received, and the interview was prolonged until three o'clock in the morning, when i was called to carry her back. she returned afterwards four or five times, and was with the emperor afterwards at rambouillet. she was gentle, simple, credulous, and not at all intriguing, and did not try to draw any benefit from a liaison which at best was only temporary. another of these favorites of the moment, who threw themselves so to speak into the arms of the emperor without giving him time to make his court to them, was mademoiselle l. b----, a very pretty girl. she was intelligent, and possessed a kind heart, and, had she received a less frivolous education, would doubtless have been an estimable woman; but i have reason to believe that her mother had from the first the design of acquiring a protector for her second husband, by utilizing the youth and attractions of the daughter of her first. i do not now recall her name, but she was of a noble family, of which fact the mother and daughter were very proud, and the young girl was a good musician, and sang agreeably; but, which appeared to me as ridiculous as indecent, she danced the ballet before a large company in her mother's house, in a costume almost as light as those of the opera, with castanets or tambourines, and ended her dance with a multiplicity of attitudes and graces. with such an education she naturally thought her position not at all unusual, and was very much chagrined at the short duration of her liaison with the emperor; while the mother was in despair, and said to me with disgusting simplicity, "see my poor lise, how she has ruined her complexion in her vexation at seeing herself neglected, poor child. how good you will be, if you can manage to have her sent for." to secure an interview for which the mother and daughter were both so desirous, they came together to the chapel at saint-cloud, and during mass the poor lise threw glances at the emperor which made the young ladies blush who witnessed them, and were, nevertheless, all in vain, for the emperor remained unmoved. colonel l. b---was aide-de-camp to general l----, the governor of saint-cloud; and the general was a widower, which facts alone furnish an excuse for the intimacy of his only daughter with the family of l. b----, which astonished me greatly. one day, when i was dining at the house of the colonel, with his wife, his step-daughter, and mademoiselle l----, the general sent for his aides-de-camp, and i was left alone, with the ladies; who so earnestly begged me to accompany them on a visit to mademoiselle le normand, that it would have been impolite to refuse, consequently we ordered a carriage and went to the rue de tournon. mademoiselle l. b---was first to enter the sybil's cave, where she remained a long while, but on her return was very reserved as to any communications made to her, though mademoiselle l---told us very frankly that she had good news, and would soon marry the man she loved, which event soon occurred. these ladies having urged me to consult the prophetess in my turn, i perceived plainly that i was recognized; for mademoiselle le normand at once discovered in my hand that i had the happiness of being near a great man and being highly esteemed by him, adding much other nonsense of the same kind, which was so tiresome that i thanked her, and made my adieux as quickly as possible. chapter xxxi. while the emperor was giving crowns to his brothers and sisters,--to prince louis, the throne of holland; naples to prince joseph; the duchy of berg to prince murat; to the princess eliza, lucca and massa-carrara; and guastalla to the princess pauline borghese; and while, by means of treaties and family alliances, he was assuring still more the co-operation of the different states which had entered into the confederation of the rhine,--war was renewed between france and prussia. it is not my province to investigate the causes of this war, nor to decide which first gave cause of offense. all i can certify is this, frequently at the tuileries, and on the campaign, i heard the emperor, in conversation with his intimate friends, accuse the old duke of brunswick, whose name had been so odious in france since 1792, and also the young and beautiful queen of prussia, of having influenced king frederic william to break the treaty of peace. the queen was, according to the emperor, more disposed to war than general blucher himself. she wore the uniform of the regiment to which she had given her name, appeared at all reviews, and commanded the maneuvers. we left paris at the end of september. i will not enter into the details of this wonderful campaign, in which the emperor in an incredibly short time crushed to pieces an army of one hundred and fifty thousand men, perfectly disciplined, full of enthusiasm and courage, and fighting in defense of their country. in one of the first battles, the young prince louis of prussia, brother of the king, was killed at the head of his troops by guinde, quartermaster of the tenth hussars. the prince fought hand to hand with this brave sub-officer, who said to him, "surrender, colonel, or you are a dead man," to which prince louis replied only by a saber stroke, whereupon guinde plunged his own into the body of his opponent, and he fell dead on the spot. on this campaign, as the roads had become very rough from the continual passage of artillery, my carriage was one day upset, and one of the emperor's hats fell out of the door; but a regiment which happened to pass along the same road having recognized the hat from its peculiar shape, my carriage was immediately set up again, "for," said these brave soldiers, "we cannot leave the first valet of the little corporal in trouble;" and the hat, after passing through many hands, was at last restored to me before my departure. on the emperor's arrival at the plateau of weimar, he arranged his army in line of battle, and bivouacked in the midst of his guard. about two o'clock in the morning he arose and went on foot to examine the work on a road that was being cut in the rock for the transportation of artillery, and after remaining nearly an hour with the workmen, decided to take a look at the nearest advance posts before returning to his bivouac. this round, which the emperor insisted on making alone and with no escort, came near costing him his life. the night was so dark that the sentinels of the camp could not see ten steps in front of them; and the first, hearing some one in the darkness approaching our line, called out "qui vive?" and prepared to fire. the emperor being lost in thought, as he himself told me afterwards, did not notice the sentinel's challenge, and made no reply until a ball, whistling by his ears, woke him from his reverie, when immediately perceiving his danger, he threw himself face downwards on the ground, which was a very wise precaution; for hardly had his majesty placed himself in this position, than other balls passed over his head, the discharge of the first sentinel having been repeated by the whole line. this first fire over, the emperor rose, walked towards the nearest post, and made himself known. his majesty was still there when the soldier who had fired on him joined them, being just relieved at his post; he was a young grenadier of the line. the emperor ordered him to approach, and, pinching his cheeks hard, exclaimed, "what, you scamp, you took me for a prussian! this rascal does not throw away his powder on sparrows; he shoots only at emperors." the poor soldier was completely overcome with the idea that he might have killed the little corporal, whom he adored as much as did the rest of the army; and it was with great difficulty he could say, "pardon, sire, but i was obeying orders; and if you did not answer, it was not my fault. i was compelled to have the countersign, and you would not give it." the emperor reassured him with a smile, and said, as he left the post, "my brave boy, i do not reproach you. that was pretty well aimed for a shot fired in the dark; but after awhile it will be daylight; take better aim, and i will remember you." the results of the battle of jena, fought on the 14th of october (1806), are well known. almost all the prussian generals, at least the bravest among them, were there taken prisoners, or rendered unable to continue the campaign. the king and queen took flight, and did not halt till they had reached koenigsberg. a few moments before the attack, the queen of prussia, mounted on a noble, graceful steed, had appeared in the midst of the soldiers; and, followed by the elite of the youth of berlin, this royal amazon had galloped down the front rank of the line of battle. the numerous banners which her own hands had embroidered to encourage her troops, with those of the great frederick, blackened by the smoke of many battles, were lowered at her approach, amid shouts of enthusiasm which rang through the entire ranks of the prussian army. the atmosphere was so clear, and the two armies so near each other, that the french could easily distinguish the costume of the queen. this striking costume was, in fact, one great cause of the danger she encountered in her flight. her head was covered with a helmet of polished steel, above which waved a magnificent plume, her cuirass glittered with gold and silver, while a tunic of silver cloth completed her costume and fell to her feet, which were shod in red boots with gold spurs. this dress heightened the charms of the beautiful queen. when the prussian army was put to flight, the queen was left alone with three or four young men of berlin, who defended her until two hussars, who had covered themselves with glory during the battle, rushed at a gallop with drawn sabers on this little group, and they were instantly dispersed. frightened by this sudden onset, the horse which her majesty rode fled with all the strength of his limbs; and well was it for the fugitive queen that he was swift as a stag, else the two hussars would infallibly have made her a prisoner, for more than once they pressed so close that she heard their rude speeches and coarse jests, which were of such a nature as to shock her ears. the queen, thus pursued, had arrived in sight of the gate of weimar, when a strong detachment of klein's dragoons were perceived coming at full speed, the chief having orders to capture the queen at any cost; but, the instant she entered the city, the gates swung to behind her, and the hussars and the detachment of dragoons returned disappointed to the battle-field. the particulars of this singular pursuit soon reached the emperor's ears, and he summoned the hussars to his presence, and having in strong terms testified his disapproval of the improper jests that they had dared to make regarding the queen; at a time when her misfortunes should have increased the respect due both to her rank and her sex, the emperor then performed the duty of rewarding these two brave fellows for the manner in which they had borne themselves on the field of battle. knowing that they had dons prodigies of valor, his majesty gave them the cross, and ordered three hundred francs to be given each one as gratuity. the emperor exercised his clemency toward the duke of weimar, who had commanded a prussian division. the day after the battle of jena, his majesty, having reached weimar, lodged at the ducal palace, where he was received by the duchess regent, to whom he said, "madame, i owe you something for having awaited me; and in appreciation of the confidence you have manifested in me, i pardon your husband." while we were in the army i slept in the emperor's tent, either on a little rug, or on the bearskin which he used in his carriage; or when it happened that i could not make use of these articles, i tried to procure a bed-of straw, and remember one evening having rendered a great service to the king of naples, by sharing with him the bundle of straw which was to have served as my bed. i here give a few details from which the reader can form an idea of the manner in which i passed the nights on the campaign. the emperor slept on his little iron bedstead, and i slept where i could. hardly did i fall asleep before the emperor called me, "constant."--"sire."--"see who is on duty" (it was the aides-de-camp to whom he referred).--"sire, it is m.----"--"tell him to come to me." i then went out of the tent to summon the officer, and brought him back with me. on his entrance the emperor said to him, "report to such a corps, commanded by such a marshal; you will request him to send such a regiment to such a position; you will ascertain the position of the enemy, then you will return to report." the aide-de-camp, having left on horseback to execute these orders, i lay down again, and the emperor now seemed to be going to sleep; but, at the end of a few moments, i heard him call again, "constant."--"sire."--"have the prince de neuchatel summoned." i sent for the prince, who came at once; and during the conversation i must remain at the door of the tent, until the prince wrote several orders and withdrew. these interruptions took place many times during the night, and at last towards morning his majesty slept, when i also had a few moments of repose. when aides-de-camp arrived, bringing any news to the emperor, i awoke him, by shaking him gently. "what is it?" said his majesty, waking with a start; "what o'clock is it? let him enter." the aide-de-camp made his report; and if it was necessary, his majesty rose immediately, and left the tent, his toilet never occupying much time. if a battle was in contemplation the emperor scanned the sky and the horizon carefully, and often remarked, "we are going to have a beautiful day." breakfast was prepared and served in five minutes, and at the end of a quarter of an hour the cloth was removed. the prince de neuchatel breakfasted and dined every day with his majesty; and, in eight or ten minutes, the longest meal was over. "to horse," then exclaimed the emperor, and set out, accompanied by the prince de neuchatel, and an aide-de-camp or two, with roustan, who always carried a silver flask of brandy, which, however, the emperor rarely ever used. his majesty passed from one corps to the other, spoke to the officers and soldiers, questioned them, and saw with his own eyes all that it was possible to see. if a battle was on hand, dinner was forgotten, and the emperor ate only after his return; but, if the engagement lasted too long, there was carried to him, without his ordering it, a crust of bread and a little wine. m. colin, chief of the culinary department, many times braved the cannon to carry a light repast to the emperor. at the close of the combat, his majesty never failed to visit the battle-field, where he had aid given the wounded, and encouraged them with cheering words. the emperor sometimes returned overcome by fatigue; he then took a light repast, and lay down again to begin his interrupted sleep. it was remarkable, that, each time that unexpected circumstances forced the aides-de-camp to have the emperor waked, he was as ready for work as he would have been at the beginning or in the middle of the day, and his awaking was as amiable as his manner was pleasant. the report of an aide-de-camp being finished, napoleon went to sleep again as easily as if his sleep had not been interrupted. during the three or four hours preceding an engagement, the emperor spent most of the time with large maps spread out before him, the places on which he marked with pins with heads of different colored wax. i have already said that all the persons of the emperor's household emulated each other in seeking the surest and promptest means of carrying out his wishes; and everywhere, whether in traveling or on the campaign, his table, his coffee, his bed, or even his bath could be prepared in five minutes. how many times were we obliged to remove, in still less time, corpses of men and horses, to set up his majesty's tent. in one of the campaigns beyond the rhine we were delayed in a poor village, and, in order to prepare the emperor's lodging, were obliged to use a peasant's hut, which had served as a field hospital; and we began preparations by carrying away the dismembered limbs, and washing up the stains of blood, this labor being finished, and everything almost in order, in less than-half an hour. the emperor, sometimes slept a quarter or half an hour on the field of battle when he was fatigued, or wished to await more patiently the result of the orders he had given. while on the road to potsdam, we were overtaken by a violent storm, which became so severe, and the rain so heavy, that we were obliged to stop and take refuge in a neighboring house on the road. well wrapped in his gray overcoat, and not thinking that he could be recognized, the emperor was much surprised to see, as he entered the house, a young woman who seemed to tremble at his presence. he ascertained that she was an egyptian, who had retained for my master the religious veneration which all the arabs bore him, and was the widow of an officer of the army of egypt, whom chance had led to the same house in saxony where he had been welcomed. the emperor granted her a pension of twelve hundred francs, and took upon himself the education of her son, the only legacy left her by her husband. "this is the first time," said napoleon, "that i have alighted to avoid a storm; i had a presentiment that an opportunity of doing good awaited me here." the loss of the battle of jena had struck the prussians with such terror, and the court had fled with such precipitation, that everything had been left in the royal residences; and, consequently, on his arrival at potsdam, the emperor found there the sword of the great frederick, his gorget, the grand cordon of his order, and his alarm-clock, and had them carried to paris, to be preserved at the hotel des invalides. "i prefer these trophies," said his majesty, "to all the treasures of the king of prussia; i will send them to my old soldiers of the campaign of hanover, who will guard them as a trophy of the victories of the grand army, and of the revenge that it has taken for the disaster of rosbach." the emperor the same day ordered the removal to his capital of the column raised by the great frederick to perpetuate the remembrance of the defeat of the french at rosbach. [at rosbach, november, 1757, the french, under prince de soubise, had been shamefully defeated by frederick the great] he might have contented himself with changing the inscription. napoleon remained at the chateau of charlottenburg, where he had established his headquarters, until the regiments of the guard had arrived from all points; and as soon as they were assembled, orders were given to put themselves in full uniform, which was done in the little wood before the town. the emperor made his entry into the capital of prussia between ten and eleven o'clock in the morning, surrounded by his aides-de-camp, and the officers of his staff, all the regiments filing before him in the most perfect order, drums and music at their head; and the fine appearance of the troops excited the admiration of the prussians. having entered berlin in the suite of the emperor, we arrived at the town square, in the midst of which a bust of the great frederick had been placed. the name of this monarch is so popular at berlin, and, in fact, throughout all prussia, that on many occasions, when any one by chance pronounced it, either in a cafe or in any other public place, or even in private assemblies, i have seen every one present rise, and lift his hat with an air of the most profound respect and genuine adoration. when the emperor arrived in front of the bust, he described a semicircle at a gallop, followed by his staff, and lowering the point of his sword, while uncovering his head, was the first to salute the image of frederick ii. his staff followed his example; and all the general and other officers who composed it ranged themselves in a semicircle around the bust, with the emperor in the center. his majesty gave orders that each regiment should present arms in defiling before the bust, which maneuver was not to the taste of some grumblers of the first regiment of the guard, who, with moustaches scorched, and faces still blackened with the powder of jena, would have better liked an order for lodgings with the bourgeois than all this parade, and took no pains to conceal their ill-humor. there was one, among others, who, as he passed in front of the bust and before the emperor, exclaimed between his teeth, without moving a muscle of his face, but still loud enough to be heard by his majesty, "damn the bust." his majesty pretended not to hear, but that evening he repeated with a laugh the words of the old soldier. his majesty alighted at the chateau, where his lodging was prepared, and the officers of his household had preceded him. having learned that the electoral princess of hesse-cassel, sister of the king, was still ill at the end of her confinement, the emperor ascended to the apartment of this princess, and, after quite a long visit, gave orders that she should be treated with all the deference due to her rank and unfortunate situation. volume ii. chapter i. i left the emperor at berlin, where each day, and each hour of the day, he received news of some victory gained, or some success obtained by his generals. general beaumont presented to him eighty flags captured from the enemy by his division, and colonel gerard also presented sixty taken from blucher at the battle of wismar. madgeburg had capitulated, and a garrison of sixty thousand men had marched out under the eyes of general savary. marshal mortier occupied hanover in the name of france, and prince murat was on the point of entering warsaw after driving out the russians. war was about to recommence, or rather to be continued, against the latter; and since the prussian army could now be regarded as entirely vanquished, the emperor left berlin in order to personally conduct operations against the russians. we traveled in the little coaches of the country; and as was the rule always on our journeys, the carriage of the grand marshal preceded that of the emperor. the season, and the passage of such large numbers of artillery, had rendered the roads frightful; but notwithstanding this we traveled very rapidly, until at last between kutow and warsaw, the grand marshal's carriage was upset, and his collarbone broken. the emperor arrived a short time after this unfortunate accident, and had him borne under his own eyes into the nearest post-house. we always carried with us a portable medicine-chest in order that needed help might be promptly given to the wounded. his majesty placed him in the hands of the surgeon, and did not leave him till he had seen the first bandage applied. at warsaw, where his majesty passed the entire month of january, 1807, he occupied the grand palace. the polish nobility, eager to pay their court to him, gave in his honor magnificent fetes and brilliant balls, at which were present all the wealthiest and most distinguished inhabitants of warsaw. at one of these reunions the emperor's attention was drawn to a young polish lady named madame valevska, twenty-two years of age, who had just married an old noble of exacting temper and extremely harsh manners, more in love with his titles than with his wife, whom, however, he loved devotedly, and by whom he was more respected than loved. the emperor experienced much pleasure at the sight of this lady, who attracted his attention at the first glance. she was a blonde, with blue eyes, and skin of dazzling whiteness; of medium height, with a charming and beautifully proportioned figure. the emperor having approached her, immediately began a conversation, which she sustained with much grace and intelligence, showing that she had received a fine education, and the slight shade of melancholy diffused over her whole person rendered her still more seductive. his majesty thought he beheld in her a woman who had been sacrificed, and was unhappy in her domestic relations; and the interest with which this idea inspired him caused him to be more interested in her than he had ever been in any woman, a fact of which she could not fail to be conscious. the day after the ball, the emperor seemed to me unusually agitated; he rose from his chair, paced to and fro, took his seat and rose again, until i thought i should never finish dressing him. immediately after breakfast he ordered a person, whose name i shall not give, to pay a visit to madame valevska, and inform her of his subjugation and his wishes. she proudly refused propositions which were perhaps too brusque, or which perhaps the coquetry natural to all women led her to repulse; and though the hero pleased her, and the idea of a lover resplendent with power and glory revolved doubtless over and over in her brain, she had no idea of surrendering thus without a struggle. the great personage returned in confusion, much astonished that he had not succeeded in his mission; and the next day when the emperor rose i found him still preoccupied, and he did not utter a word, although he was in the habit of talking to me at this time. he had written to madame valevska several times, but she had not replied; and his vanity was much piqued by such unaccustomed indifference. at last his affecting appeals having touched madame valevska's heart, she consented to an interview between ten and eleven o'clock that evening, which took place at the appointed time. she returned a few days after at the same hour, and her visits continued until the emperor's departure. two months after the emperor sent for her; and she joined him at his headquarters in finkenstein, where she remained from this time, leaving at warsaw her old husband, who, deeply wounded both in his honor and his affections, wished never to see again the wife who had abandoned him. madame valevska remained with the emperor until his departure, and then returned to her family, constantly evincing the most devoted and, at the same time, disinterested affection. the emperor seemed to appreciate perfectly the charms of this angelic woman, whose gentle and self-abnegating character made a profound impression on me. as they took their meals together, and i served them alone, i was thus in a position to enjoy their conversation, which was always amiable, gay, and animated on the emperor's part; tender, impassioned, and melancholy on that of madame valevska. when his majesty was absent, madame valevska passed all her time, either in reading, or viewing through the lattice blinds of the emperor's rooms the parades and evolutions which took place in the court of honor of the chateau, and which he often commanded in person. such was her life, like her disposition, ever calm and equable; and this loveliness of character charmed the emperor, and made him each day more and more her slave. after the battle of wagram, in 1809, the emperor took up his residence at the palace of schoenbrunn, and sent immediately for madame valevska, for whom a charming house had been rented and furnished in one of the faubourgs of vienna, a short distance from schoenbrunn. i went mysteriously to bring her every evening in a close carriage, with a single servant, without livery; she entered by a secret door, and was introduced into the emperor's apartments. the road, although very short, was not without danger, especially in rainy weather, on account of ruts and holes which were encountered at every step; and the emperor said to me almost every day, "be very careful, constant, it has rained to-day; the road will be bad. are you sure you have a good driver? is the carriage in good condition?" and other questions of the same kind, which evidenced the deep and sincere affection he felt for madame valevska. the emperor was not wrong, besides, in urging me to be careful; for one evening, when we had left madame valevska's residence a little later than usual, the coachman upset us, and in trying to avoid a rut, drove the carriage over the edge of the road. i was on the right of madame valevska and the carriage fell on that side, in such a position that i alone felt the shock of the fall, since madame valevska falling on me, received no injury. i was glad to be the means of saving her, and when i said this she expressed her gratitude with a grace peculiarly her own. my injuries were slight; and i began to laugh the first, in which madame valevska soon joined, and she related our accident to his majesty immediately on our arrival. i could not undertake to describe all the care and attentions which the emperor lavished upon her. he had her brought to paris, accompanied by her brother, a very distinguished officer, and her maid, and gave the grand marshal orders to purchase for her a pretty residence in the chaussee-d'antin. madame valevska was very happy, and often said to me, "all my thoughts, all my inspirations, come from him, and return to him; he is all my happiness, my future, my life!" she never left her house except to come to the private apartments at the tuileries, and when this happiness could not be granted, went neither to the theater, the promenade, nor in society, but remained at home, seeing only very few persons, and writing to the emperor every day. at length she gave birth to a son, [count walewski, born 1810; minister to england, 1852; minister of foreign affairs, 1855-1860; died 1868.] who bore a striking resemblance to the emperor, to whom this event was a source of great joy; and he hastened to her as soon as it was possible to escape from the chateau, and taking the child in his arms, and caressing him, as he had just caressed the mother, said to him, "i make you a count." later we shall see this son receiving at fontainebleau a final proof of affection. madame valevska reared her son at her residence, never leaving him, and carried him often to the chateau, where i admitted them by the dark staircase, and when either was sick the emperor sent to them monsieur corvisart. this skillful physician had on one occasion the happiness of saving the life of the young count in a dangerous illness. madame valevska had a gold ring made for the emperor, around which she twined her beautiful blonde hair, and on the inside of the ring were engraved these words: "when you cease to love me, do not forget that i love you." the emperor gave her no other name but marie. i have perhaps devoted too much space to this liaison of the emperor: but madame valevska was entirely different from the other women whose favor his majesty obtained; and she was worthy to be named the la valliere of the emperor, who, however, did not show himself ungrateful towards her, as did louis xiv. towards the only woman by whom he was beloved. those who had, like myself, the happiness of knowing and seeing her intimately must have preserved memories of her which will enable them to comprehend why in my opinion there exists so great a distance between madame valevska, the tender and modest woman, rearing in retirement the son she bore to the emperor, and the favorites of the conqueror of austerlitz. chapter ii. the russians, being incited to this campaign by the remembrance of the defeat of austerlitz, and by the fear of seeing poland snatched from their grasp, were not deterred by the winter season, and resolved to open the attack on the emperor at once; and as the latter was not the man to allow himself to be forestalled, he consequently abandoned his winter quarters, and quitted warsaw at the end of january. on the 8th of february the two armies met at eylau; and there took place, as is well known, a bloody battle, in which both sides showed equal courage, and nearly fifteen thousand were left dead on the field of battle, equally divided in number between the french and russians. the gain, or rather the loss, was the same to both armies; and a 'te deum' was chanted at st. petersburg as well as at paris, instead of the 'de profundis', which would have been much more appropriate. his majesty complained bitterly on returning to his headquarters that the order he had sent to general bernadotte had not been executed, and in consequence of this his corps had taken no part in the battle, and expressed his firm conviction that the victory, which remained in doubt between the emperor and general benningsen, would have been decided in favor of the former had a fresh army-corps arrived during the battle, according to the emperor's calculations. most unfortunately the aide-de-camp bearing the emperor's orders to the prince of ponte-corvo had fallen into the hands of a party of cossacks; and when the emperor was informed of this circumstance the day after the battle, his resentment was appeased, though not his disappointment. our troops bivouacked on the field of battle, which his majesty visited three times, for the purpose of directing the assistance of the wounded, and removal of the dead. generals d'hautpoult, corbineau, and boursier were mortally wounded at eylau; and it seems to me i can still hear the brave d'hautpoult saying to his majesty, just as he dashed off at a gallop to charge the enemy: "sire, you will now see my great claws; they will pierce through the enemy's squares as if they were butter" an hour after he was no more. one of his regiments, being engaged in the interval with the russian army, was mowed down with grape-shot, and hacked to pieces by the cossacks, only eighteen men being left. general d'hautpoult, forced to fall back three times with his division, led it back twice to the charge; and as he threw himself against the enemy the third time shouted loudly, "forward, cuirassiers, in god's name! forward, my brave cuirassiers?" but the grapeshot had mowed down too many of these brave fellows; very few were left to follow their chief, and he soon fell pierced with wounds in the midst of a square of russians into which he had rushed almost alone. i think it was in this battle also that general ordenerl killed with his own hands a general officer of the enemy. the emperor asked if he could not have taken him alive. "sire," replied the general with his strong german accent, "i gave him only one blow, but i tried to make it a good one." on the very morning of the battle, general corbineau, the emperor's aide-de-camp, while at breakfast with the officers on duty, declared to them that he was oppressed by the saddest presentiments; but these gentlemen, attempting to divert his mind, turned the affair into a joke. general corbineau a few moments after received an order from his majesty, and not finding some money he wished at monsieur de meneval's quarters, came to me, and i gave it to him from the emperor's private purse; at the end of a few hours i met monsieur de meneval, to whom i rendered an account of general corbineau's request, and the sum i had lent him. i was still speaking to monsieur de meneval, when an officer passing at a gallop gave us the sad news of the general's death. i have never forgotten the impression made on me by this sad news, and i still find no explanation of the strange mental distress which gave warning to this brave soldier of his approaching end. poland was relying upon the emperor to re-establish her independence, and consequently the poles were filled with hope and enthusiasm on witnessing the arrival of the french army. as for our soldiers, this winter campaign was most distasteful to them; for cold and wretchedness, bad weather and bad roads, had inspired them with an extreme aversion to this country. in a review at warsaw, at which the inhabitants crowded around our troops, a soldier began to swear roundly against the snow and mud, and, as a consequence, against poland and the poles. "you are wrong, monsieur soldier," replied a young lady of a good bourgeois family of the town, "not to love our country, for we love the french very much."--"you are doubtless very lovable, mademoiselle," replied the soldier; "but if you wish to persuade me of the truth of what you say, you will prepare us a good dinner, my comrade and i."--"come, then, messieurs," said the parents of the young pole now advancing, "and we will drink together to the health of your emperor." and they really carried off with them the two soldiers, who partook of the best dinner the country afforded. the soldiers were accustomed to say that four words formed the basis of the polish language,--kleba? niema; "bread? there is none;" voia? sara; "water? they have gone to draw it." as the emperor was one day passing through a column of infantry in the suburbs of mysigniez, where the troops endured great privations since the bad roads prevented the arrival of supplies, "papa, kleba," cried a soldier. "niema," immediately replied the emperor. the whole column burst into shouts of laughter, and no further request was made. during the emperor's somewhat extended stay at finkenstein, he received a visit from the persian ambassador, and a few grand reviews were held in his honor. his majesty sent in return an embassy to the shah, at the head of which he placed general gardanne, who it was then said had an especial reason for wishing to visit persia. it was rumored that one of his relations, after a long residence at teheran, had been compelled, having taken part in an insurrection against the franks, to quit this capital, and before his flight had buried a considerable treasure in a certain spot, the description of which he had carried to france. i will add, as a finale to this story, some facts which i have since learned. general gardanne found the capital in a state of confusion; and being able neither to locate the spot nor discover the treasure, returned from his embassy with empty hands. our stay at finkenstein became very tiresome; and in order to while away the time, his majesty sometimes played with his generals and aides-de-camp. the game was usually vingt-et-un; and the great captain took much pleasure in cheating, holding through several deals the cards necessary to complete the required number, and was much amused when he won the game by this finesse. i furnished the sum necessary for his game, and as soon as he returned to his quarters received orders to make out his account. he always gave me half of his gains, and i divided the remainder between the ordinary valets de chambre. i have no intention, in this journal, of conforming to a very exact order of dates; and whenever there recurs to my memory a fact or an anecdote which seems to me deserving of mention, i shall jot it down, at whatever point of my narrative i may have then reached, fearing lest, should i defer it to its proper epoch, it might be forgotten. in pursuance of this plan i shall here relate, in passing, some souvenirs of saint-cloud or the tuileries, although we are now in camp at finkenstein. the pastimes in which his majesty and his general officers indulged recalled these anecdotes to my recollection. these gentlemen often made wagers or bets among themselves; and i heard the duke of vicenza one day bet that monsieur jardin, junior, equerry of his majesty, mounted backwards on his horse, could reach the end of the avenue in front of the chateau in the space of a few moments; which bet the equerry won. messieurs fain, meneval, and ivan once played a singular joke on monsieur b. d'a----, who, they knew, was subject to frequent attacks of gallantry. they dressed a young man in woman's clothes, and sent him to promenade, thus disguised, in an avenue near the chateau. monsieur b. d'a---was very near-sighted, and generally used an eyeglass. these gentlemen invited him to take a walk; and as soon as he was outside the door, he perceived the beautiful promenader, and could not restrain an exclamation of surprise and joy at the sight. his friends feigned to share his delight, and urged him, as the most enterprising, to make the first advances, whereupon, in great excitement, he hastened after the pretended young lady, whom they had taught his role perfectly. monsieur d'a---outdid himself in politeness, in attentions, in offers of service, insisting eagerly on doing the honors of the chateau to his new conquest. the other acted his part perfectly; and after many coquettish airs on his side, and many protestations on the part of monsieur d'a, a rendezvous was made for that very evening; and the lover, radiant with hope, returned to his friends, maintaining much discretion and reserve as to his good fortune, while he really would have liked to devour the time which must pass before the day was over. at last the evening arrived which was to put an end to his impatience, and bring the time of his interview; and his disappointment and rage may be imagined when he discovered the deception which had been practiced on him. monsieur d'a---wished at first to challenge the authors and actors in this hoax, and could with great difficulty be appeased. it was, i think, on the return from this campaign, that prince jerome saw at breslau, at the theater of that town, a young and very pretty actress, who played her part badly, but sang very well. he made advances, which she received coolly: but kings do not sigh long in vain; they place too heavy a weight in the balance against discretion. his majesty, the king of westphalia, carried off his conquest to cassel, and at the end of a short time she was married to his first valet de chambre, albertoni, whose italian morals were not shocked by this marriage. some disagreement, the cause, of which i do not know, having caused albertoni to quit the king, he returned to paris with his wife, and engaged in speculations, in which he lost all that he had gained, and i have been told that he returned to italy. one thing that always appeared to me extraordinary was the jealousy of albertoni towards his wife--an exacting jealousy which kept his eyes open towards all men except the king; for i am well convinced that the liaison continued after their marriage. the brothers of the emperor, although kings, were sometimes kept waiting in the emperor's antechamber. king jerome came one morning by order of the emperor, who, having not yet risen, told me to beg the king of westphalia to wait. as the emperor wished to sleep a little longer, i remained with the other servants in the saloon which was used as an antechamber, and the king waited with us; i do not say in patience, for he constantly moved from chair to chair, promenaded back and forth between the window and the fireplace, manifesting much annoyance, and speaking now and then to me, whom he always treated with great kindness. thus more than half an hour passed; and at last i entered the emperor's room, and when he had put on his dressing-gown, informed him that his majesty was waiting, and after introducing him, i withdrew. the emperor gave him a cool reception, and lectured him severely, and as he spoke very loud, i heard him against my will; but the king made his excuses in so low a tone that i could not hear a word of his justification. such scenes were often repeated, for the prince was dissipated and prodigal, which displeased the emperor above all things else, and for which he reproved him severely, although he loved him, or rather because he loved him so much; for it is remarkable, that notwithstanding the frequent causes of displeasure which his family gave him, the emperor still felt for all his relations the warmest affection. a short time after the taking of dantzig (may 24, 1807), the emperor, wishing to reward marshal lefebvre for the recent services which he had rendered, had him summoned at six o'clock in the morning. his majesty was in consultation with the chief-of-staff of the army when the arrival of the marshal was announced. "ah!" said he to berthier, "the duke does not delay." then, turning to the officer on duty, "say to the duke of dantzig that i have summoned him so early in order that he may breakfast with me." the officer, thinking that the emperor had misunderstood the name, remarked to him, that the person who awaited his orders was not the duke of dantzig, but marshal lefebvre. "it seems, monsieur, that you think me more capable of making a count [faire un conte] than a duke." the officer was somewhat disconcerted by this reply; but the emperor reassured him with a smile, and said, "go, give the duke my invitation, and say to him that in a quarter of an hour breakfast will be served." the officer returned to the marshal, who was, of course, very anxious to know why the emperor had summoned him. "monsieur le due, the emperor invites you to breakfast with him, and begs you to wait a quarter of an hour." the marshal, not having noticed the new title which the officer gave him, replied by a nod, and seated himself on a folding chair on the back of which hung the emperor's sword, which the marshal inspected and touched with admiration and respect. the quarter of an hour passed, when another ordnance officer came to summon the marshal to the emperor, who was already at table with the chief-of-staff; and as he entered, the emperor saluted him with, "good-day, monsieur le due; be seated next to me." the marshal, astonished at being addressed by this title, thought at first that his majesty was jesting; but seeing that he made a point of calling him monsieur le, due he was overcome with astonishment. the emperor, to increase his embarrassment, said to him, "do you like chocolate, monsieur le duc?"--"but--yes, sire."--"well, we have none for breakfast, but i will give you a pound from the very town of dantzig; for since you have conquered it, it is but just that it should make you some return." thereupon the emperor left the table, opened a little casket, took therefrom a package in the shape of a long square, and handed it to marshal lefebvre, saying to him, "duke of dantzig, accept this chocolate; little gifts preserve friendship." the marshal thanked his majesty, put the chocolate in his pocket, and took his seat again at table with the emperor and marshal berthier. a 'pate' in the shape of the town of dantzig was in the midst of the table; and when this was to be served the emperor said to the new duke, "they could not have given this dish a form which would have pleased me more. make the attack, monsieur le duc; behold your conquest; it is yours to do the honors." the duke obeyed; and the three guests ate of the pie, which they found much to their taste. on his return, the marshal, duke of dantzig, suspecting a surprise in the little package which the emperor had given him, hastened to open it, and found a hundred thousand crowns in bank-notes. in imitation of this magnificent present, the custom was established in the army of calling money, whether in pieces or in bank-notes, dantzig chocolate; and when the soldiers wished to be treated by any comrade who happened to have a little money in his pocket, would say to him, "come, now, have you no dantzig chocolate in your pocket?" the almost superstitious fancy of his majesty the emperor in regard to coincidences in dates and anniversaries was strengthened still more by the victory of friedland, which was gained on june 14, 1807, seven years to the very day after the battle of marengo. the severity of the winter, the difficulty in furnishing supplies (for which the emperor had however made every possible provision and arrangement), added to the obstinate courage of the russians, had made this a severe campaign, especially to conquerors whom the incredible rapidity of their successes in prussia had accustomed to sudden conquests. the division of glory which he had been compelled to make with the russians was a new experience in the emperor's military career, but at friedland he regained his advantage and his former superiority. his majesty, by a feigned retreat, in which he let the enemy see only a part of his forces, drew the russians into a decoy on the elbe, so complete that they found themselves shut in between that river and our army. this victory was gained by troops of the line and cavalry; and the emperor did not even find it necessary to use his guards, while those of the emperor alexander was almost entirely destroyed in protecting the retreat, or rather the flight, of the russians, who could escape from the pursuit of our soldiers only by the bridge of friedland, a few narrow pontoons, and an almost impassable ford. the regiments of the line in the french army covered the plain; and the emperor, occupying a post of observation on a height whence he could overlook the whole field of battle, was seated in an armchair near a mill, surrounded by his staff. i never saw him in a gayer mood, as he conversed with the generals who awaited his orders, and seemed to enjoy eating the black russian bread which was baked in the shape of bricks. this bread, made from inferior rye flour and full of long straws, was the food of all the soldiers; and they knew that his majesty ate it as well as themselves. the beautiful weather favored the skillful maneuvers of the army, and they performed prodigies of valor. the cavalry charges especially were executed with so much precision that the emperor sent his congratulations to the regiments. about four o'clock in the afternoon, when the two armies were pressing each other on every side, and thousands of cannon caused the earth to tremble, the emperor exclaimed, "if this continues two hours longer, the french army will be left standing on the plain alone." a few moments after he gave orders to the count dorsenne, general of the foot grenadiers of the old guard, to fire on a brick-yard, behind which masses of russians and prussians were intrenched; and in the twinkling of an eye they were compelled to abandon this position, and a horde of sharpshooters set out in pursuit of the fugitives. the guard made this movement at five o'clock, and at six the battle was entirely won. the emperor said to those who were near him, while admiring the splendid behavior of the guard, "look at those brave fellows, with a good-will they would run over the stone-slingers and pop-guns of the line, in order to teach them to charge without waiting for them; but it would have been useless, as the work has been well done without them." his majesty went in person to compliment several regiments which had fought the whole day. a few words, a smile, a salute of the hand, even a nod, was sufficient recompense to these brave fellows who had just been crowned with victory. the number of the dead and prisoners was enormous; and seventy banners, with all the equipments of the russian army, were left in the hands of the french. after this decisive day, the emperor of russia, who had rejected the proposals made by his majesty after the battle of eylau, found himself much disposed to make the game on his own account; and general bennigsen consequently demanded an armistice in the name of his emperor, which his majesty granted; and a short time after a treaty of peace was signed, and the famous interview between the two sovereigns held on the banks of the niemen. i shall pass over rapidly the details of this meeting, which have been published and repeated innumerable times. his majesty and the young czar conceived a mutual affection from the first moment of their meeting, and each gave fetes and amusements in honor of the other. they were in inseparable in public and private, and passed hours together in meetings for pleasure only, from which all intruders were carefully excluded. the town of tilsit was declared neutral; and french, russians, and prussians followed the example set them by their sovereigns, and lived together in the most intimate brotherhood. the king and queen of prussia soon after joined their imperial majesties at tilsit; though this unfortunate monarch, to whom there remained hardly one town of the whole kingdom he had possessed, was naturally little disposed to take part in so much festivity. the queen was beautiful and graceful, though perhaps somewhat haughty and severe, which did not prevent her being adored by all who surrounded her. the emperor sought to please her, and she neglected none of the innocent coquetries of her sex in order to soften the heart of the conqueror of her husband. the queen several times dined with the sovereigns, seated between the two emperors, who vied with each other in overwhelming her with attentions and gallantries. it is well known that the emperor napoleon offered her one day a splendid rose, which after some hesitation she accepted, saying to his majesty with a most charming smile, "with magdeburg, at least." and it is well known also that the emperor did not accept the condition. the princess had among her ladies of honor a very old woman, who was most highly esteemed. one evening as the queen was being escorted into the dining-hall by the two emperors, followed by the king of prussia, prince murat, and the grand duke constantine, this old lady of honor gave way to the two latter princes. grand duke constantine would not take precedence of her, but entirely spoiled this act of politeness by exclaiming in a rude tone, "pass, madame, pass on!" and turning towards the king of naples, added, loud enough to be heard, this disgraceful exclamation, "the old woodcock!" one may judge from this that prince constantine was far from exhibiting towards ladies that exquisite politeness and refined gallantry which distinguished his august brother. the french imperial guard on one occasion gave a dinner to the guard of the emperor alexander. at the end of this exceedingly gay and fraternal banquet, each french soldier exchanged uniforms with a russian, and promenaded thus before the eyes of the emperors, who were much amused by this impromptu disguise. among the numerous attentions paid by the russian emperor to our own, i would mention a concert by a troop of baskir musicians, whom their sovereign brought over the niemen for this purpose, and never certainly did more barbarous music resound in the ears of his majesty; and this strange harmony, accompanied by gestures equally as savage, furnished one of the most amusing spectacles that can be imagined. a few days after this concert, i obtained permission to make the musicians a visit, and went to their camp, accompanied by roustan, who was to serve as interpreter. we enjoyed the pleasure of being present at a repast of the baskirs, where around immense wooden tubs were seated groups consisting of ten men, each holding in his hand a piece of black bread which he moistened with a ladleful of water, in which had been diluted something resembling red clay. after the repast, they gave us an exhibition of shooting with the bow; and roustan, to whom this exercise recalled the scenes of his youth, attempted to shoot an arrow, but it fell at a few paces, and i saw a smile of scorn curl the thick lips of our baskirs. i then tried the bow in my turn, and acquitted myself in such a manner as to do me honor in the eyes of our hosts, who instantly surrounded me, congratulating me by their gestures on my strength and skill; and one of them, even more enthusiastic and more amicable than the others, gave me a pat on the shoulder which i long remembered. the day succeeding this famous concert, the treaty of peace between the three sovereigns was signed, and his majesty made a visit to the emperor alexander, who received him at the head of his guard. the emperor napoleon asked his illustrious ally to show him the bravest grenadier of this handsome and valiant troop; and when he was presented to his majesty, he took from his breast his own cross of the legion of honor, and fastened it on the breast of the muscovite soldier, amid the acclamations and hurrahs of all his comrades. the two emperors embraced each other a last time on the banks of the niemen, and his majesty set out on the road to koenigsberg. at bautzen the king of saxony came out to meet him, and their majesties entered dresden together. king frederick augustus gave a most magnificent reception to the sovereign who, not content with giving him a scepter, had also considerably increased the hereditary estates of the elector of saxony. the good people of dresden, during the week we passed there, treated the french more as brothers and compatriots than as allies. but it was nearly ten months since we had left paris; and in spite of all the charms of the simple and cordial hospitality of the germans, i was very eager to see again france and my own family. chapter iii. it was during the glorious campaign of prussia and poland that the imperial family was plunged in the deepest sorrow by the death of the young napoleon, eldest son of king louis of holland. this child bore a striking resemblance to his father, and consequently to his uncle. his hair was blond, but would probably have darkened as he grew older. his eyes, which were large and blue, shone with extraordinary brilliancy when a deep impression was made on his young mind. gentle, lovable, and full of candor and gayety, he was the delight of the emperor, especially on account of the firmness of his character, which was so remarkable that, notwithstanding his extreme youth, nothing could make him break his word. the following anecdote which i recall furnishes an instance of this. he was very fond of strawberries; but they caused him such long and frequent attacks of vomiting that his mother became alarmed, and positively forbade his eating them, expressing a wish that every precaution should be taken to keep out of the young prince's sight a fruit which was so injurious to him. the little napoleon, whom the injurious effects of the strawberries had not disgusted with them, was surprised to no more see his favorite dish; but bore the deprivation patiently, until one day he questioned his nurse, and very seriously demanded an explanation on this subject, which the good woman was unable to give, for she indulged him even to the point of spoiling him. he knew her weakness, and often took advantage of it, as in this instance for example. he became angry, and said to his nurse in a tone which had as much and even more effect on her than the emperor or the king of holland could have had, "i will have the strawberries. give them to me at once." the poor nurse begged him to be quiet, and said that she would give them to him, but she was afraid that if anything happened he would tell the queen who had done this. "is that all?" replied napoleon eagerly. "have no fear; i promise not to tell." the nurse yielded, and the strawberries had their usual effect. the queen entered while he was undergoing the punishment for his self-indulgence; and he could not deny that he had eaten the forbidden fruit, as the proofs were too evident. the queen was much incensed, and wished to know who had disobeyed her; she alternately entreated and threatened the child, who still continued to reply with the greatest composure, "i promised not to tell." and in spite of the great influence she had over him, she could not force him to tell her the name of the guilty person. young napoleon was devoted to his uncle, and manifested in his presence a patience and self-control very foreign to his usual character. the emperor often took him on his knee during breakfast, and amused himself making him eat lentils one by one. the pretty face of the child became crimson, his whole countenance manifested disgust and impatience; but his majesty could prolong this sport without fearing that his nephew would become angry, which he would have infallibly done with any one else. at such a tender age could he have been conscious of his uncle's superiority to all those who surrounded him? king louis, his father, gave him each day a new plaything, chosen exactly to suit his fancy: but the child preferred those he received from his uncle; and when his father said to him, "but, see here, napoleon, those are ugly things; mine are prettier."--"no," said the young prince, "they are very nice; my uncle gave them to me." one morning when he visited his majesty, he crossed a saloon where amid many great personages was prince murat, at that time, i think, grand duke of berg. the child passed through without saluting any one, when the prince stopped him and said, "will you not tell me goodmorning?"--"no," replied napoleon, disengaging himself from the arms of the grand duke; "not before my uncle the emperor." at the end of a review which had taken place in the court of the tuileries, and on the place du carrousel, the emperor went up to his apartments, and threw his hat on one sofa, his sword on another. little napoleon entered, took his uncle's sword, passed the belt round his neck, put the hat on his head, and then kept step gravely, humming a march behind the emperor and empress. her majesty, turning round, saw him, and caught him in her arms, exclaiming, "what a pretty picture!" ingenious in seizing every occasion to please her husband, the empress summoned m. gerard, and ordered a portrait of the young prince in this costume; and the picture was brought to the palace of saint-cloud the very day on which the empress heard of the death of this beloved child. he was hardly three years old when, seeing his shoemaker's bill paid with five-franc pieces, he screamed loudly, not wishing that they should give away the picture of his uncle bibiche. the name of bibiche thus given by the young prince to his majesty originated in this manner. the empress had several gazelles placed in the park of saint-cloud, which were very much afraid of all the inhabitants of the palace except the emperor, who allowed them to eat tobacco out of his snuff-box, and thus induced them to follow him, and took much pleasure in giving them the tobacco by the hands of the little napoleon, whom he also put on the back of one of them. the latter designated these pretty animals by no other name than that of bibiche, and amused himself by giving the same name to his uncle. this charming child, who was adored by both father and mother, used his almost magical influence over each in order to reconcile them to each other. he took his father by the hand, who allowed himself to be thus conducted by this angel of peace to queen hortense, and then said to him, "kiss her, papa, i beg you;" and was perfectly overjoyed when he had thus succeeded in reconciling these two beings whom he loved with an equal affection. how could such a beautiful character fail to make this angel beloved by all who knew him? how could the emperor, who loved all children, fail to be devoted to him, even had he not been his nephew, and the godson of that good josephine whom he never ceased to love for a single instant? at the age of seven years, when that malady, the croup, so dangerous to children, snatched him from his heart-broken family, he already gave evidence of remarkable traits of character, which were the foundation of most brilliant hopes. his proud and haughty character, while rendering him susceptible of the noblest impressions, was not incompatible with obedience and docility. the idea of injustice was revolting to him; but he readily submitted to reasonable advice and rightful authority. first-born of the new dynasty, it was fitting he should attract as he did the deepest tenderness and solicitude of the chief. malignity and envy, which ever seek to defame and villify the great, gave slanderous explanations of this almost paternal attachment; but wise and thoughtful men saw in this adoptive tenderness only what it plainly evinced,--the desire and hope of transmitting his immense power, and the grandest name in the universe, to an heir, indirect it is true, but of imperial blood, and who, reared under the eyes, and by the direction of the emperor, would have been to him all that a son could be. the death of the young napoleon appeared as a forerunner of misfortunes in the midst of his glorious career, disarranging all the plans which the monarch had conceived, and decided him to concentrate all his hopes on an heir in a direct line. it was then that the first thoughts of divorce arose in his mind, though it did not take place until two years later, and only began to be the subject of private conversation during the stay at fontainebleau. the empress readily saw the fatal results to her of the death of this godson, and from that time she dwelt upon the idea of this terrible event which ruined her life. this premature death was to her an inconsolable grief; and she shut herself up for three days, weeping bitterly, seeing no one except her women, and taking almost no nourishment. it even seemed that she feared to be distracted from her grief, as she surrounded herself with a sort of avidity with all that could recall her irreparable loss. she obtained with some difficulty from queen hortense some of the young prince's hair, which his heart-broken mother religiously preserved; and the empress had this hair framed on a cushion of black velvet, and kept it always near her. i often saw it at malmaison, and never without deep emotion. but how can i attempt to describe the despair of queen hortense, of that woman who became as perfect a mother as she had been a daughter. she never left her son a moment during his illness; and when he expired in her arms, still wishing to remain near his lifeless body, she fastened her arms through those of her chair, in order that she might not be torn from this heartrending scene. at last nature succumbed to such poignant grief: the unhappy mother fainted; and the opportunity was taken to remove her to her own apartment, still in the chair which she had not left, and which her arms clasped convulsively. on awaking, the queen uttered piercing screams, and her dry and staring eyes and white lips gave reason to fear that she was near her end. nothing could bring tears to her eyes, until at last a chamberlain conceived the idea of bringing the young prince's body, and placing it on his mother's knees; and this had such an effect on her that her tears burst forth and saved her life, while she covered with kisses the cold and adored remains. all france shared the grief of the queen of holland. chapter iv. we arrived at saint-cloud on the 27th of july; and the emperor passed the summer partly in this residence, and partly at fontainebleau, returning to paris only on special occasions, and never remaining longer than twenty-four hours. during his majesty's absence, the chateau of rambouillet was restored and furnished anew, and the emperor spent a few days there. the first time he entered the bathroom, he stopped short at the door and glanced around with every appearance of surprise and dissatisfaction; and when i sought the cause of this, following the direction of his majesty's eyes, i saw that they rested on various family portraits which the architect had painted on the walls of the room. they were those of madame his mother, his sisters, queen hortense, etc.; and the sight of such a gallery, in such a place, excited the extreme displeasure of the emperor. "what nonsense!" he cried. "constant, summon marshal duroc!" and when the grand marshal appeared, his majesty inquired, "who is the idiot that could have conceived such an idea? order the painter to come and efface all that. he must have little respect for women to be guilty of such an indecency." when the court sojourned at fontainebleau, the inhabitants indemnified themselves amply for his majesty's long absences by the high price at which they sold all articles of food. their extortions became scandalous impositions, and more than one foreigner making an excursion to fontainebleau thought himself held for ransom by a troop of bedouins. during the stay of the court; a wretched sacking-bed in a miserable inn cost twelve francs for a single night; the smallest meal cost an incredible price, and was, notwithstanding, detestable; in fact, it amounted to a genuine pillage of travelers. cardinal caprara, [giovanni battista caprara, born of a noble family at bologna, 1733; count and archbishop of milan; cardinal, 1792; negotiated the concordat, 1801; died 1810] whose rigid economy was known to all paris, went one day to fontainebleau to pay his court to the emperor, and at the hotel where he alighted took only a single cup of bouillon, and the six persons of his suite partook only of a very light repast, as the cardinal had arranged to return in three hours; but notwithstanding this, as he was entering his carriage, the landlord had the audacity to present him with a bill for six hundred francs! the prince of the church indignantly protested, flew into a rage, threatened, etc., but all in vain; and the bill was paid. such an outrageous imposition could not fail to reach the emperor's ears, and excited his anger to such a degree that he at once ordered a fixed schedule of prices, which it was forbidden the innkeepers to exceed. this put an end to the exactions of the bloodsuckers of fontainebleau. on the 21st of august, there arrived at paris the princess catharine of wurtemberg, future wife of prince jerome napoleon, king of westphalia. this princess was about twenty-four years of age, and very beautiful, with a most noble and gracious bearing; and though policy alone had made this marriage, never could love or voluntary choice have made one that was happier. the courageous conduct of her majesty the queen of westphalia in 1814, her devotion to her dethroned husband, and her admirable letters to her father, who wished to tear her from the arms of king jerome, are matters of history. i have seen it stated that this prince never ceased, even after this marriage, which was so flattering to his ambition, to correspond with his first wife, mademoiselle patterson, and that he often sent to america his valet de chambre, rico, to inquire after this lady and their child. if this is true, it is no less so that these attentions to his first wife, which were not only very excusable, but even, according to my opinion, praiseworthy in prince jerome, and of which her majesty the queen of westphalia was probably well aware, did not necessarily prevent her being happy with her husband. no testimony more reliable than that of the queen her self can be given; and she expresses herself as follows in her second letter to his majesty, the king of wurtemburg:- "forced by policy to marry the king, my husband, fate has willed that i should find myself the happiest woman in the universe. i feel towards my husband the united sentiments of love, tenderness, and esteem. in this painful moment can the best of fathers wish to destroy my domestic happiness, the only kind which now remains to me? i dare to say that you, my dear father, you and all my family, do great injustice to the king, my husband; and i trust the time will come when you will be convinced that you have done him injustice, and then you will ever find in him, as well as in myself, the most respectful and affectionate of children." her majesty then spoke of a terrible misfortune to which she had been exposed. this event, which was indeed terrible, was nothing less than violence and robbery committed on a fugitive woman defenseless and alone, by a band at the head of which was the famous marquis de maubreuil, [a french political adventurer, born in brittany, 1782; died 1855.] who had been equerry of the king of westphalia. i will recur in treating of the events of 1814 to this disgraceful affair, and will give some particulars, which i think are not generally known, in regard to the principal authors and participants in this daring act of brigandage. in the following month of september, a courier from the russian cabinet arrived from st. petersburg, bearing a letter to his majesty from the emperor alexander; and among other magnificent gifts were two very handsome fur pelisses of black fox and sable martin. during their majesties residence at fontainebleau, the emperor often went out in his carriage with the empress in the streets of the city with neither escort nor guards. one day, while passing before the hospital of mont pierreux, her majesty the empress saw at a window a very aged clergyman, who saluted their majesties. the empress, having returned the old man's salutation with her habitual grace, pointed him out to the emperor, who himself saluted him, and ordering his coachman to stop, sent one of the footmen with a request to the old priest to come and speak to them a moment, if it were not too great an exertion. the old man, who still walked with ease, hastened to descend; and in order to save him a few steps the emperor had his carriage driven very close to the door of the hospital. his majesty conversed for some time with the good ecclesiastic, manifesting the greatest kindness and respect. he informed their majesties that he had been, previous to the revolution, the regular priest of one of the parishes of fontainebleau, and had done everything possible to avoid emigrating; but that terror had at length forced him to leave his native land, although he was then more than seventy-five years old; that he had returned to france at the time of the proclamation of the concordat, and now lived on a modest pension hardly sufficient to pay his board in the hospital. "monsieur l'abbe," said his majesty after listening to the old priest attentively, "i will order your pension to be doubled; and if that is not sufficient i hope you will apply to the empress or to me." the good ecclesiastic thanked the emperor with tears in his eyes. "unfortunately, sire," said he among other things, "i am too old to long enjoy your majesty's reign or profit by your kindness."--"you?" replied the emperor, smiling, "why, you are a young man. look at m. de belloy; he is much your senior, and we hope to keep him with us for a long time yet." their majesties then took leave of the old man, who was much affected, leaving him in the midst of a crowd of the inhabitants who had collected before the hospital during this conversation, and who were much impressed by this interesting scene and the generous kindness of the emperor. m. de belloy, cardinal and archbishop of paris, whose name the emperor mentioned in the conversation i have just related, was then ninety-eight years of age, though his health was excellent; and i have never seen an old man who had as venerable an air as this worthy prelate. the emperor had the profoundest respect for him, and never failed to give evidence of it on every occasion. during this same month of september, a large number of the faithful having assembled according to custom on mount valerien, the archbishop likewise repaired to the spot to hear mass. as he was about to withdraw, seeing that many pious persons were awaiting his benediction, he addressed them before bestowing it in a few words which showed his kindness of heart and his evangelical simplicity: "my children, i know that i must be very old from the loss of my strength, but not of my zeal and my tenderness for you. pray god, my children, for your old archbishop, who never fails to intercede on your behalf each day." during his stay at fontainebleau, the emperor enjoyed more frequently than ever before the pleasures of the chase. the costume necessary was a french coat of green dragon color, decorated with buttons and gold lace, white cashmere breeches, and hessian boots without facings; this was the costume for the grand hunt which was always a stag hunt; that for a hunt with guns being a plain, green french coat with no other ornament than white buttons, on which were cut suitable inscriptions. this costume was the same for all persons taking part in this hunt, with no distinguishing marks, even for his majesty himself. the princesses set out for the rendezvous in a spanish carriage with either or four six horses, and thus followed the chase, their costume being an elegant riding-habit, and a hat with white or black plumes. one of the emperor's sisters (i do not now recall which) never failed to follow the hunt, accompanied by many charming ladies who were always invited to breakfast at the rendezvous, as was always the custom on similar occasions with the persons of the court. one of these ladies, who was both beautiful and intelligent, attracted the attention of the emperor, a short correspondence ensued, and at last the emperor again ordered me to carry a letter. in the palace of fontainebleau is a private garden called the garden of diana, to which their majesties alone had access. this garden is surrounded on four sides by buildings; on the left was the chapel with its gloomy gallery and gothic architecture; on the right the grand gallery (as well as i can remember); in the middle the building which contained their majesties' apartments; finally, in front of and facing the square were broad arcades, and behind them the buildings intended for the various persons attached to household of the princes or the emperor. madame de b----, the lady whom the emperor had remarked, lodged in an apartment situated behind these arcades on the ground floor; and his majesty informed me that i would find a window open, through which i must enter cautiously, in the darkness, and give his note to a person who would ask for it. this darkness was necessary, because this window opened on the garden, and though behind the arcades, would have been noticed had there been a light. not knowing the interior of these apartments, i entered through the window, thinking i could then walk on a level, but had a terrible fall over a high step which was in the embrasure of the window. i heard some one scream as i fell, and a door was suddenly closed. i had received severe bruises on my knee, elbow, and head, and rising with difficulty, at once began a search around the apartment, groping in the dark; but hearing nothing more, and fearing to make some fresh noise which might be heard by persons who should not know of my presence there, i decided to return to the emperor, and report to him my adventures. finding that none of my injuries were serious, the emperor laughed most heartily, and then added, "oh, oh, so there is a step; it is well to know that. wait till madame b---is over her fright; i will go to her, and you will accompany me." at the end of an hour, the emperor emerged with me from the door of his cabinet which opened on the garden. i conducted him in silence towards the window which was still open and assisted him to enter, and having obtained to my cost a correct idea of the spot, directed him how to avoid a fall. his majesty, having entered the chamber without accident, told me to retire. i was not without some anxiety as i informed the emperor; but he replied that i was a child, and there could be no danger. it appeared that his majesty succeeded better than i had done,--as he did not return until daybreak, and then jested about my awkwardness, admitting, however, that if he had not been warned, a similar accident would have befallen him. although madame de b---was worthy of a genuine attachment, her liaison with the emperor lasted only a short while, and was only a passing fancy. i think that the difficulties surrounding his nocturnal visits cooled his majesty's ardor greatly; for the emperor was not enough in love to be willing to brave everything in order to see his beautiful mistress. his majesty informed me of the fright which my fall had caused her, and how anxious this amiable lady had been on my account, and how he had reassured her; this did not, however, prevent her sending next day to know how i was, by a confidential person, who told me again how interested madame de b---had been in my accident. often at fontainebleau there was a court representation, in which the actors of the first theaters received orders to play before their majesties scenes selected from their various repertoires. mademoiselle mars was to play the evening of her arrival; but at essonne, where she was obliged to stop a moment on account of the road being filled with cattle going or returning from fontainebleau, her trunk had been stolen, a fact of which she was not aware until she had gone some distance from the spot. not only were her costumes missing, but she had no other clothing except what she wore; and it would be at least twelve hours before she could get from paris what she needed. it was then two o'clock in the afternoon, and that very evening she must appear in the brilliant role of celimene. although much disturbed by this accident, mademoiselle mars did not lose her presence of mind, but visited all the shops of the town, and in a few hours had cut and made a complete costume in most excellent taste, and her loss was entirely repaired. chapter v. in the month of november of this year i followed their majesties to italy. we knew a few days in advance that the emperor would make this journey; but as happened on all other occasions, neither the day nor the hour was fixed, until we were told on the evening of the 15th that we would set out early on the morning of the 16th. i passed the night like all the household of his majesty; for in order to carry out the incredible perfection of comfort with which the emperor surrounded himself on his journeys, it was necessary that everybody should be on foot as soon as the hour of departure was known; consequently i passed the night arranging the service of his majesty, while my wife packed my own baggage, and had but just finished when the emperor asked for me, which meant that ten minutes after we would be on the road. at four o'clock in the morning his majesty entered his carriage. as we never knew at what hour or in what direction the emperor would begin his journey, the grand marshal, the grand equerry, and the grand chamberlain sent forward a complete service on all the different roads which they thought his majesty might take. the bedroom service comprised a valet de chambre and a wardrobe boy. as for me, i never left his majesty's person, and my carriage always followed immediately behind his. the conveyance belonging to this service contained an iron bed with its accessories, a dressing-case with linen, coats, etc. i know little of the service of the stables, but that of the kitchen was organized as follows: there was a conveyance almost in the shape of the coucous on the place louis xv. at paris, with a deep bottom and an enormous body. the bottom contained wines for the emperor's table and that of the high officers, the ordinary wine being bought at the places where we stopped. in the body of the wagon were the kitchen utensils and a portable furnace, followed by a carriage containing a steward, two cooks, and a furnace-boy. there was besides this, a baggage-wagon full of provisions and wine to fill up the other as it was emptied; and all these conveyances set out a few hours in advance of the emperor. it was the duty of the grand marshal to designate the place at which breakfast should be taken. we alighted sometimes at the archbishop's, sometimes at the hotel de ville, sometimes at the residence of the sub-prefect, or even at that of the mayor, in the absence of any other dignitaries. having arrived at the designated house, the steward gave orders for the provisions, the furnaces were lighted, and spits turned; and if the emperor alighted and partook of the repast prepared, the provisions which had been consumed were immediately replaced as far as possible, and the carriages filled again with poultry, pastry, etc.; before leaving all expenses were paid by the controller, presents were made to the master of the house, and everything which was not necessary for the service left for the use of their servants. it sometimes happened that the emperor, finding that it was too soon for breakfast, or wishing to make a longer journey, gave orders to pass on, and everything was packed up again and the service continued its route. sometimes also the emperor, halting in the open field, alighted, took his seat under a tree, and ordered his breakfast, upon which roustan and the footmen obtained provisions from his majesty's carriage, which was furnished with small cooking utensils with silver covers, holding chickens, partridges, etc., while the other carriages furnished their proportion. m. pfister served the emperor, and every one ate a hasty morsel. fires were lighted to heat the coffee; and in less than half an hour everything had disappeared, and the carriages rolled on in the same order as before. the emperor's steward and cooks had nearly all been trained in the household of the king and the princes. these were messieurs dunau, leonard, rouff, and gerard. m. colin was chief in command, and became steward-controller after the sad affliction of m. pfister, who became insane during the campaign of 1809. all were capable and zealous servants; and, as is the case in the household of all sovereigns, each department of the domestic affairs had its chief. messieurs soupe and pierrugues were in charge of the wines, and the sons of these gentleman continued to hold the same office with the emperor. we traveled with great speed as far as mont-cenis, but were compelled to go more slowly after reaching this pass, as the weather had been very bad for several days, and the road was washed out by the rain, which still fell in torrents. the emperor arrived at milan at noon on the 22d; and, notwithstanding our delay at mont-cenis, the rest of the journey had been so rapid that no one was expecting the emperor. the vice-king only learned of the arrival of his step-father when he was half a league from the town, but came in haste to meet us escorted only by a few persons. the emperor gave orders to halt, and, as soon as the door was opened, held out his hand to prince eugene, saying in the most affectionate manner: "come, get up with us, my fine prince; we will enter together." notwithstanding the surprise which this unexpected arrival caused, we had hardly entered the town before all the houses were illuminated, and the beautiful palaces, litta, casani, melzi, and many others, shone with a thousand lights. the magnificent cupola of the cathedral dome was covered with garlands of colored lights; and in the center of the forum-bonaparte, the walks of which were also illuminated, could be seen the colossal equestrian statue of the emperor, on both sides of which transparencies had been arranged, in the shape of stars, bearing the initials s m i and r. by eight o'clock all the populace had collected around the chateau, where superb fireworks were discharged, while spirited and warlike music was performed. all the town authorities were admitted to the emperor's presence. on the morning of the next day there was held at the chateau a council of ministers, over which the emperor presided; and at noon he mounted his horse to take part in the mass celebrated by the grand chaplain of the kingdom. the square of the cathedral was covered by an immense crowd, through which the emperor advanced on horseback, accompanied by his imperial highness, the vice-king, and his staff. the noble countenance of prince eugene expressed the great joy he felt in the presence of his step-father, for whom he had always so much respect and filial affection, and in hearing the incessant acclamations of the people, which grew more vociferous every moment. after the 'te deum', the emperor held a review of the troops on the square, and immediately after set out with the viceroy for monza, the palace at which the queen resided. for no woman did the emperor manifest more sincere regard and respect than for princess amelia; but, indeed there has never been a more beautiful or purer woman. it was impossible to speak of beauty or virtue in the emperor's presence without his giving the vice-queen as an example. prince eugene was very worthy of so accomplished a wife, and justly appreciated her exalted character; and i was glad to see in the countenance of the excellent prince the reflection of the happiness he enjoyed. amidst all the care he took to anticipate every wish of his step-father, i was much gratified that he found time to address a few words to me, expressing the great pleasure he felt at my promotion in the service and esteem of the emperor. nothing could have been more grateful to me than these marks of remembrance from a prince for whom i had always retained a most sincere, and, i made bold to say, most tender, attachment. the emperor remained a long while with the vicequeen, whose intelligence equaled her amiability and her beauty, but returned to milan to dine; and immediately afterwards the ladies who were received at court were presented to him. in the evening, i followed his majesty to the theater of la scala. the emperor did not remain throughout the play, but retired early to his apartment, and worked the greater part of the night; which did not, however, prevent our being on the road to verona before eight o'clock in the morning. his majesty made no stop at brescia and verona. i would have been very glad to have had time on the route to examine the curiosities of italy; but that was not an easy thing to do in the emperor's suite, as he halted only for the purpose of reviewing troops, and preferred visiting fortifications to ruins. at verona his majesty dined, or rather supped (for it was very late), with their majesties, the king and queen of bavaria, who arrived at almost exactly the same time as ourselves; and very early the next day we set out for vicenza. although the season was already advanced, i found great pleasure in the scene which awaits the traveler on' the road from verona to vicenza. imagine to yourself an immense plain, divided into innumerable fields, each bordered with different kinds of trees with slender trunks,--mostly elms and poplars,--which form avenues as far as the eye can reach. vines twine around their trunks, climb each tree, and droop from each limb; while other branches of these vines, loosening their hold on the tree which serves as their support, droop clear to the ground, and hang in graceful festoons from tree to tree. beyond these, lovely natural bowers could be seen far and wide, splendid fields of wheat; or, at least, this had been the case on my former journey, but at this time the harvest had been gathered for several months. at the end of a day which i passed most delightfully amid these fertile plains, i entered vicenza, where the authorities of the town, together with almost the entire population, awaited the emperor under a superb arch of triumph at the entrance of the town. we were exceedingly hungry; and his majesty himself said, that evening as he retired, that he felt very much like sitting down to the table when he entered vicenza. i trembled, then, at the idea of those long italian addresses, which i had found even longer than those of france, doubtless because i did not understand a single word; but, fortunately, the magistrates of vicenza were sufficiently well-informed not to take advantage of our position, and their speeches occupied only a few moments. that evening his majesty went to the theater; and i was so much fatigued that i would have gladly profited by the emperor's absence to take some repose, had not an acquaintance invited me to accompany him to the convent of the servites, in order to witness the effect of the illumination of the town, which i did, and was repaid by the magnificent spectacle which met my eyes. the whole town seemed one blaze of light. on returning to the palace occupied by his majesty, i learned that he had given orders that everything should be in readiness for departure two hours after midnight; consequently i had one hour to sleep, and i enjoyed it to the utmost. at the appointed moment, the emperor entered his carriage; and we were soon rolling along with the rapidity of lightning over the road to stra, where we passed the night. very early next morning we set out, following a long causeway raised through marshes. the landscape is almost the same, and yet not so beautiful, as that we passed before reaching vicenza. we still saw groves of mulberry and olive trees, from which the finest oil is obtained, and fields of maize and hemp, interspersed with meadows. beyond stra the cultivation of rice commences; and, although the rice-fields must render the country unhealthy, still it has not the reputation of being more so than any other. on the right and left of the road are seen elegant houses, and cabins which, though covered with thatch, are very comfortable, and present a charming appearance. the vine is little cultivated in this part of the country, where it would hardly succeed, as the land is too low and damp; but there are, nevertheless, a few small vineyards on the slopes, and the vegetation in the whole country is incredibly rich and luxuriant. the late wars have left traces which only a long peace can efface. chapter vi. on his arrival at fusina the emperor found the venetian authorities awaiting him, embarked on the 'peote' or gondola of the village, and advanced towards venice, accompanied by a numerous floating cortege. we followed, the emperor in little black gondolas, which looked like floating coffins, with which the brenta was covered; and nothing could be stranger than to hear, proceeding from these coffins of such gloomy aspect, delicious vocal concerts. the boat which carried his majesty, and the gondolas of the principal persons of his suite, were handsomely ornamented. when we arrived at the mouth of the river we were obliged to wait nearly half an hour until the locks were opened, which was done by degrees, and with every precaution; without which the waters of the brenta, held in their canal and raised considerably above the level of the sea, would have rushed out suddenly, and in their violent descent have driven our gondolas along before them, or sunk them. released at last from the brenta, we found ourselves in the gulf, and saw at a distance, rising from the midst of the sea, the wonderful city of venice. barks, gondolas, and vessels of considerable size, filled with all the wealthy population, and all the boatmen of venice in gala dress, appeared on every side, passing, repassing, and crossing each other, in every direction, with the most remarkable skill and speed. the emperor was standing at the back of the peote, and, as each gondola passed near his own, replied to the acclamations and cries of "viva napoleone imperatore e re!" by one of those profound bows which he made with so much grace and dignity, taking off his hat without bending his head, and carrying it along his body almost to his knees. escorted by this innumerable flotilla, of which the peote of the city seemed to be the admirals vessel, his majesty entered at last the grand canal, which flowed between magnificent palaces, hung with banners and filled with spectators. the emperor alighted before the palace of the procurators, where he was received by a deputation of members of the senate and the venetian nobility. he stopped a moment in the square of st. mark, passed through some interior streets, chose the site for a garden, the plans for which the architect of the city then presented to him, and which were carried out as if it had been in the midst of the country. it was a novel sight to the venetians to see trees planted in the open air, while hedges and lawns appeared as if by magic. the entire absence of verdure and vegetation, and the silence which reigns in the streets of venice, where is never heard the hoof of a horse nor the wheels of a carriage, horses and carriages being things entirely unknown in this truly marine city, must give it usually a sad and abandoned air; but this gloom entirely disappeared during his majesty's visit. the prince viceroy and the grand marshal were present in the evening when the emperor retired; and, while undressing him, i heard a part of their conversation, which turned on the government of venice before the union of this republic with the french empire. his majesty was almost the only spokesman, prince eugene and marshal duroc contenting themselves with throwing a few words into the conversation, as if to furnish a new text for the emperor, and prevent his pausing, and thus ending too soon his discourse; a genuine discourse, in fact, since his majesty took the lead, and left the others but little to say. such was often his habit; but no one thought of complaining of this, so interesting were nearly always the emperor's ideas, and so original and brilliantly expressed. his majesty did not converse, as had been truthfully said in the journal which i have added to my memoirs, but he spoke with an inexpressible charm; and on this point it seems to me that the author of the "journal of aix-la-chapelle" has done the emperor injustice. as i said just now, his majesty spoke of the ancient state of venice, and from what he said on this occasion i learned more than i could have done from the most interesting book. the viceroy having remarked that a few patricians regretted their former liberty, the emperor exclaimed, "liberty, what nonsense! liberty no longer existed in venice, and had, indeed, never existed except for a few families of the nobility, who oppressed the rest of the population. liberty, with a council of ten! liberty, with the inquisitors of state! liberty, with the very lions as informers, and venetian dungeons and bullets!" marshal duroc remarked that towards the end these severe regulations were much modified. "yes, no doubt,"--replied the emperor. "the lion of st. mark had gotten old; he had no longer either teeth or nails! venice was only the shadow of her former self, and her last doge found that he rose to a higher rank in becoming a senator of the french empire." his majesty, seeing that this idea made the vice-king smile, added very gravely, "i am not jesting, gentlemen. a roman senator prided himself on being more than a king; a french senator is at least the equal of a doge. i desire that foreigners shall accustom themselves to show the greatest respect towards the constituted authorities of the empire, and to treat with great consideration even the simple title of french citizen. i will take care to insure this. good-night, eugene. duroc, take care to have the reception to-morrow all that it should be. after the ceremony we will visit the arsenal. adieu, messieurs. constant, come back in ten minutes to put out my light; i feel sleepy. one is cradled like an infant on these gondolas." the next day his majesty, after receiving the homage of the venetian authorities, repaired to the arsenal. this is an immense building, fortified so carefully that it was practically impregnable. the appearance of the interior is singular on account of several small islands which it incloses, joined together by bridges. the magazines and numerous buildings of the fortress thus appear to be floating on the surface of the water. the entrance on the land side, by which we were introduced, is over a very handsome bridge of marble, ornamented with columns and statues. on the side next the sea, there are numerous rocks and sandbanks, the presence of which is indicated by long piles. it is said that in time of war these piles were taken up, which exposed the foreign vessels, imprudent enough to entangle themselves among these shoals, to certain destruction. the arsenal could formerly equip eighty thousand men, both infantry and cavalry, independent of complete armaments for war vessels. the arsenal is bordered with raised towers, from which the view extends in all directions. on the tallest of these towers, which is placed in the center of the building, as well as all the others, sentinels were stationed, both day and night, to signal the arrival of vessels, which they could see at a very great distance. nothing can be finer than the dockyards for building vessels, in which ten thousand men can work with ease. the sails are made by women, over whom other elderly women exercise an active surveillance. the emperor delayed only a short time to look at the 'bucentaure'; which is the title of the magnificent vessel in which the doge of venice was accustomed to celebrate his marriage with the sea; and a venetian never sees without deep chagrin this old monument of the former glory of his country. i, in company with some persons of the emperor's suite, had as our guide an old mariner, whose eyes filled with tears as he related to us in bad french that the last time he witnessed the marriage of the doge with the adriatic sea was in 1796, a year before the capture of venice. he also told us that he was at that time in the service of the last doge of the republic, lord louis manini, and that the following year (1797), the french entered venice at the exact time when the marriage of the doge to the sea, which took place on ascension day, was usually celebrated, and ever since the sea had remained a widow. our good sailor paid a most touching tribute of praise to his old master, who he said had never succeeded in forcing himself, to take the oath of allegiance to the austrians, and had swooned away while resigning to them the keys of the city. the gondoliers are at the same time servants, errand boys, confidants, and companions in adventures to the person who takes them into his service; and nothing can equal the courage, fidelity, and gayety of these brave seamen. they expose themselves fearlessly in their slender gondolas to tempests; and their skill is so great that they turn with incredible rapidity in the narrowest canals, cross each other, follow, and pass each other incessantly, without ever having an accident. i found myself in a position to judge of the skill of these hardy mariners the day after our visit to the arsenal. his majesty was conducted through the lagoons as far as the fortified gate of mala-mocca, and the gondoliers gave as he returned a boat-race and tournament on the water. on that day there was also a special representation at the grand theater, and the whole city was illuminated. in fact, one might think that there is a continual fete and general illumination in venice; the custom being to spend the greater part of the night in business or pleasure, and the streets are as brilliant and as full of people as in paris at four o'clock in the afternoon. the shops, especially those of the square of saint mark, are brilliantly lighted, and crowds fill the small decorated pavilions where coffee, ices, and refreshments of all kinds are sold. the emperor did not adopt the venetian mode of life, however, and retired at the same hour as in paris; and when he did not pass the day working with his ministers, rode in a gondola through the lagoons, or visited the principal establishments and public buildings of venice; and i thus saw, in company with his majesty, the church of saint mark, and the ancient palace of the doge. the church of saint mark has five entrances, superbly decorated with marble columns; the gates are of bronze and beautifully carved. above the middle door were formerly the four famous bronze horses, which the emperor carried to paris to ornament the arch of triumph on the place du carrousel. the tower is separated from the church by a small square, from the midst of which it rises to a height of more than three hundred feet. it is ascended by an inclined platform without steps, which is very convenient; and on arriving at the summit the most magnificent panorama is spread out before you, venice with its innumerable islands covered with palaces, churches, and buildings, and extending at a distance into the sea; also the immense dike, sixty feet broad, several fathoms deep, and built of great blocks of stone, which enormous work surrounds venice and all its islands, and defends it against the rising of the sea. the venetians have the greatest admiration for the clock placed in the tower bearing its name, and the mechanism of which shows the progress of the sun and moon through the twelve signs of the zodiac. in a niche above the dialplate is an image of the virgin, which is gilded and lifesize; and it is said that on certain fete days, each blow of the pendulum makes two angels appear, trumpet in hand, followed by the three wise men, who prostrate themselves at the feet of the virgin mary. i saw nothing of all that, but only two large black figures striking the hour on the clock with iron clubs. the doge's palace is a gloomy building; and the prisons, which are separated from it only by a narrow canal, render the aspect still more depressing. at venice one finds merchants from every nation, jews and greeks being very numerous. roustan, who understood the language of the latter, was sought after by the most distinguished among them; and the heads of a greek family came one day to invite him to visit them at their residence on one of the islands which lie around venice. roustan confided to me his desire to accept this invitation, and i was delighted with his proposition that i should accompany him. on our arrival at their island, we were received by our hosts, who were very wealthy merchants, as if we had been old friends. the apartment, a kind of parlor into which we were ushered, not only evinced cultivation and refinement, but great elegance; a large divan extended around the hall, the inlaid floor of which was covered with artistically woven mats. our hosts were six men who were associated in the same trade. i would have been somewhat embarrassed had not one of them who spoke french conversed with me, while the others talked to roustan in their native tongue. we were offered coffee, fruits, ices, and pipes; and as i was never fond of smoking, and knew besides the disgust inspired in the emperor by odors in general, and especially that of tobacco, i refused the pipe, and expressed a fear that my clothes might be scented by being so near the smokers. i thought i perceived that this delicacy lowered me considerably in the esteem of my hosts, notwithstanding which, as we left, they gave us most urgent invitations to repeat our visit, which it was impossible to do, as the emperor soon after left venice. on my return, the emperor asked me if i had been through the city, what i thought of it, and if i had entered any residences; in fact, what seemed to me worthy of notice. i replied as well as i could; and as his majesty was just then in a mood for light conversation, spoke to him of our excursion, and visit to the greek family. the emperor asked me what these greeks thought of him. "sire," replied i, "the one who spoke french seemed entirely devoted to your majesty, and expressed to me the hope which he and also his brothers entertained, that the emperor of the french, who had successfully combated the mamelukes in egypt, might also some day make himself the liberator of greece." "ah, monsieur constant," said the emperor to me, pinching me sharply, "you are meddling with politics."--"pardon me, sire, i only repeated what i heard, and it is not astonishing that all the oppressed count on your majesty's aid. these poor greeks seem to love their country passionately, and, above all, detest the turks most cordially."--"that is good," said his majesty; "but i must first of all attend to my own business. constant!" continued his majesty suddenly changing the subject of this conversation with which he had deigned to honor me, and smiling with an ironical air, "what do you think of the appearance of the beautiful greek women? how many models have you seen worthy of canova or of david?" i was obliged to admit to his majesty that what had influenced me most in accepting roustan's proposition was the hope of seeing a few of these much vaunted beauties, and that i had been cruelly disappointed in not having seen the shadow of a woman. at this frank avowal the emperor, who had expected it in advance, laughed heartily, and took his revenge on my ears, calling me a libertine: "you do not know then, monsieur le drole, that your good friends the greeks have adopted the customs of those turks whom they detest so cordially, and like them seclude their wives and daughters in order that they may never appear before bad men like yourself." although the greek ladies of venice may be carefully watched by their husbands, they are neither secluded nor guarded in a seraglio like the turkish women; for during our stay at venice, a great person spoke to his majesty of a young and beautiful greek, who was an enthusiastic admirer of the emperor of the french. this lady was very ambitious of being received by his majesty in his private rooms, and although carefully watched by a jealous husband, had found means to send to the emperor a letter in which she depicted the intensity of her love and admiration. this letter, written with real passion and in an exalted strain, inspired in his majesty a desire to see and know the author, but it was necessary he should use precautions, for the emperor was not the man to abuse his power to snatch a woman from her husband; and yet all the care that he took in keeping the affair secret did not prevent her husband from suspecting the plans of his wife, and before it was possible for her to see the emperor, she was carried away far from venice, and her prudent husband carefully covered her steps and concealed her flight. when her disappearance was announced to the emperor: "he is an old fool," said his majesty, laughing, "who thinks he is strong enough to struggle against his destiny." his majesty formed no other liaison during our stay at venice. before leaving this city, the emperor rendered a decree which was received with inexpressible enthusiasm, and added much to the regret which his majesty's departure caused the inhabitants of venice. the department of the adriatic, of which venice was the chief city, was enlarged in all its maritime coasts, from the town of aquila as far as adria. the decree ordered, moreover, that the port should be repaired, the canals deepened and cleaned, the great wall of palestrina of which i have spoken above, and the jetties in front of it, extended and maintained; that a canal of communication between the arsenal of venice and the pass of mala-mocco should be dug; and finally that this passage itself should be cleared and deepened sufficiently for vessels of the line of seventy-four tons burthen to pass in and out. other articles related to benevolent establishments, the administration of which was given to a kind of council called the congregation of charities, and the cession to the city from the royal domain of the island of saint christopher, to be used as a general cemetery; for until then here, as in the rest of italy, they had the pernicious custom of interring the dead in churches. finally the decree ordered the adoption of a new mode of lighting the beautiful square of saint mark, the construction of new quays, gateways, etc. when we left venice the emperor was conducted to the shore by a crowd of the population fully as numerous as that which welcomed his arrival. trevise, undine, and mantua rivaled each other in their eagerness to receive his majesty in a becoming manner. king joseph had left the emperor to return to naples; but prince murat and the vice-king accompanied his majesty. the emperor stopped only two or three days at milan, and continued his journey. on reaching the plains of marengo, he found there the entire population of alexandria awaiting him, and was received by the light of thousands of torches. we passed through turin without stopping, and on the 30th of december again descended mont cenis, and on the evening of the 1st of january arrived at the tuileries. chapter vii. we arrived in paris on the 1st of january at nine o'clock in the evening; and as the theater of the palace of the tuileries was now completed, on the sunday following his majesty's return the griselda of m. paer was presented in this magnificent hall. their majesties' boxes were situated in front of the curtain, opposite each other, and presented a charming picture, with their hangings of crimson silk draped above, and forming a background to broad, movable mirrors, which reflected at will the audience or the play. the emperor, still impressed with the recollections of the theaters of italy, criticised unsparingly that of the tuileries, saying that it was inconvenient, badly planned, and much too large for a palace theater; but notwithstanding all these criticisms, when the day of inauguration came, and the emperor was convinced of the very great ingenuity m. fontaine had shown in distributing the boxes so as to make the splendid toilets appear to the utmost advantage, he appeared well satisfied, and charged the duke of frioul to present to m. fontaine the congratulations he so well deserved. a week after we saw the reverse of the medal. on that day cinna was presented, and a comedy, the name of which i have forgotten. it was such extremely cold weather that we were obliged to leave the theater immediately after the tragedy, in consequence of which the emperor exhausted himself in invectives against the hall, which according to him was good for nothing but to be burnt. m. fontaine [born at pontoise, 1762; erected the arch of the carrousel; died 1853] was summoned, and promised to do everything in his power to remedy the inconveniences pointed out to him; and in fact, by means of new furnaces placed under the theater, with pipes through the ceiling, and steps placed under the benches of the second tier of boxes, in a week the hall was made warm and comfortable. for several weeks the emperor occupied himself almost exclusively with buildings and improvements. the arch of triumph of the place du carrousel, from which the scaffolding had been removed in order to allow the imperial guard to pass beneath it on their return from prussia, first attracted his majesty's attention. this monument was then almost completed, with the exception of a few bas-reliefs which were still to be put in position. the emperor took a critical view of it from one of the palace windows, and said, after knitting his brows two or three times, that this mass resembled much more a pavilion than a gate, and that he would have much preferred one constructed in the style of the porte saint-denis. after visiting in detail the various works begun or carried on since his departure, his majesty one morning sent for m. fontaine, and having discoursed at length on what he thought worthy of praise or blame in all that he had seen, informed him of his intentions with regard to the plans which the architect had furnished for joining the tuileries to the louvre. it was agreed by the emperor and m. fontaine that these buildings should be united by two wings, the first of which should be finished in five years, a million to be granted each year for this purpose; and that a second wing should also be constructed on the opposite side, extending from the louvre to the tuileries, forming thus a perfect square, in the midst of which would be erected an opera house, isolated on all sides, and communicating with the palace by a subterranean gallery. the gallery forming the court in front of the louvre was to be opened to the public in winter, and decorated with statues, and also with all the shrubbery now in boxes in the garden of the tuileries; and in this court he intended to erect an arch of triumph very similar to that of the carrousel. finally, all these beautiful buildings were to be used as lodgings for the grand officers of the crown, as stables, etc. the necessary expense was estimated as approximating forty-two millions. the emperor was occupied in succession with a palace of arts; with a new building for the imperial library, to be placed on the spot now occupied by the bourse; with a palace for the stock-exchange on the quay desaix; with the restoration of the sorbonne and the hotel soubise; with a triumphal column at neuilly; with a fountain on the place louis xv.; with tearing down the hotel-dieu to enlarge and beautify the cathedral quarter; and with the construction of four hospitals at mont-parnasse, at chaillot, at montmartre, and in the faubourg saint-antoine, etc. all these plans were very grand; and there is no doubt that he who had conceived them would have executed them; and it has often been said that had he lived, paris would have had no rival in any department in the world. at the same time his majesty decided definitely on the form of the arch of triumph de l'etoile, which had been long debated, and for which all the architects of the crown had submitted plans. it was m. fontaine whose opinion prevailed; since among all the plans presented his was the simplest, and at the same time the most imposing. the emperor was also much interested in the restoration of the palace of versailles. m. fontaine had submitted to his majesty a plan for the first repairs, by the terms of which, for the sum of six millions, the emperor and empress would have had a comfortable dwelling. his majesty, who liked everything grand, handsome, superb, but at the same time economical, wrote at the bottom of this estimate the following note, which m. de bausset reports thus in his memoirs:- "the plans in regard to versailles must be carefully considered. those which m. fontaine submits are very reasonable, the estimate being six millions; but this includes dwellings, with the restoration of the chapel and that of the theater, only sufficiently comfortable for present use, not such as they should be one day. "by this plan, the emperor and empress would have their apartments; but we must remember that this sum should also furnish lodgings for princes, grand and inferior officers. "it is also necessary to know where will be placed the factory of arms, which will be needed at versailles, since it puts silver in circulation. "it will be necessary out of these six millions to find six lodgings for princes, twelve for grand officers, and fifty for inferior officers. "then only can we decide to make versailles our residence, and pass the summers there. before adopting these plans, it will be necessary that the architect who engages to execute them should certify that they can be executed for the proposed sum." a few days after their arrival their majesties, the emperor and empress, went to visit the celebrated david [jacques louis david, born in paris, 1748, celebrated historical painter, member of convention, 1792, and voted for the death of the king. died in brussels, 1825.] at his studio in the sorbonne, in order to see the magnificent picture of the coronation, which had just been finished. their majesties' suite was composed of marshal bessieres, an aide-de-camp of the emperor, m. lebrun, several ladies of the palace, and chamberlains. the emperor and empress contemplated with admiration for a long while this beautiful painting, which comprised every species of merit; and the painter was in his glory while hearing his majesty name, one by one, all the different personages of the picture, for the resemblance was really miraculous. "how grand that is!" said the emperor; "how fine! how the figures are brought out in relief! how truthful! this is not a painting; the figures live in this picture!" first directing his attention to the grand tribune in the midst, the emperor, recognized madame his mother, general beaumont, m. de cosse, m. de la ville, madame de fontanges, and madame soult. "i see in the distance," said he, "good m. vien." m. david replied, "yes, sire; i wished to show my admiration for my illustrious master by placing him in this picture, which, on account of its subject, will be the most famous of my works." the empress then took part in the conversation, and pointed out to the emperor how happily m. david had seized upon and represented the interesting moment when the emperor is on the point of being crowned. "yes," said his majesty, regarding it with a pleasure that he did not seek to disguise, "the moment is well chosen, and the scene perfectly represented; the two figures are very fine," and speaking thus, the emperor looked at the empress. his majesty continued the examination of the picture in all its details, and praised especially the group of the italian clergy near the altar, which episode was invented by the painter. he seemed to wish only that the pope had been represented in more direct action, appearing to give his blessing, and that the crown of the empress had been borne by the cardinal legate. in regard to this group, marshal bessieres made the emperor laugh heartily, by relating to him the very amusing discussion which had taken place between david and cardinal caprara. it is well known that the artist had a great aversion to dressed figures, especially to those clothed in the modern style. in all his paintings, there may be remarked such a pronounced love for the antique that it even shows itself in his manner of draping living persons. now, cardinal caprara, one of the assistants of the pope at the ceremony of the coronation, wore a wig; and david, in giving him a place in his picture, thought it more suitable to take off his wig, and represent him with a bald head, the likeness being otherwise perfect. the cardinal was much grieved, and begged the artist to restore his wig, but received from david a formal refusal. "never," said he, "will i degrade my pencil so far as to paint a wig." his eminence went away very angry, and complained to m. de talleyrand, who was at this time minister of foreign affairs, giving, among other reasons, this, which seemed to him unanswerable, that, as no pope had ever worn a wig, they would not fail to attribute to him, cardinal caprara, an intention of aspiring to the pontifical chair in case of a vacancy, which intention would be clearly shown by the suppression of his wig in the picture of the coronation. the entreaties of his eminence were all in vain; for david would not consent to restore his precious wig, saying, that "he ought to be very glad he had taken off no more than that." after hearing this story, the particulars of which were confirmed by the principal actor in the scene, his majesty made some observations to m. david, with all possible delicacy. they were attentively noted by this admirable artist, who, with a bow, promised the emperor to profit by his advice. their majesties' visit was long, and lasted until the fading light warned the emperor that it was time to return. m. david escorted him to the door of his studio; and there, stopping short, the emperor took off his hat, and, by a most graceful bow, testified to the honor he felt for such distinguished talent. the empress added to the agitation by which m. david seemed almost overcome by a few of the charming words of appreciation she so well knew how to say, and said so opportunely. opposite the picture of the coronation was placed that of the sabines. the emperor, who perceived how anxious m. david was to dispose of this, gave orders to m. lebrun, as he left, to see if this picture could not be placed to advantage in the grand gallery at the tuileries. but he soon changed his mind when he reflected that most of the figures were represented in naturalibus, which would appear incongruous in an apartment used for grand diplomatic receptions, and in which the council of ministers usually sat. chapter viii. the last of january, mademoiselle de tascher, niece of her majesty the empress, was married to the duke of aremberg. the emperor on this occasion raised mademoiselle de tascher to the dignity of a princess, and deigned, in company with the empress, to honor with his presence the marriage, which took place at the residence of her majesty the queen of holland, in the rue de ceriltti, and was celebrated with a splendor worthy of the august guests. the empress remained some time after dinner, and opened the ball with the duke of aremberg. a few days after this the prince of hohenzollern married the niece of the grand duke of berg and cleves, mademoiselle antoinette murat. his majesty honored her as he had done mademoiselle tascher, and, in company with the empress, also attended the ball which the grand duke of berg gave on the occasion of this marriage, and at which princess caroline presided. this was a brilliant winter at paris, owing to the great number of fetes and balls which were given. the emperor, as i have already said, had an aversion to balls, and especially masked balls, which he considered the most senseless things in the world, and this was a subject on which he was often at war with the empress; but, notwithstanding this, on one occasion he yielded to the entreaties of m. de marescalchi, the italian ambassador, noted for his magnificent balls, which the most distinguished personages of the kingdom attended. these brilliant reunions took place in a hall which the ambassador had built for the purpose, and decorated with extraordinary luxury and splendor; and his majesty, as i have said, consented to honor with his presence a masked ball given by this ambassador, which was to eclipse all others. in the morning the emperor called me, and said, "i have decided to dance this evening at the house of the ambassador of italy; you will carry, during the day, ten complete costumes to the apartments he has prepared for me." i obeyed, and in the evening accompanied his majesty to the residence of m. marescalchi, and dressed him as best i could in a black domino, taking great pains to render him unrecognizable; and everything went well, in spite of numerous observations on the emperor's part as to the absurdity of a disguise, the bad appearance a domino makes, etc. but, when it was proposed to change his shoes, he rebelled absolutely, in spite of all i could say on this point; and consequently he was recognized the moment he entered the ballroom. he went straight to a masker, his hands behind his back, as usual, and attempted to enter into an intrigue, and at the first question he asked was called sire, in reply. whereupon, much disappointed, he turned on his heel, and came back to me. "you are right, constant; i am recognized. bring me lace-boots and another costume." i put the boots on his feet, and disguised him anew, advising him to let his arms hang, if he did not wish to be recognized at once; and his majesty promised to obey in every particular what he called my instructions. he had hardly entered the room in his new costume, however, before he was accosted by a lady, who, seeing him with his hands again crossed behind his back, said, "sire, you are recognized!" the emperor immediately let his arms fall; but it was too late, for already every one moved aside respectfully to make room for him. he then returned to his room, and took a third costume, promising me implicitly to pay attention to his gestures and his walk, and offering to bet that he would not be recognized. this time, in fact, he entered the hall as if it were a barrack, pushing and elbowing all around him; but, in spite of this, some one whispered in his ear, "your majesty is recognized." a new disappointment, new change of costume, and new advice on my part, with the same result; until at last his majesty left the ambassador's ball, persuaded that he could not be disguised, and that the emperor would be recognized whatever mask he might assume. that evening at supper, the prince de neuchatel, the duke de trevise, the duke de frioul, and some other officers being present, the emperor related the history of his disguises, and made many jests on his awkwardness. in speaking of the young lady who had recognized him the evening before, and who had, it appeared, puzzled him greatly, "can you believe it, messieurs," said he, "i never succeeded in recognizing the little wretch at all?" during the carnival the empress expressed a wish to go once to the masked ball at the opera; and when she begged the emperor to accompany her he refused, in spite of all the tender and enticing things the empress could say, and all the grace with which, as is well known, she could surround a petition. she found that all was useless, as the emperor said plainly that he would not go. "well, i will go without you."--"as you please," and the emperor went out. that evening at the appointed hour the empress went to the ball; and the emperor, who wished to surprise her, had one of her femmes de chambre summoned, and obtained from her an exact description of the empress's costume. he then told me to dress him in a domino, entered a carriage without decorations, and accompanied by the grand marshal of the palace, a superior officer, and myself, took the road to the opera. on reaching the private entrance of the emperor's household, we encountered some difficulty, as the doorkeeper would not let us pass till i had told my name and rank. "these gentlemen are with you?"--"as you see."--"i beg your pardon, monsieur constant; but it is because in such times as these there are always persons who try to enter without paying."--"that is good! that is good!" and the emperor laughed heartily at the doorkeeper's observations. at last we entered, and having got as far as the hall, promenaded in couples, i giving my arm to the emperor, who said thou to me, and bade me reply in the same way. we gave each other fictitious names, the emperor calling himself auguste; the duke de frioul, francois; the superior officer, whose name escapes me, charles; while i was joseph. as soon as his majesty saw a domino similar to the one the femme de chambre had described, he pressed my arm and said, "is that she?"--"no, si--no, auguste," replied i, constantly correcting myself; for it was impossible to accustom myself to calling the emperor otherwise than sire or your majesty. he had, as i have said, expressly ordered me to tutoy him; but he was every moment compelled to repeat this order to me, for respect tied my tongue every time i tried to say tu. at last, after having gone in every direction, explored every corner and nook of the saloon, the green-room, the boxes, etc., in fact, examined everything, and looked each costume over in detail, his majesty, who was no more successful in recognizing her majesty than were we, began to feel great anxiety, which i, however, succeeded in allaying by telling him that doubtless the empress had gone to change her costume. as i was speaking, a domino arrived who seemed enamoured of the emperor, accosted him, mystified him, tormented him in every way, and with so much vivacity that auguste was beside himself; and it is impossible to give even a faint idea of the comical sight the emperor presented in his embarrassment. the domino, delighted at this, redoubled her wit and raillery until, thinking it time to cease, she disappeared in the crowd. the emperor was completely exasperated; he had seen enough, and we left the ball. the next morning when he saw the empress, he remarked, "well, you did not go to the opera ball, after all!"--"oh, yes, indeed i did."--"nonsense!" --"i assure you that i went. and you, my dear, what did you do all the evening?"--"i worked."--"why, that is very singular; for i saw at the ball last night a domino who had exactly your foot and boots. i took him for you, and consequently addressed him." the emperor laughed heartily on learning that he had been thus duped; the empress, just as she left for the ball, had changed her costume, not thinking the first sufficiently elegant. the carnival was extremely brilliant this year, and there were in paris all kinds of masquerades. the most amusing were those in which the theory advocated by the famous doctor gall [franz joseph gall, founder of the system of phrenology. born in baden, 1758; died in paris, 1825] was illustrated. i saw a troop passing the place du carrousel, composed of clowns, harlequins, fishwives, etc., all rubbing their skulls, and making expressive grimaces; while a clown bore several skulls of different sizes, painted red, blue, or green, with these inscriptions: skull of a robber, skull of an assassin, skull of a bankrupt, etc.; and a masked figure, representing doctor gall, was seated on an ass, his head turned to the animal's tail, and receiving from the hands of a woman who followed him, and was also seated on an ass, heads covered with wigs made of long grass. her majesty queen caroline gave a masked ball, at which the emperor and empress were present, which was one of the most brilliant i have ever attended. the opera of la vestale was then new, and very much the fashion; it represented a quadrille of priests and vestals who entered to the sound of delicious music on the flute and harp, and in addition to this there were magicians, a swiss marriage, tyrolian betrothals, etc. all the costumes were wonderfully handsome and true to nature; and there had been arranged in the apartments at the palace a supply of costumes which enabled the dancers to change four or five times during the night, and which had the effect of renewing the ball as many times. as i was dressing the emperor for this ball, he said to me, "constant, you must go with me in disguise. take whatever costume you like, disguise yourself so that you cannot possibly be recognized, and i will give you instructions." i hastened to do as his majesty ordered, donned a swiss costume which suited me very well, and thus equipped awaited his majesty's orders. he had a plan for mystifying several great personages, and two or three ladies whom the emperor designated to me with such minute details that it was impossible to mistake them, and told me some singular things in regard to them, which were not generally known, and were well calculated to embarrass them terribly. as i was starting, the emperor called me back, saying, "above all, constant, take care to make no mistake, and do not confound madame de m---with her sister; they have almost exactly the same costume, but madame de m--is larger than she, so take care." on my arrival at the ball, i sought and easily found the persons whom his majesty had designated, and the replies which they made afforded him much amusement when i narrated them as he was retiring. there was at this time a third marriage at the court, that of the prince de neuchatel and the princess of bavaria, which was celebrated in the chapel of the tuileries by cardinal fesch. a traveler just returned from the isle of france presented to the empress a female monkey of the orang-outang species; and her majesty gave orders that the animal should be placed in the menagerie at malmaison. this baboon was extremely gentle and docile, and its master had given it an excellent education. it was wonderful to see her, when any one approached the chair on which she was seated, take a decent position, draw over her legs and thighs the fronts of a long redingote, and, when she rose to make a bow, hold the redingote carefully in front of her, acting, in fact, exactly as would a young girl who had been well reared. she ate at the table with a knife and fork more properly than many children who are thought to be carefully trained, and liked, while eating, to cover her face with her napkin, and then uncover it with a cry of joy. turnips were her favorite food; and, when a lady of the palace showed her one, she began to run, caper, and cut somersaults, forgetting entirely the lessons of modesty and decency her professor had taught her. the empress was much amused at seeing the baboon lose her dignity so completely under the influence of this lady. this poor beast had inflammation of the stomach, and, according to the directions of the traveler who brought her, was placed in bed and a night-dress put on her. she took great care to keep the covering up to her chin, though unwilling to have anything on her head; and held her arms out of the bed, her hands hidden in the sleeves of the night-dress. when any one whom she knew entered the room, she nodded to them and took their hand, pressing it affectionately. she eagerly swallowed the medicines prescribed, as they were sweet; and one day, while a draught of manna was being prepared, which she thought too long delayed, she showed every sign of impatience, and threw herself from side to side like a fretful child; at last, throwing off the covering, she seized her physician by the coat with so much obstinacy that he was compelled to yield. the instant she obtained possession of the eagerly coveted cup she manifested the greatest delight, and began to drink, taking little sips, and smacking her lips with all the gratification of an epicure who tastes a glass of wine which he thinks very old and very delicious. at last the cup was emptied, she returned it, and lay down again. it is impossible to give an idea of the gratitude this poor animal showed whenever anything was done for her. the empress was deeply attached to her. chapter ix. after remaining about a week at the chateau of saint-cloud, his majesty set out, on the 2d of april, at 11 o'clock in the morning, to visit the departments of the south; and as this journey was to begin at bordeaux, the emperor requested the empress to meet him there. this publicly announced intention was simply a pretext, in order, to mislead the curious, for we knew that we were going to the frontier of spain. the emperor remained barely ten days there, and then left for bayonne alone, leaving the empress at bordeaux, and reaching bayonne on the night of the 14-15th of april, where her majesty the empress rejoined him two or three days afterwards. the prince of neuchatel and the grand marshal lodged at the chateau of marrac, the rest of their majesties' suite lodged at bayonne and its suburbs, the guard camped in front of the chateau on a place called the parterre, and in three days all were comfortably located. on the morning of the 15th of april, the emperor had hardly recovered from the fatigue of his journey, when he received the authorities of bayonne, who came to congratulate him, and questioned them, as was his custom, most pointedly. his majesty then set out to visit the fort and fortifications, which occupied him till the evening, when he returned to the government palace, which he occupied temporarily while waiting till the chateau of marrac should be ready to receive him. on his return to the palace the emperor expected to find the infant don carlos, whom his brother ferdinand, the prince of the asturias, had sent to bayonne to present his compliments to the emperor; but he was informed that the infant was ill, and would not be able to come. the emperor immediately gave orders to send one of his physicians to attend upon him, with a valet de chambre and several other persons; for the prince had come to bayonne without attendants, and incognito, attended only by a military service composed of a few soldiers of the garrison. the emperor also ordered that this service should be replaced by one more suitable, consisting of the guard of honor of bayonne, and sent two or three times each day to inquire the condition of the infant, who it was freely admitted in the palace was very ill. on leaving the government palace to take up his abode at marrac, the emperor gave all necessary orders that it should be in readiness to receive the king and queen of spain, who were expected at bayonne the last of the month; and expressly recommended that everything should be done to render to the sovereigns of spain all the honors due their position. just as the emperor entered the chateau the sound of music was heard, and the grand marshal entered to inform his majesty that a large company of the inhabitants in the costume of the country were assembled before the gate of the chateau. the emperor immediately went to the window; and, at sight of him, seventeen persons (seven men and ten women) began with inimitable grace a dance called 'la pamperruque', in which the women kept time on tambourines, and the men with castanets, to an orchestra composed of flutes and guitars. i went out of the castle to view this scene more closely. the women wore short skirts of blue silk, and pink stockings likewise embroidered in silver; their hair was tied with ribbons, and they wore very broad black bracelets, that set off to advantage the dazzling whiteness of their bare arms. the men wore tight-fitting white breeches, with silk stockings and large epaulettes, a loose vest of very fine woolen cloth ornamented with gold, and their hair caught up in a net like the spaniards. his majesty took great pleasure in witnessing this dance, which is peculiar to the country and very ancient, which the custom of the country has consecrated as a means of rendering homage to great personages. the emperor remained at the window until the 'pamperruque' was finished, and then sent to compliment the dancers on their skill, and to express his thanks to the inhabitants assembled in crowds at the gate. his majesty a few days afterward received from his royal highness, the prince of the asturias, a letter, in which he announced that he intended setting out from irun, where he then was, at an early day, in order to have the pleasure of making the acquaintance of his brother (it was thus prince ferdinand called the emperor); a pleasure which he had long desired, and which he would at last enjoy if his good brother would allow him. this letter was brought to the emperor by one of the aides-de-camp of the prince, who had accompanied him from madrid, and preceded him to bayonne by only ten days. his majesty could hardly believe what he read and heard; and i, with several other persons, heard him exclaim, "what, he is coming here? but you must be mistaken; he must be deceiving us; that cannot be possible!" and i can certify that, in these words, the emperor manifested no pleasure at the announcement. it was necessary, however, to make preparations to receive the prince, since he was certainly coming; consequently the prince of neuchatel, the duke of frioul, and a chamberlain of honor, were selected by his majesty. and the guard of honor received orders to accompany these gentlemen, and meet the prince of spain just outside the town of bayonne; the rank which the emperor recognized in ferdinand not rendering it proper that the escort should go as far as the frontier of the two empires. the prince made his entrance into bayonne at noon, on the 20th of april. lodgings which would have been considered very inferior in paris, but which were elegant in bayonne, had been prepared for him and his brother, the infant don carlos, who was already installed there. prince ferdinand made a grimace on entering, but did not dare to complain aloud; and certainly it would have been most improper for him to have done so, since it was not the emperor's fault that bayonne possessed only one palace, which was at this time reserved for the king, and, besides, this house, the handsomest in the town, was large and perfectly new. don pedro de cevallos, who accompanied the prince, thought it horrible, and unfit for a royal personage. it was the residence of the commissariat. an hour after ferdinand's arrival, the emperor visited him. he was awaiting the emperor at the door, and held out his arms on his approach; they embraced, and ascended to his apartments, where they remained about half an hour, and when they separated the prince wore a somewhat anxious air. his majesty on his return charged the grand marshal to convey to the prince and his brother, don carlos, the duke of san-carlos, the duke of infantado, don pedro de cevallos, and two or three other persons of the suite, an invitation to dine with him; and the emperor's carriages were sent for these illustrious guests at the appointed hour, and they were conveyed to the chateau. his majesty descended to the foot of the staircase to receive the prince; but this was the limit of his deference, for not once during dinner did he give prince ferdinand, who was a king at madrid, the title of your majesty, nor even that of highness; nor did he accompany him on his departure any farther than the first door of the saloon; and he afterwards informed him, by a message, that he would have no other rank than that of prince of the asturias until the arrival of his father, king charles. orders were given at the same time to place on duty at the house of the princes, the bayonnaise guard of honor, with the imperial guard in addition to a detachment of picked police. on the 27th of april the empress arrived from bordeaux at seven o'clock in the evening, having made no stay at bayonne, where her arrival excited little enthusiasm, as they were perhaps displeased that she did not stop there. his majesty received her with much tenderness, and showed much solicitude as to the fatigue she must have experienced, since the roads were so rough, and badly washed by the rains. in the evening the town and chateau were illuminated. three days after, on the 30th, the king and queen of spain arrived at bayonne; and it is impossible to describe the homage which the emperor paid them. the duke charles de plaisance went as far as irun, and the prince de neuchatel even to the banks of the bidassoa, in order to pay marked respect to their catholic majesties on the part of their powerful friend; and the king and queen appeared to appreciate highly these marks of consideration. a detachment of picked troops, superbly uniformed, awaited them on the frontier, and served as their escort; the garrison of bayonne was put under arms, all the buildings of the port were decorated, all the bells rang, and the batteries of both the citadel and the port saluted with great salvos. the prince of the asturias and his brother, hearing of the arrival of the king and queen, had left bayonne in order to meet their parents, when they encountered, a short distance from the town, two or three grenadiers who had just left vittoria, and related to them the following occurrence: when their spanish majesties entered vittoria, they found that a detachment of the spanish body guards, who had accompanied the prince of the asturias and were stationed in this town, had taken possession of the palace which the king and queen were to occupy as they passed through, and on the arrival of their majesties had put themselves under arms. as soon as the king perceived this, he said to them in a severe tone, "you will understand why i ask you to quit my palace. you have failed in your duty at aranjuez. i have no need of your services, and i do not wish them. go!" these words, pronounced with an energy far from habitual to charles iv., met with no reply. the detachment of the guards retired; and the king begged general verdier to give him a french guard, much grieved, he said, that he had not retained his brave riflemen, whose colonel he still kept near him as captain of the guards. this news could not give the prince of the asturias a high opinion of the welcome his father had in store for him; and indeed he was very coolly received, as i shall now relate. the king and queen of spain, on alighting at the governmental palace, found awaiting them the grand marshal, the duke de frioul, who escorted them to their apartments, and presented to them general count reille, the emperor's aide-de-camp, performing the duties of governor of the palace; m. d'audenarde, equerry, with m. dumanoir and m. de baral, chamberlains charged with the service of honor near their majesties. the grandees of spain whom their majesties found at bayonne were the same who had followed the prince of the asturias, and the sight of them, as may well be imagined, was not pleasant to the king; and when the ceremony of the kissing of the hand took place, every one perceived the painful agitation of the unfortunate sovereigns. this ceremony, which consists of falling on your knees and kissing the hand of the king and queen, was performed in the deepest silence, as their majesties spoke to no one but the count of fuentes, who by chance was at bayonne. the king hurried over this ceremony, which fatigued him greatly, and retired with the queen into his apartments, where the prince of the asturias wished to follow them; but his father stopped him at the door, and raising his arm as if to repulse him, said in a trembling tone, "prince, do you wish still to insult my gray hairs?" these words had, it is said, the effect of a thunderbolt on the prince. he was overcome by his feelings for a moment, and withdrew without uttering a word. very different was the reception their majesties gave to the prince de la paix [manuel godoi, born at badajos, 1767. a common soldier, he became the queen's lover, and the virtual ruler of spain; died in paris, 1851.] when he joined them at bayonne, and he might have been taken for the nearest and dearest relative of their majesties. all three wept freely on meeting again; at least, this is what i was told by a person in the service--the same, in fact, who gave me all the preceding details. at five o'clock his majesty the emperor came to visit the king and queen of spain; and during this interview, which was very long, the two sovereigns informed his majesty of the insults they had received, and the dangers they had encountered during the past month. they complained greatly of the ingratitude of so many men whom they had overwhelmed with kindness, and above all of the guard which had so basely betrayed them. "your majesty," said the king, "does not know what it is to be forced to commiserate yourself on account of your son. may heaven forbid that such a misfortune should ever come to you! mine is the cause of all that we have suffered." the prince de la paix had come to bayonne accompanied by colonel martes, aide-de-camp of prince murat, and a valet de chambre, the only servant who had remained faithful to him. i had occasion to talk with this devoted servant, who spoke very good french, having been reared near toulouse; and he told me that he had not succeeded in obtaining permission to remain with his master during his captivity, and that this unfortunate prince had suffered indescribable torments; that not a day passed without some one entering his dungeon to tell him to prepare for death, as he was to be executed that very evening or the next morning. he also told me that the prisoners were left sometimes for thirty hours without food; that he had only a bed of straw, no linen, no books, and no communication with the outside world; and that when he came out of his dungeon to be sent to colonel marts, he presented a horrible appearance, with his long beard, and emaciated frame, the result of mental distress and insufficient food. he had worn the same shirt for a month, as he had never been able to prevail on his captors to give him others; and his eyes had been so long unaccustomed to the light that he was obliged to close them, and felt oppressed in the open air. on the road from bayonne, there was handed to the prince a letter from the king and queen which was stained with tears. the prince said to his valet de chambre after reading it, "these are the first consoling words i have received in a month, for every one has abandoned me except my excellent masters. the body guards, who have betrayed and sold their king, will also betray and sell his son; and as for myself, i hope for nothing, except to be permitted to find an asylum in france for my children and myself." m. marts having shown him newspapers in which it was stated that the prince possessed a fortune of five hundred million, he exclaimed vehemently that it was an atrocious calumny, and he defied his most cruel enemies to prove that. as we have seen, their majesties had not a numerous suite; but they were, notwithstanding, followed by baggage-wagons filled with furniture, goods, and valuable articles, and though their carriages were old-fashioned, they found them very comfortable--especially the king, who was much embarrassed the day after his arrival at bayonne, when, having been invited to dine with the emperor, it was necessary to enter a modern carriage with two steps. he did not dare to put his foot on the frail things, which he feared would break under his weight; and the oscillating movement of the body of the carriage made him terribly afraid that it would upset. at the table i had an opportunity of observing at my leisure the king and queen. the king was of medium height, and though not strictly handsome had a pleasant face. his nose was very long, his voice high-pitched and disagreeable; and he walked with a mincing air in which there was no majesty, but this, however, i attributed to the gout. he ate heartily of everything offered him, except vegetables, which he never ate, saying that grass was good only for cattle; and drank only water, having it served in two carafes, one containing ice, and poured from both at the same time. the emperor gave orders that special attention should be paid to the dinner, knowing that the king was somewhat of an epicure. he praised in high terms the french cooking, which he seemed to find much to his taste; for as each dish was served him, he would say, "louise, take some of that, it is good;" which greatly amused the emperor, whose abstemiousness is well known. the queen was fat and short, dressed very badly, and had no style or grace; her complexion was very florid, and her expression harsh and severe. she held her head high, spoke very loud, in tones still more brusque and piercing than those of her husband; but it is generally conceded that she had more character and better manners than he. before dinner that day there was some conversation on the subject of dress; and the empress offered the services of m. duplan, her hairdresser, in order to give her ladies some lessons in the french toilet. her proposition was accepted; and the queen came out soon after from the hands of m. duplan, better dressed, no doubt, and her hair better arranged, but not beautified, however, for the talent of the hairdresser could not go as far as that. the prince of the asturias, now king ferdinand vii., made an unpleasant impression on all, with his heavy step and careworn air, and rarely ever speaking. their spanish majesties as before brought with them the prince de la paix, who had not been invited by the emperor, and whom for this reason the usher on duty detained outside of the dining-hall. but as they were about to be seated, the king perceived that the prince was absent. "and manuel," said he quickly to the emperor, "and manuel, sire!" whereupon the emperor, smiling, gave the signal, and don manuel godoi was introduced. i was told that he had been a very handsome man; but he showed no signs of this, which was perhaps owing to the bad treatment he had undergone. after the abdication of the princes, the king and queen, the queen of etruria, and the infant don franciso, left bayonne for fontainebleau, which place the emperor had selected as their residence while waiting until the chateau of compiegne should be put in a condition to make them comfortable. the prince of the asturias left the same day, with his brother don carlos and his uncle don antonio, for the estates of valencay belonging to the prince of benevento. they published, while passing through bordeaux, a proclamation to the spanish people, in which they confirmed the transmission of all their rights to the emperor napoleon. thus king charles, freed from a throne which he had always regarded as a heavy burden, could hereafter give himself up unreservedly in retirement to his favorite pursuits. in all the world he cared only for the prince de la paix, confessors, watches, and music; and the throne was nothing to him. after what had passed, the prince de la paix could not return to spain; and the king would never have consented to be separated from him, even if the remembrance of the insults which he had personally received had not been powerful enough to disgust him with his kingdom. he much preferred the life of a private individual, and could not be happier than when allowed without interruption to indulge his simple and tranquil tastes. on his arrival at the chateau of fontainebleau, he found there m. remusat, the first chamberlain; m. de caqueray, officer of the hunt; m. de lugay, prefect of the palace; and a household already installed. mesdames de la rochefoucault, duchatel, and de lugay had been selected by the emperor for the service of honor near the queen. the king of spain remained at fontainebleau only until the chateau of compiegne could be repaired, and as he soon found the climate of this part of france too cold for his health, went, at the end of a few months, to marseilles with the queen of etruria, the infant don francisco, and the prince de la paix. in 1811 he left france for italy, finding his health still bad at marseilles, and chose rome as his residence. i spoke above of the fondness of the king of spain for watches. i have been told that while at fontainebleau, he had half a dozen of his watches worn by his valet de chambre, and wore as many himself, giving as a reason that pocket watches lose time by not being carried. i have also heard that he kept his confessor always near him, in the antechamber, or in the room in front of that in which he worked, and that when he wished to speak to him he whistled, exactly as one would whistle for a dog. the confessor never failed to respond promptly to this royal call, and followed his penitent into the embrasure of a window, in which improvised confessional the king divulged what he had on his conscience, received absolution, and sent back the priest until he felt himself obliged to whistle for him again. when the health of the king, enfeebled by age and gout, no longer allowed him to devote himself to the pleasures of the chase, he began playing on the violin more than ever before, in order, he said, to perfect himself in it. this was beginning rather late. as is well known, he had for his first violin teacher the celebrated alexander boucher, with whom he greatly enjoyed playing; but he had a mania for beginning first without paying any attention to the measure; and if m. boucher made any observation in regard to this, his majesty would reply with the greatest coolness, "monsieur, it seems to me that it is not my place to wait for you." between the departure of the royal family and the arrival of joseph, king of naples, the time was passed in reviews and military fetes, which the emperor frequently honored with his presence. the 7th of june, king joseph arrived at bayonne, where it had been known long in advance that his brother had summoned him to exchange his crown of naples for that of spain. the evening of joseph's arrival, the emperor invited the members of the spanish junta, who for fifteen days had been arriving at bayonne from all corners of the kingdom, to assemble at the chateau of marrac, and congratulate the new king. the deputies accepted this somewhat sudden invitation without having time to concert together previously any course of action; and on their arrival at marrac, the emperor presented to them their sovereign, whom they acknowledged, with the exception of some opposition on the part of the duke of infantado, in the name of the grandees of spain. the deputations from the council of castile, from the inquisition, and from the army, etc., submitted most readily. a few days after, the king formed his ministry, in which all were astonished to find m. de cevallos, who had accompanied the prince of the asturias to bayonne, and had made such a parade of undying attachment to the person of the one whom he called his unfortunate master; while the duke of infantado, who had opposed to the utmost any recognition of the foreign monarch, was appointed captain of the guard. the king then left for madrid, after appointing the grand duke of berg lieutenant-general of the kingdom. chapter x. at this time it was learned at bayonne that m. de belloy, archbishop of paris, had just died of a cold, contracted at the age of more than ninety-eight years. the day after this sad news arrived, the emperor, who was sincerely grieved, was dilating upon the great and good qualities of this venerable prelate, and said that having one day thoughtlessly remarked to m. de belloy, then already more than ninety-six years old, that he would live a century, the good old archbishop had exclaimed, smiling, "why, does your majesty think that i have no more than four years to live?" i remember that one of the persons who was present at the emperor's levee related the following anecdote concerning m. de belloy, which seemed to excite the emperor's respect and admiration. the wife of the hangman of genoa gave birth to a daughter, who could not be baptized because no one would act as godfather. in vain the father begged and entreated the few persons whom he knew, in vain he even offered money; that was an impossibility. the poor child had consequently remained unbaptized four or five months, though fortunately her health gave no cause for uneasiness. at last some one mentioned this singular condition of affairs to the archbishop, who listened to the story with much interest, inquired why he had not been informed earlier, and having given orders that the child should be instantly brought to him, baptized her in his palace, and was himself her godfather. at the beginning of july the grand duke of berg returned from spain, fatigued, ill, and out of humor. he remained there only two or three days, and held each day an interview with his majesty, who seemed little better satisfied with the grand duke than the grand duke was with him, and left afterwards for the springs of bareges. their majesties, the emperor and empress, left the chateau of marrac the 20th of july, at six o'clock in the evening. this journey of the emperor was one of those which cost the largest number of snuff-boxes set in diamonds, for his majesty was not economical with them. their majesties arrived at pau on the 22d, at ten o'clock in the morning, and alighted at the chateau of gelos, situated about a quarter of a league from the birthplace of the good henry iv., on the bank of the river. the day was spent in receptions and horseback excursions, on one of which the emperor visited the chateau in which the first king of the house of bourbon was reared, and showed how much this visit interested him, by prolonging it until the dinner-hour. on the border of the department of the hautes-pyrenees, and exactly in the most desolate and miserable part, was erected an arch of triumph, which seemed a miracle fallen from heaven in the midst of those plains uncultivated and burned up by the sun. a guard of honor awaited their majesties, ranged around this rural monument, at their head an old marshal of the camp, m. de noe, more than eighty years of age. this worthy old soldier immediately took his place by the side of the carriage, and as cavalry escort remained on horseback for a day and two nights without showing the least fatigue. as we continued our journey, we saw, on the plateau of a small mountain, a stone pyramid forty or fifty feet high, its four sides covered with inscriptions to the praise of their majesties. about thirty children dressed as mamelukes seemed to guard this monument, which recalled to the emperor glorious memories. the moment their majesties appeared, balladeers, or dancers, of the country emerged from a neighboring wood, dressed in the most picturesque costumes, bearing banners of different colors, and reproducing with remarkable agility and vigor the traditional dance of the mountaineers of the south. near the town of tarbes was a sham mountain planted with firs, which opened to let the cortege pass through, surmounted by an imperial eagle suspended in the air, and holding a banner on which was inscribed-"he will open our pyrenees." on his arrival at tarbes, the emperor immediately mounted his horse to pay a visit to the grand duke of berg, who was ill in one of the suburbs. we left next day without visiting bareges and bagneres, where the most brilliant preparations had been made to receive their majesties. as the emperor passed through agen, there was presented to him a brave fellow named printemps, over a hundred years old, who had served under louis xiv., xv., and xvi., and who, although bending beneath the weight of many years and burdens, finding himself in the presence of the emperor, gently pushed aside two of his grandsons by whom he had been supported, and exclaimed almost angrily that he could go very well alone. his majesty, who was much touched, met him half-way, and most kindly bent over the old centenarian, who on his knees, his white head uncovered, and his eyes full of tears, said in trembling tones, "ah, sire, i was afraid i should die without seeing you." the emperor assisted him to rise, and conducted him to a chair, in which he placed him with his own hands, and seated himself beside him on another, which he made signs to hand him. "i am glad to see you, my dear printemps, very glad. you have heard from me lately?" (his majesty had given this brave man a pension, which his wife was to inherit after his death.) printemps put his hand on his heart, "yes, i have heard from you." the emperor took pleasure in making him speak of his campaigns, and bade him farewell after a long conversation, handing him at the same time a gift of fifty napoleons. there was also presented to his majesty a soldier born at agen, who had lost his sight in consequence of the campaign in egypt. the emperor gave him three hundred francs, and promised him a pension, which was afterwards sent him. the day after their arrival at saint-cloud, the emperor and empress went to paris in order to be present at the fetes of the 15th of august, which it is useless to say were magnificent. as soon as he entered the tuileries, the emperor hastened through the chateau to examine the repairs and improvements which had been made during his absence, and, as was his habit, criticised more than he praised all that he saw. looking out of the hall of the marshals, he demanded of m. de fleurieu, governor of the palace, why the top of the arch of triumph on the carrousel was covered with a cloth; and his majesty was told that it was because all the arrangements had not yet been made for placing his statue in the chariot to which were attached the corinthian horses, and also because the two victories who were to guide the four horses were not yet completed. "what!" vehemently exclaimed the emperor; "but i will not allow that! i said nothing about it! i did not order it!" then turning to m. fontaine, he continued, "monsieur fontaine, was my statue in the design which was presented to you?"--"no, sire, it was that of the god mars."--"well, why have you put me in the place of the god of war?"--"sire, it was not i, but m. the director-general of the museum." "the director-general was wrong," interrupted the emperor impatiently. "i wish this statue removed; do you hear, monsieur fontaine? i wish it taken away; it is most unsuitable. what! shall i erect statues to myself! let the chariot and the victories be finished; but let the chariot let the chariot remain empty." the order was executed; and the statue of the emperor was taken down and placed in the orangery, and is perhaps still there. it was made of gilded lead, was a fine piece of work, and a most excellent likeness. the sunday following the emperor's arrival, his majesty received at the tuileries the persian ambassador, asker-khan; m. jaubert accompanied him, and acted as interpreter. this savant, learned in oriental matters, had by the emperor's orders received his excellency on the frontiers of france, in company with m. outrey, vice-consul of france at bagdad. later his excellency had a second audience, which took place in state at the palace of saint-cloud. the ambassador was a very handsome man, tall, with regular features, and a noble and attractive countenance; his manners were polished and elegant, especially towards ladies, with even something of french gallantry. his suite, composed of select personages all magnificently dressed, comprised, on his departure from erzeroum, more than three hundred persons; but the innumerable difficulties encountered on the journey compelled his excellency to dismiss a large part of his retinue, and, though thus reduced, this suite was notwithstanding one of the most numerous ever brought by an ambassador into france. the ambassador and suite were lodged in the rue de frejus, in the residence formerly occupied by mademoiselle de conti. the presents which he brought to the emperor in the name of his sovereign were of great value, comprising more than eighty cashmere shawls of all kinds; a great quantity of fine pearls of various sizes, a few of them very large; an eastern bridle, the curb adorned with pearls, turquoise, emeralds, etc.; and finally the sword of tamerlane, and that of thamas-kouli-khan, the former covered with pearls and precious stones, the second very simply mounted, both having indian blades of fabulous value with arabesques of embossed gold. i took pleasure at the time in inquiring some particulars about this ambassador. his character was very attractive; and he showed much consideration and regard for every one who visited him, giving the ladies attar of roses, the men tobacco, perfumes, and pipes. he took much pleasure in comparing french jewels with those he had brought from his own country, and even carried his gallantry so far as to propose to the ladies certain exchanges, always greatly to their advantage; and a refusal of these proposals wounded him deeply. when a pretty woman entered his residence he smiled at first, and heard her speak in a kind of silent ecstasy; he then devoted his attention to seating her, placed under her feet cushions and carpets of cashmere (for he had only this material about him). even his clothing and bed-coverings were of an exceedingly fine quality of cashmere. asker-khan did not scruple to wash his face, his beard, and hands in the presence of everybody, seating himself for this operation in front of a slave, who presented to him on his knees a porcelain ewer. the ambassador had a decided taste for the sciences and arts, and was himself a very learned man. messieurs dubois and loyseau conducted near his residence an institution which he often visited, especially preferring to be present at the classes in experimental physics; and the questions which he propounded by means of his interpreter evinced on his part a very extensive knowledge of the phenomena of electricity. those who traded in curiosities and objects of art liked him exceedingly, since he bought their wares without much bargaining. however, on one occasion he wished to purchase a telescope, and sent for a famous optician, who seized the opportunity to charge him an enormous price. but asker-khan having examined the instrument, with which he was much pleased, said to the optician, "you have given me your long price, now give me your short one." he admired above all the printed calicoes of the manufactures of jouy, the texture, designs, and colors of which he thought even superior to cashmere; and bought several robes to send to persia as models. on the day of the emperor's fete, his excellency gave in the garden of his residence an entertainment in the eastern style, at which the persian musicians attached to the embassy executed warlike pieces, astonishing both for vigor and originality. there were also artificial fireworks, conspicuous among which were the arms of the sufi, on which were represented most ingeniously the cipher of napoleon. his excellency visited the imperial library, m. jaubert serving as interpreter; and the ambassador was overcome with admiration on seeing the order in which this immense collection of books was kept. he remained half an hour in the hall of the manuscripts, which he thought very handsome, and recognized several as being copied by writers of much renown in persia. a copy of the koran struck him most of all; and he said, while admiring it, that there was not a man in persia who would not sell his children to acquire such a treasure. on leaving, the library, asker-khan presented his compliments to the librarians, and promised to enrich the collection by several precious manuscripts which he had brought from his own country. a few days after his presentation, the ambassador went to visit the museum, and was much impressed by a portrait of his master, the king of persia; and could not sufficiently express his joy and gratitude when several copies of this picture were presented to him. the historical pictures, especially the battle-scenes, then engrossed his attention completely; and he remained at least a quarter of an hour in front of the one representing the surrender of the city of vienna. having arrived at the end of the gallery of apollo, asker-khan seated himself to rest, asked for a pipe, and indulged in a smoke; and when he had finished, rose, and seeing around him many ladies whom curiosity had attracted, paid them, through m. jaubert, exceedingly flattering compliments. then leaving the museum, his excellency went to promenade in the garden of the tuileries, where he was soon followed by an immense crowd. on that day his excellency bestowed on prince de benevento, in the name of his sovereign, the grand order of the sun, a magnificent decoration consisting of a diamond sun attached to a cordon of red cloth covered with pearls. asker-khan made a greater impression at paris than the turkish ambassador. he was generous and more gallant, paid his court with more address, and conformed more readily to french customs and manners. the turk was irascible, austere, and irritable, while the persian was fond of and well understood a joke. one day, however, he became red with anger, and it must be admitted not without good reason. at a concert given in the apartments of the empress josephine, asker-khan, whom the music evidently did not entertain very highly, at first applauded by ecstatic gestures and rolling his eyes in admiration, until at last nature overcame politeness, and the ambassador fell sound asleep. his excellency's position was not the best for sleeping, however, as he was standing with his back against the wall, with his feet braced against a sofa on which a lady was seated. it occurred to some of the officers of the palace that it would be a good joke to take away suddenly this point of support, which they accomplished with all ease by simply beginning a conversation with the lady on the sofa, who rising suddenly, the seat slipped over the floor; his excellency's feet followed this movement, and the ambassador, suddenly deprived of the weight which had balanced him, extended his length on the floor. on this rude awakening, he tried to stop himself in his fall by clutching at his neighbors, the furniture, and the curtains, uttering at the same time frightful screams. the officers who had played this cruel joke upon him begged him, with the most ridiculously serious air, to place himself on a stationary chair in order to avoid the recurrence of such an accident; while the lady who had been made the accomplice in this practical joke, with much difficulty stifled her laughter, and his excellency was consumed with an anger which he could express only in looks and gestures. another adventure of asker-khan's was long a subject of conversation, and furnished much amusement. having felt unwell for several days, he thought that french medicine might cure him more quickly than persian; so he sent for m. bourdois, a most skillful physician whose name he well knew, having taken care to acquaint himself with all our celebrities of every kind. the ambassador's orders were promptly executed; but by a singular mistake it was not dr. bourdois who was requested to visit asker-khan, but the president of the court of accounts, m. marbois, who was much astonished at the honor the persian ambassador did him, not being able to comprehend what connection there could be between them. nevertheless, he repaired promptly to asker-khan, who could scarcely believe that the severe costume of the president of the court of accounts was that of a physician. no sooner had m. marbois entered than the ambassador held out his hand and stuck out his tongue, regarding him very attentively. m. marbois was a little surprised at this welcome; but thinking it was doubtless the oriental manner of saluting magistrates, he bowed profoundly, and timidly pressed the hand presented to him, and he was in this respectful position when four of the servants of the ambassador brought a vessel with unequivocal signs. m. marbois recognized the use of it with a surprise and indignation that could not be expressed, and drew back angrily, inquiring what all this meant. hearing himself called doctor, "what!" cried he, "m. le docteur!"-"why; yes; le docteur bourdois!" m. marbois was enlightened. the similarity between the sound of his name and that of the doctor had exposed him to this disagreeable visit. chapter xi. the day preceding the emperor's fete, or the day following, the colossal bronze statue which was to be placed on the monument in the place vendome was removed from the studio of m. launay. the brewers of the faubourg saint-antoine offered their handsomest horses to draw the chariot on which the statue was carried, and twelve were selected, one from each brewer; and as their masters requested the privilege of riding them, nothing could be more singular than this cortege, which arrived on the place vendome at five o'clock in the evening, followed by an immense crowd, amid cries of "vive l'empereur." a few days before his majesty's departure for erfurt, the emperor with the empress and their households played prisoner's base for the last time. it was in the evening; and footmen bore lighted torches, and followed the players when they went beyond the reach of the light. the emperor fell once while trying to catch the empress, and was taken prisoner; but he soon broke bounds and began to run again, and when he was free, carried off josephine in spite of the protests of the players; and thus ended the last game of prisoner's base that i ever saw the emperor play. it had been decided that the emperor alexander and the emperor napoleon should meet at erfurt on the 27th of september; and most of the sovereigns forming the confederation of the rhine had been invited to be present at this interview, which it was intended should be both magnificent and imposing. consequently the duke of frioul, grand marshal of the palace, sent m. de canouville, marshal of lodgings of the palace, m. de beausset, prefect of the palace, and two quartermasters to prepare at erfurt lodgings for all these illustrious visitors, and to organize the grand marshal's service. the government palace was chosen for the emperor napoleon's lodgings, as on account of its size it perfectly suited the emperor's intention of holding his court there; for the emperor alexander, the residence of m. triebel was prepared, the handsomest in the town; and for s. a. l, the grand duke constantine, that of senator remann. other residences were reserved for the princes of the confederation and the persons of their suite; and a detachment of all branches of the service of the imperial household was established in each of these different lodgings. there had been sent from the storehouse of the crown a large quantity of magnificent furniture, carpets and tapestry, both gobelin and la savonnerie; bronzes, lusters, candelabras, girondoles, sevres china; in fine, everything which could contribute to the luxurious furnishing of the two imperial palaces, and those which were to be occupied by the other sovereigns; and a crowd of workmen came from paris. general oudinot was appointed governor of erfurt, and had under his orders the first regiment of hussars, the sixth of cuirassiers, and the seventeenth of light infantry, which the major-general had appointed to compose the garrison. twenty select police, with a battalion chosen from the finest grenadiers of the guard, were put on duty at the imperial palaces. the emperor, who sought by every means to render this interview at erfurt as agreeable as possible to the sovereigns for whom he had conceived an affection at tilsit, wished to have the masterpieces of the french stage played in their honor. this was the amusement most worthy of them that he could procure, so he gave orders that the theater should be embellished and repaired. m. dazincourt was appointed director of the theater, and set out from paris with messieurs talma, lafon, saint-prix, damas, despres, varennes, lacave; mesdames duchesnoir, raucourt, talma, bourgoin, rose dupuis, grosand, and patrat; and everything was in order before the arrival of the sovereigns. napoleon disliked madame talma exceedingly, although she displayed most remarkable talent, and this aversion was well known, although i could never discover the cause; and no one was willing to be first to place her name on the list of those selected to go to erfurt, but m. talma made so many entreaties that at last consent was given. and then occurred what everybody except m. talma and his wife had foreseen, that the emperor, having seen her play once, was much provoked that she had been allowed to come, and had her name struck from the list. mademoiselle bourgoin, who was at that time young and extremely pretty, had at first more success; but it was necessary, in order to accomplish this, that she should conduct herself differently from madame talma. as soon as she appeared at the theater of erfurt she excited the admiration, and became the object of the attentions, of all the illustrious spectators; and this marked preference gave rise to jealousies, which delighted her greatly, and which she increased to the utmost of her ability by every means in her power. when she was not playing, she took her seat in the theater magnificently dressed, whereupon all looks were bent on her, and distracted from the stage, to the very great displeasure of the actors, until the emperor at last perceived these frequent distractions, and put an end to them by forbidding mademoiselle bourgoin to appear in the theater except on the stage. this measure, which was very wisely taken by his majesty, put him in the bad graces of mademoiselle bourgoin; and another incident added still more to the displeasure of the actress. the two sovereigns attended the theater together almost every evening, and the emperor alexander thought mademoiselle bourgoin charming. she was aware of this, and tried by every means to increase the monarch's devotion. one day at last the amorous czar confided to the emperor his feelings for mademoiselle bourgoin. "i do not advise you to make any advances," said the emperor napoleon. "you think that she would refuse me?"--"oh, no; but to-morrow is the day for the post, and in five days all paris would know all about your majesty from head to foot." these words singularly cooled the ardor of the autocrat, who thanked the emperor for his advice, and said to him, "but from the manner in which your majesty speaks, i should be tempted to believe that you bear this charming actress some ill-will."--"no, in truth," replied the emperor, "i do not know anything about her." this conversation took place in his bedroom during the toilet. alexander left his majesty perfectly convinced, and mademoiselle bourgoin ceased her ogling and her assurance. his majesty made his entrance into erfurt on the morning of the 27th of september, 1808. the king of saxony, who had arrived first, followed by the count de marcolini, the count de haag, and the count de boze, awaited the emperor at the foot of the stairs in the governor's palace; after them came the members of the regency and the municipality of erfurt, who congratulated him in the usual form. after a short rest, the emperor mounted his horse, and left erfurt by the gate of weimar, making, in passing, a visit to the king of saxony, and found outside the city the whole garrison arranged in line of battle,--the grenadiers of the guard commanded by m. d'arquies; the first regiment of hussars by m. de juniac; the seventeenth infantry by m. de cabannes-puymisson; and the sixth cuirassiers, the finest body of men imaginable, by colonel d'haugeranville. the emperor reviewed these troops, ordered a change in some dispositions, and then continued on his way to meet the emperor alexander. the latter had set out from saint petersburg on the 17th of september; and the king and queen of prussia awaited him at koenigsberg, where he arrived on the 18th. the duke of montebello had the honor of receiving him at bromberg amid a salute of twenty-one cannon. alighting from his carriage, the emperor alexander mounted his horse, accompanied by the marshals of the empire, soult, duke of dalmatia, and lannes, duke of montebello, and set off at a gallop to meet the nansouty division, which awaited him arranged in line of battle. he was welcomed by a new salute, and by oft repeated cries of "long live the emperor alexander." the monarch, while reviewing the different corps which formed this fine division, said to the officers, "i think it a great honor, messieurs, to be amongst such brave men and splendid soldiers." by orders of marshal soult, who simply executed those given by napoleon, relays of the post had been arranged on all the roads which the monarch of the north would pass over, and they were forbidden to receive any compensation. at each relay were escorts of dragoons or light cavalry, who rendered military honors to the czar as he passed. after having dined with the generals of the nansouty division, the emperor of russia re-entered his carriage, a barouche with two seats, and seated the duke of montebello beside him, who afterwards told me with how many marks of esteem and kind feeling the emperor overwhelmed him during the journey, even arranging the marshal's cloak around his shoulders while he was asleep. his imperial russian majesty arrived at weimar the evening of the 26th, and next day continued his journey to erfurt, escorted by marshal soult, his staff, and the superior officers of the nansouty division, who had not left him since he had started from bromberg, and met napoleon a league and a half from erfurt, to which place the latter had come on horseback for this purpose. the moment the czar perceived the emperor, he left his carriage, and advanced towards his majesty, who had also alighted from his horse. they embraced each other with the affection of two college friends who meet again after a long absence; then both mounted their horses, as did also the grand duke constantine, and passing at a gallop in front of the regiments, all of which presented arms at their approach, entered the town, while the troops, with an immense crowd collected from twenty leagues around, made the air resound with their acclamations. the emperor of russia wore on entering erfurt the grand decoration of the legion of honor, and the emperor of the french that of saint andrew of russia; and the two sovereigns during their stay continued to show each other these marks of mutual deference, and it was also remarked that in his palace the emperor always gave the right to alexander. on the evening of his arrival, by his majesty's invitation, alexander gave the countersign to the grand marshal, and it was afterwards given alternately by the two sovereigns. they went first to the palace of russia, where they remained an hour; and later, when alexander came to return the visit of the emperor, he received him at the foot of the staircase, and accompanied him when he left as far as the entrance of the grand hall. at six o'clock the two sovereigns dined at his majesty's residence, and it was the same each day. at nine o'clock the emperor escorted the emperor of russia to his palace; and they then held a private conversation, which continued more than an hour, and in the evening the whole city was illuminated. the day after his arrival the emperor received at his levee the officers of the czar's household, and granted them the grand entry during the rest of their stay. the two sovereigns gave to each other proofs of the most sincere friendship and most confidential intimacy. the emperor alexander almost every morning entered his majesty's bedroom, and conversed freely with him. one day he was examining the emperor's dressing-case in silver gilt, which cost six thousand francs, and was most conveniently arranged and beautifully carved by the goldsmith biennais, and admired it exceedingly. as soon as he had gone, the emperor ordered me to have a dressing-case sent to the czar's palace exactly similar to that which had just been received from paris. another time the emperor alexander remarked on the elegance and durability of his majesty's iron bedstead; and the very next day by his majesty's orders, conveyed by me, an exactly similar bed was set up in the room of the emperor of russia, who was delighted with these polite attentions, and two days after, as an evidence of his satisfaction, ordered m. de remusat to hand me two handsome diamond rings. the czar one day made his toilet in the emperor's room, and i assisted. i took from the emperor's linen a white cravat and cambric handkerchief, which i handed him, and for which he thanked me most graciously; he was an exceedingly gentle, good, amiable prince, and extremely polite. there was an exchange of presents between these illustrious sovereigns. alexander made the emperor a present of three superb pelisses of martin-sable, one of which the emperor gave to his sister pauline, another to the princess de ponte-corvo; and the third he had lined with green velvet and ornamented with gold lace, and it was this cloak which he constantly wore in russia. the history of the one which i carried from him to the princess pauline is singular enough to be related here, although it may have been already told. the princess pauline showed much pleasure in receiving the emperor's present, and enjoyed displaying her cloak for the admiration of the household. one day, when she was in the midst of a circle of ladies, to whom she was dilating on the quality and excellence of this fur, m. de canouville arrived, and the princess asked his opinion of the present she had received from the emperor. the handsome colonel not appearing as much struck with admiration as she expected, she was somewhat piqued, and exclaimed, "what, monsieur, you do not think it exquisite?"-"no, madame."--"in order to punish you i wish you to keep this cloak; i give it to you, and require you to wear it; i wish it, you understand." it is probable that there had been some disagreement between her imperial highness and her protege, and the princess had seized the first means of establishing peace; but however that may be, m. de canouville needed little entreaty, and the rich fur was carried to his house. a few days after, while the emperor was holding a review on the place du carrousel, m, de canouville appeared on an unruly horse, which he had great difficulty in controlling. this caused some confusion, and attracted his majesty's attention, who, glancing at m. de canouville, saw the cloak which he had given his sister metamorphosed into a hussar's cape. the emperor had great difficulty in controlling his anger. "m. de canouville," he cried, in a voice of thunder, "your horse is young, and his blood is too warm; you will go and cool it in russia." three days after m. de canouville had left paris. chapter xii. the emperor alexander never tired of showing his regard for actors by presents and compliments; and as for actresses, i have told before how far he would have gone with one of them if napoleon had not deterred. him. each day the grand duke constantine got up parties of pleasure with murat and other distinguished persons, at which no expense was spared, and some of these ladies did the honors. and what furs and diamonds they carried away from erfurt! the two emperors were not ignorant of all this, and were much amused thereby; and it was the favorite subject of conversation in the morning. constantine had conceived an especial affection for king jerome; the king even carried his affection so far as to 'tutoy' him, and wished him to do the same. "is it because i am a king," he said one day, "that you are afraid to say thou to me? come, now, is there any need of formality between friends?" they performed all sorts of college pranks together, even running through the streets at night, knocking and ringing at every door, much delighted when they had waked up some honest bourgeois. as the emperor was leaving, king jerome said to the grand duke: "come, tell me what you wish me to send you from paris."--"nothing whatever," replied the grand duke; "your brother has presented me with a magnificent sword; i am satisfied, and desire nothing more."--"but i wish to send you something, so tell me what would give you pleasure."--"well, send me six demoiselles from the palais royal." the play at erfurt usually began at seven o'clock; but the two emperors, who always came together, never arrived till half-past seven. at their entrance, all the pit of kings rose to do them honor, and the first piece immediately commenced. at the representation of cinna, the emperor feared that the czar, who was placed by his side in a box facing the stage, and on the first tier, might not hear very well, as he was somewhat deaf; and consequently gave orders to m. de remusat, first chamberlain, that a platform should be raised on the floor of the orchestra, and armchairs placed there for alexander and himself; and on the right and left four handsomely decorated chairs for the king of saxony and the other sovereigns of the confederation, while the princes took possession of the box abandoned by their majesties. by this arrangement the two emperors found themselves in such a conspicuous position that it was impossible for them to make a movement without being seen by every one. on the 3d of october aedipus was presented. "all the sovereigns," as the emperor called them, were present at this representation; and just as the actor pronounced these words in the first scene: "the friendship of a great man is a gift from the gods:" the czar arose, and held out his hand with much grace to the emperor; and immediately acclamations, which the presence of the sovereigns could not restrain, burst forth from every part of the hall. on the evening of this same day i prepared the emperor for bed as usual. all the doors which opened into his sleeping-room were carefully closed, as well as the shutters and windows; and there was consequently no means of entering his majesty's room except through the chamber in which i slept with roustan, and a sentinel was also stationed at the foot of the staircase. every night i slept very calmly, knowing that it was impossible any one could reach napoleon without waking me; but that night, about two o'clock, while i was sleeping soundly, a strange noise woke me with a start. i rubbed my eyes, and listened with the greatest attention, and, hearing nothing whatever, thought this noise the illusion of a dream, and was just dropping to sleep again, when my ear was struck by low, smothered screams, such as a man might utter who was being strangled. i heard them repeated twice, and in an instant was sitting up straight in bed, my hair on end, and my limbs covered with a cold sweat. suddenly it occurred to me that the emperor was being assassinated, and i sprang out of bed and woke roustan; and as the cries now recommenced with added intensity, i opened the door as cautiously as my agitation allowed, and entered the sleeping-room, and with a hasty glance assured myself that no one could have entered. on advancing towards the bed, i perceived his majesty extended across it, in a position denoting great agony, the drapery and bed-covering thrown off, and his whole body in a frightful condition of nervous contraction. from his open mouth escaped inarticulate sounds, his breathing appeared greatly oppressed, and one of his hands, tightly clinched, lay on the pit of his stomach. i was terrified at the sight, and called him. he did not reply; again, once, twice even, still no reply. at last i concluded to shake him gently; and at this the emperor awoke with a loud cry, saying, "what is it? what is it?" then sat up and opened his eyes wide; upon which i told him that, seeing him tormented with a horrible nightmare, i had taken the liberty of waking him. "and you did well, my dear constant," interrupted his majesty. "ah, my friend, i have had a frightful dream; a bear was tearing open my breast, and devouring my heart!" thereupon the emperor rose, and, while i put his bed in order, walked about the room. he was obliged to change his shirt, which was wet with perspiration, and at length again retired. the next day, when he woke, he told me that it was long before he could fall to sleep again, so vivid and terrible was the impression made on him. he long retained the memory of this dream, and often spoke of it, each time trying to draw from it different conclusions, according to circumstances. as to myself, i avow i was struck with the coincidence of the compliment of alexander at the theater and this frightful nightmare, especially as the emperor was not subject to disturbances of this kind. i do not know whether his majesty related his dream to the emperor of russia. on the 6th of october their majesties attended a hunting-party which the grand duke of weimar prepared for them in the forest of ettersbourg. the emperor set out from erfurt at noon, with the emperor of russia in the same coach. they arrived in the forest at one o'clock, and found prepared for them a hunting-pavilion, which had been erected expressly for this occasion, and was very handsomely decorated. this pavilion was divided into three parts, separated by open columns; that in the middle, raised higher than the others, formed a pretty room, arranged and furnished for the two emperors. around the pavilion were placed numerous orchestras, which played inspiriting airs, with which were mingled the acclamations of an immense crowd, who had been attracted by a desire to see the emperor. the two sovereigns were received on their descent from their carriage by the grand duke of weimar and his son, the hereditary prince, charles frederic; while the king of bavaria, king of saxony, king of wurtemberg, prince william of prussia, the princes of mecklenburg, the prince primate, and the duke of oldenburg awaited them at the entrance to the saloon. the emperor had in his suite the prince of neuchatel; the prince of benevento; the grand marshal of the palace, duke de frioul; general caulaincourt, duke of vicenza; the duke of rovigo; general lauriston, his majesty's aide-de-camp; general nansouty, first equerry; the chamberlain, eugene de montesquiou; the count de beausset, prefect of the palace; and m. cavaletti. the emperor of russia was accompanied by the grand duke constantine; the count tolstoi, grand marshal; and count oggeroski, aide-de-camp to his majesty. the hunt lasted nearly two hours, during which time about sixty stags and roebucks were killed. the space in which these poor animals had to run was inclosed by netting, in order that the monarchs might shoot them at pleasure, without disturbing themselves while seated in the windows of the pavilion. i have never seen anything more absurd than hunts of this sort, which, nevertheless, give those who engage in them a reputation as fine shots. what skill is there in killing an animal which the gamekeepers, so to speak, take by the ears and place in front of your gun. the emperor of russia was near-sighted, and this infirmity had deterred him from an amusement which he would have enjoyed very much; but that day, however, he wished to make the attempt, and, having expressed this. wish, the duke of montebello handed him a gun, and m. de beauterne had the honor of giving the emperor his first lesson. a stag was driven so as to pass within about eight steps of alexander, who brought him down at the first shot. after the hunt their majesties repaired to the palace of weimar; and the reigning duchess received them, as they alighted from their carriages, accompanied by her whole court. the emperor saluted the duchess affectionately, remembering that he had seen her two years before under very different circumstances, which i mentioned in its place. the duke of weimar had requested from the grand marshal french cooks to prepare the emperor's dinner, but the emperor preferred being served in the german style. their majesties invited to dine with them the duke and duchess of weimar, the queen of westphalia, the king of wurtemberg, the king of saxony, the grand duke constantine, prince william of prussia, the prince primate, the prince of neuchatel, prince talleyrand, the duke of oldenburg, the hereditary prince of weimar, and the prince of mecklenburg-schwerin. after this dinner there was a play, followed by a ball, the play being at the town theater, where the ordinary comedians of his majesty presented the death of caesar; and the ball, at the ducal palace. the emperor alexander opened the ball with the queen of westphalia, to the great astonishment of every one; for it was well known that this monarch had never danced since his accession to the throne, conduct which the older men of the court thought very praiseworthy, holding the opinion that a sovereign occupies too high a place to share in the tastes and take pleasure in amusements common to the rest of mankind. except this, however, there was nothing in the ball of weimar to scandalize them, as they did not dance, but promenaded in couples, whilst the orchestra played marches. the morning of the next day their majesties entered carriages to visit mount napoleon, near jena, where a splendid breakfast was prepared for them under a tent which the duke of weimar had erected on the identical spot where the emperor's bivouac stood on the day of the battle of jena. after breakfast the two emperors ascended a temporary pavilion which had been erected on mount napoleon; this pavilion, which was very large, had been decorated with plans of the battle. a deputation from the town and university of jena arrived, and were received by their majesties; and the emperor inquired of the deputies the most minute particulars relating to their town, its resources, and the manners and character of its inhabitants; questioned them on the approximate damages which the military hospital, which had been so long left with them, had caused the inhabitants of jena; inquired the names of those who had suffered most from fire and war, and gave orders that a gratuity should be distributed among them, and the small proprietors entirely indemnified. his majesty informed himself with much interest of the condition of the catholic worship, and promised to endow the vicarage in perpetuity, granting three hundred thousand francs for immediate necessities, and promising to give still more. after having visited, on horseback, the positions which the two armies had held the evening before, and on the day of, the battle of jena, as well as the plain of aspolda, on which the duke had prepared a hunt with guns, the two emperors returned to erfurt, which they reached at five o'clock in the evening, almost at the very moment the grand hereditary duke of baden and the princess stephanie arrived. during the entire visit of the sovereigns to the battlefield, the emperor most graciously made explanations to the young czar, to which he listened with the greatest interest. his majesty seemed to take pleasure in explaining at length, first, the plan which he had formed and carried out at jena, and afterwards the various plans of his other campaigns, the maneuvers which he had executed, his usual tactics, and, in fine, his whole ideas on the art of war. the emperor thus, for several hours, carried on the whole conversation alone; and his royal audience paid him as much attention as scholars, eager to learn, pay to the instructions of their teacher. when his majesty returned to his apartment, i heard marshal berthier say to him, "sire, are you not afraid that the sovereigns may some day use to advantage against you all that you have just taught them? your majesty just now seemed to forget what you formerly told us, that it is necessary to act with our allies as if they were afterwards to be our enemies."-"berthier," replied the emperor, smiling, "that is a good observation on your part, and i thank you for it; i really believe i have made you think i was an idiot. you think, then," continued his majesty, pinching sharply one of the prince de neuchatel's ears, "that i committed the indiscretion of giving them whips with which to return and flog us? calm yourself, i did not tell them all." the emperor's table at erfurt was in the form of a half-moon; and at the upper end, and consequently at the rounded part, of this table their majesties were seated, and on the right and left the sovereigns of the confederation according to their rank. the side facing their majesties was always empty; and there stood m. de beausset, the prefect of the palace, who relates in his memoirs that one day he overheard the following conversation: "on that day the subject of conversation was the golden bull, which, until the establishment of the confederation of the rhine, had served as a constitution, and had regulated the law for the election of emperors, the number and rank of the electors, etc. the prince primate entered into some details regarding this golden bull, which he said was made in 1409; whereupon the emperor napoleon pointed out to him that the date which was assigned to the golden bull was not correct, and that it was proclaimed in 1336, during the reign of the emperor charles iv. 'that is true, sire,' replied the prince primate i was mistaken; but how does it happen that your majesty is so well acquainted with these matters?'--'when i was a mere sub-lieutenant in the artillery, said napoleon,--at this beginning, there was on the part of the guests a marked movement of interest, and he continued, smiling,--when i had the honor to be simply sub-lieutenant in the artillery i remained three years in the garrison at valence, and, as i cared little for society, led a very retired life. by fortunate chance i had lodgings with a kind and intelligent bookseller. i read and re-read his library during the three years i remained in the garrison and have forgotten nothing, even matters which have had no connection with my position. nature, besides, has given me a good memory for figures, and it often happens with my ministers that i can give them details and the sum total of accounts they presented long since.'" a few days before his departure from erfurt, the emperor bestowed the cross of the legion of honor on m. de bigi, commandant of arms at this place; m. vegel, burgomaster of jena; messrs. weiland and goethe; m. starlk, senior physician at jena. he gave to general count tolstoi, ambassador from russia, who had been recalled from this post by his sovereign to take a command in the army, the grand decoration of the legion of honor; to m. the dean meimung, who had said mass twice at the palace, a ring of brilliants, with the cipher n surmounted by a crown; and a hundred napoleons to the two priests who had assisted him; finally, to the grand marshal of the palace, count tolstoi, the beautiful gobelin tapestry, savonnerie carpets, and sevres porcelain, which had been brought from paris to furnish the palace of erfurt. the minister's grand officers, and officers of alexander's suite, received from his majesty magnificent presents; and the emperor alexander did likewise in regard to the persons attached to his majesty. he gave the duke of vicenza the grand cordon of saint andrew, and a badge of the same order set in diamonds to the princes of benevento and neuchatel. charmed by the talent of the french comedians, especially that of talma, the emperor alexander sent very handsome presents to her as well as all her companions; he sent compliments to the actresses, and to the director, m. dazincourt, whom he did not forget in his distribution of gifts. this interview at erfurt, which was so brilliant with illuminations, splendor, and luxury, ended on the 14th of october; and all the great personages whom it had attracted left between the 8th and the 14th of october. the day of his departure the emperor gave an audience, after his toilet, to baron vincent, envoy extraordinary of austria, and sent by him a letter to his sovereign. at eleven o'clock the emperor of russia came to his majesty, who received him, and reconducted him to his residence with great ceremony; and soon after his majesty repaired to the russian palace, followed by his whole suite. after mutual compliments they entered the carriage together, and did not part till they reached the spot on the road from weimar where they had met on their arrival. there they embraced each other affectionately and separated; and the 18th of october, at half-past nine in the evening, the emperor was at saint-cloud, having made the whole trip incognito. chapter xiii. his majesty remained only ten days at saint-cloud, passed two or three of these in paris at the opening of the session of the corps legislatif, and at noon on the 29th set out a second time for bayonne. the empress, who to her great chagrin could not accompany the emperor, sent for me on the morning of his departure, and renewed in most touching accents the same recommendations which she made on all his journeys, for the character of the spaniards made her timid and fearful as to his safety. their parting was sad and painful; for the empress was exceedingly anxious to accompany him, and the emperor had the greatest difficulty in satisfying her, and making her understand that this was impossible. just as he was setting out he returned to his dressing-room a moment, and told me to unbutton his coat and vest; and i saw the emperor pass around his neck between his vest and shirt a black silk ribbon on which was hung a kind of little bag about the size of a large hazel-nut, covered with black silk. though i did not then know what this bag contained, when he returned to paris he gave it to me to keep; and i found that this bag had a pleasant feeling, as under the silk covering was another of skin. i shall hereafter tell for what purpose the emperor wore this bag. i set out with a sad heart. the recommendations of her majesty the empress, and fears which i could not throw off, added to the fatigue of these repeated journeys, all conspired to produce feelings of intense sadness, which was reflected on almost all the countenances of the imperial household; while the officers said among themselves that the combats in the north were trifling compared with those which awaited us in spain. we arrived on the 3d of november at the chateau of marrac, and four days after were at vittoria in the midst of the french army, where the emperor found his brother and a few grandees of spain who had not yet deserted his cause. the arrival of his majesty electrified the troops; and a part of the enthusiasm manifested, a very small part it is true, penetrated into the heart of the king, and somewhat renewed his courage. they set out almost immediately, in order to at once establish themselves temporarily at burgos, which had been seized by main force and pillaged in a few hours, since the inhabitants had abandoned it, and left to the garrison the task of stopping the french as long as possible. the emperor occupied the archiepiscopal palace, a magnificent building situated in a large square on which the grenadiers of the imperial guard bivouacked. this bivouac presented a singular scene. immense kettles, which had been found in the convents, hung, full of mutton, poultry, rabbits, etc., above a fire which was replenished from time to time with furniture, guitars, or mandolins, and around which grenadiers, with pipes in their mouths, were gravely seated in gilded chairs covered with crimson damask, while they intently watched the kettles as they simmered, and communicated to each other their conjectures on the campaign which had just opened. the emperor remained ten or twelve days at burgos, and then gave orders to march on madrid, which place could have been reached by way of valladolid, and the road was indeed safer and better; but the emperor wished to seize the pass of somo-sierra, an imposing position with natural fortifications which had always been regarded as impregnable. this pass, between two mountain peaks, defended the capital, and was guarded by twelve thousand insurgents, and twelve pieces of cannon placed so advantageously that they could do as much injury as thirty or forty elsewhere, and were, in fact, a sufficient obstacle to delay even the most formidable army; but who could then oppose any hindrance to the march of the emperor? on the evening of the 29th of november we arrived within three leagues of this formidable defile, at a village called basaguillas; and though the weather was very cold, the emperor did not lie down, but passed the night in his tent, writing, wrapped in the pelisse which the emperor alexander had given him. about three o'clock in the morning he came to warm himself by the bivouac fire where i had seated myself, as i could no longer endure the cold and dampness of a cellar which had been assigned as my lodging, and where my bed was only a few handfuls of straw, filled with manure. at eight o'clock in the morning the position was attacked and carried, and the next day we arrived before madrid. the emperor established his headquarters at the chateau of champ-martin, a pleasure house situated a quarter of a league from the town, and belonging to the mother of the duke of infantado; and the army camped around this house. the day after our arrival, the owner came in tears to entreat of his majesty a revocation of the fatal decree which put her son outside the protection of the law; the emperor did all he could to reassure her, but he could promise her nothing, as the order was general. we had some trouble in capturing this town; in the first place, because his majesty recommended the greatest moderation in making the attack, not wishing, as he said, to present to his brother a burned-up city; in the second place, because the grand duke of berg during his stay at madrid had fortified the palace of retiro, and the spanish insurgents had intrenched themselves there, and defended it most courageously. the town had no other defense, and was surrounded only by an old wall, almost exactly similar to that of paris, consequently at the end of three days it was taken; but the emperor preferred not to enter, and still resided at champ-martin, with the exception of one day when he came incognito and in disguise, to visit the queen's palace and the principal districts. one striking peculiarity of the spaniards is the respect they have always shown for everything relating to royalty, whether they regard it as legitimate or not. when king joseph left madrid the palace was closed, and the government established itself in a passably good building which had been used as the post-office. from this time no one entered the palace except the servants, who had orders to clean it from time to time; not a piece of furniture even, not a book, was moved. the portrait of napoleon on mont st. bernard, david's masterpiece, remained hanging in the grand reception hall, and the queen's portrait opposite, exactly as the king had placed them; and even the cellars were religiously respected. the apartments of king charles had also remained untouched, and not one of the watches in his immense collection had been removed. the act of clemency which his majesty showed toward the marquis of saint-simon, a grandee of spain, marked in an especial manner the entrance of the french troops into madrid. the marquis of saint-simon, a french emigrant, had been in the service of spain since the emigration, and had the command of a part of the capital. the post which he defended was exactly in front of that which the emperor commanded at the gates of madrid, and he had held out long after all the other leaders had surrendered. the emperor, impatient at being so long withstood at this point, gave orders to make a still more vigorous charge; and in this the marquis was taken prisoner. in his extreme anger the emperor sent him to be tried before a military commission, who ordered him to be shot; and this order was on the point of being executed, when mademoiselle de saint-simon, a charming young person, threw herself at his majesty's feet, and her father's pardon was quickly granted. the king immediately re-entered his capital; and with him returned the noble families of madrid, who had withdrawn from the stirring scenes enacted at the center of the insurrection; and soon balls, fetes, festivities, and plays were resumed as of yore. the emperor left champ-martin on the 22d of december, and directed his march towards astorga, with the intention of meeting the english, who had just landed at corunna; but dispatches sent to astorga by a courier from paris decided him to return to france, and he consequently gave orders to set out for valladolid. we found the road from benavente to astorga covered with corpses, slain horses, artillery carriages, and broken wagons, and at every step met detachments of soldiers with torn clothing, without shoes, and, indeed, in a most deplorable condition. these unfortunates were all fleeing towards astorga, which they regarded as a port of safety, but which soon could not contain them all. it was terrible weather, the snow falling so fast that it was almost blinding; and, added to this, i was ill, and suffered greatly during this painful journey. the emperor while at tordesillas had established his headquarters in the buildings outside the convent of saint-claire, and the abbess of this convent was presented to his majesty. she was then more than sixty-five years old, and from the age of ten years back never left this place. her intelligent and refined conversation made a most agreeable impression on the emperor, who inquired what were her wishes, and granted each one. we arrived at valladolid the 6th of january, 1809, and found it in a state of great disorder. two or three days after our arrival, a cavalry officer was assassinated by dominican monks; and as hubert, one of our comrades, was passing in the evening through a secluded street, three men threw themselves on him and wounded him severely; and he would doubtless have been killed if the grenadiers of the guard had not hastened to his assistance, and delivered him from their hands. it was the monks again. at length the emperor, much incensed, gave orders that the convent of the dominicans should be searched; and in a well was found the corpse of the aforesaid officer, in the midst of a considerable mass of bones, and the convent was immediately suppressed by his majesty's orders; he even thought at one time of issuing the same rigorous orders against all the convents of the city. he took time for reflection, however, and contented himself by appointing an audience, at which all the monks of valladolid were to appear before him. on the appointed day they came; not all, however, but deputations from each convent, who prostrated themselves at the emperor's feet, while he showered reproaches upon them, called them assassins and brigands, and said they all deserved to be hung. these poor men listened in silence and humility to the terrible language of the irritated conqueror whom their patience alone could appease; and finally, the emperor's anger having exhausted itself, he grew calmer, and at last, struck by the reflection that it was hardly just to heap abuse on men thus prostrate on their knees and uttering not a word in their own defense, he left the group of officers who surrounded him, and advanced into the midst of the monks, making them a sign to rise from their supplicating posture; and as these good men obeyed him, they kissed the skirts of his coat, and pressed around him with an eagerness most alarming to the persons of his majesty's suite; for had there been among these devotees any dominican, nothing surely could have been easier than an assassination. during the emperor's stay at valladolid, i had with the grand marshal a disagreement of which i retain most vivid recollections, as also of the emperor's intervention wherein he displayed both justice and good-will towards me. these are the facts of the case: one morning the duke de frioul, encountering me in his majesty's apartments, inquired in a very brusque tone (he was very much excited) if i had ordered the carriage to be ready, to which i replied in a most respectful manner that they were always ready. three times the duke repeated the same question, raising his voice still more each time; and three times i made him the same reply, always in the same respectful manner. "oh, you fool!" said he at last, "you do not understand, then."--"that arises evidently, monseigneur, from your excellency's imperfect explanations!" upon which he explained that he was speaking of a new carriage which had come from paris that very day, a fact of which i was entirely ignorant. i was on the point of explaining this to his excellency; but without deigning to listen, the grand marshal rushed out of the room exclaiming, swearing, and addressing me in terms to which i was totally unaccustomed. i followed him as far as his own room in order to make an explanation; but when he reached his door he entered, and slammed it in my face. in spite of all this i entered a few moments later; but his excellency had forbidden his valet de chambre to introduce me, saying that he had nothing to say to me, nor to hear from me, all of which was repeated to me in a very harsh and contemptuous manner. little accustomed to such experiences, and entirely unnerved, i went to the emperor's room; and when his majesty entered i was still so agitated that my face was wet with tears. his majesty wished to know what had happened, and i related to him the attack which had just been made upon me by the grand marshal. "you are very foolish to cry," said the emperor; "calm yourself, and say to the grand marshal that i wish to speak to him." his excellency came at once in response to the emperor's invitation, and i announced him. "see," said he, pointing to me, "see into what a state you have thrown this fellow! what has he done to be thus treated?" the grand marshal bowed without replying, but with a very dissatisfied air; and the emperor went on to say that he should have given me his orders more clearly, and that any one was excusable for not executing an order not plainly given. then turning toward me, his majesty said, "monsieur constant, you may be certain this will not occur again." this simple affair furnishes a reply to many false accusations against the emperor. there was an immense distance between the grand marshal of the palace and the simple valet de chambre of his majesty, and yet the marshal was reprimanded for a wrong done to the valet de chambre. the emperor showed the utmost impartiality in meting out justice in his domestic affairs; and never was the interior of a palace better governed than his, owing to the fact that in his household he alone was master. the grand marshal felt unkindly toward me for sometime after; but, as i have already said, he was an excellent man, his bad humor soon passed away, and so completely, that on my return to paris he requested me to stand for him at the baptism of the child of my father-in-law, who had begged him to be its godfather; the godmother was josephine, who was kind enough to choose my wife to represent her. m. le duke de frioul did things with as much nobility and magnanimity as grace; and afterwards i am glad to be able to state in justice to his memory, he eagerly seized every occasion to be useful to me, and to make me forget the discomfort his temporary excitement had caused me. i fell ill at valladolid with a violent fever a few days before his majesty's departure. on the day appointed for leaving, my illness was at its height; aid as the emperor feared that the journey might increase, or at any rate prolong, my illness, he forbade my going, and set out without me, recommending to the persons whom he left at valladolid to take care of my health. when i had gotten somewhat better i was told that his majesty had left, whereupon i could no longer be controlled, and against my physician's orders, and in spite of my feebleness, in spite of everything, in fact, had myself placed in a carriage and set out. this was wise; for hardly had i put valladolid two leagues behind me, than i felt better, and the fever left me. i arrived at paris five or six days after the emperor, just after his majesty had appointed the count montesquiou grand chamberlain in place of prince talleyrand, whom i met that very day, and who seemed in no wise affected by this disgrace, perhaps he was consoled by the dignity of vice-grand elector which was bestowed on him in exchange. chapter xiv. the emperor arrived at paris on the 23d of january, and passed the remainder of the winter there, with the exception of a few days spent at rambouillet and saint-cloud. on the very day of his arrival in paris, although he must have been much fatigued by an almost uninterrupted ride from valladolid, the emperor visited the buildings of the louvre and the rue de rivoli. his mind was full of what he had seen at madrid, and repeated suggestions to m. fontaine and the other architects showed plainly his desire to make the louvre the finest palace in the world. his majesty then had a report made him as to the chateau of chambord, which he wished to present to the prince of neuchatel. m. fontaine found that repairs sufficient to make this place a comfortable residence would amount to 1,700,000 francs, as the buildings were in a state of decay, and it had hardly been touched since the death of marshal sage. his majesty passed the two months and a half of his stay working in his cabinet, which he rarely left, and always unwillingly; his amusements being, as always, the theater and concerts. he loved music passionately, especially italian music, and like all great amateurs was hard to please. he would have much liked to sing had he been able, but he had no voice, though this did not prevent his humming now and then pieces which struck his fancy; and as these little reminiscences usually recurred to him in the mornings, he regaled me with them while he was being dressed. the air that i have heard him thus mutilate most frequently was that of the marseillaise. the emperor also whistled sometimes, but very rarely; and the air, 'malbrook s'en va-t-en guerre', whistled by his majesty was an unerring announcement to me of his approaching departure for the army. i remember that he never whistled so much, and was never so gay, as just before he set out for the russian campaign. his majesty's, favorite singer were crescentini and madame grassini. i saw crescentini's debut at paris in the role of romeo, in romeo and juliet. he came preceded by a reputation as the first singer of italy; and this reputation was found to be well deserved, notwithstanding all the prejudices he had to overcome, for i remember well the disparaging statements made concerning him before his debut at the court theater. according to these self-appointed connoisseurs, he was a bawler without taste, without method, a maker of absurd trills, an unimpassioned actor of little intelligence, and many other things besides. he knew, when he appeared on the stage, how little disposed in his favor his audience were, yet he showed not the slightest embarrassment; this, and his noble, dignified mien, agreeably surprised those who expected from what they had been told to behold an awkward man with an ungainly figure. a murmur of approbation ran through the hall on his appearance; and electrified by this welcome, he gained all hearts from the first act. his movements were full of grace and dignity; he had a perfect knowledge of the scene, modest gestures perfectly in harmony with the dialogue, and a countenance on which all shades of passion were depicted with the most astonishing accuracy; and all these rare and precious qualities combined to give to the enchanting accents of this artist a charm of which it is impossible to give an idea. at each scene the interest he inspired became more marked, until in the third act the emotion and delight of the spectator were carried almost to frenzy. in this act, played almost solely by crescentini, this admirable singer communicated to the hearts of his audience all that is touching and, pathetic in a love expressed by means of delicious melody, and by all that grief and despair can find sublime in song. the emperor was enraptured, and sent crescentini a considerable compensation, accompanied by most flattering testimonials of the pleasure he had felt in hearing him. on this day, as always when they played together afterwards, crescentini was admirably supported by madame grassini, a woman of superior talent, and who possessed the most astonishing voice ever heard in the theater. she and madame barilli then divided the admiration of the public. the very evening or the day after the debut of crescentini, the french stage suffered an irreparable loss in the death of dazincourt, only sixty years of age. the illness of which he died had begun on his return from erfurt, and was long and painful; and yet the public, to whom this great comedian had so long given such pleasure, took no notice of him after it was found his sickness was incurable and his death certain. formerly when a highly esteemed actor was kept from his place for some time by illness (and who deserved more esteem than dazincourt?), the pit was accustomed to testify its regret by inquiring every day as to the condition of the afflicted one, and at the end of each representation the actor whose duty it was to announce the play for the next day gave the audience news of his comrade. this was not done for dazincourt, and the pit thus showed ingratitude to him. i liked and esteemed sincerely dazincourt, whose acquaintance i had made several years before his death; and few men better deserved or so well knew how to gain esteem and affection. i will not speak of his genius, which rendered him a worthy successor of preville, whose pupil and friend he was, for all his contemporaries remember figaro as played by dazincourt; but i will speak of the nobility of his character, of his generosity, and his well-tested honor. it would seem that his birth and education should have kept him from the theater, where circumstances alone placed him; but he was able to protect himself against the seductions of his situation, and in the greenroom, and in the midst of domestic intrigues, remained a man of good character and pure manners. he was welcomed in the best society, where he soon became a favorite by his piquant sallies, as much as by his good manners and urbanity, for he amused without reminding that he was a comedian. at the end of february his majesty went to stay for some time at the palace of the elysee; and there i think was signed the marriage contract of one of his best lieutenants, marshal augereau, recently made duke of castiglione, with mademoiselle bourlon de chavanges, the daughter of an old superior officer; and there also was rendered the imperial decree which gave to the princess eliza the grand duchy of tuscany, with the title of grand duchess. about the middle of march, the emperor passed several days at rambouillet; there were held some exciting hunts, in one of which his majesty himself brought to bay and killed a stag near the pool of saint-hubert. there was also a ball and concert, in which appeared crescentini, mesdames grassini, barelli, and several celebrated virtuosos, and lastly talma recited. on the 13th of april, at four o'clock in the morning, the emperor having received news of another invasion of bavaria by the austrians, set out for strasburg with the empress, whom he left in that city; and on the 15th, at eleven o'clock in the morning, he passed the rhine at the head of his army. the empress did not long remain alone, as the queen of holland and her sons, the grand duchess of baden and her husband, soon joined her. the splendid campaign of 1809 at once began. it is known how glorious it was, and that one of its least glorious victories was the capture of vienna. at ratisbon, on the 23d of april, the emperor received in his right foot a spent ball, which gave him quite a severe bruise. i was with the service when several grenadiers hastened to tell me that his majesty was wounded, upon which i hastened to him, and arrived while m. yvan was dressing the contusion. the emperor's boot was cut open, and laced up, and he remounted his horse immediately; and, though several of the generals insisted on his resting, he only replied: "my friends, do you not know that it is necessary for me to see everything?" the enthusiasm of the soldiers cannot be expressed when they learned that their chief had been wounded, though his wound was not dangerous. "the emperor is exposed like us," they said; "he is not a coward, not he." the papers did not mention this occurrence. before entering a battle, the emperor always ordered that, in case he was wounded, every possible measure should be taken to conceal it from his troops. "who knows," said he, "what terrible confusion might be produced by such news? to my life is attached the destiny of a great empire. remember this, gentlemen; and if i am wounded, let no one know it, if possible. if i am slain, try to win the battle without me; there will be time enough to tell it afterwards." two weeks after the capture of ratisbon, i was in advance of his majesty on the road to vienna, alone in a carriage with an officer of the household, when we suddenly heard frightful screams in a house on the edge of the road. i gave orders to stop at once, and we alighted; and, on entering the house, found several soldiers, or rather stragglers, as there are in all armies, who, paying no attention to the alliance between france and bavaria, were treating most cruelly a family which lived in this house, and consisted of an old grandmother, a young man, three children, and a young girl. our embroidered coats had a happy effect on these madmen, whom we threatened with the emperor's anger; and we succeeded in driving them out of the house, and soon after took our departure, overwhelmed with thanks. in the evening i spoke to the emperor of what i had done; and he approved highly, saying, "it cannot be helped. there are always some cowardly fellows in the army; and they are the ones who do the mischief. a brave and good soldier would blush to do such things!" i had occasion, in the beginning of these memoirs, to speak of the steward, m. pfister, one of his majesty's most faithful servants, and also one of those to whom his majesty was most attached. m. pfister had followed him to egypt, and had faced countless dangers in his service. the day of the battle of landshut, which either preceded or followed very closely the taking of ratisbon this poor man became insane, rushed out of his tent, and concealed himself in a wood near the field of battle, after taking off all his clothing. at the end of a few hours his majesty asked for m. pfister. he was sought for, and every one was questioned; but no one could tell what had become of him. the emperor, fearing that he might have been taken prisoner, sent an orderly officer to the austrians to recover his steward, and propose an exchange; but the officer returned, saying that the austrians had not seen m. pfister. the emperor, much disquieted, ordered a search to be made in the neighborhood; and by this means the poor fellow was discovered entirely naked, as i have said, cowering behind a tree, in a frightful condition, his body torn by thorns. he was brought back, and having become perfectly quiet, was thought to be well, and resumed his duties; but a short time after our return to paris he had a new attack. the character of his malady was exceedingly obscene; and he presented himself before the empress josephine in such a state of disorder, and with such indecent gestures, that it was necessary to take precautions in regard to him. he was confided to the care of the wise doctor esquirol, who, in spite of his great skill, could not effect a cure. i went to see him often. he had no more violent attacks; but his brain was diseased, and though he heard and understood perfectly, his replies were those of a real madman. he never lost his devotion to the emperor, spoke of him incessantly, and imagined himself on duty near him. one day he told me with a most mysterious air that he wished to confide to me a terrible secret, the plot of a conspiracy against his majesty's life, handing me at the same time a note for his majesty, with a package of about twenty scraps of paper, which he had scribbled off himself, and thought were the details of the plot. another time he handed me, for the emperor, a handful of little stones, which he called diamonds of great value. "there is more than a million in what i hand you," said he. the emperor, whom i told of my visits, was exceedingly touched by the continued monomania of this poor unfortunate, whose every thought, every act, related to his old master, and who died without regaining his reason. on the 10th of may, at nine o'clock in the morning, the first line of defense of the austrian capital was attacked and taken by marshal oudinot the faubourgs surrendering at discretion. the duke of montebello then advanced on the esplanade at the head of his division; but the gates having been closed, the garrison poured a frightful discharge from the top of the ramparts, which fortunately however killed only a very small number. the duke of montebello summoned the garrison to surrender the town, but the response of the archduke maximilian was that he would defend vienna with his last breath; which reply was conveyed to the emperor. after taking counsel with his generals, his majesty charged colonel lagrange to bear a new demand to the archduke; but the poor colonel had hardly entered the town than he was attacked by the infuriated populace. general o'reilly saved his life by having him carried away by his soldiers; but the archduke maximilian, in order to defy the emperor still further, paraded in triumph in the midst of the national guard the individual who has struck the first blow at the bearer of the french summons. this attempt, which had excited the indignation of many of the viennese themselves, did not change his majesty's intentions, as he wished to carry his moderation and kindness as far as possible; and he wrote to the archduke by the prince of neuchatel the following letter, a copy of which accidentally fell into my hands: "the prince de neuchatel to his highness the archduke maximilian, commanding the town of vienna, "his majesty the emperor and king desires to spare this large and worthy population the calamities with which it is threatened, and charges me to represent to your highness, that if he continues the attempt to defend this place, it will cause the destruction of one of the finest cities of europe. in every country where he has waged war, my sovereign has manifested his anxiety to avoid the disasters which armies bring on the population. your highness must be persuaded that his majesty is much grieved to see this town, which he has the glory of having already saved, on the point of being destroyed. nevertheless, contrary to the established usage of fortresses, your highness has fired your cannon from the city walls, and these cannon may kill, not an enemy of your sovereign, but the wives or children of his most devoted servants. if your highness prolongs the attempt to defend the place, his majesty will be compelled to begin his preparations for attack; and the ruin of this immense capital will be consummated in thirty-six hours, by the shells and bombs from our batteries, as the outskirts of the town will be destroyed by the effect of yours. his majesty does not doubt that these considerations will influence your highness to renounce a determination which will only delay for a short while the capture of the place. if, however, your highness has decided not to pursue a course which will save the town from destruction, its population plunged by your fault into such terrible misfortunes will become, instead of faithful subjects, the enemies of your house." this letter did not deter the grand duke from persisting in his defense; and this obstinacy exasperated the emperor to such a degree that he at last gave orders to place two batteries in position, and within an hour cannonballs and shells rained upon the town. the inhabitants, with true german indifference, assembled on the hillsides to watch the effect of the fires of attack and defense, and appeared much interested in the sight. a few cannonballs had already fallen in the court of the imperial palace when a flag of truce came out of the town to announce that the archduchess marie louise had been unable to accompany her father, and was ill in the palace, and consequently exposed to danger from the artillery; and the emperor immediately gave orders to change the direction of the firing so that the bombs and balls would pass over the palace. the archduke did not long hold out against such a sharp and energetic attack, but fled, abandoning vienna to the conquerors. on the 12th of may the emperor made his entrance into vienna, one month after the occupation of munich by the austrians. this circumstance made a deep impression, and did much to foster the superstitious ideas which many of the troops held in regard to the person of their chief. "see," said one, "he needed only the time necessary for the journey. that man must be a god."--"he is a devil rather," said the austrians, whose stupefaction was indescribable. they had reached a point when many allowed the arms to be taken out of their hands without making the least resistance, or without even attempting to fly, so deep was their conviction that the emperor and his guard were not men, and that sooner or later they must fall into the power of these supernatural enemies. chapter xv. the emperor did not remain in vienna, but established his headquarters at the chateau of schoenbrunn, an imperial residence situated about half a league from the town; and the ground in front of the chateau was arranged for the encampment of the guard. the chateau of schoenbrunn, erected by the empress maria theresa in 1754, and situated in a commanding position, is built in a very irregular, and defective, but at the same time majestic, style of architecture. in order to reach it, there has been thrown over the little river, la vienne, a broad and well-constructed bridge, ornamented with four stone sphinxes; and in front of the bridge is a large iron gate, opening on an immense court, in which seven or eight thousand men could be drilled. this court is square, surrounded by covered galleries, and ornamented with two large basins with marble statues; and on each side of the gateway are two large obelisks in rose-colored stone, surmounted by eagles of gilded lead. 'schoenbrunn', in german, signifies beautiful fountain; and this name comes from a clear and limpid spring, which rises in a grove in the park, on a slight elevation, around which has been built a little pavilion, carved on the inside to imitate stalactites. in this pavilion lies a sleeping naiad, holding in her hand a shell, from which the water gushes and falls into a marble basin. this is a delicious retreat in summer. we can speak only in terms of admiration regarding the interior of the palace, the furniture of which was handsome and of an original and elegant style. the emperor's sleeping-room, the only part of the building in which there was a fireplace, was ornamented with wainscoting in chinese lacquer work, then very old, though the painting and gilding were still fresh, and the cabinet was decorated like the bedroom; and all the apartments, except this, were warmed in winter by immense stoves, which greatly injured the effect of the interior architecture. between the study and the emperor's room was a very curious machine, called the flying chariot, a kind of mechanical contrivance, which had been made for the empress maria theresa, and was used in conveying her from one story to the other, so that she might not be obliged to ascend and descend staircases like the rest of the world. this machine was operated by means of cords, pulleys, and weights, like those at the theater. the beautiful grove which serves as park and garden to the palace of schoenbrunn is much too small to belong to an imperial residence; but, on the other hand, it would be hard to find one more beautiful or better arranged. the park of versailles is grander and more imposing; but it has not the picturesque irregularity, the fantastic and unexpected beauties, of the park of schoenbrunn, and more closely resembles the park at malmaison. in front of the interior facade of the palace was a magnificent lawn, sloping down to a broad lake, decorated with a group of statuary representing the triumph of neptune. this group is very fine; but french amateurs (every frenchman, as you are aware, desires to be considered a connoisseur) insisted that the women were more austrian than grecian, and that they did not possess the slender grace belonging to antique forms; and, for my part, i must confess that these statues did not appear to me very remarkable. at the end of the grand avenue, and bounding the horizon, rose a hill, which overlooked the park, and was crowned by a handsome building, which bore the name of la gloriette. this building was a circular gallery, inclosed with glass, supported by a charming colonnade, between the arches of which hung various trophies. on entering the avenue from the direction of vienna, la gloriette rose at the farther end, seeming almost to form a part of the palace; and the effect was very fine. what the austrians especially admired in the palace of schoenbrunn was a grove, containing what they called the ruins, and a lake with a fountain springing from the midst, and several small cascades flowing from it; by this lake were the ruins of an aqueduct and a temple, fallen vases, tombs, broken bas-reliefs, statues without heads, arms, or limbs, while limbs, arms, and heads lay thickly scattered around; columns mutilated and half-buried, others standing and supporting the remains of pediments and entablatures; all combining to form a scene of beautiful disorder, and representing a genuine ancient ruin when viewed from a short distance. viewed more closely, it is quite another thing: the hand of the modern sculptor is seen; it is evident that all these fragments are made from the same kind of stone; and the weeds which grow in the hollows of these columns appear what they really are, that is to say, made of stone, and painted to imitate verdure. but if the productions of art scattered through the park of schoenbrunn were not all irreproachable, those of nature fully made up the deficiency. what magnificent trees! what thick hedges! what dense and refreshing shade! the avenues were remarkably high and broad, and bordered with trees, which formed a vault impenetrable to the sun, while the eye lost itself in their many windings; from these other smaller walks diverged, where fresh surprises were in store at every step. at the end of the broadest of these was placed the menagerie, which was one of the most extensive and varied in europe, and its construction, which was very ingenious, might well serve as a model; it was shaped like a star, and in the round center of this star had been erected a small but very elegant kiosk, placed there by the empress maria theresa as a resting-place for herself, and from which the whole menagerie could be viewed at leisure. each point of this star formed a separate garden, where there could be seen elephants, buffaloes, camels, dromedaries, stags, and kangaroos grazing; handsome and substantial cages held tigers, bears, leopards, lions, hyenas, etc; and swans and rare aquatic birds and amphibious animals sported in basins surrounded by iron gratings. in this menagerie i specially remarked a very extraordinary animal, which his majesty had ordered brought to france, but which had died the day before it was to have started. this animal was from poland, and was called a 'curus'; it was a kind of ox, though much larger than an ordinary ox, with a mane like a lion, horns rather short and somewhat curved, and enormously large at the base. every morning, at six o'clock, the drums beat, and two or three hours after the troops were ordered to parade in the court of honor; and at precisely ten o'clock his majesty descended, and put himself at the head of his generals. it is impossible to give an idea of these parades, which in no particular resembled reviews in paris. the emperor, during these reviews, investigated the smallest details, and examined the soldiers one by one, so to speak, looked into the eyes of each to see whether there was pleasure or work in his head, questioned the officers, sometimes also the soldiers themselves; and it was usually on these occasions that the emperor made his promotions. during one of these reviews, if he asked a colonel who was the bravest officer in his regiment, there was no hesitation in his answer; and it was always prompt, for he knew that the emperor was already well informed on this point. after the colonel had replied, he addressed himself to all the other officers, saying, "who is the bravest among you?"--"sire, it is such an one;" and the two answers were almost always the same. "then," said the emperor, "i make him a baron; and i reward in him, not only his own personal bravery, but that of the corps of which he forms a part. he does not owe this favor to me alone, but also to the esteem of his comrades." it was the same case with the soldiers; and those most distinguished for courage or good conduct were promoted or received rewards, and sometimes pensions, the emperor giving one of twelve hundred francs to a soldier, who, on his first campaign, had passed through the enemy's squadron, bearing on his shoulders his wounded general, protecting him as he would his own father. on these reviews the emperor could be seen personally inspecting the haversacks of the soldiers, examining their certificates, or taking a gun from the shoulders of a young man who was weak, pale; and suffering, and saying to him, in a sympathetic tone, "that is too heavy for you." he often drilled them himself; and when he did not, the drilling was directed by generals dorsenne, curial, or mouton. sometimes he was seized with a sudden whim; for example, one morning, after reviewing a regiment of the confederation, he turned to the ordnance officers, and addressing prince salm, who was among them, remarked "m. de salm, the soldiers ought to get acquainted with you; approach, and order them to make a charge in twelve movements." the young prince turned crimson, without being disconcerted, however, bowed, and drawing his sword most gracefully, executed the orders of the emperor with an ease and precision which charmed him. another day, as the engineer corps passed with about forty wagons, the emperor cried, "halt!" and pointing out a wagon to general bertrand, ordered him to summon one of the officers. "what does that wagon contain?"--"sire, bolts, bags of nails, ropes, hatchets, and saws."-"how much of each?" the officer gave the exact account. his majesty, to verify this report, had the wagon emptied, counted the pieces, and found the number correct; and in order to assure himself that nothing was left in the wagon, climbed up into it by means of the wheel, holding on to the spokes. there was a murmur of approbation and cries of joy all along the line. "bravo!" they said; "well and good! that is the way to make sure of not being deceived." all these things conspired to make the soldiers adore the emperor. chapter xvi. at one of the reviews which i have just described, and which usually attracted a crowd of curious people from vienna and its suburbs, the emperor came near being assassinated. it was on the 13th of october, his majesty had just alighted from his horse, and was crossing the court on foot with the prince de neuchatel and general rapp beside him, when a young man with a passably good countenance pushed his way rudely through the crowd, and asked in bad french if he could speak to the emperor. his majesty received him kindly, but not understanding his language, asked general rapp to see what the young man wanted, and the general asked him a few questions; and not satisfied apparently with his answers, ordered the police-officer on duty to remove him. a sub-officer conducted the young man out of the circle formed by the staff, and drove him back into the crowd. this circumstance had been forgotten, when suddenly the emperor, on turning, found again near him the pretended suppliant, who had returned holding his right hand in his breast, as if to draw a petition from the pocket of his coat. general rapp seized the man by the arm, and said to him, "monsieur, you have already been ordered away; what do you want?" as he was about to retire a second time the general, thinking his appearance suspicious, gave orders to the police-officer to arrest him, and he accordingly made a sign to his subalterns. one of them seizing him by the collar shook him slightly, when his coat became partly unbuttoned, and something fell out resembling a package of papers; on examination it was found to be a large carving knife, with several folds of gray paper wrapped around it as a sheath; thereupon he was conducted to general savary. this young man was a student, and the son of a protestant minister of naumbourg; he was called frederic stabs, and was about eighteen or nineteen years old, with a pallid face and effeminate features. he did not deny for an instant that it was his intention to kill the emperor; but on the contrary boasted of it, and expressed his intense regret that circumstances had prevented the accomplishment of his design. he had left his father's house on a horse which the want of money had compelled him to sell on the way, and none of his relatives or friends had any knowledge of his plan. the day after his departure he had written to his father that he need not be anxious about him nor the horse; that he had long since promised some one to visit vienna, and his family would soon hear of him with pride. he had arrived at vienna only two days before, and had occupied himself first in obtaining information as to the emperor's habits, and finding that he held a review every morning in the court of the chateau, had been there once in order to acquaint himself with the locality. the next day he had undertaken to make the attack, and had been arrested. the duke of rovigo, after questioning stabs, sought the emperor, who had returned to his apartments, and acquainted him with the danger he had just escaped. the emperor at first shrugged his shoulders, but having been shown the knife which had been taken from stabs, said, "ah, ha! send for the young man; i should like very much to talk with him." the duke went out, and returned in a few moments with stabs. when the latter entered, the emperor made a gesture of pity, and said to the prince de neuchatel, "why, really, he is nothing more than a child!" an interpreter was summoned and the interrogation begun. his majesty first asked the assassin if he had seen him, anywhere before this. "yes; i saw you," replied stabbs, "at erfurt last year."--"it seems that a crime is nothing in your eyes. why did you wish to kill me?"--"to kill you is not a crime; on the contrary, it is the duty of every good german. i wished to kill you because you are the oppressor of germany."--"it is not i who commenced the war; it is your nation. whose picture is this?" (the emperor held in his hands the picture of a woman that had been found on stabs). "it is that of my best friend, my father's adopted daughter."--"what! and you are an assassin! and have no fear of afflicting and destroying beings who are so dear to you?"--"i wished to do my duty, and nothing could have deterred me from it."--"but how would you have succeeded in, striking me?"--"i would first have asked you if we were soon to have peace; and if you had answered no, i should have stabbed you."--"he is mad!" said the emperor; "he is evidently mad! and how could you have hoped to escape, after you had struck me thus in the midst of my soldiers?"--"i knew well to what i was exposing myself, and am astonished to be still alive." this boldness made such a deep impression on the emperor that he remained silent for several moments, intently regarding stabs, who remained entirely unmoved under this scrutiny. then the emperor continued, "the one you love will be much distressed."--"oh, she will no doubt be distressed because i did not succeed, for she hates you at least as much as i hate you myself."-"suppose i pardoned you?"--"you would be wrong, for i would again try to kill you." the emperor summoned m. corvisart and said to him, "this young man is either sick or insane, it cannot be otherwise."--"i am neither the one nor the other," replied the assassin quickly. m. corvisart felt stabs's pulse. "this gentleman is well," he said. "i have already told you so," replied stabs with a triumphant air.-"well, doctor," said his majesty, "this young man who is in such good health has traveled a hundred miles to assassinate me." notwithstanding this declaration of the physician and the avowal of stabs, the emperor, touched by the coolness and assurance of the unfortunate fellow, again offered him his pardon, upon the sole condition of expressing some repentance for his crime; but as stabs again asserted that his only regret was that he had not succeeded in his undertaking, the emperor reluctantly gave him up to punishment. after he was conducted to prison, as he still persisted in his assertions, he was immediately brought before a military commission, which condemned him to death. he did not undergo his punishment till the 17th; and after the 13th, the day on which he was arrested, took no food, saying that he would have strength enough to go to his death. the emperor had ordered that the execution should be delayed as long as possible, in the hope that sooner or later stabs would repent; but he remained unshaken. as he was being conducted to the place where he was to be shot, some one having told him that peace had just been concluded, he cried in a loud voice, "long live liberty! long live germany!" these were his last words. chapter xvii. during his stay at schoenbrunn the emperor was constantly engaged in gallant adventures. he was one day promenading on the prater in vienna, with a very numerous suite (the prater is a handsome promenade situated in the faubourg leopold), when a young german, widow of a rich merchant, saw him, and exclaimed involuntarily to the ladies promenading with her, "it is he!" this exclamation was overheard by his majesty, who stopped short, and bowed to the ladies with a smile, while the one who had spoken blushed crimson; the emperor comprehended this unequivocal sign, looked at her steadfastly, and then continued his walk. for sovereigns there are neither long attacks nor great difficulties, and this new conquest of his majesty was not less rapid than the others. in order not to be separated from her illustrious lover, madame b---followed the army to bavaria, and afterwards came to him at paris, where she died in 1812. his majesty's attention was attracted by a charming young person one morning in the suburbs of schoenbrunn; and some one was ordered to see this young lady, and arrange for a rendezvous at the chateau the following evening. fortune favored his majesty on this occasion. the eclat of so illustrious a name, and the renown of his victories, had produced a deep impression on the mind of the young girl, and had disposed her to listen favorably to the propositions made to her. she therefore eagerly consented to meet him at the chateau; and at the appointed hour the person of whom i have spoken came for her, and i received her on her arrival, and introduced her to his majesty. she did not speak french, but she knew italian well, and it was consequently easy for the emperor to converse with her; and he soon learned with astonishment that this charming young lady belonged to a very honorable family of vienna, and that in coming to him that evening she was inspired alone by a desire to express to him her sincere admiration. the emperor respected the innocence of the young girl, had her reconducted to her parents' residence, and gave orders that a marriage should be arranged for her, and that it should be rendered more advantageous by means of a considerable dowry. at schoenbrunn, as at paris, his majesty dined habitually at six o'clock; but since he worked sometimes very far into the night, care was taken to prepare every evening a light supper, which was placed in a little locked basket covered with oil-cloth. there were two keys to this basket; one of which the steward kept, and i the other. the care of this basket belonged to me alone; and as his majesty was extremely busy, he hardly ever asked for supper. one evening roustan, who had been busily occupied all day in his master's service, was in a little room next to the emperor's, and meeting me just after i had assisted in putting his majesty to bed, said to me in his bad french, looking at the basket with an envious eye, "i could eat a chicken wing myself; i am very hungry." i refused at first; but finally, as i knew that the emperor had gone to bed, and had no idea he would take a fancy to ask me for supper that evening, i let roustan have it. he, much delighted, began with a leg, and next took a wing; and i do not know if any of the chicken would have been left had i not suddenly heard the bell ring sharply. i entered the room, and was shocked to hear the emperor say to me, "constant, my chicken." my embarrassment may be imagined. i had no other chicken; and by what means, at such an hour, could i procure one! at last i decided what to do. it was best to cut up the fowl, as thus i would be able to conceal the absence of the two limbs roustan had eaten; so i entered proudly with the chicken replaced on the dish roustan following me, for i was very willing, if there were any reproaches, to share them with him. i picked up the remaining wing, and presented it to the emperor; but he refused it, saying to me, "give me the chicken; i will choose for myself." this time there was no means of saving ourselves, for the dismembered chicken must pass under his majesty's eyes. "see here," said he, "since when did chickens begin to have only one wing and one leg? that is fine; it seems that i must eat what others leave. who, then, eats half of my supper?" i looked at roustan, who in confusion replied, "i was very hungry, sire, and i ate a wing and leg."--"what, you idiot! so it was you, was it?" "ah, i will punish you for it." and without another word the emperor ate the remaining leg and wing. the next day at his toilet he summoned the grand marshal for some purpose, and during the conversation said, "i leave you to guess what i ate last night for my supper. the scraps which m. roustan left. yes, the wretch took a notion to eat half of my chicken." roustan entered at that moment. "come here, you idiot," continued the emperor; "and the next time this happens, be sure you will pay for it." saying this, he seized him by the ears and laughed heartily. chapter xviii. on the 22d of may, ten days after the triumphant entry of the emperor into the austrian capital, the battle of essling took place, a bloody combat lasting from four in the morning till six in the evening. this battle was sadly memorable to all the old soldiers of the empire, since it cost the life of perhaps the bravest of them all,--the duke of montebello, the devoted friend of the emperor, the only one who shared with marshal augereau the right to speak to him frankly face to face. the evening before the battle the marshal entered his majesty's residence, and found him surrounded by several persons. the duke of---always undertook to place himself between the emperor and persons who wished to speak with him. the duke of montebello, seeing him play his usual game, took him by the lappet of his coat, and, wheeling him around, said to him: "take yourself away from here! the emperor does not need you to stand guard. it is singular that on the field of battle you are always so far from us that we cannot see you, while here we can say nothing to the emperor without your being in the way." the duke was furious. he looked first at the marshal, then at the emperor, who simply said, "gently lannes." that evening in the domestic apartments they were discussing this apostrophe of the marshal's. an officer of the army of egypt said that he was not surprised, since the duke of montebello had never forgiven the duke of ---for the three hundred sick persons poisoned at jaffa. dr. lannefranque, one of those who attended the unfortunate duke of montebello, said that as he was mounting his horse on starting to the island of lobau, the duke was possessed by gloomy presentiments. he paused a moment, took m. lannefranque's hand, and pressed it, saying to him with a sad smile, "au revoir; you will soon see us again, perhaps. there will be work for you and for those gentlemen to-day," pointing to several surgeons and doctors standing near. "m. le duc," replied lannefranque, "this day will add yet more to your glory."--"my glory," interrupted the marshal eagerly; "do you wish me to speak frankly? i do not approve very highly of this affair; and, moreover, whatever may be the issue, this will be my last battle." the doctor wished to ask the marshal his reasons for this conviction; but he set off at a gallop, and was soon out of sight. on the morning of the battle, about six or seven o'clock, the austrians had already advanced, when an aide-de-camp came to announce to his majesty that a sudden rise in the danube had washed down a great number of large trees which had been cut down when vienna was taken, and that these trees had driven against and broken the bridges which served as communication between essling and the island of lobau; and in consequence of this the reserve corps, part of the heavy cavalry, and marshal davoust's entire corps, found themselves forced to remain inactive on the other side. this misfortune arrested the movement which the emperor was preparing to make, and the enemy took courage. the duke of montebello received orders to hold the field of battle, and took his position, resting on the village of essling, instead of continuing the pursuit of the austrians which he had already begun, and held this position from nine o'clock in the morning till the evening; and at seven o'clock in the evening the battle was gained. at six o'clock the unfortunate marshal, while standing on an elevation to obtain a better view of the movements, was struck by a cannon-ball, which broke his right thigh and his left knee. he thought at first that he had only a few moments to live, and had himself carried on a litter to the emperor, saying that he wished to embrace him before he died. the emperor, seeing him thus weltering in his blood, had the litter placed on the ground, and, throwing himself on his knees, took the marshal in his arms, and said to him, weeping, "lannes, do you know me?"--"yes, sire; you are losing your best friend." --"no! no! you will live. can you not answer for his life, m. larrey?" the wounded soldiers hearing his majesty speak thus, tried to rise on their elbows, and cried, "vive l'empereur!" the surgeons carried the marshal to a little village called ebersdorf, on the bank of the river, and near the field of battle. at the house of a brewer they found a room over a stable where the heat was stifling, and was rendered still more unendurable from the odor of the corpses by which the house was surrounded. but as no other place could be found, it was necessary to make the best of it. the marshal bore the amputation of his limb with heroic courage; but the fever which came on immediately was so violent that, fearing he would die under the operation, the surgeons postponed cutting off his other leg. this fever was caused partly by exhaustion, for at the time he was wounded the marshal had eaten nothing for twenty-four hours. finally messieurs larrey, [baron dominique jean larrey, eminent surgeon, born at bagneres-de -bigorre, 1766. accompanied napoleon to egypt. surgeon-in-chief of the grand army, 1812. wounded and taken prisoner at waterloo. in his will the emperor styles him the best man he had ever known. died 1842.] yvan, paulet, and lannefranque decided on the second amputation; and after this had been performed the quiet condition of the wounded man made them hopeful of saving his life. but it was not to be. the fever increased, and became of a most alarming character; and in spite of the attentions of these skillful surgeons, and of doctor frank, then the most celebrated physician in europe, the marshal breathed his last on the 31st of may, at five o'clock in the morning, barely forty years of age. during his week of agony (for his sufferings may be called by that name) the emperor came often to see him, and always left in deep distress. i also went to see the marshal each day for the emperor, and admired the patience with which he endured these sufferings, although he had no hope; for he knew well that he was dying, and saw these sad tidings reflected in every face. it was touching and terrible to see around his house, his door, in his chamber even, these old grenadiers of the guard, always stolid and unmoved till now, weeping and sobbing like children. what an atrocious thing war seems at such moments. the evening before his death the marshal said to me, "i see well, my dear constant, that i must die. i wish that your master could have ever near him men as devoted as i. tell the emperor i would like to see him." as i was going out the emperor entered, a deep silence ensued, and every one retired; but the door of the room being half open we could hear a part of the conversation, which was long and painful. the marshal recalled his services to the emperor, and ended with these words, pronounced in tones still strong and firm: "i do not say this to interest you in my family; i do not need to recommend to you my wife and children. since i die for you, your glory will bid you protect them; and i do not fear in addressing you these last words, dictated by sincere affection, to change your plans towards them. you have just made a great mistake, and although it deprives you of your best friend you will not correct it. your ambition is insatiable, and will destroy you. you sacrifice unsparingly and unnecessarily those men who serve you best; and when they fall you do not regret them. you have around you only flatterers; i see no friend who dares to tell you the truth. you will be betrayed and abandoned. hasten to end this war; it is the general wish. you will never be more powerful, but you may be more beloved. pardon these truths in a dying man--who, dying, loves you." the marshal, as he finished, held out his hand to the emperor, who embraced him, weeping, and in silence. the day of the marshal's death his body was given to m. larrey and m. cadet de gassicourt, ordinary chemist to the emperor, with orders to preserve it, as that of colonel morland had been, who was killed at the battle of austerlitz. for this purpose the corpse was carried to schoenbrunn, and placed in the left wing of the chateau, far from the inhabited rooms. in a few hours putrefaction became complete, and they were obliged to plunge the mutilated body into a bath filled with corrosive sublimate. this extremely dangerous operation was long and painful; and m. cadet de gassicourt deserves much commendation for the courage he displayed under these circumstances; for notwithstanding every precaution, and in spite of the strong disinfectants burned in the room, the odor of this corpse was so fetid, and the vapor from the sublimate so strong, that the distinguished chemist was seriously indisposed. like several other persons, i had a sad curiosity to see the marshal's body in this condition. it was frightful. the trunk, which had been covered by the solution, was greatly swollen; while on the contrary, the head, which had been left outside the bath, had shrunk remarkably, and the muscles of the face had contracted in the most hideous manner, the wide-open eyes starting out of their sockets. after the body had remained eight days in the corrosive sublimate, which it was necessary to renew, since the emanations from the interior of the corpse had decomposed the solution, it was put into a cask made for the purpose, and filled with the same liquid; and it was in this cask that it was carried from schoenbrunn to strasburg. in this last place it was taken out of the strange coffin, dried in a net, and wrapped in the egyptian style; that is, surrounded with bandages, with the face uncovered. m. larrey and m. de gassicourt confided this honorable task to m. fortin, a young chemist major, who in 1807 had by his indefatigable courage and perseverance saved from certain death nine hundred sick, abandoned, without physicians or surgeons, in a hospital near dantzic, and nearly all suffering from an infectious malady. in the month of march, 1810 (what follows is an extract from the letter of m. fortin to his master and friend m. cadet de gassicourt), the duchess of montebello, in passing through strasburg, wished to see again the husband she loved so tenderly. "thanks to you and m. larrey (it is m. fortin who speaks), the embalming of the marshal has succeeded perfectly. when i drew the body from the cask i found it in a state of perfect preservation. i arranged a net in a lower hall of the mayor's residence, in which i dried it by means of a stove, the heat being carefully regulated. i then had a very handsome coffin made of hard wood well oiled; and the marshal wrapped in bandages, his face uncovered, was placed in an open coffin near that of general saint-hilaire in a subterranean vault, of which i have the key. a sentinel watches there day and night. m. wangen de gueroldseck, mayor of strasburg, has given me every assistance in my work. "this was the state of affairs when, an hour after her majesty the empress's arrival, madame, the duchess of montebello, who accompanied her as lady of honor, sent m. cretu, her cousin at whose house she was to visit, to seek me. i came in answer to her orders; and the duchess questioned and complimented me on the honorable mission with which i was charged, and then expressed to me, with much agitation, her desire to see for the last time the body of her husband. i hesitated a few moments before answering her, and foreseeing the effect which would be produced on her by the sad spectacle, told her that the orders which i had received would prevent my doing what she wished; but she insisted in such a pressing manner that i yielded. we agreed (in order not to compromise me, and that she might not be recognized) that i would-go for her at midnight, and that she would be accompanied by one of her relatives. "i went to the duchess at the appointed hour; and as soon as i arrived, she rose and said that she was ready to accompany me. i waited a few moments, begging her to consider the matter well. i warned her of the condition in which she would find the marshal, and begged her to reflect on the impression she would receive in the sad place she was about to visit. she replied that she was well, prepared for this, and felt that she had the necessary, courage, and she hoped to find in this last visit some amelioration of the bitter sorrow she endured. while speaking thus, her sad and beautiful countenance was calm and pensive. we then started, m. cretu giving his arm to his cousin. the duchess's carriage followed at a distance, empty; and two servants followed us. "the city was illuminated; and the good inhabitants were all taking holiday, and in many houses gay music was inspiriting them to the celebration of this memorable day. what a contrast between this gayety and the quest in which we were engaged! i saw that the steps of the duchess dragged now and then, while she sighed and shuddered; and my own heart seemed oppressed, my ideas confused. "at last we arrived at the mayor's residence, where madame de montebello gave her servants orders to await her, and descended slowly, accompanied by her cousin and myself, to the door of the lower hall. a lantern lighted our way, and the duchess trembled while she affected a sort of bravery; but when she entered a sort of cavern, the silence of the dead which reigned in this subterranean vault, the mournful light which filled it, the sight of the corpse extended in its coffin, produced a terrible effect on her; she gave a piercing scream, and fainted. i had foreseen this, and had watched her attentively; and as soon as i saw her strength failing, supported her in my arms and seated her, having in readiness everything necessary to restore her. i used these remedies, and she revived at the end of a few moments; and we then begged her to withdraw, but she refused; then rose, approached the coffin, and walked around it slowly in silence; then stopping and letting her folded hands fall by her side, she remained for some time immovable, regarding the inanimate figure of her husband, and watering it with her tears. at last she in a measure regained her self-control and exclaimed in stifled tones through her sobs, mon dieu, mon dieu! how he is changed!' i made a sign to m. cretu that it was time to retire; but we could drag the duchess away only by promising her to bring her back next day,--a promise which could not be kept. i closed the door quickly, and gave my arm to the duchess, which she gratefully accepted. when we left the mayoralty i took leave of her; but she insisted on my entering her carriage, and gave orders to carry me to my residence. in this short ride she shed a torrent of tears; and when the carriage stopped, said to me with inexpressible kindness, 'i shall never forget, monsieur, the important service you have just rendered me.'" long after this the emperor and empress marie louise visited together the manufacture of sevres porcelain, and the duchess of montebello accompanied the empress as lady of honor. the emperor, seeing a fine bust of the marshal, in bisque, exquisitely made, paused, and, not noticing the pallor which overspread the countenance of the duchess, asked her what she thought of this bust, and if it was a good likeness. the widow felt as if her old wound was reopened; she could not reply, and retired, bathed in tears, and it was several days before she reappeared at court. apart from the fact that this unexpected question renewed her grief, the inconceivable thoughtlessness the emperor had shown wounded her so deeply that, her friends had much difficulty in persuading her to resume her duties near the empress. chapter xix. the battle of essling was disastrous in every respect. twelve thousand frenchmen were slain; and the source of all this trouble was the destruction of the bridges, which could have been prevented, it seems to me, for the same accident had occurred two or three days before the battle. the soldiers complained loudly, and several corps of the infantry cried out to the generals to dismount and fight in their midst; but this ill humor in no wise affected their courage or patience, for regiments remained five hours under arms, exposed to the most terrible fire. three times during the evening the emperor sent to inquire of general massena if he could hold his position; and the brave captain, who that day saw his son on the field of battle for the first time, and his friends and his bravest officers falling by dozens around him, held it till night closed in. "i will not fall back," said he, "while there is light. those rascally austrians would be too glad." the constancy of the marshal saved the day; but, as he himself said, he was always blessed with good luck. in the beginning of the battle, seeing that one of his stirrups was too long, he called a soldier to shorten it, and during this operation placed his leg on his horse's neck; a cannon-ball whizzed by, killed the soldier, and cut off the stirrup, without touching the marshal or his horse. "there," said he, "now i shall have to get down and change my saddle;" which observation the marshal made in a jesting tone. the surgeon and his assistants conducted themselves admirably on this terrible day, and displayed a zeal equal to every emergency, combined with an activity which delighted the emperor so much, that several times, in passing near them, he called them "my brave surgeons." m. larrey above all was sublime. after having attended to all the wounded of the guard, who were crowded together on the island of lobau, he asked if there was any broth to give them. "no," replied the assistants. "have some made," said he, "have some made of that group," pointing to several horses near him; but these horses belonged to a general, and when it was attempted to carry out m. larrey's orders, the owner indignantly refused to allow them to be taken. "well, take mine then," said the brave soldier, "and have them killed, in order that my comrades may have broth." this was done; and as no pots could be found on the island it was boiled in helmets, and salted with cannon powder in place of salt. marshal massena tasted this soup, and thought it very good. one hardly knows which to admire most,--the zeal of the surgeons, the courage with which they confronted danger in caring for the wounded on the field of battle, and even in the midst of the conflict; or the stoical constancy of the soldiers, who, lying on the ground, some without an arm, some without a leg, talked over their campaigns with each other while waiting to be operated on, some even going so far as to show excessive politeness. "m. docteur, begin with my neighbor; he is suffering more than i. i can wait." a cannoneer had both legs carried away by a ball; two of his comrades picked him up and made a litter with branches of trees, on which they placed him in order to convey him to the island. the poor mutilated fellow did not utter a single groan, but murmured, "i am very thirsty," from time to time, to those who bore him. as they passed one of the bridges, he begged them to stop and seek a little wine or brandy to restore his strength. they believed him, and did as he requested, but had not gone twenty steps when the cannoneer called to them, "don't go so fast, my comrades; i have no legs, and i will reach the end of my journey sooner than you. 'vive la france;'" and, with a supreme effort, he rolled off into the danube. the conduct of a surgeon-major of the guard, some time after, came near compromising the entire corps in his majesty's opinion. this surgeon, m. m----, lodged with general dorsenne and some superior officers in a pretty country seat, belonging to the princess of lichtenstein, the concierge of the house being an old german who was blunt and peculiar, and served them with the greatest repugnance, making them as uncomfortable as possible. in vain, for instance, they requested of him linen for the beds and table; he always pretended not to hear. general dorsenne wrote to the princess, complaining of this condition of affairs; and in consequence she no doubt gave orders, but the general's letter remained unanswered, and several days passed with no change of affairs. they had had no change of napkins for a month, when the general took a fancy to give a grand supper, at which rhenish and hungarian wine were freely indulged in, followed by punch. the host was highly complimented; but with these praises were mingled energetic reproaches on the doubtful whiteness of the napery, general dorsenne excusing himself on the score of the ill-humor and sordid economy of the concierge, who was a fit exponent of the scant courtesy shown by the princess. "that is unendurable!" cried the joyous guests in chorus. "this hostess who so completely ignores us must be called to order. come, m----, take pen and paper and write her some strong epigrams; we must teach this princess of germany how to live. french officers and conquerors sleeping in rumpled sheets, and using soiled napkins! what an outrage!" m. m was only too faithful an interpreter of the unanimous sentiments of these gentlemen; and under the excitement of the fumes of these hungarian wines wrote the princess of lichtenstein a letter such as during the carnival itself one would not dare to write even to public women. how can i express what must have been madame lichtenstein's horror on reading this production,--an incomprehensible collection of all the low expressions that army slang could furnish! the evidence of a third person was necessary to convince her that the signature, m----, surgeon-major of the imperial french guard, was not the forgery of some miserable drunkard. in her profound indignation the princess hastened to general andreossy, his majesty's governor of vienna, showed him this letter, and demanded vengeance. whereupon the general, even more incensed than she, entered his carriage, and, proceeding to schoenbrunn, laid the wonderful production before the emperor. the emperor read it, recoiled three paces, his cheeks reddened with anger, his whole countenance was disturbed, and in a terrible tone ordered the grand marshal to summon m. m----, while every one waited in trembling suspense. "did you write this disgusting letter?"--"sire."--"reply, i order you; was it you?"--"yes, sire, in a moment of forgetfulness, after a supper." --"wretch!" cried his majesty, in such a manner as to terrify all who heard him. "you deserve to be instantly shot! insult a woman so basely! and an old woman too. have you no mother? i respect and honor every old woman because she reminds me of my mother!"--"sire, i am guilty, i admit, but my repentance is great. deign to remember my services. i have followed you through eighteen campaigns; i am the father of a family." these last words only increased the anger of his majesty. "let him be arrested! tear off his decorations; he is unworthy to wear them. let him be tried in twenty-four hours." then turning to the generals, who stood stupefied and immovable around him, he exclaimed, "look, gentlemen! read this! see how this blackguard addresses a princess, and at the very moment when her husband is negotiating a peace with me." the parade was very short that day; and as soon as it was ended, generals dorsenne and larrey hastened to madame lichtenstein, and, describing to her the scene which had just taken place, made her most humble apologies, in the name of the imperial guard, and at the same time entreated her to intercede for the unfortunate fellow, who deserved blame, no doubt, but who was not himself when he wrote the offensive epistle. "he repents bitterly, madame," said good m. larrey; "he weeps over his fault, and bravely awaits his punishment, esteeming it a just reparation of the insult to you. but he is one of the best officers of the army; he is beloved and esteemed; he has saved the life of thousands, and his distinguished talents are the only fortune his family possesses. what will become of them if he is shot?"--"shot!" exclaimed the princess; "shot! bon-dieu! would the matter be carried as far as that?" then general dorsenne described to her the emperor's resentment as incomparably deeper than her own; and the princess, much moved, immediately wrote the emperor a letter, in which she expressed herself as grateful, and fully satisfied with the reparation which had already been made, and entreated him to pardon m. m---his majesty read the letter, but made no reply. the princess was again visited; and she had by this time become so much alarmed that she regretted exceedingly having shown the letter of m. m---to the general; and, having decided at any cost to obtain the surgeon's pardon, she addressed a petition to the emperor, which closed with this sentence, expressing angelic forgiveness: "sire, i am going to fall on my knees in my oratory, and will not rise until i have obtained from heaven your majesty's pardon." the emperor could no longer hold out; he granted the pardon, and m. m---was released after a month of close confinement. m. larrey was charged by his majesty to reprove him most severely, with a caution to guard more carefully the honor of the corps to which he belonged; and the remonstrances of this excellent man were made in so paternal a manner that they doubled in m. m----'s eyes the value of the inestimable service m. larrey had rendered him. m. le baron larrey was always most disinterested in his kind services, a fact which was well known and often abused. general d'a----, the son of a rich senator, had his shoulder broken by a shell at wagram; and an exceedingly delicate operation was found necessary, requiring a skilled hand, and which m. larrey alone could perform. this operation was a complete success; but the wounded man had a delicate constitution, which had been much impaired, and consequently required the most incessant care and attention. m. larrey hardly ever left his bedside, and was assisted by two medical students, who watched by turns, and assisted him in dressing the wound. the treatment was long and painful, but a complete cure was the result; and when almost entirely recovered, the general took leave of the emperor to return to france. a pension and decorations canceled the debt of the head of the state to him, but the manner in which he acquitted his own towards the man who had saved his life is worthy of consideration. as he entered his carriage he handed to one of his friends a letter and a little box, saying to this general, "i cannot leave vienna without thanking m. larrey; do me the favor of handing to him for me this mark of my gratitude. good larrey, i will never forget the services he has rendered me." next day the friend performed his commission; and a soldier was sent with the letter and the present, and, as he reached schoenbrunn during the parade, sought m. larrey in the line. "here is a letter and a box which i bring from general a----." m. larrey put both in his pocket, but after the parade examined them, and showed the package to cadet de gassicourt, saying, "look at it, and tell me what you think of it." the letter was very prettily written; as for the box, it contained a diamond worth about sixty francs. this pitiful recompense recalls one both glorious and well-earned which m. larrey received from the emperor during the campaign in egypt. at the battle of aboukir, general fugieres was operated on by m. larrey under the enemies' fire for a dangerous wound on the shoulder; and thinking himself about to die, offered his sword to general bonaparte, saying to him, "general, perhaps one day you may envy my fate." the general-in-chief presented this sword to m. larrey, after having engraved on it the name of m. larrey and that of the battle. however, general fugieres did not die; his life was saved by the skillful operation he had undergone, and for seventeen years he commanded the invalids at avignon. chapter xx. it is not in the presence of the enemy that differences in the manner and bearing of soldiers can be remarked, for the requirements of the service completely engross both the ideas and time of officers, whatever their grade, and uniformity of occupation produces also a kind of uniformity of habit and character; but, in the monotonous life of the camp, differences due to nature and education reassert themselves. i noted this many times after the truces and treaties of peace which crowned the most glorious campaigns of the emperor, and had occasion to renew my observations on this point during the long sojourn which we made at schoenbrunn with the army. military tone in the army is a most difficult thing to define, and differs according to rank, time of service, and kind of service; and there are no genuine soldiers except those who form part of the line, or who command it. in the soldiers' opinion, the prince de neuchatel and his brilliant staff, the grand marshal, generals bertrand, bacler d'albe, etc., were only men of the cabinet council, whose experience might be of some use in such deliberations, but to whom bravery was not indispensable. the chief generals, such as prince eugene, marshals oudinot, davoust, bessieres, and his majesty's aides-decamp, rapp, lebrun, lauriston, mouton, etc., were exceedingly affable, and every one was most politely received by them; their dignity never became haughtiness, nor their ease an excessive familiarity, though their manners were at all times slightly tinged by the austerity inseparable from the character of a warrior. this was not the idea held in the army in regard to a few of the ordnance and staff officers (aides-de-camp); for, while according them all the consideration due both to their education and their courage, they called them the jay-birds of the army; receiving favors which others deserved; obtaining cordons and promotions for carrying a few letters into camp, often without having even seen the enemy; insulting by their luxury the modest temperance of the braver officers; and more foppish in the midst of their battalions than in the boudoirs of their mistresses. the silver-gilt box of one of these gentlemen was a complete portable dressing-case, and contained, instead of cartridges, essence bottles, brushes, a mirror, a tongue-scraper, a shell-comb, and--i do not know that it lacked even a pot of rouge. it could not be said that they were not brave, for they would allow themselves to be killed for a glance; but they were very, rarely exposed to danger. foreigners would be right in maintaining the assertion that the french soldier is frivolous, presumptuous, impertinent, and immoral, if they formed their judgment alone from these officers by courtesy, who, in place of study and faithful service, had often no other title to their rank than the merit of having emigrated. the officers of the line, who had served in several campaigns and had gained their epaulettes on the field of battle, held a very different position in the army. always grave, polite, and considerate, there was a kind of fraternity among them; and having known suffering and misery themselves, they were always ready to help others; and their conversation, though not distinguished by brilliant information, was often full of interest. in nearly every case boasting quitted them with their youth, and the bravest were always the most modest. influenced by no imaginary points of honor, they estimated themselves at their real worth; and all fear of being suspected of cowardice was beneath them. with these brave soldiers, who often united to the greatest kindness of heart a mettle no less great, a flat contradiction or even a little hasty abuse from one of their brothers in arms was not obliged to be washed out in blood; and examples of the moderation which true courage alone has a right to show were not rare in the army. those who cared least for money, and were most generous, were most exposed, the artillerymen and the hussars, for instance. at wagram i saw a lieutenant pay a louis for a bottle of brandy, and immediately divide it among the soldiers of his company; and brave officers often formed such an attachment to their regiment, especially if it had distinguished itself, that they sometimes refused promotion rather than be separated from their children, as they called them. in them we behold the true model of the french soldier; and it is this kindness, mingled with the austerity of a warrior, this attachment of the chief to the soldier, which the latter is so capable of appreciating, and an impregnable honor, which serve to distinguish our soldiers from all others, and not, as foreigners think, presumption, braggadocio, and libertinage, which latter are ever the characteristics of the parasites of glory alone. in the camp of lobau on the evening before the battle of wagram, the emperor, as he was walking outside his tent, stopped a moment watching the grenadiers of his guard who were breakfasting. "well, my children, what do you think of the wine?"--"it will not make us tipsy, sire; there is our cellar," said a soldier pointing to the danube. the emperor, who had ordered a bottle of good wine to be distributed to each soldier, was surprised to see that they were so abstemious the evening before a battle. he inquired of the prince de neuchatel the cause of this; and upon investigation, it was learned that two storekeepers and an employee in the commissary department had sold forty thousand bottles of the wine which the emperor had ordered to be distributed, and had replaced it with some of inferior quality. this wine had been seized by the imperial guard in a rich abbey, and was valued at thirty thousand florins. the culprits were arrested, tried, and condemned to death. there was in the camp at lobau a dog which i think all the army knew by the name of corps-de-garde. he was old, emaciated, and ugly; but his moral qualities caused his exterior defects to be quickly lost sight of. he was sometimes called the brave dog of the empire; since he had received a bayonet stroke at marengo, and had a paw broken by a gun at austerlitz, being at that time attached to a regiment of dragoons. he had no master. he was in the habit of attaching himself to a corps, and continuing faithful so long as they fed him well and did not beat him. a kick or a blow with the flat of a sword would cause him to desert this regiment, and pass on to another. he was unusually intelligent; and whatever position of the corps in which he might be the was serving, he did not abandon it, or confound it with any other, and in the thickest of the fight was always near the banner he had chosen; and if in the camp he met a soldier from the regiment he had deserted, he would droop his ears, drop his tail between his legs, and scamper off quickly to rejoin his new brothers in arms. when his regiment was on the march he circled as a scout all around it, and gave warning by a bark if he found anything unusual, thus on more than one occasion saving his comrades from ambush. among the officers who perished at the battle of wagram, or rather in a small engagement which took place after the battle had ended, one of those most regretted by the soldiers was general oudet. he was one of the bravest generals of the army; but what brings his name especially to mind, among all those whom the army lost on that memorable day, is a note which i have preserved of a conversation i held several years after this battle with an excellent officer who was one of my sincerest friends. in a conversation with lieutenant-colonel b---in 1812, he remarked, "i must tell you, my dear constant, of a strange adventure which happened to me at wagram. i did not tell you at the time, because i had promised to be silent; but since at the present time no one can be compromised by my indiscretion, and since those who then had most to fear if their singular ideas (for i can call them by no other name) had been revealed, would now be first to laugh at them, i can well inform you of the mysterious discovery i made at that period. "you well know that i was much attached to poor f---whom we so much regretted; and he was one of our most popular and attractive officers, his good qualities winning the hearts of all, especially of those who like himself had an unfailing fund of frankness and good humor. all at once i noticed a great change in his manner, as well as in that of his habitual companions; they appeared gloomy, and met together no more for gay conversation, but on the contrary spoke in low tones and with an air of mystery. more than once this sudden change had struck me; and if by chance i met them in retired places, instead of receiving me cordially as had always been their custom, they seemed as if trying to avoid me. at last, weary of this inexplicable mystery, i took f---aside, and asked him what this strange conduct meant. 'you have forestalled me, my dear friend,' said he. 'i was on the point of making an important disclosure; i trust you will not accuse me of want of confidence, but swear to me before i confide in you that you will tell no living soul what i am now going to reveal.' when i had taken this oath, which he demanded of me in a tone of gravity which surprised me inexpressibly, he continued, 'if i have not already told you of the 'philadelphi', it is only because i knew that reasons which i respect would prevent your ever joining them; but since you have asked this secret, it would be a want of confidence in you, and at the same time perhaps an imprudence, not to reveal it. some patriots have united themselves under the title of 'philadelphi', in order to save our country from the dangers to which it is exposed. the emperor napoleon has tarnished the glory of the first consul bonaparte; he had saved our liberty, but he has since destroyed it by the reestablishment of the nobility and by the concordat. the society of the 'philadelphi' has as yet no well-defined plans for preventing the evils with which ambition will continue to overwhelm france; but when peace is restored we shall see if it is impossible to force bonaparte to restore republican institutions, and meanwhile we are overcome by grief and despair. the brave chief of the 'philadelphi', the pure oudet, has been assassinated, and who is worthy to take his place? poor oudet! never was one braver or more eloquent than he! with a noble haughtiness and an immovable firmness of character, he possessed an excellent heart. his first battle showed his intrepid spirit. when cut down at saint bartholomew by a ball, his comrades wished to bear him away, "no, no," cried he; "don't waste time over me. the spaniards! the spaniards!"-"shall we leave you to the enemy?" said one of those who had advanced towards him. "well, drive them back if you do not wish me to be left with them." at the beginning of the campaign of wagram, he was colonel of the ninth regiment of the line, and was made general of brigade on the evening before the battle, his corps forming part of the left wing commanded by massena. our line was broken on this side for a moment, and oudet made heroic efforts to reform it; and after he had been wounded by three bayonet strokes, with the loss of much blood, and dragged away by those of us who were forced to fall back, still had himself fastened on his horse in order that he might not be forced to leave the battlefield. "after the battle, he received orders to advance to the front, and to place himself with his regiment in an advantageous position for observation, and then return immediately to headquarters, with a certain number of his officers, to receive new orders. he executed these orders, and was returning in the night, when a discharge of musketry was suddenly heard, and he fell into an ambush; he fought furiously in the darkness, knowing neither the number nor character of his adversaries, and at break of day was found, covered with wounds, in the midst of twenty officers who had been slain around him. he was still breathing, and lived three days; but the only words he pronounced were those of commiseration for the fate of his country. when his body was taken from the hospital to prepare it for burial, several of the wounded in their despair tore the bandages from their wounds, a sergeant-major threw himself on his sword near the grave, and a lieutenant there blew out his brains. behold,' said f----, 'a death that plunges us into the deepest despair!' i tried to prove to him that he was mistaken, and that the plans of the 'philadelphi' were mad, but succeeded very imperfectly; and though he listened to my advice, he again earnestly recommended secrecy." the day after the battle of wagram, i think, a large number of officers were breakfasting near the emperor's tent, the generals seated on the grass, and the officers standing around them. they discussed the battle at length, and related numerous remarkable anecdotes, some of which remain engraven on my memory. a staff-officer of his majesty said, "i thought i had lost my finest horse. as i had ridden him on the 5th and wished him to rest, i gave him to my servant to hold by the bridle; and when he left him one moment to attend to his own, the horse was stolen in a flash by a dragoon, who instantly sold him to a dismounted captain, telling him he was a captured horse. i recognized him in the ranks, and claimed him, proving by my saddle-bags and their contents that he was not a horse taken from the austrians, and had to repay the captain the five louis which he had paid to the dragoon for this horse which had cost me sixty." the best anecdote, perhaps, of the day was this: m. salsdorf, a saxon, and surgeon in prince christian's regiment, in the beginning of the battle had his leg fractured by a shell. lying on the ground, he saw, fifteen paces from him, m. amedee de kerbourg, who was wounded by a bullet, and vomiting blood. he saw that this officer would die of apoplexy if something was not done for him, and collecting all his strength, dragged himself along in the dust, bled him, and saved his life. m. de kerbourg had no opportunity to embrace the one who had saved his life; for m. de salsdorf was carried to vienna, and only survived the amputation four days. chapter xxi. at schoenbrunn, as elsewhere, his majesty marked his presence by his benefactions. i still retain vivid recollections of an occurrence which long continued to be the subject of conversation at this period, and the singular details of which render it worthy of narration. a little girl nine years old, belonging to a very wealthy and highly esteemed family of constantinople, was carried away by bandits as she was promenading one day with her attendant outside the city. the bandits carried their two captives to anatolia, and there sold them. the little girl, who gave promise of great beauty, fell to the lot of a rich merchant of broussa, the harshest, most severe, and intractable man of the town; but the artless grace of this child touched even his ferocious heart. he conceived a great affection for her, and distinguished her from his other slaves by giving her only light employment, such as the care of flowers, etc. a european gentleman who lived with this merchant offered to take charge of her education; to which the man consented, all the more willingly since she had gained his heart, and he wished to make her his wife as soon as she reached a marriageable age. but the european had the same idea; and as he was young, with an agreeable and intelligent countenance, and very rich, he succeeded in winning the young slave's affection; and she escaped one day from her master, and, like another heloise, followed her abelard to kutahie, where they remained concealed for six months. she was then ten years old. her preceptor, who became more devoted to her each day, carried her to constantinople, and confided her to the care of a greek bishop, charging him to make her a good christian, and then returned to vienna, with the intention of obtaining the consent of his family and the permission of his government to marry a slave. two years then passed, and the poor girl heard nothing from her future husband. meanwhile the bishop had died, and his heirs had abandoned marie (this was the baptismal name of the convert); and she, with no means and no protector, ran the risk of being at any moment discovered by some relation or friend of her family--and it is well known that the turks never forgive a change of religion. tormented by a thousand fears, weary of her retreat and the deep obscurity in which she was buried, she took the bold resolution of rejoining her benefactor, and not deterred by dangers of the road set out from constantinople alone on foot. on her arrival in the capital of austria, she learned that her intended husband had been dead for more than a year. the despair into which the poor girl was plunged by this sad news can be better imagined than described. what was to be done? what would become of her? she decided to return to her family, and for this purpose repaired to trieste, which town she found in a state of great commotion. it had just received a french garrison; but the disturbances inseparable from war were not yet ended, and young marie consequently entered a greek convent to await a suitable opportunity of returning to constantinople. there a sub-lieutenant of infantry, named dartois, saw her, became madly in love, won her heart, and married her at the end of a year. the happiness which madame dartois now enjoyed did not cause her to renounce her plan of visiting her own family; and, as she now had become a frenchwoman, she thought this title would accelerate her return to her parents' favor. her husband's regiment received orders to leave trieste; and this gave madame dartois the opportunity to renew her entreaties to be allowed to visit constantinople, to which her husband gave his consent, not without explaining to her, however, all she had to fear, and all the dangers to which this journey would again expose her. at last she started, and a few days after her arrival was on the point of making herself known to her family, when she recognized on the street through her veil, the broussan merchant, her former master, who was seeking her throughout constantinople, and had sworn to kill her on sight. this terrible 'rencontre' threw her into such a fright, that for three days she lived in constant terror, scarcely daring to venture out, even on the most urgent business, and always fearing lest she should see again the ferocious anatolian. from time to time she received letters from her husband, who still marched with the french army; and, as it was now advancing, he conjured her in his last letters to return to france, hoping to be able soon to rejoin her there. deprived of all hope of a reconciliation with her family, madame dartois determined to comply with her husband's request; and, although the war between russia and turkey rendered the roads very unsafe, she left constantinople in the month of july, 1809. after passing through hungary and the midst of the austrian camp, madame dartois bent her steps towards vienna, where she had the sorrow to learn that her husband had been mortally wounded at the battle of wagram, and was now in that town; she hastened to him, and he expired in her arms. she mourned her husband deeply, but was soon compelled to think of the future, as the small amount of money remaining to her when she left constantinople had been barely sufficient for the expenses of her journey, and m. dartois had left no property. some one having advised the poor woman to go to schoenbrunn and ask his majesty's assistance, a superior officer gave her a letter of recommendation to m. jaubert, interpreting secretary of the emperor. madame dartois arrived as his majesty was preparing to leave schoenbrunn, and made application to m. jaubert, the duke of bassano, general lebrun, and many other persons who became deeply interested in her misfortunes. the emperor, when informed by the duke of bassano of the deplorable condition of this woman, at once made a special order granting madame dartois an annual pension of sixteen hundred francs, the first year of which was paid in advance. when the duke of bassano announced to the widow his majesty's decision, and handed her the first year's pension, she fell at his feet, and bathed them with her tears. the emperor's fete was celebrated at vienna with much brilliancy; and as all the inhabitants felt themselves obliged to illumine their windows, the effect was extraordinarily brilliant. they had no set illuminations; but almost all the windows had double sashes, and between these sashes were placed lamps, candles, etc., ingeniously arranged, the effect of which was charming. the austrians appeared as gay as our soldiers; they had not feted their own emperor with so much ardor, and, though deep down in their hearts they must have experienced a feeling of constraint at such unaccustomed joy, appearances gave no sign of this. on the evening of the fete, during the parade, a terrible explosion was heard at schoenbrunn, the noise of which seemed to come from the town; and a few moments afterwards a gendarme appeared, his horse in a gallop. "oh, oh!" said colonel mechnem, "there must be a fire at vienna, if a gendarme is galloping." in fact, he brought tidings of a very deplorable event. while an artillery company had been preparing, in the arsenal of the town, numerous fireworks to celebrate his majesty's fete, one of them, in preparing a rocket, accidentally set the fuse on fire, and becoming frightened threw it away from him. it fell on the powder which the shop contained, and eighteen cannoneers were killed by the explosion, and seven wounded. during his majesty's fete, as i entered his cabinet one morning, i found with him m. charles sulmetter, commissary general of the police of vienna, whom i had seen often before. he had begun as head spy for the emperor; and this had proved such a profitable business that he had amassed an income of forty thousand pounds. he had been born at strasburg; and in his early life had been chief of a band of smugglers, to which vocation he was as wonderfully adapted by nature as to that which he afterwards pursued. he admitted this in relating his adventures, and maintained that smuggling and police service had many points of similarity, since the great art of smuggling was to know how to evade, while that of a spy was to know how to seek. he inspired such terror in the viennese that he was equal to a whole army-corps in keeping them in subjection. his quick and penetrating glance, his air of resolution and severity, the abruptness of his step and gestures, his terrible voice, and his appearance of great strength, fully justified his reputation; and his adventures furnish ample materials for a romance. during the first campaigns of germany, being charged with a message from the french government to one of the most prominent persons in the austrian army, he passed among the enemy disguised as a german peddler, furnished with regular passports, and provided with a complete stock of diamonds and jewelry. he was betrayed, arrested, and searched; and the letter concealed in the double bottom of a gold box was found, and very foolishly read before him. he was tried and condemned to death, and delivered to the soldiers by whom he was to be executed; but as night had arrived by this time, they postponed his execution till morning. he recognized among his guards a french deserter, talked with him, and promised him a large sum of money: he had wine brought, drank with the soldiers, intoxicated them, and disguised in one of their coats, escaped with the frenchman. before re-entering the camp, however, he found means to inform the person for whom the letter was intended, of its contents, and of what had happened. countersigns difficult to remember were often given in the army in order to attract the soldiers' attention more closely. one day the word was pericles, persepolis; and a captain of the guard who had a better knowledge of how to command a charge than of greek history and geography, not hearing it distinctly, gave as the countersign, 'perce l'eglise', which mistake furnished much amusement. the old captain was not at all angry, and said that after all he was not very far wrong. the secretary of general andreossy, governor of vienna, had an unfortunate passion for gambling; and finding that he did not gain enough to pay his debts, sold himself to the enemy. his correspondence was seized; he admitted his treachery, and was condemned to death, and in confronting death evinced astonishing self-possession. "come nearer," said he to the soldiers who were to shoot, "so that you may see me better, and i will have less to suffer." in one of his excursions in the environs of vienna, the emperor met a very young conscript who was rejoining his corps. he stopped him, asked his name, his age, regiment, and country. "monsieur," said the soldier, who did not know him, "my name is martin; i am seventeen years old, and from the upper pyrenees."--"you are a frenchman, then?"--"yes, monsieur." --"ah, you are a miserable' frenchman. disarm this man, and hang him!"-"yes, you fool, i am french," repeated the conscript; "and vive l'empereur!" his majesty was much amused; the conscript was undeceived, congratulated, and hastened to rejoin his comrades, with the promise of a reward,--a promise which the emperor was not slow to perform. two or three days before his departure from schoenbrunn, the emperor again came near being assassinated. this time the attack was to have been made by a woman. the countess at this time was well known, both on account of her astonishing beauty and the scandal of her liaisons with lord paget, the english ambassador. it would be hard to find words which would truthfully describe the grace and charms of this lady, whom the best society of vienna admitted only with the greatest repugnance, but who consoled herself for their scorn by receiving at her own house the most brilliant part of the french army. an army contractor conceived the idea of procuring this lady for the emperor, and, without informing his majesty, made propositions to the countess through one of his friends, a cavalry officer attached to the military police of the town of vienna. the cavalry officer thought he was representing his majesty, and in good faith said to the countess that his majesty was exceedingly anxious to see her at schoenbrunn. one morning, accordingly, he made propositions for that evening, which, appearing somewhat abrupt to the countess, she did not decide at once, but demanded a day for reflection, adding that she must have good proof that the emperor was really sincere in this matter. the officer protested his sincerity, promised, moreover, to give every proof she required, and made an appointment for that evening. having given the contractor an account of his negotiation, the latter gave orders that a carriage, escorted by the cavalry officer, should be ready for the countess on the evening indicated. at the appointed hour the officer returned to the countess, expecting her to accompany him, but she begged him to return next day, saying that she had not yet decided, and needed the night for longer reflection. at the officer's solicitations she decided, however, and appointed the next day, giving her word of honor to be ready at the appointed hour. the carriage was then sent away, and ordered for the next evening at the same hour. this time the contractor's envoy found the countess well disposed; she received him gayly, eagerly even, and told him that she had given orders in regard to her affairs as if she were going on a journey; then, regarding him fixedly, said, tutoying him, "you may return in an hour and i will be ready; i will go to him, you may rely upon it. yesterday i had business to finish, but to-day i am free. if you are a good austrian, you will prove it to me; you know how much harm he has done our country! this evening our country will be avenged! come for me; do not fail!" the cavalry officer, frightened at such a confidence as this, was unwilling to accept the responsibility, and repeated everything at the chateau; in return for which the emperor rewarded him generously, urged him for his own sake not to see the countess again, and expressly forbade his having anything more to do with the matter. all these dangers in no wise-depressed the emperor; and he had a habit of saying, "what have i to fear? i cannot be assassinated; i can die only on the field of battle." but even on the field of battle he took no care of himself, and at essling, for example, exposed himself like a chief of battalion who wants to be a colonel; bullets slew those in front, behind, beside him, but he did not budge. it was then that a terrified general cried, "sire, if your majesty does not retire, it will be necessary for me to have you carried off by my grenadiers." this anecdote proves took any precautions in regard to himself. the signs of exasperation manifested by the inhabitants of vienna made him very watchful, however, for the safety of his troops, and he expressly forbade their leaving their cantonments in the evening. his majesty was afraid for them. the chateau of schoenbrunn was the rendezvous of all the illustrious savants of germany; and no new work, no curious invention, appeared, but the emperor immediately gave orders to have the author presented to him. it was thus that m. maelzel, the famous inventor of metronomy, was allowed the honor of exhibiting before his majesty several of his own inventions. the emperor admired the artificial limbs intended to replace more comfortably and satisfactorily than wooden ones those carried off by balls, and gave him orders to have a wagon constructed to convey the wounded from the field of battle. this wagon was to be of such a kind that it could be folded up and easily carried behind men on horseback, who accompanied the army, such as surgeons, aides, servants, etc. m. maelzel had also built an automaton known throughout europe under the name of the chess player, which he brought to schoenbrunn to show to his majesty, and set it up in the apartments of the prince de neuchatel. the emperor visited the prince; and i, in company with several other persons, accompanied him, and found this automaton seated before a table on which the chessmen were arranged. his majesty took a chair, and seating himself in front of the automaton, said, with a laugh, "come, my comrade, we are ready." the automaton bowed and made a sign with his hand to the emperor, as if to tell him to begin, upon which the game commenced. the emperor made two or three moves, and intentionally made a wrong one. the automaton bowed, took the piece, and put it in its proper place. his majesty cheated a second time; the automaton bowed again, and took the piece. "that is right," said the emperor; and when he cheated a third time, the automaton, passing his hand over the chess-board, spoiled the game. the emperor complimented the inventor highly. as we left the room, accompanied by the prince de neuchatel we found in the antechamber two young girls, who presented to the prince, in the name of their mother, a basket of beautiful fruit. as the prince welcomed them with an air of familiarity, the emperor, curious to find out who they were, drew near and questioned them; but they did not understand french: some one then told his majesty that these two pretty girls were daughters of a good woman, whose life marshal berthier had saved in 1805. on this occasion he was alone on horseback, the cold was terrible, and the ground covered with snow, when he perceived, lying at the foot of a tree, a woman who appeared to be dying, and had been seized with a stupor. the marshal took her in his arms, and placed her on his horse with his cloak wrapped around her, and thus conveyed her to her home, where her daughters were mourning her absence. he left without making himself known; but they recognized him at the capture of vienna, and every week the two sisters came to see their benefactor, bringing him flowers or fruit as a token of their gratitude. chapter xxii. towards the end of september the emperor made a journey to raab; and, as he was mounting his horse to return to his residence at schoenbrunn, he saw the bishop a few steps from him. "is not that the bishop?" said he to m. jardin, who was holding his horse's head. "no, sire, it is soliman."--"i asked you if that was not the bishop," repeated his majesty, pointing to the prelate. m. jardin, intent on business, and thinking only of the emperor's horse which bore the name of bishop, again replied, "sire, you forget that you rode him on the last relay." the emperor now perceived the mistake, and broke into a laugh. i was witness at wagram of an act which furnished a fine illustration of the emperor's kindness of heart and consideration for others, of which i have already given several instances; for, although in the one i shall now relate, he was forced to refuse an act of clemency, his very refusal challenges admiration as an exhibition of the generosity and greatness of his soul. a very rich woman, named madame de combray, who lived near caen, allowed her chateau to be occupied by a band of royalists, who seemed to think they upheld their cause worthily by robbing diligences on the highway. she constituted herself treasurer of this band of partisans, and consigned the funds thus obtained to a pretended treasurer of louis xviii. her daughter, madame aquet, joined this troop, and, dressed in men's clothing, showed most conspicuous bravery. their exploits, however, were not of long duration; and pursued and overcome by superior forces, they were brought to trial, and madame aquet was condemned to death with her accomplices. by means of a pretended illness she obtained a reprieve, of which she availed herself to employ every means in her power to obtain a pardon, and finally, after eight months of useless supplications, decided to send her children to germany to intercede with the emperor. her physician, accompanied by her sister and two daughters, reached schoenbrunn just as the emperor had gone to visit the field of wagram, and for an entire day awaited the emperor's return on the steps of the palace; and these children, one ten, the other twelve, years old, excited much interest. notwithstanding this, their mother's crime was a terrible one; for although in political matters opinions may not be criminal, yet under every form of government opinions are punished, if thereby one becomes a robber and an assassin. the children, clothed in black, threw themselves at the emperor's feet, crying, "pardon, pardon, restore to us our mother." the emperor raised them tenderly, took the petition from the hands of the aunt, read every word attentively, then questioned the physician with much interest, looked at the children, hesitated--but just as i, with all who witnessed this touching scene, thought he was going to pronounce her pardon, he recoiled several steps, exclaiming, "i cannot do it!" his changing color, eyes suffused with tears, and choking voice, gave evidence of the struggle through which he was passing; and witnessing this, his refusal appeared to me an act of sublime courage. following upon the remembrance of these violent crimes, so much the more worthy of condemnation since they were the work of a woman, who, in order to abandon herself to them, was forced to begin by trampling under foot all the gentle and modest virtues of her sex, i find recorded in my notes an act of fidelity and conjugal tenderness which well deserved a better result. the wife of an infantry colonel, unwilling to be parted from her husband, followed the march of his regiment in a coach, and on the days of battle mounted a horse and kept herself as near as possible to the line. at friedland she saw the colonel fall, pierced by a ball, hastened to him with her servant, carried him from the ranks, and bore him away in an ambulance, though too late, for he was already dead. her grief was silent, and no one saw her shed a tear. she offered her purse to a surgeon, and begged him to embalm her husband's corpse, which was done as well as possible under the circumstances; and she then had the corpse wrapped in bandages, placed in a box with a lid, and put in a carriage, and seating herself beside it, the heart-broken widow set out on her return to france. a grief thus repressed soon affected her mind; and at each halt she made on the journey, she shut herself up with her precious burden, drew the corpse from its bog, placed it on a bed, uncovered its face, and lavished on it the most tender caresses, talking to it as if it was living, and slept beside it. in the morning she replaced her husband in the box, and, resuming her gloomy silence, continued her route. for several days her secret remained unknown, and was discovered only a few days before she reached paris. the body had not been embalmed in such a manner as to preserve it long from decay; and this soon reached such a point, that, when she arrived at an inn, the horrible odor from the box aroused suspicion, and the unhappy wife's room was entered that evening, and she was found clasping in her arms the already sadly disfigured corpse of her husband. "silence," she cried to the frightened innkeeper. "my husband is asleep, why do you come to disturb his glorious rest?" with much difficulty the corpse was removed from the arms of the insane woman who had guarded it with such jealous care, and she was conveyed to paris, where she afterward died, without recovering her reason for an instant. there was much astonishment at the chateau of schoenbrunn because the archduke charles never appeared there; for he was known to be much esteemed by the emperor, who never spoke of him except with the highest consideration. i am entirely ignorant what motives prevented the prince from coming to schoenbrunn, or the emperor from visiting him; but, nevertheless, it is a fact, that, two or three days before his departure from munich, his majesty one morning attended a hunting-party, composed of several officers and myself; and that we stopped at a hunting-box called la venerie on the road between vienna and bukusdorf, and on our arrival we found the archduke charles awaiting his majesty, attended by a suite of only two persons. the emperor and the archduke remained for a long while alone in the pavilion; and we did not return to schoenbrunn until late in the evening. on the 16th of october at noon the emperor left this residence with his suite, composed of the grand marshal, the duke of frioul; generals rapp, mouton, savary, nansouty, durosnell and lebrun; of three chamberlains; of m. labbe, chief of the topographical bureau; of m. de meneval, his majesty's secretary, and m. yvan; and accompanied by the duke of bassano, and the duke of cadore, then minister of foreign relations. we arrived at passau on the morning of the 18th; and the emperor passed the entire day in visiting forts maximilian and napoleon, and also seven or eight redoubts whose names recalled the principal battles of the campaign. more than twelve thousand men were working on these important fortifications, to whom his majesty's visit was a fete. that evening we resumed our journey, and two days after we were at munich. at augsburg, on leaving the palace of the elector of treves, the emperor found in his path a woman kneeling in the dust, surrounded by four children; he raised her up and inquired kindly what she desired. the poor woman, without replying, handed his majesty a petition written in german, which general rapp translated. she was the widow of a german physician named buiting, who had died a short time since, and was well known in the army from his faithfulness in ministering to the wounded french soldiers when by chance any fell into his hands. the elector of treves, and many persons of the emperor's suite, supported earnestly this petition of madame buiting, whom her husband's death had reduced almost to poverty, and in which she besought the emperor's aid for the children of this german physician, whose attentions had saved the lives of so many of his brave soldiers. his majesty gave orders to pay the petitioner the first year's salary of a pension which he at once allowed her; and when general rapp had informed the widow of the emperor's action, the poor woman fainted with a cry of joy. i witnessed another scene which was equally as touching. when the emperor was on the march to vienna, the inhabitants of augsburg, who had been guilty of some acts of cruelty towards the bavarians, trembled lest his majesty should take a terrible revenge on them; and this terror was at its height when it was learned that a part of the french army was to pass through the town. a young woman of remarkable beauty, only a few months a widow, had retired to this place with her child in the hope of being more quiet than anywhere else, but, frightened by the approach of the troops, fled with her child in her arms. but, instead of avoiding our soldiers as she intended, she left augsburg by the wrong gate, and fell into the midst of the advance posts of the french army. fortunately, she encountered general decourbe, and trembling, and almost beside herself with terror, conjured him on her knees to save her honor, even at the expense of her life, and immediately swooned away. moved even to tears, the general showed her every attention, ordered a safe-conduct given her, and an escort to accompany her to a neighboring town, where she had stated that several of her relatives lived. the order to march was given at the same instant; and, in the midst of the general commotion which ensued, the child was forgotten by those who escorted the mother, and left in the outposts. a brave grenadier took charge of it, and, ascertaining where the poor mother had been taken, pledged himself to restore it to her at the earliest possible moment, unless a ball should carry him off before the return of the army. he made a leather pocket, in which he carried his young protege, arranged so that it was sheltered from the weather. each time he went into battle the good grenadier dug a hole in the ground, in which he placed the little one, and returned for it when the battle was over; and though his comrades ridiculed him the first day, they could not but fail to admire the nobility of his conduct. the child escaped all danger, thanks to the incessant care of its adopted father; and, when the march to munich was again begun, the grenadier, who was singularly attached to the little waif, almost regretted to see the moment draw near when he must restore it to its mother. it may easily be understood what this poor woman suffered after losing her child. she besought and entreated the soldiers who escorted her to return; but they had their orders, which nothing could cause them to infringe. immediately on her arrival she set out again on her return to augsburg, making inquiries in all directions, but could obtain no information of her son, and at last being convinced that he was dead, wept bitterly for him. she had mourned thus for nearly six months, when the army re-passed augsburg; and, while at work alone in her room one day, she was told that a soldier wished to see her, and had something precious to commit to her care; but he was unable to leave his corps, and must beg her to meet him on the public square. little suspecting the happiness in store for her, she sought the grenadier, and the latter leaving the ranks, pulled the "little good man" out of his pocket, and placed him in the arms of the poor mother, who could not believe the evidence of her own eyes. thinking that this lady was probably not rich, this excellent man had collected a sum of money, which he had placed in one of the pockets of the little one's coat. the emperor remained only a short time at munich; and the day of his arrival a courier was sent in haste by the grand marshal to m. de lucay to inform him that his majesty would be at fontainebleau on the 27th of october, in the evening probably, and that the household of the emperor, as well as that of the empress, should be at this residence to receive his majesty. but, instead of arriving on the evening of the 27th, the emperor had traveled with such speed, that, on the 26th at ten o'clock in the morning, he was at the gates of the palace of fontainebleau; and consequently, with the exception of the grand marshal, a courier, and the gate-keeper of fontainebleau, he found no one to receive him on his descent from the carriage. this mischance, which was very natural, since it had been impossible to foresee an advance of more than a day in the time appointed, nevertheless incensed the emperor greatly. he was regarding every one around him as if searching for some one to scold, when, finding that the courier was preparing to alight from his horse, on which he was more stuck than seated, he said to him: "you can rest to-morrow; hasten to saint-cloud and announce my arrival," and the poor courier recommenced his furious gallop. this accident, which vexed his majesty so greatly, could not be considered the fault of any one; for by the orders of the grand marshal, received from the emperor, m. de lucay had commanded their majesties' service to be ready on the morning of the next day. consequently, that evening was the earliest hour at which the service could possibly be expected to arrive; and he was compelled to wait until then. during this time of waiting, the emperor employed himself in visiting the new apartments that had been added to the chateau. the building in the court of the cheval-blanc, which had been formerly used as a military school, had been restored, enlarged, and decorated with extraordinary magnificence, and had been turned entirely into apartments of honor, in order, as his majesty said, to give employment to the manufacturers of lyons, whom the war deprived of any, outside market. after repeated promenades in all directions, the emperor seated himself with every mark of extreme impatience, asking every moment what time it was, or looking at his watch; and at last ordered me to prepare writing materials, and took his seat all alone at a little table, doubtless swearing internally at his secretaries, who had not arrived. at five o'clock a carriage came from saint-cloud; and as the emperor heard it roll into the court he descended the stairs rapidly, and while a footman was opening the door and lowering the steps, he said to the persons inside: "where is the empress?" the answer was given that her majesty the empress would arrive in a quarter of an hour at most. "that is well," said the emperor; and turning his back, quickly remounted the stairs and entered a little study, where he prepared himself for work. at last the empress arrived, exactly at six o'clock. it was now dark. the emperor this time did not go down; but listening until he learned that it was her majesty, continued to write, without interrupting himself to go and meet her. it was the first time he had acted in this manner. the empress found him seated in the cabinet. "ah!" said his majesty, "have you arrived, madame? it is well, for i was about to set out for saint-cloud." and the emperor, who had simply lifted his eyes from his work to glance at her majesty, lowered them again, and resumed his writing. this harsh greeting, distressed josephine exceedingly, and she attempted to excuse herself; but his majesty replied in such a manner as to bring tears to her eyes, though he afterwards repented of this, and begged pardon of the empress, acknowledging that he had been wrong. chapter xxiii. it is not, as has been stated in some memoirs, because and as a result of the slight disagreement which i have related above, that the first idea of a divorce came to his majesty. the emperor thought it necessary for the welfare of france that he should have an heir of his own line; and as it was now certain that the empress would never bear him one, he was compelled to think of a divorce. but it was by most gentle means, and with every mark of tender consideration, that he strove to bring the empress to this painful sacrifice. he had no recourse, as has been said, to either threats or menaces, for it was to his wife's reason that he appealed; and her consent was entirely voluntary. i repeat that there was no violence on the part of the emperor; but there was courage, resignation, and submission on that of the empress. her devotion to the emperor would have made her submit to any sacrifice, she would have given her life for him; and although this separation might break her own heart, she still found consolation in the thought that by this means she would save the one she loved more than all beside from even one cause of distress or anxiety. and when she learned that the king of rome was born, she lost sight of her own disappointment in sympathizing with the happiness of her friend; for they had always treated each other with all the attention and respect of the most perfect friendship. the emperor had taken, during the whole day of the 26th, only a cup of chocolate and a little soup; and i had heard him complain of hunger several times before the empress arrived. peace being restored, the husband and wife embraced each other tenderly, and the empress passed on into her apartments in order to make her toilet. during this time the emperor received messieurs decres and de montalivet, whom he had summoned in the morning by a mounted messenger; and about half-past seven the empress reappeared, dressed in perfect taste. in spite of the cold, she had had her hair dressed with silver wheat and blue flowers, and wore a white satin polonaise, edged with swan's down, which costume was exceedingly becoming. the emperor interrupted his work to regard her: "i did not take long at my toilet, did i?" said she, smiling; whereupon his majesty, without replying, showed her the clock, then rose, gave her his hand, and was about to enter the dining-room, saying to messieurs de montalivet and decres, "i will be with you in five minutes."--"but," said the empress, "these gentlemen have perhaps not yet dined, as they have come from paris."--"ah, that is so!..." and the ministers entered the dining-room with their majesties. but hardly had the emperor taken his seat, than he rose, threw aside his napkin, and re-entered his cabinet, where these gentlemen were compelled to follow him, though much against their inclinations. the day ended better than it had begun. in the evening there was a reception, not large, but most agreeable, at which the emperor was very gay, and in excellent humor, and acted as if anxious to efface the memory of the little scene with the empress. their majesties remained at fontainebleau till the 14th of november. the king of saxony had arrived the evening before at paris; and the emperor, who rode on horseback nearly all the way from fontainebleau to paris, repaired on his arrival to the palace de l'elysee. the two monarchs appeared very agreeably impressed with each other, and went in public together almost every day, and one morning early left the tuileries on foot, each accompanied by a single escort. i was with the emperor. they directed their steps, following the course of the stream, towards the bridge of jena, the work on which was being rapidly carried to completion, and reached the place de la revolution, where fifty or sixty persons collected with the intention of accompanying the two sovereigns; but as this seemed to annoy the emperor, agents of the police caused them to disperse. when he had reached the bridge, his majesty examined the work attentively; and finding some defects in the construction, had the architect called, who admitted the correctness of his observations, although, in order to convince him, the emperor had to talk for some time, and often repeated the same explanations. his majesty, turning then towards the king of saxony, said to him, "you see, my cousin, that the master's eye is necessary everywhere."--"yes," replied the king of saxony; "especially an eye so well trained as your majesty's." we had not been long at fontainebleau, when i noticed that the emperor in the presence of his august spouse was preoccupied and ill at ease. the same uneasiness was visible on the countenance of the empress; and this state of constraint and mutual embarrassment soon became sufficiently evident to be remarked by all, and rendered the stay at fontainebleau extremely sad and depressing. at paris the presence of the king of saxony made some diversion; but the empress appeared more unhappy than ever, which gave rise to numerous conjectures, but as for me, i knew only too well the cause of it all. the emperor's brow became more furrowed with care each day, until the 30th of november arrived. on that day the dinner was more silent than ever. the empress had wept the whole day; and in order to conceal as far as possible her pallor, and the redness of her eyes, wore a large white hat tied under her chin, the brim of which concealed her face entirely. the emperor sat in silence, his eyes fastened on his plate, while from time to time convulsive movements agitated his countenance; and if he happened to raise his eyes, glanced stealthily at the empress with unmistakable signs of distress. the officers of the household, immovable as statues, regarded this painful and gloomy scene with sad anxiety; while the whole repast was simply a form, as their majesties touched nothing, and no sound was heard but the regular movement of plates placed and carried away, varied sadly by the monotonous tones of the household officers, and the tinkling sound made by the emperor's striking his knife mechanically on the edge of his glass. once only his majesty broke the silence by a deep sigh, followed by these words addressed to one of the officers: "what time is it?" an aimless question of the emperor's, it seemed, for he did not hear, or at any rate did not seem to hear, the answer; but almost immediately he rose from the table, and the empress followed him with slow steps, and her handkerchief pressed against her lips as if to suppress her sobs. coffee was brought, and, according to custom, a page presented the waiter to the empress that she might herself pour it out; but the emperor took it himself, poured the coffee in the cup, and dissolved the sugar, still regarding the empress, who remained standing as if struck with a stupor. he drank, and returned the cup to the page; then gave a signal that he wished to be alone, and closed the door of the saloon. i remained outside seated by the door; and soon no one remained in the dining-room except one of the prefects of the palace, who walked up and down with folded arms, foreseeing, as well as i, terrible events. at the end of a few moments i heard cries, and sprang up; just then the emperor opened the door quickly, looked out, and saw there no one but us two. the empress lay on the floor, screaming as if her heart were breaking: "no; you will not do it! you would not kill me!" the usher of the room had his back turned. i advanced towards him; he understood, and went out. his majesty ordered the person who was with me to enter, and the door was again closed. i have since learned that the emperor requested him to assist him in carrying the empress to her apartment. "she has," he said, "a violent nervous attack, and her condition requires most prompt attention." m. de b----with the emperor's assistance raised the empress in his arms; and the emperor, taking a lamp from the mantel, lighted m. de b----along the passage from which ascended the little staircase leading to the apartments of the empress. this staircase was so narrow, that a man with such a burden could not go down without great risk of falling; and m. de b-----, having called his majesty's attention to this, he summoned the keeper of the portfolio, whose duty it was to be always at the door of the emperor's cabinet which opened on this staircase, and gave him the light, which was no longer needed, as the lamps had just been lighted. his majesty passed in front of the keeper, who still held the light, and carrying the feet of the empress himself, descended the staircase safely with m. de b-----; and they thus reached the bedroom. the emperor rang for her women, and when they entered, retired with tears in his eyes and every sign of the deepest emotion. this scene affected him so deeply that he said to m. de b----in a trembling, broken tone, some words which he must never reveal under any circumstances. the emperor's agitation must have been very great for him to have informed m. de b----of the cause of her majesty's despair, and to have told him that the interests of france and of the imperial dynasty had done violence to his heart, and the divorce had become a duty, deplorable and painful, but none the less a duty. queen hortense and m. corvisart soon reached the empress, who passed a miserable night. the emperor also did not sleep, and rose many times to ascertain josephine's condition. during the whole night her majesty did not utter a word. i have never witnessed such grief. immediately after this, the king of naples, the king of westphalia, the king of wurtemberg, and the king and princesses of the imperial family, arrived at paris to be present at the fetes given by the city of paris to his majesty in commemoration of the victories and the pacification of germany, and at the same time to celebrate the anniversary of the coronation. the session of the legislative corps was also about to open. it was necessary, in the interval between the scene which i have just described and the day on which the decree of divorce was signed, that the empress should be present on all these occasions, and attend all these fetes, under the eyes of an immense crowd of people, at a time when solitude alone could have in any degree alleviated her sorrow; it was also necessary that she should cover up her face with rouge in order to conceal her pallor and the signs of a month passed in tears. what tortures she endured, and how much she must have bewailed this elevation, of which nothing remained to her but the necessity of concealing her feelings! on the 3d of december their majesties repaired to notre dame, where a 'te deum' was sung; after which the imperial cortege marched to the palace of the corps legislatif, and the opening of the session was held with unusual magnificence. the emperor took his place amidst inexpressible enthusiasm, and never had his appearance excited such bursts of applause: even the empress was more cheerful for an instant, and seemed to enjoy these proofs of affection for one who was soon to be no longer her husband; but when he began to speak she relapsed into her gloomy reflections. it was almost five o'clock when the cortege returned to the tuileries, and the imperial banquet was to take place at half-past seven. during this interval, a reception of the ambassadors was held, after which the guests passed on to the gallery of diana. the emperor held a grand dining in his coronation robes, and wearing his plumed hat, which he did not remove for an instant. he ate more than was his custom, notwithstanding the distress under which he seemed to be laboring, glanced around and behind him every moment, causing the grand chamberlain continually to bend forward to receive orders which he did not give. the empress was seated in front of him, most magnificently dressed in an embroidered robe blazing with diamonds; but her face expressed even more suffering than in the morning. on the right of the emperor was seated the king of saxony, in a white uniform with red facings, and collar richly embroidered in silver, wearing a false cue of prodigious length. by the side of the king of saxony was the king of westphalia, jerome bonaparte, in a white satin tunic, and girdle ornamented with pearls and diamonds, which reached almost up to his arms. his neck was bare and white, and he wore no whiskers and very little beard; a collar of magnificent lace fell over his shoulders; and a black velvet cap ornamented with white plumes, which was the most elegant in the assembly, completed this costume. next him was the king of wurtemberg with his enormous stomach, which forced him to sit some distance from the table; and the king of naples, in so magnificent a costume that it might almost be considered extravagant, covered with crosses and stars, who played with his fork, without eating or drinking. on the right of the empress was madame mere, the queen of westphalia, the princess borghese, and queen hortense, pale as the empress, but rendered only more beautiful by her sadness, her face presenting a striking contrast on this occasion to that of the princess pauline, who never appeared in better spirits. princess pauline wore an exceedingly handsome toilet; but this did not increase the charms of her person nearly so much as that worn by the queen of holland, which, though simple, was elegant and full of taste. next day a magnificent fete was held at the hotel de ville, where the empress displayed her accustomed grace and kind consideration. this was the last time she appeared on occasions of ceremony. a few days after all these rejoicings, the vice-king of italy, eugene de beauharnais, arrived, and learned from the lips of the empress herself the terrible measure which circumstances were about to render necessary. this news overcame him: agitated and despairing, he sought his majesty; and, as if he could not believe what he had just heard asked the emperor if it was true that a divorce was about to take place. the emperor made a sign in the affirmative, and, with deep grief depicted on his countenance, held out his hand to his adopted son. "sire, allow me to quit your service."--"what!"--"yes, sire; the son of one who is no longer empress cannot remain vice-king. i wish to accompany my mother to her retreat, and console her."--"do you wish to leave me, eugene? you? ah, you do not know how imperious are the reasons which force me to pursue such a course. and if i obtain this son, the object of my most cherished wishes, this son who is so necessary to me, who will take my place with him when i shall be absent? who will be a father to him when i die? who will rear him, and who will make a man of him?" tears filled the emperor's eyes as he pronounced these words; he again took eugene's hand, and drawing him to his arms, embraced him tenderly. i did not hear the remainder of this interesting conversation. at last the fatal day arrived; it was the 16th of december. the imperial family were assembled in ceremonial costume, when the empress entered in a simple white dress, entirely devoid of ornament; she was pale, but calm, and leaned on the arm of queen hortense, who was equally as pale, and much more agitated than her august mother. the prince de beauharnais stood beside the emperor, and trembled so violently that it was thought he would fall every moment. when the empress entered, count regnaud de saint-jean d'angely read the act of separation. this was heard in the midst of profound silence, and the deepest concern was depicted on every face. the empress appeared calmer than any one else in the assemblage, although tears incessantly flowed from her eyes. she was seated in an armchair in the midst of the saloon, resting her elbow on a table, while queen hortense stood sobbing behind her. the reading of the act ended, the empress rose, dried her eyes, and in a voice which was almost firm, pronounced the words of assent, then seated herself in a chair, took a pen from the hand of m. regnaud de saint-jean d'angely, and signed the act. she then withdrew, leaning on the arm of queen hortense; and prince eugene endeavored to retire at the same moment through the cabinet, but his strength failed, and he fell insensible between the two doors. the cabinet usher immediately raised him up, and committed him to the care of his aide-de-camp, who lavished on him every attention which his sad condition demanded. during this terrible ceremony the emperor uttered not a word, made not a gesture, but stood immovable as a statue, his gaze fixed and almost wild, and remained silent and gloomy all day. in the evening, when he had just retired, as i was awaiting his last orders, the door opened, and the empress entered, her hair in disorder, and her countenance showing great agitation. this sight terrified me. josephine (for she was now no more than josephine) advanced towards the emperor with a trembling step, and when she reached him, paused, and weeping in the most heartrending manner, threw herself on the bed, placed her arms around the emperor's neck, and lavished on him most endearing caresses. i cannot describe my emotions. the emperor wept also, sat up and pressed josephine to his heart, saying to her, "come, my good josephine, be more reasonable! come, courage, courage; i will always be your friend." stifled by her sobs, the empress could not reply; and there followed a silent scene, in which their tears and sobs flowed together, and said more than the tenderest expressions could have done. at last his majesty, recovering from this momentary forgetfulness as from a dream, perceived that i was there, and said to me in a voice choked with tears, "withdraw, constant." i obeyed, and went into the adjoining saloon; and an hour after josephine passed me, still sad and in tears, giving me a kind nod as she passed. i then returned to the sleeping-room to remove the light as usual; the emperor was silent as death, and so covered with the bedclothes that his face could not be seen. the next morning when i entered the emperor's room he did not mention this visit of the empress; but i found him suffering and dejected, and sighs which he could not repress issued from his breast. he did not speak during the whole time his toilet lasted, and as soon as it was completed entered his cabinet. this was the day on which josephine was to leave the tuileries for malmaison, and all persons not engaged in their duties assembled in the vestibule to see once more this dethroned empress whom all hearts followed in her exile. they looked at her without daring to speak, as josephine appeared, completely veiled, one hand resting on the shoulder of one of her ladies, and the other holding a handkerchief to her eyes. a concert of inexpressible lamentations arose as this adored woman crossed the short space which separated her from her carriage, and entered it without even a glance at the palace she was--quitting--quitting forever;--the blinds were immediately lowered, and the horses set off at full speed. chapter xxiv. the marriage of the emperor to marie louise was the first step in a new career. he flattered himself that it would be as glorious as that he had just brought to a close, but it was to be far otherwise. before entering on a recital of the events of the year 1810, i shall narrate some recollections, jotted down at random, which, although i can assign them no precise date, were, nevertheless, anterior to the period we have now reached. the empress josephine had long been jealous of the beautiful madame gazani, one of her readers, and treated her coldly; and when she complained to the emperor, he spoke to josephine on the subject, and requested her to show more consideration for her reader, who deserved it on account of her attachment to the person of the empress, and added that she was wrong in supposing that there was between madame gazani and himself the least liaison. the empress, without being convinced by this last declaration of the emperor, had nevertheless become much more cordial to madame gazani, when one morning the emperor, who apparently was afraid the beautiful genoese might obtain some ascendency over her, suddenly entered the empress's apartment, and said to her, "i do not wish to see madame gazani here longer; she must return to italy." this time it was the good josephine who defended her reader. there were already rumors of a divorce; and the empress remarked to his majesty, "you know well, my friend, that the best means of being rid of madame gazani's presence is to allow her to remain with me. let me keep her, then. we can weep together; she and i understand each other well." from this time the empress was a firm friend of madame gazani, who accompanied her to malmaison and navarre. what increased the kind feelings of the empress for this lady was that she thought her distressed by the emperor's inconstancy. for my part, i have always believed that madame gazani's attachment to the emperor was sincere, and her pride must have suffered when she was dismissed; but she had no difficulty in consoling herself in the midst of the homage and adoration which naturally surrounded such a pretty woman. the name of the empress josephine recalls two anecdotes which the emperor himself related to me. the outrageous extravagance in the empress's household was a continual vexation to him, and he had dismissed several furnishers of whose disposition to abuse josephine's ready credulity he had ample proof. one morning he entered the empress's apartments unannounced, and found there assembled several ladies holding a secret toilet council, and a celebrated milliner making an official report as to all the handsomest and most elegant novelties. she was one of the very persons whom the emperor had expressly forbidden to enter the palace; and he did not anticipate finding her there. yet he made no outburst; and josephine, who knew him better than any one else, was the only one who understood the irony of his look as he retired, saying, "continue ladies; i am sorry to have disturbed you." the milliner, much astonished that she was not put rudely out of the door, hastened to retire; but when she reached the last step of the stairs leading to the apartments of her majesty the empress, she encountered an agent of the police, who requested her as politely as possible to enter a cab which awaited her in the court of the carrousel. in vain she protested that she much preferred walking; the agent, who had received precise instructions, seized her arm in such a manner as to prevent all reply, and she was obliged to obey, and to take in this unpleasant company the road to bicetre. some one related to the emperor that this arrest had caused much talk in paris, and that he was loudly accused of wishing to restore the bastile; that many persons had visited the prisoner, and expressed their sympathy, and there was a procession of carriages constantly before the prison. his majesty took no notice of this, and was much amused by the interest excited in this seller of topknots, as he called her. "i will," said his majesty on this subject, "let the gossips talk, who think it a point of honor to ruin themselves for gewgaws; but i want this old jewess to learn that i put her inside because she had forgotten that i told her to stay outside." another celebrated milliner also excited the surprise and anger of his majesty one day by observations which no one in france except this man would have had the audacity to make. the emperor, who was accustomed, as i have said, to examine at the end of every month the accounts of his household, thought the bill of the milliner in question exorbitant, and ordered me to summon him. i sent for him; and he came in less than ten minutes, and was introduced into his majesty's apartment while he was at his toilet. "monsieur," said the emperor, his eyes fixed on the account, "your prices are ridiculous, more ridiculous, if possible, than the silly, foolish people who think they need your goods. reduce this to a reasonable amount or i will do it myself." the merchant, who held in his hand the duplicate of his bill, began to explain article by article the price of his goods, and concluded the somewhat long narration with a mild surprise that the sum total was no more. the emperor, whom i was dressing during all this harangue, could hardly restrain his impatience; and i had already foreseen that this singular scene would end unpleasantly, when the milliner filled up the measure of his assurance by taking the unparalleled liberty of remarking to his majesty that the sum allowed for her majesty's toilet was insufficient, and that there were simple citizens' wives who spent more than that. i must confess that at this last impertinence i trembled for the shoulders of this imprudent person, and watched the emperor's movements anxiously. nevertheless, to my great astonishment, he contented himself with crumpling in his hand the bill of the audacious milliner, and, his arms folded on his breast, made two steps towards him, pronouncing this word only, "really!" with such an accent and such a look that the merchant rushed to the door, and took to his heels without waiting for a settlement. the emperor did not like me to leave the chateau, as he wished always to have me within call, even when my duties were over and he did not need me; and i think it was with this idea of detaining me that his majesty several times gave me copying to do. sometimes, also, the emperor wished notes to be taken while he was in bed or in his bath, and said to me, "constant, take a pen and write;" but i always refused, and went to summon m. de meneval. i have already stated that the misfortunes of the revolution had caused my education to be more imperfect than it should have been; but even had it been as good as it is defective, i much doubt whether i would ever have been able to write from the emperor's dictation. it was no easy thing to fill this office, and required that one should be well accustomed to it; for he spoke quickly, all in one breath, made no pause, and was impatient when obliged to repeat. in order to have me always at hand, the emperor gave me permission to hunt in the park of saint-cloud, and was kind enough to remark that since i was very fond of hunting, in granting me this privilege he was very glad to have combined my pleasure with his need of me. i was the only person to whom permission was given to hunt in the park. at the same time the emperor made me a present of a handsome double-barreled gun which had been presented to him at liege, and which i have still in my possession. his majesty himself did not like double-barreled guns, and used in preference the simple, small guns which had belonged to louis xvi., and on which this monarch, who was an excellent gunsmith, had worked, it is said, with his own hands. the sight of these guns often led the emperor to speak of louis xvi., which he never did except in terms of respect and pity. "that unfortunate prince," said the emperor, "was good, wise, and learned. at another period he would have been an excellent king, but he was worth nothing in a time of revolution. he was lacking in resolution and firmness, and could resist neither the foolishness nor the insolence of the jacobins. the courtiers delivered him up to the jacobins, and they led him to the scaffold. in his place i would have mounted my horse, and, with a few concessions on one side, and a few cracks of my whip on the other, i would have reduced things to order." when the diplomatic corps came to pay their respects to the emperor at saint-cloud (the same custom was in use at the tuileries), tea, coffee, chocolate, or whatever these gentlemen requested, was served in the saloon of the ambassadors. m. colin, steward controller, was present at this collation, which was served by the domestics of the service. there was at saint-cloud an apartment which the emperor fancied very much; it opened on a beautiful avenue of chestnut-trees in the private park, where he could walk at any hour without being seen. this apartment was surrounded with full-length portraits of all the princesses of the imperial family, and was called the family salon. their highnesses were represented standing, surrounded by their children; the queen of westphalia only was seated. she had, as i have said, a very fine bust, but the rest of her figure was ungraceful. her majesty the queen of naples was represented with her four children; queen hortense with only one, the oldest of her living sons; the queen of spain with her two daughters; princess eliza with hers, dressed like a boy; the vice-queen alone, having no child at the time this portrait was made; princess pauline was also alone. the theater and hunting were my chief amusements at saint-cloud. during my stay at this chateau i received a visit from a distant cousin whom i had not seen for many years. all that he had heard of the luxury which surrounded the emperor, and the magnificence of the court, had vividly excited his curiosity, which i took pleasure in gratifying; and he was struck with wonder, at every step. one evening when there was a play at the chateau, i took him into my box, which was near the pit; and the view which the hall offered when filled so delighted my cousin, that i was obliged to name each personage in order to satisfy his insatiable curiosity, which took them all in succession, one by one. it was a short time before the marriage of the emperor to the archduchess of austria, and the court was more brilliant than ever. i showed my cousin in succession their majesties, the king and queen of westphalia, the king and queen of naples, the queen of holland, king of bavaria, their highnesses the grand duchess of tuscany, prince and princess borghese, the princess of baden, the grand duke of wurzburg, etc., besides the numerous dignitaries, princes, marshals, ambassadors, etc., by whom the hall was filled. my cousin was in ecstasy, and thought himself at least a foot taller from being in the midst of this gilded multitude, and consequently paid no attention to the play, being much more interested in the interior of the hall; and when we left the theater could not tell me what piece had been played. his enthusiasm, however, did not carry him so far as to make him forget the incredible tales that had been related to him about the pickpockets of the capital, and the recommendations which had been made to him on this subject. in the promenades at the theater, in every assemblage whatever, my cousin watched with anxious solicitude over his purse, watch, and handkerchief; and this habitual prudence did not abandon him even at the court theater, for just as we were leaving our box, to mingle with the brilliant crowd which came out of the pit and descended from the boxes, he said to me with the utmost coolness, covering with his hand his chain and the seals of his watch, "after all, it is well to take precautions; one does not know every one here." at the time of his marriage the emperor was more than ever overwhelmed with petitions, and granted, as i shall relate farther on, a large number of pardons and petitions. all petitions sent to the emperor were handed by him to the aide-de-camp on duty, who carried them to his majesty's cabinet, and received orders to make a report on them the next day; and not even as many as ten times did i find any petitions in his majesty's pockets, though i always examined them carefully, and even these rare instances were owing to the fact that the emperor had no aide-de-camp near him when they were presented. it is then untrue, as has been so often said and written, that the emperor placed in a private pocket, which was called the good pocket, the petitions he wished to grant, without even examining them. all petitions which deserved it received an answer, and i remember that i personally presented a large number to his majesty; he did not put these in his pocket, and in almost every instance i had the happiness of seeing them granted. i must, however, make an exception of some which i presented for the cerf-berr brothers, who claimed payment for supplies furnished the armies of the republic; for to them the emperor was always inexorable. i was told that this was because messieurs cerf-berr had refused general bonaparte a certain sum which he needed during the campaign of italy. these gentlemen interested me deeply in their cause; and i several times presented their petition to his majesty, and in spite of the care i took to place it in his majesty's hands only when he was in good humor, i received no reply. i nevertheless continued to present the petition, though i perceived that when the emperor caught a glimpse of it he always became angry; and at length one morning, just as his toilet was completed, i handed him as usual his gloves, handkerchief, and snuff-box, and attached to it again this unfortunate paper. his majesty passed on into his cabinet, and i remained in the room attending to my duties, and while busied with these saw the emperor re-enter, a paper in his hand. he said to me, "come, constant, read this; you will see that you are mistaken, and the government owes nothing to the cerf-berr brothers; so say nothing more to me about it; they are regular arabs." i threw my eyes on the paper, and read a few words obediently; and though i understood almost nothing of it, from that moment i was certain that the claim of these gentlemen would never be paid. i was grieved at this, and knowing their disappointment, made them an offer of services which they refused. the cerf-berr brothers, notwithstanding my want of success, were convinced of the zeal i had manifested in their service, and thanked me warmly. each time i addressed a petition to the emperor, i saw m. de meneval, whom i begged to take charge of it. he was very obliging, and had the kindness to inform me whether my demands could hope for success; and he told me that as for the cerf-berr brothers, he did not think the emperor would ever compensate them. in fact, this family, at one time wealthy, but who had lost an immense patrimony in advances made to the directory, never received any liquidation of these claims, which were confided to a man of great honesty, but too much disposed to justify the name given him. madame theodore cerf-berr on my invitation had presented herself several times with her children at rambouillet and saint-cloud, to beseech the emperor to do her justice. this respectable mother of a family whom nothing could dismay, again presented herself with the eldest of her daughters at compiegne. she awaited the emperor in the forest, and throwing herself in the midst of the horses, succeeded in handing him her petition; but this time what was the result? madame and mademoiselle cerf-berr had hardly re-entered the hotel where they were staying, when an officer of the secret police came and requested them to accompany him. he made them enter a mean cart filled with straw, and conducted them under the escort of two gens d'armes to the prefecture of police at paris, where they were forced to sign a contract never to present themselves again before the emperor, and on this condition were restored to liberty. about this time an occasion arose in which i was more successful. general lemarrois, one of the oldest of his majesty's aides-de-camp, a soldier of well-known courage, who won all hearts by his excellent qualities, was for some time out of favor with the emperor, and several times endeavored to obtain an audience with him; but whether it was that the request was not made known to his majesty, or he did not wish to reply, m. lemarrois received no answer. in order to settle the matter he conceived the idea of addressing himself to me, entreating me to present his petition at an opportune moment. i did this, and had the happiness to succeed; and in consequence m. lemarrois obtained an audience with such gratifying results that a short time after he obtained the governorship of magdeburg. the emperor was absent-minded, and often forgot where he had put the petitions which were handed to him, and thus they were sometimes left in his coats, and when i found them there i carried them to his majesty's cabinet and handed them to m. de meneval or m. fain; and often, too, the, papers for which he was hunting were found in the apartments of the empress. sometimes the emperor gave me papers to put away, and those i placed in a box of which i alone had the key. one day there was a great commotion in the private apartments over a paper which could not be found. these were the circumstances: near the emperor's cabinet was a small room in which the secretaries stayed, furnished with a desk, on which notes or petitions were--often placed. this room was usually occupied by the cabinet usher, and the emperor was accustomed to enter it if he wished to hold a private conversation without being overheard by the secretaries. when the emperor entered this room the usher withdrew and remained outside the door; he was responsible for everything in this room, which was never opened except by express orders from his majesty. marshal bessieres had several days before presented to the emperor a request for promotion from a colonel of the army which he had warmly supported. one morning the marshal entered the little room of which i have just spoken, and finding his petition already signed lying on the desk, he carried it off, without being noticed by my wife's uncle who was on duty. a few hours after, the emperor wished to examine this petition again, and was very sure he had left it in this small room; but it was not there, and it was thought that the usher must have allowed some one to enter without his majesty's orders. search was made everywhere in this room and in the emperor's cabinet, and even in the apartments of the empress, and at last it was necessary to announce to his majesty that the search had been in vain; whereupon the emperor gave way to one of those bursts of anger which were so terrible though fortunately so rare, which terrified the whole chateau, and the poor usher received orders never to appear in his sight again. at last marshal bessieres, having been told of this terrible commotion, came to accuse himself. the emperor was appeased, the usher restored to favor, and everything forgotten; though each one was more careful than ever that nothing should be disturbed, and that the emperor should find at his finger's end whatever papers he needed. the emperor would not allow any one to be introduced without his permission, either into the empress's apartments or his own; and this was the one fault for which the people of the household could not expect pardon. once, i do not exactly remember when, the wife of one of the swiss guard allowed one of her lovers to enter the apartments of the empress; and this unfortunate woman, without the knowledge of her imprudent mistress, took in soft wax an impression of the key of the jewel-box which i have already mentioned as having belonged to queen marie antoinette, and, by means of a false key made from this impression, succeeded in stealing several articles of jewelry. the police soon discovered the author of the robbery who was punished as he deserved, though another person was also punished who did not deserve it, for the poor husband lost his place. chapter xxv after his divorce from the empress josephine, the emperor appeared much preoccupied; and as it was known that he thought of marrying again, all persons at the chateau and in his majesty's service were greatly concerned about this marriage, though all our conjectures concerning the princess destined to share the imperial crown proved to be wrong. some spoke of a russian princess, while others said the emperor would marry none but a french woman; but no one thought of an austrian archduchess. when the marriage had been decided, nothing was spoken of at the court but the youth, grace, and native goodness of the new empress. the emperor was very gay, and paid more attention to his toilet, giving me orders to renew his wardrobe, and to order better fitting coats, made in a more modern style. the emperor also sat for his portrait, which the prince de neuchatel carried to marie louise; and the emperor received at the same time that of his young wife, with which he appeared delighted. the emperor, in order to win marie louise's affection, did more undignified things than he had ever done for any woman. for instance, one day when he was alone with queen hortense and the princess stephanie, the latter mischievously asked him if he knew how to waltz; and his majesty replied that he had never been able to go beyond the first lesson, because after two or three turns he became so dizzy that he was compelled to stop. "when i was at l'ecole militaire," added the emperor, "i tried again and again to overcome dizziness which waltzing produced, but i could not succeed. our dancing-master having advised us, in learning to waltz, to take a chair in our arms instead of a lady, i never failed to fall with the chair, which i pressed so lovingly that it broke; and thus the chairs in my room, and that of two or three of my companions, were destroyed, one after the other." this tale told in the most animated and amusing manner by his majesty excited bursts of laughter from the two princesses. when this hilarity had somewhat subsided, princess stephanie returned to the charge, saying, "it really is a pity that your majesty does not know how to waltz, for the germans are wild over waltzing, and the empress will naturally share the taste of her compatriots; she can have no partner but the emperor, and thus she will be deprived of a great pleasure through your majesty's fault."--"you are right!" replied the emperor; "well, give me a lesson, and you will have a specimen of my skill." whereupon he rose, took a few turns with princess stephanie, humming the air of the queen of prussia; but he could not take more than two or three turns, and even this he did so awkwardly that it increased the amusement of these ladies. then the princess of baden stopped, saying, "sire, that is quite enough to convince me that you will never be anything but a poor pupil. you were made to give lessons, not to take them." early in march the prince de neuchatel set out for vienna commissioned to officially request the hand of the empress in marriage. the archduke charles, as proxy of the emperor, married the archduchess marie louise, and she set out at once for france, the little town of brannan, on the frontier between austria and bavaria, having been designated as the place at which her majesty was to pass into the care of a french suite. the road from strasburg was soon filled with carriages conveying to brannan. the household of the new empress. most of these ladies had passed from the household of the empress josephine into that of marie louise. the emperor wished to see for himself if the trousseau and wedding presents intended for his new wife were worthy of him and of her, consequently all the clothing and linen were brought to the tuileries, spread out before him, and packed under his own eyes. the good taste and elegance of each article were equaled only by the richness of the materials. the furnishers and modistes of paris had worked according to models sent from vienna; and when these models were presented to the emperor he took one of the shoes, which were remarkably small, and with it gave me a blow on the cheek in the form of a caress. "see, constant," said his majesty, "that is a shoe of good augury. have you ever seen a foot like that? this is made to be held in the hand." her majesty the queen of naples had been sent to brannan, by the emperor to receive the empress. queen caroline, of whom the emperor once said that she was a man among her sisters, as prince joseph was a woman among his brothers, mistook, it is said, the timidity of marie louise for weakness, and thought that she would only have to speak and her young sister-in-law would hasten to obey. on her arrival at brannan the formal transfer was solemnly made; and the empress bade farewell to all her austrian household, retaining in her service only her first lady of honor, madame de lajanski, who had reared her and never been absent from her. etiquette required that the household of the empress should be entirely french, and the orders of the emperor were very precise in this regard; but i do not know whether it is true, as has been stated, that the empress had demanded and obtained from the emperor permission to retain for a year this lady of honor. however that may be, the queen of naples thought it to her interest to remove a person whose influence over the mind of the empress she so much feared; and as the ladies of the household of her imperial majesty were themselves eager to be rid of the rivalry of madame de lajanski, and endeavored to excite still more the jealousy of her imperial highness, a positive order was demanded from the emperor, and madame de lajanski was sent back from munich to vienna. the empress obeyed without complaint, but knowing who had instigated the blow, cherished a profound resentment against her majesty the queen of naples. the empress traveled only by short stages, and was welcomed by fetes in each town through which she passed. each day the emperor sent her a letter from his own hand, and she replied regularly. the first letters of the empress were very short, and probably cold, for the emperor said nothing about them; but afterwards they grew longer and gradually more affectionate, and the emperor read them in transports of delight, awaiting the arrival of these letters with the impatience of a lover twenty years of age, and always saying the couriers traveled slowly, although they broke down their horses. the emperor returned from the chase one day holding in his hands two pheasants which he had himself killed, and followed by footmen bearing in their hands the rarest flowers from the conservatory of saint-cloud. he wrote a note, and immediately said to his first page, "in ten minutes be ready to enter your carriage. you will find there this package which you will give with your own hand to her majesty the empress, with the accompanying letter. above all do not spare the horses; go as fast as possible, and fear nothing. the duke of vicenza shall say nothing to you." the young man asked nothing better than to obey his majesty; and strong in this authority, which gave him perfect liberty, he did not grudge drink money to the postilions, and in twenty-four hours had reached strasburg and delivered his message. i do not know whether he received a reprimand from the grand equerry on his return; but if there was any cause for this, the latter would not have failed to bestow it, in spite of the emperor's assurance to the first page. the duke of vicenza had organized and kept in admirable order the service of the stables, where nothing was done except by his will, which was most absolute; and it was only with the greatest difficulty that the emperor himself could change an order which the grand equerry had given. for instance, his majesty was one day en route to fontainebleau, and being very anxious to arrive quickly, gave orders to the outrider who regulated the gait of the horses, to go faster. this order he transmitted to the duke of vicenza whose carriage preceded that of the emperor; and finding that the grand equerry paid no attention to this order, the emperor began to swear, and cried to the outrider through the door, "let my carriage pass in front, since those in front will not go on." the outriders and postilions were about to execute this maneuver when the grand equerry also put his head out of the door and exclaimed, "keep to a trot, the first man who gallops i will dismiss on arriving." it was well known that he would keep his word, so no one dared to pass, and his carriage continued to regulate the pace of the others. on reaching fontainebleau the emperor demanded of the duke of vicenza an explanation of his conduct. "sire," replied the duke to his majesty, "when you allow me a larger sum for the expenses of the stables, you can kill your horses at your pleasure." the emperor cursed every moment the ceremonials and fetes which delayed the arrival of his young wife. a camp had been formed near soissons for the reception of the empress. the emperor was now at compiegne, where he made a decree containing several clauses of benefits and indulgences on the occasion of his marriage, setting at liberty many condemned, giving imperial marriage dowries to six thousand soldiers, amnesties, promotions, etc. at length his majesty learned that the empress was not more than ten leagues from soissons, and no longer able to restrain his impatience, called me with all his might, "ohe ho, constant! order a carriage without livery, and come and dress me." the emperor wished to surprise the empress, and present himself to her without being announced; and laughed immoderately at the effect this would produce. he attended to his toilet with even more exquisite care than usual, if that were possible, and with the coquetry of glory dressed himself in the gray redingote he had worn at wagram; and thus arrayed, the emperor entered a carriage with the king of naples. the circumstances of this first meeting of their imperial majesties are well known. in the little village of courcelles, the emperor met the last courier, who preceded by only a few moments the carriages of the empress; and as it was raining in torrents, his majesty took shelter on the porch of the village church. as the carriage of the empress was passing, the emperor made signs to the postilions to stop; and the equerry, who was at the empress's door, perceiving the emperor, hastily lowered the step, and announced his majesty, who, somewhat vexed by this, exclaimed, "could you not see that i made signs to you to be silent?" this slight ill-humor, however, passed away in an instant; and the emperor threw himself on the neck of marie louise, who, holding in her hand the picture of her husband, and looking attentively first at it, then at him, remarked with a charming smile, "it is not flattered." a magnificent supper had been prepared at soissons for the empress and her cortege; but the emperor gave orders to pass on, and drove as far as compiegne, without regard to the appetites of the officers and ladies in the suite of the empress. chapter xxvi. on their majesties' arrival at compiegne, the emperor presented his hand to the empress, and conducted her to her apartment. he wished that no one should approach or touch his young wife before himself; and his jealousy was so extreme on this point that he himself forbade the senator de beauharnais, the empress's chevalier of honor, to present his hand to her imperial majesty, although this was one of the requirements of his position. according to the programme, the emperor should have occupied a different residence from the empress, and have slept at the hotel of the chancellerie; but he did nothing of the sort, since after a long conversation with the empress, he returned to his room, undressed, perfumed himself with cologne, and wearing only a nightdress returned secretly to the empress. the next morning the emperor asked me at his toilet if any one noticed the change he had made in the programme; and i replied that i thought not, though at the risk of falsehood. just then one of his majesty's intimate friends entered who was unmarried, to whom his majesty, pulling his ears, said, "my dear fellow, marry a german. they are the best wives in the world; gentle, good, artless, and fresh as roses." from the air of satisfaction with which the emperor said this, it was easy to see that he was painting a portrait, and it was only a short while since the painter had left the model. after making his toilet, the emperor returned to the empress, and towards noon had breakfast sent up for her and him, and served near the bed by her majesty's women. throughout the day he was in a state of charming gayety, and contrary to his usual custom, having made a second toilet for dinner, wore the coat made by the tailor of the king of naples; but next day he would not allow it to be put on again, saying it was much too uncomfortable. the emperor, as may be seen from the preceding details, loved his new wife most tenderly. he paid her constant attentions, and his whole conduct was that of a lover deeply enamoured. nevertheless, it is not true, as some one has said, that he remained three months almost without working, to the great astonishment of his ministers; for work was not only a duty with the emperor, it was both a necessity and an enjoyment, from which no other pleasure, however great, could distract him; and on this occasion, as on every other, he knew perfectly well how to combine the duties he owed to his empire and his army with those due to his charming wife. the empress marie louise was only nineteen years old at the period of her marriage. her hair was blond, her eyes blue and expressive, her carriage noble, and her figure striking, while her hand and foot might have served as models; in fact, her whole person breathed youth, health, and freshness. she was diffident, and maintained a haughty reserve towards the court; but she was said to be affectionate and friendly in private life, and one fact i can assert positively is that she was very affectionate toward the emperor, and submissive to his will. in their first interview the emperor asked her what recommendations were made to her on her departure from vienna. "to be entirely devoted to you, and to obey you in all things," which instructions she seemed to find no difficulty in obeying. no one could resemble the first empress less than the second, and except in the two points of similarity of temperament, and an extreme regard for the emperor, the one was exactly the opposite of the other; and it must be confessed the emperor congratulated himself on this difference, in which he found both novelty and charm. he himself drew a parallel between his two wives in these terms: "the one [josephine] was all art and grace; the other [marie louise] innocence and natural simplicity. at no moment of her life were the manners or habits of the former other than agreeable and attractive, and it would have been impossible to take her at a disadvantage on these points; for it was her special object in life to produce only advantageous impressions, and she gained her end without allowing this effort to be seen. all that art can furnish to supplement attractions was practiced by her, but so skillfully that the existence of this deception could only be suspected at most. on the contrary, it never occurred to the mind of the second that she could gain anything by innocent artifices. the one was always tempted to infringe upon the truth, and her first emotion was a negative one. the other was ignorant of dissimulation, and every deception was foreign to her. the first never asked for anything, but she owed everywhere. the second did not hesitate to ask if she needed anything, which was very rarely, and never purchased anything without feeling herself obliged to pay for it immediately. to sum it all up, both were good, gentle wives, and much attached to their husband." such, or very nearly these, were the terms in which the emperor spoke of his empresses. it can be seen that he drew the comparison in favor of the second; and with this idea he gave her credit for qualities which she did not possess, or at least exaggerated greatly those really belonging to her. the emperor granted marie louise 500,000 francs for her toilet, but she never spent the entire amount. she had little taste in dress, and would have made a very inelegant appearance had she not been well advised. the emperor was present at her toilet those days on which he wished her to appear especially well, and himself tried the effect of different ornaments on the head, neck, and arms of the empress, always selecting something very handsome. the emperor was an excellent husband, of which he gave proof in the case of both his wives. he adored his son, and both as father and husband might have served as a model for all his subjects; yet in spite of whatever he may have said on the subject himself, i do not think he loved marie louise with the same devoted affection as josephine. the latter had a charming grace, a kindness, an intelligence, and a devotion to her husband which the emperor knew and appreciated at its full value; and though marie louise was younger, she was colder, and had far less grace of manner. i think she was much attached to her husband; but she was reserved and reticent, and by no means took the place of josephine with those who had enjoyed the happiness of being near the latter. notwithstanding the apparent submission with which she had bidden farewell to her austrian household, it is certain that she had strong prejudices, not only against her own household, but also against that of the emperor, and never addressed a gracious word to the persons in the emperor's personal service. i saw her frequently, but not a smile, a look, a sign, on the part of the empress showed me that i was in her eyes anything more than a stranger. on my return from russia, whence i did not arrive until after the emperor, i lost no time in entering his room, knowing that he had already asked for me, and found there his majesty with the empress and queen hortense. the emperor condoled with me on the sufferings i had recently undergone, and said many flattering things which proved his high opinion of me; and the queen, with that charming grace of which she is the only model since the death of her august mother, conversed with me for some time in the kindest manner. the empress alone kept silence; and noticing this the emperor said to her, "louise, have you nothing to say to poor constant?"--"i had not perceived him," said the empress. this reply was most unkind, as it was impossible for her majesty not to have "perceived" me, there being at that moment present in the room only the emperor, queen hortense, and i. the emperor from the first took the severest precautions that no one, and especially no man, should approach the empress, except in the presence of witnesses. during the time of the empress josephine, there were four ladies whose only duty was to announce the persons received by her majesty. the excessive indulgence of josephine prevented her repressing the jealous pretensions of some persons of her household, which gave rise to endless debates and rivalries between the ladies of the palace and those of announcement. the emperor had been much annoyed by all these bickerings, and, in order to avoid them in future, chose, from the ladies charged with the education of the daughters of the legion of honor in the school at rouen, four new ladies of announcement for the empress marie louise. preference was at first given to the daughters or widows of generals; and the emperor decided that the places becoming vacant belonged by right to the best pupils of the imperial school of rouen, and should be given as a reward for good conduct. a short time after, the number of these ladies now being as many as six, two pupils of madame de campan were named, and these ladies changed their titles to that of first ladies of the empress. this change, however, excited the displeasure of the ladies of the palace, and again aroused their clamors around the emperor; and he consequently decided that the ladies of announcement should take the title of first ladies of the chamber. great clamor among the ladies of announcement in their turn, who came in person to plead their cause before the emperor; and he at last ended the matter by giving them the title of readers to the empress, in order to reconcile the requirements of the two belligerent parties. these ladies of announcement, or first ladies of the chamber, or readers, as the reader may please to call them, had under their orders six femmes de chambre, who entered the empress's rooms only when summoned there by a bell. these latter arranged her majesty's toilet and hair in the morning; and the six first ladies took no part in her toilet except the care of the diamonds, of which they had special charge. their chief and almost only employment was to follow the steps of the empress, whom they left no more than her shadow, entering her room before she arose, and leaving her no more till she was in bed. then all the doors opening into her room were closed, except that leading into an adjoining room, in which was the bed of the lady on duty, and through which, in order to enter his wife's room, the emperor himself must pass. with the exception of m. de meneval, secretary of orders of the empress, and m. ballouhai, superintendent of expenses, no man was admitted into the private apartments of the empress without an order from the emperor; and the ladies even, except the lady of honor and the lady of attire, were received only after making an appointment with the empress. the ladies of the private apartments were required to observe these rules, and were responsible for their execution; and one of them was required to be present at the music, painting, and embroidery lessons of the empress, and wrote letters by her dictation or under her orders. the emperor did not wish that any man in the world should boast of having been alone with the empress for two minutes; and he reprimanded very severely the lady on duty because she one day remained at the end of the saloon while m. biennais, court watchmaker, showed her majesty a secret drawer in a portfolio he had made for her. another time the emperor was much displeased because the lady on duty was not seated by the side of the empress while she took her music-lesson with m. pier. these facts prove conclusively the falsity of the statement that the milliner leroy was excluded from the palace for taking the liberty of saying to her majesty that she had beautiful shoulders. m. leroy had the dresses of the empress made at his shop by a model which was sent him; and they were never tried on her majesty, either by him, or any person of her majesty's household, and necessary alterations were indicated by her femmes de chambre. it was the same with the other merchants and furnishers, makers of corsets, the shoemaker, glovemaker, etc.; not one of whom ever saw the empress or spoke to her in her private apartments. chapter xxvii. their majesties' civil marriage was celebrated at saint-cloud on sunday, the 1st of april, at two o'clock in the afternoon. the religious ceremony was solemnized the next day in the grand gallery of the louvre. a very singular circumstance in this connection was the fact that sunday afternoon at saint-cloud the weather was beautiful, while the streets of paris were flooded with a heavy shower lasting some time, and on monday there was rain at saint-cloud, while the weather was magnificent in paris, as if the fates had decreed that nothing should lessen the splendor of the cortege, or the brilliancy of the wonderful illuminations of that evening. "the star of the emperor," said some one in the language of that period, "has borne him twice over equinoctial winds." on monday evening the city of paris presented a scene that might have been taken from the realms of enchantment: the illuminations were the most brilliant i have ever witnessed, forming a succession of magic panorama in which houses, hotels, palaces, and churches, shone with dazzling splendor, the glittering towers of the churches appeared like stars and comets suspended in the air. the hotels of the grand dignitaries of the empire, the ministers, the ambassadors of austria and russia, and the duke d'abrantes, rivaled each other in taste and beauty. the place louis xv. was like a scene from fairyland; from the midst of this place, surrounded with orange-trees on fire, the eye was attracted in succession by the magnificent decorations of the champs-elysees, the garde meuble, the temple of glory, the tuileries, and the corps legislatif. the palace of the latter represented the temple of hymen, the transparencies on the front representing peace uniting the august spouses. beside them stood two figures bearing shields, on which were represented the arms of the two empires; and behind this group came magistrates, warriors, and the people presenting crowns. at the two extremities of the transparencies were represented the seine and the danube, surrounded by children-image of fecundity. the twelve columns of the peristyle and the staircase were illuminated; and the columns were united by garlands of colored lights, the statues on the peristyle and the steps also bearing lights. the bridge louis xv., by which this temple of hymen was reached, formed in itself an avenue, whose double rows of lamps, and obelisks and more than a hundred columns, each surmounted by a star and connected by spiral festoons of colored lights, produced an effect so brilliant that it was almost unendurable to the naked eye. the cupola of the dome of saint genevieve was also magnificently lighted, and each side outlined by a double row of lamps. at each corner were eagles, ciphers in colored glass, and garlands of fire suspended between torches of hymen. the peristyle of the dome was lighted by lamps placed between each column, and as the columns were not lighted they seemed as if suspended in the air. the lantern tower was a blaze of light; and all this mass of brilliancy was surmounted by a tripod representing the altar of hymen, from which shot tongues of flame, produced by bituminous materials. at a great elevation above the platform of the observatory, an immense star, isolated from the platform, and which from the variety of many-colored glasses composing it sparkled like a vast diamond, under the dome of night. the palace of the senate also attracted a large number of the curious; but i have already extended too far the description of this wonderful scene which unfolded itself at every step before us. the city of paris did homage to her majesty the empress by presenting her with a toilet set even more magnificent than that formerly presented to the empress josephine. everything was in silver gilt, even the arm chair and the cheval glass. the paintings on the exquisite furniture had been made by the first artists, and the elegance and finish of the ornaments surpassed even the rich ness of the materials. about the end of april their majesties set out together to visit the departments of the north; and the journey was an almost exact repetition of the one i made in 1804 with the emperor, only the empress was no longer the good, kind josephine. while passing again through all these towns, where i had seen her welcomed with so much enthusiasm, and who now addressed the same adoration and homage to a new sovereign, and while seeing again the chateaux of lacken, brussels, antwerp, boulogne, and many other places where i had seen josephine pass in triumph, as at present marie louise passed, i thought with chagrin of the isolation of the first wife from her husband, and the suffering which must penetrate even into her retreat, as she was told of the honors rendered to the one who had succeeded her in the emperor's heart and on the imperial throne. the king and queen of westphalia and prince eugene accompanied their majesties. we saw a vessel with eighty cannon launched at antwerp, which received, before leaving the docks, the benediction of m. de pradt, archbishop of malines. the king of holland, who joined the emperor at antwerp, felt most unkindly towards his majesty, who had recently required of him the cession of a part of his states, and soon after seized the remainder. he was, however, present in paris at the marriage fetes of the emperor, who had even sent him to meet marie louise; but the two brothers had not ceased their mutual distrust of each other, and it must be admitted that that of king louis had only too good foundation. what struck me as very singular in their altercations was that the emperor, in the absence of his brother, gave vent to the most terrible bursts of rage, and to violent threats against him, while if they had an interview they treated each other in the most amicable and familiar and brotherly manner. apart they were, the one, emperor of the french, the other, king of holland, with opposite interests and views; together they were no more than, if i may be permitted to so express myself, napoleon and louis, companions and friends from childhood. prince louis was habitually sad and melancholy. the annoyances he experienced on the throne, where he had been placed against his will, added to his domestic troubles, made him evidently very unhappy, and all who knew him pitied him sincerely; for king louis was an excellent master, and an honest man of much merit. it has been said that when the emperor had decided on the union of holland and france, king louis resolved to defend himself in the town of amsterdam to the last extremity, and to break the dikes and inundate the whole country if necessary, in order to arrest the invasion of the french troops. i do not know whether this is true; but from what i have seen of this prince's character, i am very sure that, while having enough personal courage to expose his own person to all the chances of this desperate alternative, his naturally kind heart and his humanity would have prevented the execution of this project. at middleburg the emperor embarked on board the charlemagne to visit the mouth of the scheldt and the port and island of flushing. during this excursion we were assailed by a terrible tempest, three anchors were broken in succession; we met with other accidents, and encountered great dangers. the emperor was made very sick, and every few moments threw himself on his bed, making violent but unsuccessful efforts to vomit, which rendered his sickness more distressing. i was fortunate enough not to be at all inconvenienced, and was thus in a position to give him all the attention he required; though all the persons of his suite were sick, and my uncle, who was usher on duty, and obliged to remain standing at the door of his majesty's cabin, fell over continually, and suffered agony. during this time of torment, which lasted for three days, the emperor was bursting with impatience. "i think," said he, "that i would have made a pretty admiral." a short time after our return from this voyage, the emperor wished her majesty the empress to learn to ride on horseback; and for this purpose she went to the riding-hall of saint-cloud. several persons of the household were in the gallery to see her take her first lesson, i among the number; and i noticed the tender solicitude of the emperor for his young wife, who was mounted on a gentle, well-broken horse, while the emperor held her hand and walked by her side, m. jardin, sr., holding the horse's bridle. at the first step the horse made, the empress screamed with fright, whereupon the emperor said to her, "come, louise, be brave. what have you to fear? am i not here?" and thus the lesson passed, in encouragement on one side and fright on the other. the next day the emperor ordered the persons in the gallery to leave, as they embarrassed the empress; but she soon overcame her timidity, and ended by becoming a very good horsewoman, often racing in the park with her ladies of honor and madame the duchess of montebello, who also rode with much grace. a coach with some ladies followed the empress, and prince aldobrandini, her equerry, never left her in her rides. the empress was at an age in which one enjoys balls and fetes; but the emperor feared above all things her becoming tired, and consequently rejoicings and amusements were given up at the court and in the city. a fete given in honor of their majesties by the prince of schwartzenberg, ambassador from austria, ended in a frightful accident. the prince occupied the former hotel de la montesson in the rue de la chaussee d'antin; and in order to give this ball had added to this residence a broad hall and wooden gallery, decorated with quantities of flowers, banners, candelabra, etc. just as the emperor, who had been present at the fete for two or three hours, was about to retire, one of the curtains, blown by the breeze, took fire from the lights, which had been placed too near the windows, and was instantly in flames. some persons made ineffectual efforts to extinguish the fire by tearing down the drapery and smothering the flames with their hands; but in the twinkling of an eye the curtains, papers, and garlands caught, and the wood-work began to burn. the emperor was one of the first to perceive the rapid progress of the fire, and foresee the results. he approached the empress, who had already risen to join him, and got out with her, not without some difficulty, on account of the crowd which rushed towards the doors; the queens of holland, naples, westphalia, the princess borghese, etc., following their majesties, while the vice-queen of italy, who was pregnant, remained in the hall, on the platform containing the imperial boxes. the vice-king, fearing the crowd as much as the fire for his wife, took her out through a little door that had been cut in the platform in order to serve refreshments to their majesties. no one had thought of this opening before prince eugene, and only a few persons went out with him. her majesty the queen of westphalia did not think herself safe, even when she had reached the terrace, and in her fright rushed into the rue taitbout, where she was found by a passer-by. the emperor accompanied the empress as far as the entrance of the champs-elysees, where he left her to return to the fire, and did not re-enter saint-cloud until four o'clock in the morning. from the time of the arrival of the empress we were in a state of terrible apprehension, and every one in the chateau was a prey to the greatest anxiety in regard to the emperor. at last he arrived unharmed, but very tired, his clothing all in disorder, and his face blackened with smoke, his shoes and stockings scorched and burned by the fire. he went directly to the chamber of the empress to assure himself if she had recovered from the fright she had experienced; and then returned to his room, and throwing his hat on the bed, dropped on a sofa, exclaiming, "mon dieu! what a fete!" i remarked that the emperor's hands were all blackened, and he had lost his gloves at the fire. he was much dejected, and while i was undressing him, asked if i had attended the prince's fete, and when i replied in the negative, deigned to give me some details of this deplorable event. the emperor spoke with an emotion which i saw him manifest only two or three times in his life, and which he never showed in regard to his own misfortunes. "the fire," said his majesty, "has to-night devoured a heroic woman. the sister-in-law of the prince of schwartzenberg, hearing from the burning hall cries which she thought were uttered by her eldest daughter, threw herself into the midst of the flames, and the floor, already nearly burned through, broke under her feet, and she disappeared. after all the poor mother was mistaken, and all her children were out of danger. incredible efforts were made, and at last she was recovered from the flames; but she was entirely dead, and all the attentions of the physicians have been unsuccessful in restoring her to life." the emotion of the emperor increased at the end of this recital. i had taken care to have his bath in readiness, foreseeing he would need it on his return; and his majesty now took it, and after his customary rubbing, found himself in much better condition. nevertheless, i remember his expressing fear that the terrible accident of this night was the precursor of some fatal event, and he long retained these apprehensions. three years after, during the deplorable campaign of russia, it was announced to the emperor one day, that the army-corps commanded by the prince of schwartzenberg had been destroyed, and that the prince himself had perished; afterwards he found fortunately that these tidings were false, but when they were brought to his majesty, he exclaimed as if replying to an idea that had long preoccupied him, "then it was he whom the bad omen threatened." towards morning the emperor sent pages to the houses of all those who had suffered from the catastrophe with his compliments, and inquiries as to their condition. sad answers were brought to his majesty. madame the princess de la layen, niece of the prince primate, had died from her wounds; and the lives of general touzart, his wife, and daughter were despaired of,--in fact, they died that same day. there were other victims of this disaster; and among a number of persons who recovered after long-continued sufferings were prince kourakin and madame durosnel, wife of the general of that name. prince kourakin, always remarkable for the magnificence as well as the singular taste of his toilet, wore at the ball a coat of gold cloth, and it was this which saved his life, as sparks and cinders slipped off his coat and the decorations with which he was covered like a helmet; yet, notwithstanding this, the prince was confined to his bed for several months. in the confusion he fell on his back, was for some time, trampled under foot and much injured, and owed his life only to the presence of mind and strength of a musician, who raised him in his arms and carried him out of the crowd. general durosnel, whose wife fainted in the ball-room, threw himself in the midst of the flames, and reappeared immediately, bearing in his arms his precious burden. he bore madame durosnel into a house on the boulevard, where he placed her until he could find a carriage in which to convey her to his hotel. the countess durosnel was painfully burned, and was ill more than two years. in going from the ambassador's hotel to the boulevard he saw by the light of the fire a robber steal the comb from the head of his wife who had fainted in his arms. this comb was set with diamonds, and very valuable. madame durosnel's affection for her husband was equal to that he felt for her; and when at the end of a bloody combat, in the second campaign of poland, general durosnel was lost for several days, and news was sent to france that he was thought to be dead, the countess in despair fell ill of grief, and was at the point of death. a short time after it was learned that the general was badly but not mortally wounded, and that he had been found, and his wounds would quickly heal. when madame durosnel received this happy news her joy amounted almost to delirium; and in the court of her hotel she made a pile of her mourning clothes and those of her people, set fire to them, and saw this gloomy pile turn to ashes amid wild transports of joy and delight. two days after the burning of the hotel of the prince of schwartzenberg, the emperor received the news of the abdication of his brother louis, by which event his majesty seemed at first much chagrined, and said to some one who entered his room just as he had been informed of it, "i foresaw this madness of louis, but i did not think he would be in such haste." nevertheless, the emperor soon decided what course to take; and a few days afterwards his majesty, who during the toilet had not opened his mouth, came suddenly out of his preoccupation just as i handed him his coat, and gave me two or three of his familiar taps. "monsieur constant," said he, "do you know what are the three capitals of the french empire?" and without giving me time to answer, the emperor continued, "paris, rome, and amsterdam. that sounds well, does it not?" chapter xxviii. in the latter part of july large crowds visited the church of the hotel des invalides, in which were placed the remains of general saint-hilaire and the duke de montebello, the remains of the marshal being placed near the tomb of turenne. the mornings were spent in the celebration of several masses, at a double altar which was raised between the nave and the dome; and for four days there floated from the spire of the dome a long black banner or flag edged with white. the day the remains of the marshal were removed from the invalides to the pantheon, i was sent from saint-cloud to paris with a special message for the emperor. after this duty was attended to, i still had a short time of leisure, of which i availed myself to witness the sad ceremony and bid a last adieu to the brave warrior whose death i had witnessed. at noon all the civil and military authorities assembled at the invalides; and the body was transferred from the dome into the church, and placed on a catafalque in the shape of a great egyptian pyramid, raised on an elevated platform, and approached through four large arches, the posts of which were entwined with garlands of laurels interlaced with cypress. at the corners were statues in the attitude of grief, representing force, justice, prudence, and temperance, virtues characteristic of the hero. this pyramid ended in a funeral urn surmounted by a crown of fire. on the front of the pyramid were placed the arms of the duke, and medallions commemorating the most remarkable events of his life borne by genii. under the obelisk was placed the sarcophagus containing the remains of the marshal, at the corners of which were trophies composed of banners taken from his enemies, and innumerable silver candelabra were placed on the steps by which the platform was reached. the oaken altar, in the position it occupied before the revolution, was double, and had a double tabernacle, on the doors of which were the commandments, the whole surmounted by a large cross, from the intersection of which was suspended a shroud. at the corners of the altar were the statues of st. louis and st. napoleon. four large candelabra were placed on pedestals at the corners of the steps, and the pavement of the choir and that of the nave were covered with a black carpet. the pulpit, also draped in black and decorated with the imperial eagle, and from which was pronounced the funeral oration over the marshal, was situated on the left in front of the bier; on the right was a seat of ebony decorated with imperial arms, bees, stars, lace, fringes, and other ornaments in silver, which was intended for the prince arch-chancellor of the empire, who presided at the ceremony. steps were erected in the arches of the aisles, and corresponded to the tribunes which were above; and in front of these steps were seats and benches for the civil and military authorities, the cardinals, archbishops, bishops, etc. the arms, decorations, baton, and laurel crown of the marshal were placed on the bier. all the nave and the bottom of the aisles were covered with black with a white bordering, as were the windows also, and the draperies displayed the marshal's arms, baton, and cipher. the organ was entirely concealed by voluminous hangings which in no wise lessened the effect of its mournful tones. eighteen sepulchral silver lamps were suspended by chains from lances, bearing on their points flags taken from the enemy. on the pilasters of the nave were fastened trophies of arms, composed of banners captured in the numerous engagements which had made the marshal's life illustrious. the railing of the altar on the side of the esplanade was draped in black, and above this were the arms of the duke borne by two figures of fame holding palms of victory; above was written: "napoleon to the memory of the duke of montebello, who died gloriously on the field of essling, 22d. may, 1809." the conservatory of music executed a mass composed of selections from the best of mozart's sacred pieces. after the ceremony the body was carried as far as the door of the church and placed on the funeral car, which was ornamented with laurel and four groups of the banners captured from the enemy by his army-corps in the numerous battles in which the marshal had taken part, and was preceded by a military and religious procession, followed by one of mourning and honor. the military cortege was composed of detachments from all branches of the army, cavalry, and light infantry, and the line, and artillery both horse and foot; followed by cannon, caissons, sappers, and miners, all preceded by drums, trumpets, bands, etc.; and the general staff, with the marshal, prince of wagram, at its head, formed of all the general officers, with the staff of the division and of the place. the religious procession was composed of children and old men from the hospitals, clergy from all the parishes and from the metropolitan church of paris, bearing crosses and banners, with singers and sacred music, and his majesty's chaplain with his assistants. the car on which was placed the marshal's body followed immediately after. the marshals, duke of conegliano, count serrurier, duke of istria, and prince of eckmuhl, bore the corners of the pall. on each side of the car two of the marshal's aides-de-camp bore a standard, and on the bier were fastened the baton of the marshal and the decorations of the duke of montebello. after the car came the cortege of mourning and of honor; the marshal's empty carriage, with two of his aides-de-camp on horseback at the door, four mourning carriages for the marshal's family, the carriages of the princes, grand dignitaries, marshals, ministers, colonel-generals, and chief inspectors. then came a detachment of cavalry preceded by trumpets, and bands on horseback followed the carriages and ended the procession. music accompanied the chants, all the bells of the churches tolled, and thirteen cannon thundered at intervals. on arriving at the subterranean entrance of the church of saint-genevieve, the body was removed from the car by grenadiers who had been decorated and wounded in the same battles as the marshal. his majesty's chaplain delivered the body to the arch-priest. the prince of eckmuhl addressed to the new duke of montebello the condolences of the army, and the prince arch-chancellor deposited on the bier the medal destined to perpetuate the memory of these funeral honors of the warrior to whom they were paid, and of the services which so well merited them. then all the crowd passed away, and there remained in the church only a few old servants of the marshal, who honored his memory as much and even more by the tears which they shed in silence than did all this public mourning and imposing ceremony. they recognized me, for we had been together on the campaign. i remained some time with them, and we left the pantheon together. during my short excursion to paris, their majesties had left saint-cloud for rambouillet, so i set out to rejoin them with the equipages of the marshal, prince de neuchatel, who had left court temporarily to be present at the obsequies of the brave duke of montebello. it was, if i am not mistaken, on arriving at rambouillet that i learned the particulars of a duel which had taken place that day between two gentlemen, pages of his majesty. i do not recall the subject of the quarrel; but, though very trivial in its origin, it became very serious from the course of conduct to which it led. it was a dispute between schoolboys; but these school-boys wore swords, and regarded each other, not without reason, as more than three-fourths soldiers, so they had decided to fight. but for this fight, two things were necessary,--time and secrecy; as to their time, it was employed from four or five in the morning till nine in the evening, almost constantly, and secrecy was not maintained. m. d'assigny, a man of rare merit and fine character, was then sub-governor of the pages, by whom his faithfulness, kindness, and justice had caused him to be much beloved. wishing to prevent a calamity, he called before him the two adversaries; but these young men, destined for army service, would hear of no other reparation than the duel. m. d'assigny had too much tact to attempt to argue with them, knowing that he would not have been obeyed; but he offered himself as second, was accepted by the young men, and being given the selection of arms, chose the pistol, and appointed as the time of meeting an early hour next morning, and everything was conducted in the order usual to such affairs. one of the pages shot first, and missed his adversary; the other discharged his weapon in the air, upon which they immediately rushed into each other's arms, and m. d'assigny took this opportunity of giving them a truly paternal lecture. moreover, the worthy sub-governor not only kept their secret, but he kept his own also; for the pistols loaded by m. d'assigny contained only cork balls; a fact of which the young men are still ignorant. some persons saw the 25th of august, which was the fete day of the empress, arrive with feelings of curiosity. they thought that from a fear of exciting the memories of the royalists, the emperor would postpone this solemnity to another period of the year, which he could easily have done by feting his august spouse under the name of marie. but the emperor was not deterred by such fears, and it is also very probable that he was the only one in the chateau to whom no such idea occurred. secure in his power, and the hopes that the french nation then built upon him, he knew well that he had nothing to dread from exiled princes, or from a party which appeared dead without the least chance of resurrection. i have heard it asserted since, and very seriously too, that his majesty was wrong to fete saint louis, which had brought him misfortune, etc.; but these prognostications, made afterwards, did not then occupy the thoughts of any one, and saint louis was celebrated in honor of the empress marie louise with almost unparalleled pomp and brilliancy. a few days after these rejoicings, their majesties held in the bois de boulogne a review of the regiments of the imperial guard of holland, which the emperor had recently ordered to paris. in honor of their arrival his majesty had placed here and there in the walks of the bois casks of wine with the heads knocked in, so that each soldier could drink at will; but this imperial munificence had serious results which might have become fatal. the holland soldiery more accustomed to strong beer than to wine, nevertheless found the latter much to their taste, and imbibed it in such great quantities, that in consequence their heads were turned to an alarming extent. they began at first with some encounters, either among themselves or with the curious crowd who observed them too closely. just then a storm arose suddenly, and the promenaders of saint-cloud and its environs hastened to return to paris, passing hurriedly through the bois de boulogne; and these hollanders, now in an almost complete state of intoxication, began fighting with each other in the woods, stopping all the women who passed, and threatening very, rudely the men by whom, most of them were accompanied. in a flash the bois resounded with cries of terror, shouts, oaths, and innumerable combats. some frightened persons ran as far as saint-cloud, where the emperor then was; and he was no sooner informed of this commotion, than he ordered squad after squad of police to march on the hollanders and bring them to reason. his majesty was very angry, and said, "has any one ever seen anything equal to these big heads? see them turned topsy-turvy by two glasses of wine!" but in spite of this jesting, the emperor was not without some anxiety and placed himself at the grating of the park, opposite the bridge, and in person gave directions to the officers and soldiers sent to restore order. unfortunately the darkness was too far advanced for the soldiers to see in what direction to march; and there is no knowing how it would have ended if an officer of one of the patrol guards had not conceived the happy idea of calling out, "the emperor! there is the emperor!" and the sentinels repeated after him, "there is the emperor," while charging the most mutinous hollanders. and such was the terror inspired in these soldiers by the simple name of his majesty, that thousands of armed men, drunken and furious, dispersed before this name alone, and regained their quarters as quickly and secretly as they could. a few were arrested and severely punished. i have already said that the emperor often superintended the toilet of the empress, and even that of her ladies. in fact, he liked all the persons surrounding him to be well and even richly dressed. but about this time he gave an order the wisdom of which i much admired. having often to hold at the baptismal font the children of his grand officers, and foreseeing that the parents would not fail to dress their new-born babes in magnificent toilets, the emperor ordered that children presented for baptism should wear only a simple long linen robe. this prudent measure spared at the same time the purse and the vanity of the parents. i remarked during this ceremony that the emperor had some trouble in paying the necessary attention to the questions of the officiating priest. the emperor was usually very absentminded during the services at church, which were not long, as they never lasted more than ten or fifteen minutes; and yet i have been told that his majesty asked if it were not possible to perform them in less time.--he bit his nails, took snuff oftener than usual, and looked about him constantly, while a prince of the church uselessly took the trouble to turn the leaves of his majesty's book, in order to follow the service. chapter xxix. the pregnancy of marie louise had been free from accident, and promised a happy deliverance, which was awaited by the emperor with an impatience in which france had joined for a long while. it was a curious thing to observe the state of the public mind, while the people formed all sorts of conjectures, and made unanimous and ardent prayers that the child should be a son, who might receive the vast inheritance of imperial glory. the 19th of march, at seven o'clock in the evening, the empress was taken ill; and from that moment the whole palace was in commotion. the emperor was informed, and sent immediately for m. dubois, who had been staying constantly at the chateau for some time past, and whose attentions were so valued at such a time. all the private household of the empress, as well as madame de montesquieu, were gathered in the apartment, the emperor, his mother, sisters, messieurs corvisart, bourdier, and yvan in an adjoining room. the emperor came in frequently, and encouraged his young wife. in the interior of the palace, the attention was eager, impassioned, clamorous; and each vied with the other as to who should first have the news of the birth of the child. at five o'clock in the morning, as the situation of the empress continued the same, the emperor ordered every one to retire, and himself withdrew in order to take his bath; for the anxiety he had undergone made a moment of repose very necessary to him in his great agitation. after fifteen minutes spent in the bath he was hastily summoned, as the condition of the empress had become both critical and dangerous. hastily throwing on his dressing-gown, he returned to the apartment of the empress, and tenderly encouraged her, holding her hand. the physician, m. dubois, informed him that it was improbable both mother and child could be saved; whereupon he cried, "come, m. dubois, keep your wits about you! save the mother, think only of the mother, i order you." as the intense suffering continued, it became necessary to use instruments; and marie louise, perceiving this, exclaimed with bitterness, "is it necessary to sacrifice me because i am an empress?" the emperor overcome by his emotions had retired to the dressing-room, pale as death, and almost beside himself. at last the child came into the world; and the emperor immediately rushed into the apartment, embracing the empress with extreme tenderness, without glancing at the child, which was thought to be dead; and in fact, it was seven minutes before he gave any signs of life, though a few drops of brandy were blown into his mouth and many efforts made to revive him. at last he uttered a cry. the emperor rushed from the empress's arms to embrace this child, whose birth was for him the last and highest favor of fortune, and seemed almost beside himself with joy, rushing from the son to the mother, from the mother to the son, as if he could not sufficiently feast his eyes on either. when he entered his room to make his toilet, his face beamed with joy; and, seeing me, he exclaimed, "well, constant, we have a big boy! he is well made to pinch ears for example;" announcing it thus to every one he met. it was in these effusions of domestic bliss that i could appreciate how deeply this great soul, which was thought impressible only to glory, felt the joys of family life. from the moment the great bell of notre dame and the bells of the different churches of paris sounded in the middle of the night, until the hour when the cannon announced the happy delivery of the empress, an extreme agitation was felt throughout paris. at break of day the crowd rushed towards the tuileries, and filled the streets and quays, all awaiting in anxious suspense the first discharge of the cannon. but this curious sight was not only seen in the tuileries and neighboring districts, but at half-past nine in streets far removed from the chateau, and in all parts of paris, people could be seen stopping to count with emotion the discharges of the cannon. the twenty-second discharge which announced the birth of a boy was hailed with general acclamations. to the silence of expectation, which had arrested as if by enchantment the steps of all persons scattered over all parts of the city, succeeded a burst of enthusiasm almost indescribable. in this twenty-second [it had been announced in the papers that if it, was a girl a salute of twenty-one guns would be fired; if a boy, one hundred guns.] boom of the cannon was a whole dynasty, a whole future, and simultaneously hats went up in the air; people ran over each other, and embraced those to whom they were strangers amid shouts of "vive l'empereur!" old soldiers shed tears of joy, thinking that they had contributed by their labors and their fatigues to prepare the heritage of the king of rome, and that their laurels would wave over the cradle of a dynasty. napoleon, concealed behind a curtain at one of the windows of the empress's room, enjoyed the sight of the popular joy, and seemed deeply touched. great tears rolled from his eyes, and overcome by emotion he came again to embrace his son. never had glory made him shed a tear; but the happiness of being a father had softened this heart on which the most brilliant victories and the most sincere testimonials of public admiration seemed hardly to make an impression. and in truth napoleon had a right to believe in his good fortune, which had reached its height on the day when an archduchess of austria made him the father of a king, who had begun as a cadet in a corsican family. at the end of a few hours the event which was awaited with equal impatience by france and europe had become the personal joy of every household. at half-past ten madame blanchard set out from l'ecole militaire in a balloon for the purpose of carrying into all the towns and villages through which she passed, the news of the birth of the king of rome. the telegraph carried the happy news in every direction; and at two o'clock in the afternoon replies had already been received from lyons, lille, brussels, antwerp, brest, and many other large towns of the empire, which replies, as may well be imagined were in perfect accord with the sentiments entertained at the capital. in order to respond to the eagerness of the crowd which pressed continually around the doors of the palace to learn of the welfare of the empress and her august child, it was decided that one of the chamberlains should stand from morning till evening in the first saloon of the state apartments, to receive those who came, and inform them of the bulletins which her majesty's physicians issued twice a day. at the end of a few hours, special couriers were sent on all roads leading to foreign courts, bearing the news of the delivery of the empress; the emperor's pages being charged with this mission to the senate of italy, and the municipal bodies of milan and rome. orders were given in the fortified towns and ports that the same salutes should be fired as at paris, and that the fleets should be decorated. a beautiful evening favored the special rejoicings at the capital where the houses were voluntarily illuminated. those who seek to ascertain by external appearances the real feelings of a people amid events of this kind, remarked that the topmost stories of houses in the faubourgs were as well lighted as the most magnificent hotels and finest houses of the capital. public buildings, which under other circumstances are remarkable from the darkness of the surrounding houses, were scarcely seen amid this profusion of lights with which public gratitude had lighted every window. the boatmen gave an impromptu fete which lasted part of the night, and to witness which an immense crowd covered the shore, testifying the most ardent joy. this people, who for thirty years had passed through so many different emotions, and who had celebrated so many victories, showed as much enthusiasm as if it had been their first fete, or a happy change in their destiny. verses were sung or recited at all the theaters; and there was no poetic formula, from the ode to the fable, which was not made use of to celebrate the event of the 20th of march, 1811. i learned from a well-informed person that the sum of one hundred thousand francs from the private funds of the emperor was distributed by m. dequevauvilliers, secretary of the treasury of the chamber, among the authors of the poetry sent to the tuileries; and finally, fashion, which makes use of the least events, invented stuffs called roi-de-rome, as in the old regime they had been called dauphin. on the evening of the 20th of march at nine o'clock the king of rome was anointed in the chapel of the tuileries. this was a most magnificent ceremony. the emperor napoleon, surrounded by the princes and princesses of his whole court, placed him in the center of the chapel on a sofa surmounted by a canopy with a prie-dieu. between the altar and the balustrade had been placed on a carpet of white velvet a pedestal of granite surmounted by a hand some silver gilt vase to be used as a baptismal font. the emperor was grave; but paternal tenderness diffused over his face an expression of happiness, and it might have been said that he felt himself half relieved of the burdens of the empire on seeing the august child who seemed destined to receive it one day from the hands of his father. when he approached the baptismal font to present the child to be anointed there was a moment of silence and religious contemplation, which formed a touching contrast to the vociferous gayety which at the same moment animated the crowd outside, whom the spectacle of the brilliant fireworks had drawn from all parts of paris to the tuileries. madame blanchard, who as i have said had set out in her balloon an hour after the birth of the king of rome, to carry the news into all places she passed, first descended at saint-tiebault near lagny, and from there, as the wind had subsided, returned to paris. her balloon rose after her departure, and fell at a place six leagues farther on, and the inhabitants, finding in this balloon only clothing and provisions, did not doubt that the intrepid aeronaut had been killed; but fortunately just as her death was announced at paris, madame blanchard herself arrived and dispelled all anxiety. many persons had doubted marie louise's pregnancy. some believed it assumed, and i never could comprehend the foolish reasons given by these persons on this subject which malevolence tried to 'gular' fact which carries its great number of these evil-thinking, suspicious persons, one part accused the emperor of being a libertine, supposing him the father of many natural children, and the other thought him incapable of obtaining children even by a young princess only nineteen years of age, their hatred thus blinding their judgment. if napoleon had natural children, why could he not have legitimate ones, especially with a young wife who was known to be in most flourishing health. besides, it was not the first, as it was not the last, shaft of malice aimed at napoleon; for his position was too high, his glory too brilliant, not to inspire exaggerated sentiments whether of joy or hatred. there were also some ill-wishers who took pleasure in saying that napoleon was incapable of tender sentiments, and that the happiness of being a father could not penetrate this heart so filled with ambition as to exclude all else. i can cite, among many others in my knowledge, a little anecdote which touched me exceedingly, and which i take much pleasure in relating, since, while it triumphantly answers the calumnies of which i have spoken, it also proves the special consideration with which his majesty honored me, and consequently, both as a father and a faithful servant, i experience a mild satisfaction in placing it in these memoirs. napoleon was very fond of children; and having one day asked me to bring mine to him, i went to seek him. meanwhile talleyrand was announced to the emperor; and as the interview lasted a long time, my child grew weary of waiting, and i carried him back to his mother. a short time after he was taken with croup, which cruel disease, concerning which his majesty had made a special appeal to the faculty of paris, [on the occasion of the death from croup in 1807 of his heir presumptive, the young son of the king of holland]. it snatched many children from their families. mine died at paris. we were then at the chateau of compiegne, and i received the sad news just as i was preparing to go to the toilet. i was too much overcome by my loss to perform my duties; and when the emperor asked what prevented my coming, and was told that i had just heard of the death of my son, said kindly, "poor constant! what a terrible sorrow! we fathers alone can know what it is!" a short time after, my wife went to see the empress josephine at malmaison; and this lovely princess deigned to receive her alone in the little room in front of her bedroom. there she seated herself beside her, and tried in touching words of sympathy to console her, saying that this stroke did not reach us alone, and that her grandson, too, had died of the same disease. as she said this she began to weep; for this remembrance reopened in her soul recent griefs, and my wife bathed with tears the hands of this excellent princess. josephine added many touching remarks, trying to alleviate her sorrow by sharing it, and thus restore resignation to the heart of the poor mother. the remembrance of this kindness helped to calm our grief, and i confess that it is at once both an honor and a consolation to recall the august sympathy which the loss of this dear child excited in the hearts of napoleon and josephine. the world will never know how much sensibility and compassion josephine felt for the sorrows of others, and all the treasures of goodness contained in her beautiful soul. chapter xxx. napoleon was accustomed to compare marie louise with josephine, attributing to the latter all the advantages of art and grace, and to the former all the charms of simplicity, modesty, and innocence. sometimes, however, this simplicity had in it something childish, an instance of which i received from good authority. the young empress, thinking herself sick, consulted m. corvisart, who, finding that her imagination alone was at fault, and that she was suffering simply from the nervousness natural to a young woman, ordered, as his only prescription, a box of pills composed of bread and sugar, which the empress was to take regularly; after doing which marie louise found herself better, and thanked m. corvisart, who did not think proper, as may well be believed, to enlighten her as to his little deception. having been educated in a german court, and having learned french only from masters, marie louise spoke the language with the difficulty usually found in expressing one's self in a foreign tongue. among the awkward expressions she often used, but which in her graceful mouth were not without a certain charm, the one which struck me especially, because it often recurred, was this: "napoleon qu'est ce que veux-to?" the emperor showed the deepest affection for his young wife, and at the same time made her conform to all the rules of etiquette, to which the empress submitted with the utmost grace. in the month of may, 1811, their majesties made a journey into the departments of calvados and la manche, where they were received with enthusiasm by all the towns; and the emperor made his stay at caen memorable by his gifts, favors, and acts of benevolence. many young men belonging to good families received sub-lieutenancies, and one hundred and thirty thousand francs were devoted to various charities. from caen their majesties went to cherbourg. the day after their arrival the emperor set out on horseback early in the morning, visited the heights of the town, and embarked on several vessels, while the populace pressed around him crying "vive l'empereur!" the following day his majesty held several councils, and in the evening visited all the marine buildings, and descended to the bottom of the basin which is cut out of the solid rock in order to allow the passage of vessels of the line, and which was to be covered with fifty-five feet of water. on this brilliant journey the empress received her share of the enthusiasm of the inhabitants, and in return, at the different receptions which took place, gave a graceful welcome to the authorities of the country. i dwell purposely on these details, as they prove that joy over the birth of the king of rome was not confined to paris alone, but, on the contrary, the provinces were in perfect sympathy with the capital. the return of their majesties to paris brought with them a return of rejoicings and fetes on the occasion of the baptismal ceremony of the king of rome, and the fetes by which it was accompanied were celebrated at paris with a pomp worthy of their object. they had as spectators the entire population of paris, increased by a prodigious crowd of strangers of every class. at four o'clock the senate left its palace; the council of state, the tuileries; the corps legislatif, its palace; the court of cassation, the court of accounts, the council of the university, and the imperial court, the ordinary places of their sittings; the municipal corps of paris and the deputations from the forty-nine good towns, the hotel de ville. on their arrival at the metropolitan church these bodies were placed by the master of ceremonies with his aides, according to their rank, on the right and left of the throne, reaching from the choir to the middle of the nave. the diplomatic corps at five o'clock took their place on the platform erected for this purpose. at half-past five cannon announced the departure of their majesties from the tuileries. the imperial procession was dazzlingly magnificent; the fine bearing of the troops, the richness and elegance of the carriages, the brilliant costumes, made up a ravishing spectacle. the acclamations of the people which resounded on their majesties' route, the houses hung with garlands and drapery, the banners streaming from the windows, the long line of carriages, the trappings and accouterments of which progressively increased in magnificence, following each other as in the order of a hierarchy, this immense paraphernalia of a fete which inspired true feeling and hopes for the future-all this is profoundly engraved on my memory, and often occupies the long leisure hours of the old servitor of a family which has disappeared. the baptismal ceremony took place with unusual pomp and solemnity. after the baptism the emperor took his august son in his arms, and presented him to the clergy present. immediately the acclamations, which had been repressed till then from respect to the ceremony and the sanctity of the place, burst forth on all sides. the prayers being ended, their majesties, at eight o'clock in the evening, went to the hotel de ville, and were there received by the municipal corps. a brilliant concert and a sumptuous banquet had been tendered them by the city of paris. the decorations of the banquet hall showed the, arms of the forty-nine good cities, paris, rome, amsterdam, being placed first, and the forty-six others in alphabetical order. after the banquet their majesties took their places in the concert hall; and at the conclusion of the concert they repaired to the throne room, where all invited persons formed a circle. the emperor passed round this circle, speaking affably, sometimes even familiarly, to most of the persons who composed it, each of whom responded in the most cordial manner. at last, before retiring, their majesties were invited to pass into the artificial garden which had been made in the court of the hotel de ville, the decorations of which were very elegant. at the bottom of the garden, the tiber was represented by flowing water, the course of which was directed most artistically, and diffused a refreshing coolness. their majesties left the hotel de ville about half-past eleven, and returned to the tuileries by the light of most beautiful illuminations and luminous emblems, designed in most exquisite taste. perfect weather and a delightful temperature favored this memorable day. the aeronaut garnerin left paris at half-past six in the evening, and descended the morning of the next day at maule, in the department of seine-et-oise. after resting there a short while, he re-entered his balloon and continued his journey. the provinces vied in magnificence with the capital in celebrating the fetes of the birth and baptism of the king of rome. every imaginable device, both in emblems and illuminations, had been made use of in order to add still more pomp to these fetes; and each town had been governed in the form of homage it rendered to the new king, either by its geographical position or by its especial industry. for instance, at clermont-ferrand an immense fire had been lighted at ten o'clock in the evening on the summit of the puy-de-dome, at a height of more than five thousand feet; and several departments could enjoy during the whole night this grand and singular sight. in the port of flushing the vessels were covered with flags and banners of all colors. in the evening the whole squadron was illuminated; thousands of lanterns hung from the masts, yards, and rigging, forming a beautiful scene. suddenly, at the signal of a gun fired from the admiral's vessel, all the vessels sent forth at once tongues of flame, and it seemed as if the most brilliant day succeeded to the darkest night, outlining magnificently those imposing masses reflected in the water of the sea as in a glass. we passed so continually from one fete to another it was almost confusing. the rejoicings over the baptism were followed by a fete given by the emperor in the private park of saint-cloud, and from early in the morning the road from paris to saint-cloud was covered with carriages and men on foot. the fete took place in the inclosed park and the orangery, all the boxes of which and the front of the chateau were decorated with rich hangings, while temples and kiosks rose in the groves, and the whole avenue of chestnut-trees was hung with garlands of colored glass. fountains of barley water and currant wine had been distributed so that all persons attending the fete might refresh themselves, and tables, elegantly arranged, had been placed in the walks. the whole park was illuminated by pots-a-feu concealed among the shrubbery and groups of trees. madame blanchard had received orders to hold herself in readiness to set out at half-past nine at a given signal. at nine o'clock, the balloon being filled, she entered the basket, and was carried to the end of the basin of the swans, in front of the chateau; and until the moment of departure she remained in this position, above the height of the tallest trees, and thus for more than half an hour could be seen by all the spectators present at the fete. at half-past nine, a gun fired from the chateau having given the expected signal, the cords which held the balloon were cut; and immediately the intrepid aeronaut could be seen rising majestically into the air before the eyes of the crowd assembled in the throne room. having arrived at a certain height, she set off an immense star constructed around the basket, the center of which she thus occupied; and this star for seven or eight moments threw from its points and angles numerous other small stars, producing a most extraordinary effect. it was the first time a woman had been seen to rise boldly into the air surrounded by fireworks, and she appeared as if sailing in a chariot of fire at an immense height. i imagined myself in fairyland. the whole of the garden which their majesties traversed presented a view of which it is impossible to give an idea. the illuminations were designed in perfect taste; there were a variety of amusements, and numerous orchestras concealed amid the trees added yet more to the enchantment. at a given signal three doves flew from the top of a column surmounted with a vase of flowers, and offered to their majesties numerous and most ingenious devices. farther on german peasants danced waltzes on a charming lawn, and crowned with flowers the bust of her majesty the empress, and shepherds and nymphs from the opera executed dances, finally, a theater had been erected in the midst of the trees, on which was represented a village fete, a comedy composed by m. ittienne, and set to music by nicolo. the emperor and empress were seated under a dais during this play, when suddenly a heavy shower fell, throwing all the spectators into commotion. their majesties did not notice the rain at first, protected as they were by the dais, and the emperor being engaged in conversation with the mayor of the town of lyons. the latter was complaining of the sales of the cloths of that town, when napoleon, noticing the frightful rain which was falling, said to this functionary, "i answer for it that to-morrow you will have large orders." the emperor kept his position during most of the storm, while the courtiers, dressed in silk and velvet, with uncovered heads, received the rain with a smiling face. the poor musicians, wet to the skin, at last could no longer draw any sound from their instruments, of which the rain had snapped or stretched the cords, and it was time to put an end to this state of affairs. the emperor gave the signal for departure, and they retired. on that day prince aldobrandini, who in his quality of first equerry of marie louise accompanied the empress, was very happy to find and borrow an umbrella in order to shelter marie louise; but there was much dissatisfaction in the group where this borrowing was done because the umbrella was not returned. that evening the prince borghese and princess pauline nearly fell into the seine in their carriage while returning to their country house at neuilly. those persons who took pleasure in finding omens, and those especially (a very small number) who saw with chagrin the rejoicings of the empire, did not fail to remark that every fete given to marie louise had been attended by some accident. they spoke affectedly of the ball given by the prince of schwartzenberg on the occasion of the espousals, and of the fire which consumed the dancing-hall, and the tragic death of several persons, notably of the sister of the prince. they drew from this coincidence bad auguries; some from ill-will, and in order to undermine the enthusiasm inspired by the high fortunes of napoleon; others from a superstitious credulity, as if there could have been any serious connection between a fire which cost the lives of several persons, and the very usual accident of a storm in june, which ruined the toilets, and wet to the skin thousands of spectators. it was a very amusing scene for those who had no finery to spoil, and who ran only the risk of taking cold, to see these poor women drenched with the rain, running in every direction, with or without a cavalier, and hunting for shelter which could not be found. a few were fortunate enough to find modest umbrellas; but most of them saw the flowers fall from their heads, beaten down by the rain, or their finery dripping with water, dragging on the ground, in a pitiable state. when it was time to return to paris the carriages were missing, as the coachmen, thinking that the fete would last till daylight, had prudently thought that they would not take the trouble to wait all night. those persons with carriages could not use them, as the press was so great that it was almost impossible to move. several ladies got lost, and returned to paris on foot; others lost their shoes, and it was a pitiable sight to see the pretty feet in the mud. happily there were few or no accidents, and the physician and the bed repaired everything. but the emperor laughed heartily at this adventure, and said that the merchants would gain by it. m. de remusat, so good and ready to render a service, always forgetting himself for others, had succeeded in procuring an umbrella, when he met my wife and mother-in-law, who were escaping like the others, took them on his arm, and conducted them to the palace without their having received the least injury. for an hour he traveled back and forth from the palace to the park, and from the park to the garden, and had the happiness to be useful to a great number of ladies whose toilets he saved from entire ruin. it was an act of gallantry which inspired infinite gratitude, because it was performed in a manner evincing such kindness of heart. chapter xxxi. this seemed to be a year of fetes, and i dwell upon it with pleasure because it preceded one filled with misfortunes. the years 1811 and 1812 offered a striking contrast to each other. all those flowers lavished on the fetes of the king of rome and his august mother covered an abyss, and all this enthusiasm was changed to mourning a few months later. never were more brilliant fetes followed by more overwhelming misfortunes. let us, then, dwell a little longer upon the rejoicings which preceded 1812. i feel that i need to be fortified before entering upon reminiscences of that time of unprofitable sacrifices, of bloodshed without preserving or conquering, and of glory without result. on the 25th of august, the empress's fete was celebrated at trianon; and from early in the morning the road from paris to trianon was covered with an immense number of carriages and people on foot, the same sentiment attracting the court, the citizens, the people, to the delightful place at which the fete was held. all ranks were mingled, all went pell-mell; and i have never seen a crowd more singularly variegated, or which presented a more striking picture of all conditions of society. ordinarily the multitude at fetes of this kind is composed of little more than one class of people and a few modest bourgeois that is all; very rarely of people with equipages, more rarely still people of the court; but here there were all, and there was no one so low that he could not have the satisfaction of elbowing a countess or some other noble inhabitant of the faubourg st. germain, for all paris seemed to be at versailles. that town so beautiful, but yet so sadly beautiful, which seemed since the last king to be bereft of its inhabitants, those broad streets in which no one was to be seen, those squares, the least of which could hold all the inhabitants of versailles, and which could hardly contain the courtiers of the great king, this magnificent solitude which we call versailles, had been populated suddenly by the capital. the private houses could not contain the crowd which arrived from every direction. the park was inundated with a multitude of promenaders of every sex and all ages; in these immense avenues one walked on foot, one needed air on this vast plateau which was so airy, one felt cramped on this theater of a great public fete, as at balls given in those little saloons of paris built for about a dozen persons, and where fashion crams together a hundred and fifty. great preparations had been made for four or five days in the delightful gardens of trianon; but the evening before, the sky became cloudy, and many toilets which had been eagerly prepared were prudently laid aside; but the next day a beautiful blue sky reassured every one, and they set out for trianon in spite of the recollections of the storm which had dispersed the spectators at the fete of saint cloud. nevertheless, at three o'clock a heavy shower made every one fear for a short while that the evening might end badly. "afternoon shower making its obeisance," as the proverb says; but, on the contrary, this only made the fete pleasanter, by refreshing the scorching air of august, and laying the dust which was most disagreeable. at six o'clock the sun had reappeared, and the summer of 1811 had no softer or more agreeable evening. all the outlines of the architecture of the grand trianon were ornamented with lamps of different colors. in the gallery could be seen six hundred women, brilliant with youth and adornments; and the empress addressed gracious words to several among them, and all were charmed by the cordial and affable manners of a young princess who had lived in france only fifteen months. at this fete, as at all the fetes of the empire, there were not wanting poets to sing praises of those in whose honor they were given. there was a play which had been composed for the occasion, the author of which i remember perfectly was m. alissan de chazet; but i have forgotten the title. at the end of the piece, the principal artists of the opera executed a ballet which was considered very fine. when the play was over, their majesties commenced a promenade in the park of the petit-trianon, the emperor, hat in hand, giving his arm to the empress, and being followed by all his court. they first visited the isle of love, and found all the enchantments of fairyland and its illusions there united. the temple, situated in the midst of the lake, was splendidly illuminated, and the water reflected its columns of fire. a multitude of beautiful boats furrowed this lake, which seemed on fire, manned by a swarm of cupids, who appeared to sport with each other in the rigging. musicians concealed on board played melodious airs; and this harmony, at once gentle and mysterious, which seemed to spring from the bosom of the waves, added still more to the magic of the picture and the charms of the illusion. to this spectacle succeeded scenes of another kind, taken from rural life,--a flemish living picture, with its pleasant-faced, jolly people, and its rustic ease; and groups of inhabitants from every province of france, giving an impression that all parts of the empire were convened at this fete. in fine, a wonderful variety of attractions in turn arrested the attention of their majesties. arrived at the saloon of polhymnie, they were welcomed by a charming choir, the music composed, i think, by paer, and the words by the same m. alissan de chazet. at last, after a magnificent supper, which was served in the grand gallery, their majesties retired at one o'clock in the morning. there was only one opinion in this immense assembly as to the grace and perfect dignity of marie louise. this young princess was really charming, but with peculiarities rather than traits of character. i recall some occurrences in her domestic life which will not be without interest to the reader. marie louise talked but little with the people of her household; but whether this arose from a habit brought with her from the austrian court, whether she feared to compromise her dignity by her foreign accent before persons of inferior condition, or whether it arose from timidity or indifference, few of these persons could remember a word she had uttered. i have heard her steward say that in three years she spoke to him only once. the ladies of the household agreed in saying that in private she was kind and agreeable. she did not like madame de montesquieu. this was wrong; since there were no cares, endearments, attentions of all sorts, which madame de montesquieu did not lavish on the king of rome. the emperor, however, appreciated highly this excellent lady who was so perfect in every respect. as a man he admired the dignity, perfect propriety, and extreme discretion of madame de montesquieu; and as a father he felt an infinite gratitude for the cares she lavished on his son. each one explained in his own way the coolness which the young empress showed to this lady; and there were several reasons assigned for this, all more or less untrue, though the leisure moments of the ladies of the palace were much occupied with it. what appeared to me the most likely solution, and most in accordance with the artless simplicity of marie louise, was this: the empress had as lady of honor madame de montebello, a charming woman of perfect manners. now, there was little friendship between madame de montesquieu and madame de montebello, as the latter feared it is said to have a rival in the heart of her august friend; and, in fact, madame de montesquieu would have proved a most dangerous rival for this lady, as she combined all those qualities which please and make one beloved. born of an illustrious family, she had received a distinguished education, and united the tone and manners of the best society with a solid and enlightened piety. never had calumny dared to attack her conduct, which was as noble as discreet. i must admit that she was somewhat haughty; but this haughtiness was tempered by such elegant politeness, and such gracious consideration, that it might be considered simple dignity. she was attentive and assiduous in her devotion to the king of rome, and was entitled to the deep gratitude of the empress; for she afterwards, actuated by the most generous devotion, tore herself from her country, her friends, her family, to follow the fate of a child whose every hope was blasted. madame de montebello was accustomed to rise late. in the morning when the emperor was absent, marie louise went to converse with her in her room; and in order not to go through the saloon where the ladies of the palace were assembled, she entered the apartment of her lady of honor through a very dark closet, and this conduct deeply wounded the feelings of the other ladies. i have heard josephine say that madame de montebello was wrong to initiate the young empress into the scandalous adventures, whether true or false, attributed to some of these ladies, and which a young, pure, simple woman like marie louise should not have known; and that this was one cause of her coldness towards the ladies of her court, who on their side did not like her, and confided their feelings to their neighbors and friends. josephine tenderly loved madame de montesquieu, and when they were parted wrote to her often; this correspondence lasted till josephine's death. one day madame de montesquieu received orders from the emperor to take the little king to bagatelle, where josephine then was. she had obtained permission to see this child, whose birth had covered europe with fetes. it is well known how disinterested josephine's love for napoleon was, and how she viewed everything that could increase his glory and render it more durable; and there entered into the prayers she made for him since the burning disgrace of the divorce, even the hope that he might be happy in his private life, and that his new wife might bear this child, this firstborn of his dynasty, to him whom she herself could not make a father. this woman of angelic goodness, who had fallen into a long swoon on learning her sentence of repudiation, and who since that fatal day had dragged out a sad life in the brilliant solitude of malmaison; this devoted wife who had shared for fifteen years the fortunes of her husband, and who had assisted so powerfully in his elevation, was not the last to rejoice at the birth of the king of rome. she was accustomed to say that the desire to leave a posterity, and to be represented after our death by beings who owe their life and position to us, was a sentiment deeply engraved in the heart of man; that this desire, which was so natural, and which she had felt so deeply as wife and mother, this desire to have children to survive and continue us on earth, was still more augmented when we had a high destiny to transmit to them; that in napoleon's peculiar position, as founder of a vast empire, it was impossible he should long resist a sentiment which is at the bottom of every heart, and which, if it is true that this sentiment increases in proportion to the inheritance we leave our children, no one could experience more fully than napoleon, for no one had yet possessed so formidable a power on the earth; that the course of nature having made her sterility a hopeless evil, it was her duty to be the first to sacrifice the sentiments of her heart to the good of the state, and the personal happiness of napoleon sad but powerful reasoning, which policy invoked in aid of the divorce, and of which this excellent princess in the illusion of her devotion thought herself convinced in the depths of her heart. the royal child was presented to her. i know nothing in the world which could be more touching than the joy of this excellent woman at the sight of napoleon's son. she at first regarded him with eyes swimming in tears; then she took him in her arms, and pressed him to her heart with a tenderness too deep for words. there were present no indiscreet witnesses to take pleasure in indulging irreverent curiosity, or observe with critical irony the feelings of josephine, nor was there ridiculous etiquette to freeze the expression of this tender soul; it was a scene from private life, and josephine entered into it with all her heart. from the manner in which she caressed this child, it might have been said that it was some ordinary, child, and not a son of the caesars, as flatterers said, not the son of a great man, whose cradle was surrounded with so many honors, and who had been born a king. josephine bathed him with her tears, and said to him some of those baby words with which a mother makes herself understood and loved by her new born. it was necessary at last to separate them. the interview had been short, but it had been well employed by the loving soul of josephine. in this scene one could judge from her joy of the sincerity of her sacrifice, while at the same time her stifled sighs testified to its extent. madame de montesquieu's visits were made only at long intervals, which distressed josephine greatly; but the child was growing larger, an indiscreet word lisped by him, a childish remembrance, the least thing, might offend marie louise, who feared josephine. the emperor wished to avoid this annoyance, which would have affected his domestic happiness; so he ordered that the visits should be made more rarely, and at last they were stopped. i have heard josephine say that the birth of the king of rome repaid her for all sacrifices, and surely never was the devotion of a woman more disinterested or more complete. immediately after his birth the king of rome was confided to the care of a nurse of a healthy, robust constitution, taken from among the people. this woman could neither leave the palace nor receive a visit from any man; the strictest precautions were observed in this respect. she was taken out to ride for her health in a carriage, and even then she was accompanied by several women. these were the habits of marie louise with her son. in the morning about nine o'clock the king was brought to his mother; she took him in her arms and caressed him a few moments, then returned him to his nurse, and began to read the papers. the child grew tired, and the lady in charge took him away. at four o'clock the mother went to visit her son; that is to say, marie louise went down into the king's apartments, carrying with her some embroidery, on which she worked at intervals. twenty minutes after she was informed that m. isabey or m. prudhon had arrived for the lesson in painting or drawing, whereupon the empress returned to her apartments. thus passed the first months which followed the birth of the king of rome. in the intervals between fetes, the emperor was occupied with decrees, reviews, monuments, and plans, constantly employed, with few distractions, indefatigable in every work, and still not seeming to have anything to occupy his powerful mind, and happy in his private life with his young wife, by whom he was tenderly beloved. the empress led a very simple life, which suited her disposition well. josephine needed more excitement; her life had been also more in the outside world, more animated, more expansive; though this did not prevent her being very faithful to the duties of her domestic life, and very tender and loving towards her husband, whom she knew how to render happy in her own way. one day bonaparte returned from a hunt worn out with fatigue, and begged marie louise to come to him. she came, and the emperor took her in his arms and gave her a sounding kiss on the cheek. marie louise took her handkerchief and wiped her cheek. "well, louise, you are disgusted with me?"--"no," replied the empress, "i did it from habit; i do the same with the king of rome." the emperor seemed vexed. josephine was very different; she received her husband's caresses affectionately, and even met him half way. the emperor sometimes said to her, "louise, sleep in my room."--"it is too warm there," replied the empress. in fact, she could not endure the heat, and napoleon's apartments were constantly warmed. she had also an extreme repugnance to odors, and in her own rooms allowed only vinegar or sugar to be burnt. volume iii. chapter i. in september, 1811, the emperor decided to make a journey into flanders in company with the empress, that he might personally ascertain if his orders had been carried out in all matters concerning both the civil and religious administration. their majesties left compiegne on the 19th, and arrived at montreuil-sur-mer at nine o'clock in the evening. i accompanied the emperor on this journey. i have read in o'meara's memorial that m. marchand was at that time in the service of napoleon. this is incorrect; for m. marchand did not enter the emperor's private service until 1814, at fontainebleau. his majesty at that time ordered me to select from the domestics of the service an intelligent young man to assist me in my duties near his person, since none of the ordinary 'valets de chambre' were to remain on the island of elba. i mentioned the name of m. marchand, son of a nurse of the king of rome, as a suitable person for the place. he was accepted by his majesty, and from that time m. marchand formed a part of the private service of the emperor. he may have been on this journey to holland; but napoleon was not aware of it, as his duties did not bring him near his majesty's person. i will now relate some of the circumstances which occurred on this journey, and are not generally known to the public, and at the same time take advantage of the opportunity to refute other assertions similar to those i have just mentioned, and which i have read with surprise, sometimes mixed with indignation, in the contemporary memoirs. i deem it important that the public should have correct information as to everything pertaining to this journey, in order that light may thus be thrown on certain incidents, by means of which calumny has attacked the honor of napoleon, and even my own. a devoted though humble servant of the emperor, it is natural that i should be deeply interested in explaining all that seems doubtful, in refuting all falsehoods, and in giving minute corrections of many incorrect statements which might influence the judgment of the public concerning my master and myself. i shall fulfil this duty with perfect frankness, as i have sufficiently proved in the foregoing volumes of these memoirs. a little incident occurred at montreuil, which i take pleasure in narrating, since it proves how carefully napoleon examined both the fortifications and improvements being made in the towns, either by his personal orders, or from the impulse given by him to these important departments of public service. after investigating the work done in the past year on the fortifications of montreuil, and having made a tour of all the ramparts, the emperor returned to the citadel, whence he again emerged to visit the exterior works. an arm of the river canche, which lies at the foot of the wall on one side of the city, intercepted his route. the whole suite set to work to construct a temporary bridge of planks and logs; but the emperor, impatient at the delay, walked through the stream in water up to his knees. the owner of a mill on the opposite shore took his majesty by the arm to assist him in mounting the bank, and profited by this opportunity to explain to the emperor that his mill, being in the line of the projected fortifications, would necessarily be torn down; whereupon the emperor turned to the engineers and said, "this brave man must be indemnified for any loss he may sustain." he then continued his rounds, and did not re-enter his carriage until he had examined everything at leisure, and held a long interview with the civil and military authorities of montreuil. on the route a soldier who had been wounded at ratisbon was presented to him; and his majesty ordered that a present should be made him on the spot, and that his petition should be presented to him on his arrival at boulogne on the 20th. this was the second time boulogne had received the emperor within its walls. immediately on his arrival he went on board the flotilla and held a review. as an english frigate was evidently preparing to approach in order to observe more closely what was taking place in the roadstead, his majesty immediately sent out a french frigate under full sail against the hostile ship, whereupon the latter, taking the alarm, at once disappeared. on the 29th of september his majesty reached flushing, and from flushing went to visit the fortifications at tervueren. as he was overlooking the various works at that place, a young woman threw herself at his feet, her cheeks wet with tears, .and extended a petition to the emperor with a trembling hand. napoleon most graciously assisted her to rise, and inquired the object of her petition. "sire," said the poor woman between her sobs, "i am the mother of three children, whose father is conscripted by your majesty; the children and the mother are in the deepest distress."--"monsieur," said his majesty to some one of his suite, "make a note of this man's name; i will make him an officer." the young woman tried to express her gratitude, but her emotion and tears prevented the utterance of a word, and the emperor went on his way. another kind act marked his departure from ostend. on leaving that town he followed the course of the estrau, and as he did not care to pass through the locks, in order to cross the swine, entered a fishing-boat in company with the duke of vicenza, his grand equerry, count lobau, one of his aides-de-camp, and two chasseurs of the guard. this boat, which was owned by two poor fishermen, was worth only about one hundred and fifty florins, including its equipment, and was their only source of wealth. the crossing required about half an hour, and his majesty alighted at fort orange, on the island of cadsand, where the prefect with his suite awaited him; and as he was wet and suffering with the cold, a large fire was kindled, by which he warmed himself with evident enjoyment. the fishermen were then asked how much they charged for the passage, and upon their replying a florin for each passenger, napoleon ordered that a hundred napoleons should be counted out to them, and they should be granted a pension of three hundred francs for life. it is impossible to give an idea of the joyful surprise of these poor men, who had not in the least suspected the exalted rank of their passenger; but no sooner were they informed than the whole country was told, and thus many hearts were won for napoleon; while at the same time the empress marie louise was being welcomed on his account at the theater, and whenever she appeared on the streets, with sincere and vociferous applause. preparations had been made everywhere in holland two months before the arrival of their majesties, in order that they might be suitably received; and there was no village on the emperor's route so small that it was not eager to earn his approbation by the proportional magnificence of the welcome accorded his majesty. almost the whole court of france accompanied him on this journey, and grand dignitaries, ladies of honor, superior officers, aides-de-camp, chamberlains, equerries, ladies of attire, quartermasters, valets de chambre, regulators of soldiers' quarters, the kitchen service--nothing was wanting. napoleon intended to dazzle the eyes of the good dutchmen by the magnificence of his court; and, in truth, his gracious manner, his affability, and the recital of the numerous benefits he scattered around his path, had already had their effect in conquering this population, in spite of the frowning brows of a few, who, as they smoked their pipes, murmured against the impediments to commerce caused by the continental system. the city of amsterdam, where the emperor had decided to remain some time, found itself suddenly in a condition of peculiar embarrassment, owing to the following circumstance: this town had a very extensive palace, but no coaches nor stables attached to them, which for the suite of napoleon was a prime necessity; and the stables of king louis, besides their insufficiency, were placed too far from the palace to be occupied by even a portion of the emperor's service. consequently there was great embarrassment in the city, and much difficulty was experienced in quartering the emperor's horses; since to improvise stables in a few days, almost in a moment, was impossible, and to build carriage-houses in the midst of courts would have had a ludicrous effect. but fortunately this difficult situation was ended by one of the quartermasters of the palace named m. emery, a man of great intelligence, and an old soldier, who, having learned from napoleon and the force of circumstances never to be overcome by difficulties, conceived the happy thought of converting the flower-market into stables and coach-houses, and placing the equipages of the emperor there under immense tents. the emperor at last rejoined his august spouse at brussels, where the enthusiasm excited by his presence was unanimous. on a suggestion from him, which was as delicate as politic, marie louise during her stay bought laces to the value of one hundred and fifty thousand francs, in order to encourage the manufacturers. the introduction into france of english merchandise was at that time severely prohibited, and all that was found was indiscriminately burned. of the whole system of offensive policy maintained by napoleon against the maritime tyranny of england, nothing more nearly aroused open opposition than the vigorous observance of prohibitory decrees. belgium then contained a quantity of english merchandise, which was most carefully concealed, and which every one was anxious to obtain, as is ever the case with forbidden fruit. all the ladies in the suite of the empress made large purchases of these articles; and one even filled several carriages with them, not without fear, however, that napoleon might be informed of this, and might seize everything on its arrival in france. these carriages, bearing the arms of the emperor, passed the rhine filled with this precious luggage, and arrived at the gates of coblentz, which furnished an occasion of painful uncertainty to the officers of the custom-house, while they deliberated whether they should arrest and examine the carriages, or should permit a convoy to pass unmolested because it professed to belong to the emperor. after mature deliberation, the majority adopted this alternative; and the carriages successfully passed the first line of french custom-houses, and reached port in safety,--that is to say, paris,--with its cargo of prohibited merchandise. if the carriages had been stopped, it is probable that napoleon would have highly applauded the courage of the inspectors of customs, and would have pitilessly burned the confiscated articles. their majesties arrived at utrecht the 6th of october, and found every house on the quays as well as the streets decorated with ribbons and garlands. the rain was falling in torrents; but this did not prevent the authorities being on foot from early in the morning, and the population filling the streets. as soon as he alighted from his carriage, napoleon, in spite of the weather, mounted his horse, and went to hold a review of several regiments stationed at the gates of utrecht, accompanied by a numerous staff, and a large number of curious persons, most of them wet to the skin. after the review napoleon entered the palace, where the entire deputation awaited him in an immense hall, still unfurnished, though it had been built by king louis, and without changing his clothing gave audience to all who were eager to congratulate him, and listened with most exemplary patience to the harangues addressed to him. the entrance of their majesties into amsterdam was most brilliant. the empress, in a chariot drawn by splendid horses, was a few hours in advance of the emperor, who made his entry on horseback, surrounded by a brilliant staff, glittering with gold and embroideries, who advanced at a slow pace amid shouts of admiration and astonishment from the good hollanders. through his simple and unaffected bearing there shone a profound satisfaction, and perhaps even a natural sentiment of pride, in seeing the welcome accorded to his glory here as elsewhere, and the universal sympathy aroused in the masses by his presence alone. drapery in three colors, which produced a very fine effect, hung from posts erected at regular intervals and formed the decoration of the streets through which his majesty was to pass; and he who three years later was to enter the palace of the tuileries by night, and as a fugitive, after having with much difficulty gained admission through the gates of the chateau, passed then under arches of triumph, with a glory yet unsullied by defeat, and a fortune still faithful. these reminiscences are painful to me, but they recur to my mind even against my will; for no year of the empire was marked by more fetes, more triumphant entries, or more popular rejoicings, than that which preceded the disastrous year of 1812. some of the actors of the french theater at paris had accompanied the court to holland, and talma there played the roles of bayard and d'orosmane; and m. alissan de chazet directed at amsterdam the performance by french comedians of a vaudeville in honor of their majesties, the title of which i have forgotten. here, again, i wish to refute another assertion no less false made by the author of these 'contemporary memoirs', concerning a fictitious liaison between the emperor and mademoiselle bourgoin. i cite the passage in question: "mademoiselle bourgoin, one of the delegates from the court of thalia, in order to be permitted to accompany the party on this journey, had thoughtlessly succumbed to the temptation of making indiscreet revelations; even boasting aloud that she attracted the emperor to the theater in which she played; and these boasts, which were by no means virtuous, having reached the emperor's ears, he would no longer attend the theater. he charged talma, for whom he had much consideration, to urge the pretty actress to be silent; and to inform her that on the slightest indiscretion she would be reconducted to france under good escort." this by no means agrees with what his majesty said one day in regard to this actress while at erfurt. these words, which the author of the memoirs would do well to recall, prove that the emperor had no views in regard to her; and the most important proof of all, is the great discretion which the emperor always exercised in regard to his amours. during the entire passage through holland, the emperor showed himself cordial and affable, welcoming every one most kindly, and accosting each in a suitable manner, and at no time was he ever more amiable or anxious to please. he visited the manufactures, inspected dock-yards, reviewed troops, addressed the sailors, and attended the ball's given in his honor in all the towns through which he passed; and amid this life of seeming pleasure and distraction, he exerted himself almost more than in the quiet, monotonous life of the camp, and was affable, gracious, and accessible to all his subjects. but in these processions, in the very midst of these fetes, amid all this acclamation of whole cities rushing out to meet him, eager to serve as his escort, under these arches of triumph which were erected to him sometimes even at the entrance of an obscure village, his abstraction was deeper than ever, and his heart more oppressed with care; for his thoughts were from this time filled with the expedition to russia. and perhaps into this amenity of manner, this friendliness, and these acts of benevolence, most of which were foreign to his character, there entered the design of lessening in advance the discontent which this expedition would produce; and perhaps in attaching all hearts to himself, in exhausting every means of pleasing, he imagined he was obtaining pardon in advance, by means of the enthusiasm of his subjects, for a war which, whatever might be the result, was to cost the empire so much blood and so many tears. during their majesties' stay at amsterdam, there was placed in the apartments of the empress a piano so constructed as to appear like a desk with a division in the middle, and in this space was placed a small bust of the emperor of russia. soon after, the emperor wished to see if the apartments of the empress were suitable, and while visiting them perceived this bust, which he placed under his arm without a word. he afterwards said to one of the ladies of the empress, that he wished this bust removed; and he was obeyed, though this caused considerable astonishment, as it was not then known that any coolness had arisen between the two emperors. a few days after his arrival at amsterdam, the emperor made several excursions into the country, accompanied by a somewhat numerous suite. he visited at saardam the thatched cottage which sheltered peter the great when he came to holland under the name of pierre michaeloff to study ship-building; and after remaining there half an hour, the emperor, as he left, remarked to the grand marshal of the palace. "that is the finest monument in holland." the evening before, her majesty the empress had visited the village of broek, which is the pride of the whole north of holland. almost all the houses of the village are built of wood, and are of one story, the fronts ornamented with numerous paintings in accordance with the caprice of the owners. these paintings are cared for most zealously, and preserved in a state of perfect freshness. through the windows of clearest glass are seen curtains of embroidered china silk, and of painted muslin and beautiful india stuffs. the streets are paved with brick and very clean, and are washed and rubbed daily, and covered with fine white sand, in which various figures are imitated, especially flowers. placards at the end of each street forbid the entrance of carriages into the village, the houses of which resemble children's toys. the cattle are cared for by hirelings at some distance from the town; and there is, outside the village, an inn for strangers, for they are not permitted to lodge inside. in front of some houses i remarked either a grass plot or an arrangement of colored sand and shells, sometimes little painted wooden statues, sometimes hedges oddly cut. even the vessels and broom-handles were painted various colors, and cared for like the remainder of the establishment; the inhabitants carrying their love of cleanliness so far as to compel those who entered to take off their shoes, and replace them with slippers, which stood at the door for this singular purpose. i am reminded on this subject of an anecdote relating to the emperor joseph the second. that prince, having presented himself in boots at the door of a house in broek, and being requested to remove them before entering, exclaimed, "i am the emperor!" --"even if you were the burgomaster of amsterdam, you should not enter in boots," replied the master of the dwelling. the good emperor thereupon put on the slippers. during the journey to holland their majesties were informed that the first tooth of the king of rome had just made its appearance, and that the health of this august child was not impaired thereby. in one of the little towns in the north of holland, the authorities requested the emperor's permission to present to him an old man aged one hundred and one years, and he ordered him brought before him. this more than centenarian was still vigorous, and had served formerly in the guards of the stadtholder; he presented a petition entreating the emperor to exempt from conscription one of his grandsons, the support of his old age. his majesty assured him, through an interpreter, that he would not deprive him of his grandson, and marshal duroc was ordered to leave with the old man a testimonial of imperial liberality. in another little town in friesland, the authorities made the emperor this singular address: "sire, we were afraid you would come with the whole court; you are almost alone, and thereby we see you the better, and the more at our ease." the emperor applauded this loyal compliment, and honored the orator by most touching thanks. after this long journey, passed in fetes, reviews, and displays of all kinds, where the emperor, under the guise of being entertained, had made profound observations on the moral, commercial, and military situation of holland, observations which bore fruit after his return to paris, and even while in the country, in wise and useful decrees, their majesties left holland, passing through haarlem, the hague, and rotterdam, where they were welcomed, as they had been in the whole of holland, by fetes. they crossed the rhine, visited cologne and aix-la-chapelle, and arrived at saint-cloud early in november, 1811. chapter ii. marie louis was a very handsome woman. she had a majestic figure and noble bearing, fresh complexion, blond hair, and blue eyes full of expression; her hands and feet were the admiration of the court. her figure was, perhaps, a trifle too stout; but she lost some of this superfluous flesh during her stay in france, though thereby she gained as much in grace and beauty. such was her appearance. in her intercourse with those immediately around her she was affable and cordial; and the enjoyment she felt in the freedom of these conversations was depicted on her countenance, which grew animated, and took on an infinite grace. but when she was obliged to appear in public she became extremely timid; formal society served of itself to isolate her; and as persons who are not naturally haughty always appear so with a poor grace, marie louise, being always much embarrassed on reception days, was often the subject of unjust criticism; for, as i have said, her coldness in reality arose from an excessive timidity. immediately after her arrival in france, marie louise suffered from this embarrassment to a very great degree, which can be easily understood in a young princess who found herself so suddenly transported into an entirely new society, to whose habits and tastes she felt obliged to conform, and in which, although her high position must naturally attract the world to her, the circumstances of this position rendered it necessary that she should take the initiative in any advances made, a fact which explains the awkwardness of her early relations with the ladies of her court. after intimacies had been formed, and the young empress had chosen her friends with all the abandon of her young heart, then haughtiness and constraint vanished, or reappeared only on occasions of ceremony. marie louise was of a calm, thoughtful character; it took little to arouse her sensitive spirit; and yet, although easily moved, she was by no means demonstrative. the empress had received a very careful education, her mind was cultivated and her tastes very simple, and she possessed every accomplishment. she detested the insipid hours passed in idleness, and liked occupation because it suited her tastes, and also because in a proper employment of her time she found the only means of driving away ennui. i think she was, in fact, a most congenial wife for the emperor. she was too much interested in the concerns of her own private life to ever mingle in political intrigues, and, although she was both empress and queen, very often was in entire ignorance of public affairs, except what knowledge she obtained from the journals. the emperor at the end of days filled with agitation could find a little relaxation only in a quiet domestic hearth, which restored to him the happiness of family life; and, consequently, an intriguing woman or a talkative politician would have annoyed him exceedingly. nevertheless, the emperor sometimes complained of the want of affability the empress showed to the ladies of her court, and said that this excessive reserve was injurious to him in a country where the opposite extreme is most common. this was because he was recalling the past somewhat, and thinking of the empress josephine, whose constant gayety was the chief charm of the court. he was necessarily struck by the contrast; but was there not some injustice at the foundation of this? the empress marie louise was the daughter of an emperor, and had seen and known only courtiers, and, having no acquaintance with any other class, knew nothing of any world outside the walls of the palace of vienna. she arrived one fine day at the tuileries, in the midst of a people whom she had never seen except as soldiers; and on this account the constraint of her manner towards the persons composing the brilliant society of paris seems to me to a certain point excusable. it seems to me, besides, that the empress was expected to show a frankness and simplicity which were entirely misplaced; and, by being cautioned over and over again to be natural, she was prevented from the observance of that formality also suitable on the part of the great, who should be approached only when they themselves give the signal. the empress josephine loved the people because she had been one of them; and in mounting a throne her expansive nature had everything to gain, for she found it was only extending her friendship among a larger circle. inspired by her own kind heart, the empress marie louise sought to make those around her happy; and her benevolent deeds were long the subject of conversation, and, above all, the delicate manner in which they were performed. each month she took from the sum allotted for her toilet ten thousand francs for the poor, which was not the limit of her charities; for she always welcomed with the greatest interest those who came to tell her of distresses to be alleviated. from the eagerness with which she listened to those soliciting aid, it would seem that she had been recalled suddenly to a duty; and yet it was simply an evidence that the chords of her sensitive heart had been touched. i do not know if any one ever received from her a refusal of a demand of this sort. the emperor was deeply touched each time that he was informed of a benevolent act of the empress. at eight o'clock in the morning the curtains and blinds were half opened in the apartments of the empress marie louise, and the papers were handed her; after reading which, chocolate or coffee was served, with a kind of pastry called tongue. this first breakfast she took in bed. at nine o'clock marie louise arose, made her morning toilet, and received those persons privileged to attend at this hour. every day in the emperor's absence, the empress ascended to the apartment of madame de montebello, her lady of honor, followed by her service, composed of the chevalier of honor, and some of the ladies of the palace; and on her return to her apartments, a light breakfast was served, consisting of pastry and fruits. after her lessons in drawing, painting, and music, she commenced her grand toilet. between six and seven o'clock she dined with the emperor, or in his absence with madame de montebello, the dinner comprising only one course. the evening was spent in receptions, or at concerts, plays, etc.; and the empress retired at eleven o'clock. one of her women always slept in the room in front of her bedroom, and it was through this the emperor was obliged to pass when he spent the night in his wife's room. this customary routine of the empress was changed, however, when the emperor was at the chateau; but when alone she was punctual in all her employments, and did exactly the same things at the same hours. her personal domestics seemed much attached to her; for though cool and distant in her manner, they always found her good and just. in the emperor's absence the portrait of the duchess of montebello ornamented the empress's room with those of the entire imperial family of austria; but when the emperor returned, the portrait of the duchess was removed; and during the war between napoleon and the emperors of austria and russia, the portrait of francis ii. was removed from his daughter's room, by order of his majesty, and was, i think, consigned to some secret spot. the king of rome was a very fine child; and though he resembled the emperor less than the son of hortense had done, his features were an agreeable union of those of his father and mother. i never knew him except in his infancy, and what was most remarkable in him at that age was the great kindness and affection he showed to those around him. he was much devoted to a young and pretty person named fanny soufflot, daughter of the first lady of the bedchamber, who was his constant companion; and, as he liked to see her always well dressed, he begged of marie louise, or his governess, madame the countess of montesquiou, any finery that struck his fancy, which he wished to give to his young friend. he made her promise to follow him to the war when he was grown, and said many charming things which showed his affectionate disposition. there was chosen as companion for the little king (as he styled himself) a young child named albert froment, i think, the son of one of the ladies of honor. one morning as they were playing together in the garden on which the apartments of the king opened at saint-cloud, mademoiselle fanny was watching them without interfering with their games, albert tried to take the king's wheelbarrow; and, when the latter resisted, albert struck him, whereupon the king exclaimed, "oh, suppose some one had seen you! but i will not tell!" i consider this a fine evidence of character. one day he was at the windows of the chateau with his governess, amusing himself by looking at the passers-by, and pointing out with his finger those who attracted his attention. while standing there he saw below a woman in deep mourning, holding by the hand a little boy also dressed in mourning. the little child carried a petition, which he waved from a distance to the prince, and seemed to be entreating him to receive. their black clothing made a deep impression on the prince, and he asked why the poor child was dressed all in black. "doubtless because his papa is dead," replied the governess, whereupon the child expressed an earnest desire to speak to the little petitioner. madame de montesquiou, who especially desired to cultivate in her young pupil this disposition to mercy, gave orders that the mother and child should be brought up. she proved to be the widow of a brave man who had lost his life in the last campaign; and by his death she had been reduced to poverty, and compelled to solicit a pension from the emperor. the young prince took the petition, and promised to present it to his papa. and next day when he went as usual to pay his respects to his father, and handed him all the petitions presented to him the evening before, one alone was kept apart; it was that of his little protege. "papa," said he, "here is a petition from a little boy whose father was killed on your account; give him a pension." napoleon was deeply moved, and embraced his son, and orders for the pension were given that day. this conduct in so young a child gives undeniable evidence of an excellent heart. his early training was excellent; as madame de montesquiou had an unbounded influence over him, owing to the manner at once gentle and grave in which she corrected his faults. the child was generally docile, but, nevertheless, sometimes had violent fits of anger, which his governess had adopted an excellent means of correcting, which was to remain perfectly unmoved until he himself controlled his fury. when the child returned to himself, a few severe and pertinent remarks transformed him into a little cato for the remainder of the day. one day as he was rolling on the floor refusing to listen to the remonstrances of his governess, she closed tie windows and shutters; and the child, astonished by this performance, forgot what had enraged him, and asked her why she did this. "i did it because i was afraid you would be heard; do you suppose the french people would want you as their prince, if they knew that you gave way to such fits of anger?"--"do you think they heard me?" he inquired; "i would be very sorry if they had. pardon, mamma quiou [this was his name for her], i will not do it again." the emperor was passionately devoted to his son; took him in his arms every time he saw him, and jumped him up and down most merrily, and was delighted with the joy he manifested. he teased him by carrying him in front of the glass and making grimaces, at which the child laughed till he cried. while at breakfast he took him on his knee, dipped his finger in the sauce and made him suck it, and smeared his face with it; and when the governess scolded, the emperor laughed still more heartily, and the child, who enjoyed the sport, begged his father to repeat it. this was an opportune moment for the arrival of petitions at the chateau; for they were always well received at such times, thanks to the all-powerful credit of the little mediator. the emperor in his tender moods was sometimes even more childish than his son. the young prince was only four months old when his father put his three-cornered hat on the pretty infant. the child usually cried a good deal, and at these times the emperor embraced him with an ardor and delight which none but a tender father could feel, saying to him, "what, sire, you crying! a king weeping; fie, then, how ugly that is!" he was just a year old when i saw the emperor, on the lawn in front of the chateau, place his sword-belt over the shoulders of the king, and his hat on his head, and holding out his arms to the child, who tottered to him, his little feet now and then entangled in his father's sword; and it was beautiful to see the eagerness with which the emperor extended his arms to keep him from falling. one day in his cabinet the emperor was lying on the floor, the king riding horseback on his knee, mounting by jumps up to his father's face, and kissing him. on another occasion the child entered the council chamber after the meeting had ended, and ran into his father's arms without paying attention to any one else, upon which the emperor said to him, "sire, you have not saluted these gentlemen." the child turned, bowed most gracefully, and his father then took him in his arms. sometimes when going to visit the emperor, he ran so fast that he left madame de montesquiou far behind, and said to the usher, "open the door for me, i want to see papa." the usher replied, "sire, i cannot do it." --"but i am the little king."--"no, sire, i cannot open it." at this moment his governess appeared; and strong in her protection he proudly repeated, "open the door, the king desires it." madame de montesquiou had added to the prayers which the child repeated morning and evening, these words: "my god, inspire papa to make peace for the happiness of france." one evening the emperor was present when his son was retiring, and he made the same prayer, whereupon the emperor embraced him in silence, smiling most kindly on madame de montesquiou. the emperor was accustomed to say to the king of rome when he was frightened at any noise or at his grimaces, "come, come! a king should have no fear." i recall another anecdote concerning the young son of the emperor, which was related to me by his majesty himself one evening when i was undressing him as usual, and at which the emperor laughed most heartily. "you would not believe," said he, "the singular reward my son desired of his governess for being good. would she not allow him to go and wade in the mud?" this was, true, and proves, it seems to me, that the greatness which surrounds the cradle of princes cannot eradicate from their minds the singular caprices of childhood. chapter iii. all the world is familiar with the name of the abbe geoffroy of satirical memory, who drove the most popular actors and authors of the time to desperation. this pitiless aristarchus must have been most ardently enamored of this disagreeable profession; for he sometimes endangered thereby, not his life, which many persons would have desired earnestly perhaps, but at any rate his health and his repose. it is well, doubtless, to attack those who can reply with the pen, as then the consequences of the encounter do not reach beyond the ridicule which is often the portion of both adversaries. but abbe geoffroy fulfilled only one of the two conditions by virtue of which one can criticise,--he had much bitterness in his pen, but he was not a man of the sword; and every one knows that there are persons whom it is necessary to attack with both these weapons. an actor whom geoffroy had not exactly flattered in his criticisms decided to avenge himself in a piquant style, and one at which he could laugh long and loud. one evening, foreseeing what would appear in the journal of the next day, he could think of nothing better than to carry off geoffroy as he was returning from the theater, and conduct him with bandaged eyes to a house where a schoolboy's punishment would be inflicted on this man who considered himself a master in the art of writing. this plan was carried out. just as the abbe regained his lodging, rubbing his hands perhaps as he thought of some fine point for tomorrow's paper, three or four vigorous fellows seized him, and conveyed him without a word to the place of punishment; and some time later that evening, the abbe, well flogged, opened his eyes in the middle of the street, to find himself alone far from his dwelling. the emperor, when told of this ludicrous affair, was not at all amused, but, on the contrary, became very angry, and said that if he knew the authors of this outrage, he would have them punished. "when a man attacks with the pen," he added, "he should be answered with the same weapon." the truth is also that the emperor was much attached to m. geoffroy, whose writings he did not wish submitted to censure like those of other journalist. it was said in paris that this predilection of a great man for a caustic critic came from the fact that these contributions to the journal of the empire, which attracted much attention at this period, were a useful diversion to the minds of the capital. i know nothing positively in regard to this; but when i reflect on the character of the emperor, who wished no one to occupy themselves with his political affairs, these opinions seem to me not devoid of foundation. doctor corvisart was not a courtier, and came rarely to the emperor, except on his regular visit each wednesday and saturday. he was very candid with the emperor, insisted positively that his directions should be obeyed to the letter, and made full use of the right accorded to physicians to scold their negligent patient. the emperor was especially fond of him, and always detained him, seeming to find much pleasure in his conversation. after the journey to holland in 1811, m. corvisart came to see the emperor one saturday, and found him in good health. he left him after the toilet, and immediately went to enjoy the pleasures of the chase, of which he was exceedingly fond. he was in the habit of not announcing where he was going, solely in order that he might not be interrupted for some slight cause, as had happened to him sometimes, for the doctor was most obliging and considerate. that day after his breakfast, which, according to custom, he had devoured rapidly, the emperor was taken suddenly with a violent colic, and was quite ill. he asked for m. corvisart, and a courier was dispatched for him, who, not finding him in paris, hastened to his country house; but the doctor was at the chase, no one knew where, so the courier was obliged to return without him. the emperor was deeply vexed, and as he continued to suffer extremely, at last went to bed, and marie louise came and spent a few moments with him; at last m. yvan was summoned, and administered remedies which soon relieved the emperor. m. corvisart, somewhat anxious perhaps, came on monday instead of wednesday; and when he entered napoleon's room, the latter, who was in his dressing-gown, ran to him, and taking him by both ears, said, "well, monsieur, it seems that if i were seriously ill, i should have to dispense with your services." m. corvisart excused himself, asked the emperor how he had been affected, what remedies he had used, and promised always to leave word where he could be found, in order that he might be summoned immediately on his majesty's orders, and the emperor was soon appeased. this event was really of advantage to the doctor; for he thus abandoned a bad habit, at which it is probable his patients rejoiced. m. corvisart had a very great influence with the emperor, so much so that many persons who knew him gave him the soubriquet of doctor of petitions; and it was very rarely he failed to obtain a favorable answer to his requests. nevertheless, i often heard him speak warmly in favor of m. de bourrienne, in order to impress upon the emperor's mind that he was much attached to his majesty; but the latter always replied, "no, bourrienne is too much of an englishman; and besides, he is doing very well; i have located him at hamburg. he loves money, and he can make it there." it was during the year 1811 that cardinal fesch came most frequently to the emperor's apartments, and their discussions seemed to me very animated. the cardinal maintained his opinions most vehemently, speaking in a very loud tone and with great volubility. these conversations did not last more than five moments before they became very bitter, and i heard the emperor raise his voice to the same pitch; then followed an exchange of harsh terms, and each time the cardinal arrived i felt distressed for the emperor, who was always much agitated at the close of these interviews. one day as the cardinal was taking leave of the emperor, i heard the latter say to him sharply, "cardinal, you take advantage of your position." a few days before our departure for russia the emperor had me summoned during the day, and ordered me to bring from the treasury the box of diamonds, and place it in his room, and not to go far away, as he had some important business for me. about nine o'clock in the evening i was again summoned, and found m. de lavalette, director-general of the post, in the emperor's room. his majesty opened the box in my presence, and examined the contents, saying to me, "constant, carry this box yourself to the count's carriage, and remain there till he arrives." the carriage was standing at the foot of the grand staircase in the court of the tuileries; and i opened it, took my seat, and waited until half-past eleven, when m. de lavalette arrived, having spent all this time in conversation with the emperor. i could not understand these precautions in delivering the diamonds to m. de lavalette, but they were certainly not without a motive. the box contained the sword, on the pommel of which was mounted the regent diamond, the handle also set with diamonds of great value; the grand collar of the legion of honor; the ornaments, hatcord, shoulder-piece, and buttons of the coronation robes, with the shoe-buckles and garters, all of which were of immense value. a short time before we set out for the russian campaign, josephine sent for me, and i went at once to malmaison, where this excellent woman renewed her earnest recommendations to watch most carefully over the emperor's health and safety; and made me promise that if any accident, however slight, happened to him, i would write to her, as she was exceedingly anxious to know the real truth concerning him. she wept much; talked to me constantly about the emperor, and after a conversation of more than an hour, in which she gave full vent to her emotions, presented me with her portrait painted by saint on a gold snuff-box. i felt much depressed by this interview; for nothing could be more touching than to see this woman disgraced, but still loving, entreating my care over the man who had abandoned her, and manifesting the same affectionate interest in him which the most beloved wife would have done. on entering russia, a thing of which i speak here more according to the order of my reminiscences than in the order of time, the emperor sent out, on three different roads, details of select police to prepare in advance lodgings, beds, supplies, etc. these officers were messieurs sarrazin, adjutant-lieutenant, verges, molene, and lieutenant pachot. i will devote farther on an entire chapter to our itinerary from paris to moscow. a short time before the battle of la moskwa, a man was brought to the camp dressed in the russian uniform, but speaking french; at least his language was a singular mixture of french and russian. this man had escaped secretly from the enemy's lines; and when he perceived that our soldiers were only a short distance from him, had thrown his gun on the ground, crying in a very strong russian accent, "i am french," and our soldiers had at once taken him prisoner. never was prisoner more charmed with his change of abode. this poor fellow, who seemed to have been forced to take arms against his will in the service of the enemies of his country, arrived at the french camp, called himself the happiest of men in finding again his fellow-countrymen, and pressed the hand of all the soldiers with an ardor which delighted them. he was brought to the emperor, and appeared much over-awed at finding himself in the presence of the king of the french, as he called his majesty. the emperor questioned him closely, and in his reply he declared that the noise of the french cannon had always made his heart beat; and that he had feared only one thing, which was that he might be killed by his compatriots. from what he told the emperor it appeared that he belonged to that numerous class of men who find themselves transplanted by their family to a foreign land, without really knowing the cause of their emigration. his father had pursued at moscow an unremunerative industrial profession, and had died leaving him without resources for the future, and, in order to earn his bread, he had become a soldier. he said that the russian military discipline was one of his strongest incentives to desert, adding that he had strong arms and a brave heart, and would serve in the french army if the general permitted. his frankness pleased the emperor, and he endeavored to obtain from him some positive information on the state of the public mind at moscow; and ascertained from his revelations, more or less intelligent, that there was much disturbance in that ancient capital. he said that in the street could be heard cries of, "no more of barclay! [prince michael barclay de tolly, born in livonia, 1755, of scottish extraction; distinguished himself in wars against sweden, turkey, and poland, 1788 and 1794, and against the french, 1806; commanded russian army against napoleon in 1812, until superseded, after battle of smolensk, by kutusoff, and commanded the right wing at borodino; afterwards commanded at bautzen and leipsic; died 1818] down with the traitor! dismiss him! long live kutusoff!" the merchant class, which possessed great influence on account of its wealth, complained of a system of temporizing which left men in uncertainty, and compromised the honor of the russian arms; and it was thought unpardonable in the emperor that he had bestowed his confidence on a foreigner when old kutusoff, with the blood and the heart of a russian, was given a secondary position. the emperor alexander had paid little attention to these energetic complaints, until at last, frightened by the symptoms of insurrection which began to be manifest in the army, he had yielded, and kutusoff had been named generalissimo, over which important event there had been rejoicings and illuminations at moscow. a great battle with the french was talked of; enthusiasm was at its height in the russian army, and every soldier had fastened to his cap a green branch. the prisoner spoke with awe of kutusoff, and said that he was an old man, with white hair and great mustaches, and eyes that struck him with terror; that he lacked much of dressing like the french generals; that he wore very ordinary clothes--he who could have such fine ones; that he roared like a lion when he was angry; that he never started on a march without saying his prayers; and that he crossed himself frequently at different hours of the day. "the soldiers love him because they say he so much resembles suwarrow. i am afraid he will do the french much harm," said he. the emperor, satisfied with this information, dismissed the prisoner, and gave orders that he should be allowed the freedom of the camp; and afterwards he fought bravely beside our soldiers. the emperor made his entrance into gjatsk with a most singular escort. some cossacks had been taken in a skirmish; and his majesty, who was at this time very eager for information from every quarter, desired to question these savages, and for this purpose had two or three brought to his headquarters. these men seemed formed to be always on horseback, and their appearance when they alighted on the ground was most amusing. their legs, which the habit of pressing their horses' sides had driven far apart, resembled a pair of pincers, and they had a general air of being out of their element. the emperor entered gjatsk, escorted by two of these barbarians on horseback, who appeared much flattered by this honor. i remarked that sometimes the emperor could with difficulty repress a smile as he witnessed the awkward appearance made by these cavaliers from the ukraine, above all when they attempted to put on airs. their reports, which the interpreter of the emperor had some difficulty in comprehending, seemed a confirmation of all his majesty had heard concerning moscow. these barbarians made the emperor understand by their animated gestures, convulsive movements, and warlike postures, that there would soon be a great battle between the french and the russians. the emperor had brandy given them, which they drank like water, and presented their glasses anew with a coolness which was very amusing. their horses were small, with cropped manes and long tails, such as unfortunately can be seen without leaving paris. it is a matter of history that the king of naples made a most favorable impression on these barbarians. when it was announced to the emperor one day that they desired to appoint him their hetman, the emperor was much amused by this offer, and said jestingly that he was ready to indorse this choice of a free people. the king of naples had something theatrical in his appearance which fascinated these barbarians, for he always dressed magnificently. when his steed bore him in front of his column, his beautiful hair disordered by the wind, as he gave those grand saber strokes which mowed down men like stubble, i can well comprehend the deep impression he made on the fancy of these warlike people, among whom exterior qualities alone can be appreciated. it is said that the king of naples by simply raising this powerful sword had put to flight a horde of these barbarians. i do not know how much truth there is in this statement, but it is at least possible. the cossacks, in common with all races still in their infancy, believe in magicians. a very amusing anecdote was told of the great chief of the cossacks, the celebrated platoff. pursued by the king of naples, he was beating a retreat, when a ball reached one of the officers beside him, on which event the hetman was so much irritated against his magician that he had him flogged in presence of all his hordes, reproaching him most bitterly because he had not turned away the balls by his witchcraft. this was plain evidence of the fact that he had more faith in his art than the sorcerer himself possessed. on the 3d of september, from his headquarters at gjatsk, the emperor ordered his army to prepare for a general engagement. there had been for some days much laxity in the police of the bivouacs, and he now redoubled the severity of the regulations in regard to the countersigns. some detachments which had been sent for provisions having too greatly prolonged their expedition, the emperor charged the colonels to express to them his dissatisfaction, adding that those who had not returned by the next day could not take part in the battle. these words needed no commentary. the country surrounding gjatsk was very fertile, and the fields were now covered with rye ready for the sickle, through which we saw here and there broad gaps made by the cossacks in their, flight. i have often since compared the aspect of these fields in november and september. what a horrible thing is war! a few days before the battle, napoleon, accompanied by two of his marshals, made a visit of inspection on foot in the outskirts of the city. on the eve of this great event he discussed everything in the calmest manner, speaking of this country as he would have done of a beautiful, fertile province of france. in hearing him one might think that the granary of the army had here been found, that it would consequently furnish excellent winter quarters, and the first care of the government he was about to establish at gjatsk would be the encouragement of agriculture. he then pointed out to his marshals the beautiful windings of the river which gives its name to the village, and appeared delighted with the landscape spread before his eyes. i have never seen the emperor abandon himself to such gentle emotions, nor seen such serenity manifested both in his countenance and conversation; and at the same time i was never more deeply impressed with the greatness of his soul. on the 5th of september the emperor mounted the heights of borodino, hoping to take in at a glance the respective positions of the two armies; but the sky was overcast. one of those fine, cold rains soon began to fall, which so often come in the early autumn, and resemble from a distance a tolerably thick fog. the emperor tried to use his glasses; but the kind of veil which covered the whole country prevented his seeing any distance, by which he was much vexed. the rain, driven by the wind, fell slanting against his field-glasses, and he had to dry them over and over again, to his very great annoyance. the atmosphere was so cold and damp that he ordered his cloak, and wrapped himself in it, saying that as it was impossible to remain there, he must return to headquarters, which he did, and throwing himself on the bed slept a short while. on awaking he said, "constant, i hear a noise outside; go see what it is." i went out, and returned to inform him that general caulaincourt had arrived; at which news the emperor rose hastily, and ran to meet the general, asking him anxiously, "do you bring any prisoners?" the general replied that he had not been able to take prisoners, since the russian soldiers preferred death to surrender. the emperor immediately cried, "let all the artillery be brought forward." he had decided that in his preparations to make this war one of extermination, the cannon would spare his troops the fatigue of discharging their muskets. on the 6th, at midnight, it was announced to the emperor that the fires of the russians seemed less numerous, and the flames were extinguished at several points; and some few said they had heard the muffled sound of drums. the army was in a state of great anxiety. the emperor sprang wildly from his bed, repeatedly exclaiming, "it is impossible!" i tried to hand him his garments, that he might clothe himself warmly, as the night was so cold; but he was so eager to assure himself personally of the truth of these statements, that he rushed out of the tent with only his cloak wrapped around him. it was a fact that the fires of the bivouac had grown paler, and the emperor had reason for the gravest suspicions. where would the war end if the russians fell back now? he re-entered his tent much agitated, and retired to bed again, repeating many times, "we will know the truth to-morrow morning." on the 7th of september, the sun rose in a cloudless sky, and the emperor exclaimed, "it is the sun of austerlitz!" these words of the emperor were reported to the army, and repeated by them amid great enthusiasm. the drums were beaten, and the order of the day was read as follows: soldiers,--behold the battle you have so long desired! henceforth that victory depends on you which is so necessary to us, since it will furnish us abundant provisions, good winter quarters, and a prompt return to our native land. conduct yourselves as at austerlitz, at friedland, at witepsk, at smolensk, and let the most remote posterity refer with pride to your conduct on this day; let it be said of you, "he took part in the great battle under the walls of moscow." the army replied by reiterated acclamations. the emperor, a few hours before the battle, had dictated this proclamation, and it was read in the morning to the soldiers. napoleon was then on the heights of borodino; and when the enthusiastic cries of the army struck his ear, he was standing with folded arms, the sun shining full in his eyes, reflected from the french and russian bayonets. he smiled, then became more serious until the affair was terminated. on that day the portrait of the king of rome was brought to napoleon. he needed some gentle emotion to divert his mind from this state of anxious suspense. he held this portrait long on his knees, contemplating it with delight, and said that it was the most agreeable surprise he had ever received, and repeated several times in a low tone, "my good louise! this is a charming attention!" on the emperor's countenance there rested an expression of happiness difficult to describe, though the first emotions excited were calm and even melancholy. "the dear child," was all that he said. but he experienced all the pride of a father and an emperor when by his orders officers, and even soldiers, of the old guard came to see the king of rome. the portrait was placed on exhibition in front of the tent; and it was inexpressibly touching to see these old soldiers uncover themselves with respect before this image, in which they sought to find some of the features of napoleon. the emperor had at this moment the expansive joy of a father who knows well that next to him his son has no better friends than his old companions in endurance and glory. at four o'clock in the morning, that is to say one hour before the battle opened, napoleon felt a great exhaustion in his whole person, and had a slight chill, without fever, however, and threw himself on his bed. nevertheless, he was not as ill as m. de segur states. he had had for some time a severe cold that he had somewhat neglected, and which was so much increased by the fatigue of this memorable day that he lost his voice almost entirely. he treated this with the soldier's prescription, and drank light punch during the whole night, which he spent working in his cabinet without being able to speak. this inconvenience lasted two days; but on the 9th he was well, and his hoarseness almost gone. after the battle, of every six corpses found, one would be french and five russian. at noon an aide-de-camp came to inform the emperor that count auguste de caulaincourt, brother of the duke of vicenza, had been struck by a ball. the emperor drew a deep sigh, but said not a word; for he well knew that his heart would most likely be saddened more, than once that day. after the battle, he expressed his condolences to the duke of vicenza in the most touching manner. count auguste de caulaincourt was a young man full of courage, who had left his young wife a few hours after his marriage to follow the french army, and to find a glorious death at the battle of la moskwa. he was governor of the pages of the emperor, and had married the sister of one of his charges. this charming person was so young that her parents preferred that the marriage should not take place until he returned from the campaign, being influenced in this decision by the fate of prince aldobrandini after his marriage with mademoiselle de la rochefoucault before the campaign of wagram. general auguste de caulaincourt was killed in a redoubt to which he had led the cuirassiers of general montbrun, who had just been fatally wounded by a cannon-ball in the attack on this same redoubt. the emperor often said, in speaking of generals killed in the army, "such an one is happy in having died on the field of honor, while i shall perhaps be so unfortunate as to die in my bed." he was less philosophical on the occasion of marshal lannes's death, when i saw him, while at breakfast, weeping such large tears that they rolled over his cheeks, and fell into his plate. he mourned deeply for desaix, poniatowski, and bessieres, but most of all for lannes, and next to him duroc. during the whole of the battle of the moskwa the emperor had attacks resembling stone in the bladder. he had been often threatened with this disease unless he was more prudent in his diet, and suffered much, although he complained little, and only when attacked by violent pain uttered stifled groans. now, nothing causes more anxiety than to hear those complain who are unaccustomed to do so; for then one imagines the suffering most intense, since it is stronger than a strong man. at austerlitz the emperor said, "ordener is worn out. there is only one time for military achievement in a man's life. i shall be good for six years longer, and after that i shall retire." the emperor rode over the field of battle, which presented a horrible spectacle, nearly all the dead being covered with wounds; which proved with what bitterness the battle had been waged. the weather was very inclement, and rain was falling, accompanied by a very high wind. poor wounded creatures, who had not yet been removed to the ambulances, half rose from the ground in their desire not to be overlooked and to receive aid; while some among them still cried, "vive l'empereur!" in spite of their suffering and exhaustion. those of our soldiers who had been killed by russian balls showed on their corpses deep and broad wounds, for the russian balls were much larger than ours. we saw a color-bearer, wrapped in his banner as a winding-sheet, who seemed to give signs of life, but he expired in the shock of being raised. the emperor walked on and said nothing, though many times when he passed by the most mutilated, he put his hand over his eyes to avoid the sight. this calm lasted only a short while; for there was a place on the battlefield where french and russians had fallen pell-mell, almost all of whom were wounded more or less grievously. and when the emperor heard their cries, he became enraged, and shouted at those who had charge of removing the wounded, much irritated by the slowness with which this was done. it was difficult to prevent the horses from trampling on the corpses, so thickly did they lie. a wounded soldier was struck by the shoe of a horse in the emperor's suite, and uttered a heartrending cry, upon which the emperor quickly turned, and inquired in a most vehement manner who was the awkward person by whom the man was hurt. he was told, thinking that it would calm his anger, that the man was nothing but a russian. "russian or french," he exclaimed, "i wish every one removed!" poor young fellows who were making their first campaign, being wounded to the death, lost courage, and wept like children crying for their mothers. the terrible picture will be forever engraven on my memory. the emperor urgently repeated his orders for removing the wounded quickly, then turned his horse in silence, and returned to his headquarters, the evening being now far advanced. i passed the night near him, and his sleep was much disturbed; or, rather, he did not sleep at all, and repeated over and over, restlessly turning on his pillow, "poor caulaincourt! what a day! what a day!" chapter iv. as i have announced previously, i shall endeavor to record in this chapter some recollections of events personal to the emperor which occurred during the journey between the frontiers of france and prussia. how sad a contrast results, alas! as we attempt to compare our journey to moscow with that of our return. one must have seen napoleon at dresden, surrounded by a court of princes and of kings, to form an idea of the highest point which human greatness can reach. there more than ever elsewhere the emperor was affable to all; fortune smiled upon him, and none of those who enjoyed with us the spectacle of his glory could even conceive the thought that fortune could soon prove unfaithful to him and in so striking a manner. i remember, among other particulars of our stay at dresden, a speech i heard the emperor make to marshal berthier, whom he had summoned at a very early hour. when the marshal arrived, napoleon had not yet risen, but i received orders to bring him in at once; so that while dressing the emperor, i heard between him and his major-general a conversation of which i wish i could remember the whole, but at least i am sure of repeating correctly one thought which struck me. the emperor said in nearly these words:-"i wish no harm to alexander; it is not on russia that i am making war, no more than on spain; i have only one enemy,--england, and it is her i am striving to reach in russia; i will pursue her everywhere." during this speech the marshal bit his nails, as was his constant habit. on that day a magnificent review was held, at which all the princes of the confederation were present, surrounding their chief as great vassals of his crown. when the various army-corps marshaled from the other side of the elbe had advanced to the confines of poland, we left dresden, meeting everywhere the same enthusiasm on the advent of the emperor. we were as a result sumptuously entertained in every place at which we halted, so anxious were the inhabitants to testify their regard for his majesty, even in the person of those who had the honor of serving him. at this time there was a general rumor in the army, and among the persons of the emperor's household, that his intention was to re-establish the kingdom of poland. ignorant as i was, and from my position should naturally be, of all political matters, i heard no less than others the expression of an opinion which was universal, and which was discussed openly by all. sometimes the emperor condescended to ask me what i heard, and always smiled at my report, since i could not tell the truth and say anything that would have been disagreeable to him; for he was then, and i do not speak too strongly, universally adored by the polish population. on the 23d of june we were on the banks of the niemen, that river already become so famous by the interview between the two emperors, under circumstances very different from those in which they now found themselves. the passage of the army began in the evening, and lasted for forty-eight hours, during which time the emperor was almost constantly on horseback, so well he knew that his presence expedited matters. then we continued our journey to wilna, the capital of the grand duchy of lithuania, and on the 27th arrived in front of this town, occupied by the russians; and it may truly be said that there, and there alone, military operations began, for up to this time the emperor had traveled as he would have done in the departments of the interior of france. the russians, being attacked, were beaten and fell back, so that two days after we entered wilna, a town of considerable size, which seemed to me to contain about thirty thousand inhabitants. i was struck with the incredible number of convents and churches which are there. at wilna the emperor was much gratified by the demand of five or six hundred students that they should be formed into a regiment. it is needless to say that such solicitations were always eagerly granted by his majesty. we rested for some time at wilna; the emperor thence followed the movement of his armies, and occupied himself also with organizing the grand duchy of lithuania, of which this town, as is well known, is the capital. as the emperor was often on horseback, i had sufficient leisure to acquaint myself thoroughly with the town and its environs. the lithuanians were in a state of enthusiasm impossible to describe; and although i have seen during my life many fetes, i shall never forget the joyous excitement of the whole population when the grand national fete of the regeneration of poland was celebrated, which owing either to a singular coincidence, or the calculation of the emperor, was appointed for the 14th of july. the poles were still uncertain as to the ultimate fate which the emperor reserved for their country; but a future bright with hope shone before their eyes, until these visions were rudely dispelled by the emperor's reply to the deputation from the polish confederation established at warsaw. this numerous deputation, with a count palatine at its head, demanded the integral re-establishment of the ancient kingdom of poland. this was the emperor's reply:-"messieurs, deputies of the confederation of poland, i have heard with interest what you have just said. were i a pole, i should think and act as you have done, and i should have voted like you in the assembly at warsaw; for love of country is the first virtue of civilized man. "in my position i have many opposing interests to reconcile, and many duties to fulfill. if i had reigned at the time of the first, second, or third division of poland, i would have armed all my people to sustain you. as soon as victory permitted me to restore your ancient laws to your capital and to a part of your provinces, i have done so readily, without, however, prolonging a war which would have shed the blood of my subjects. "i love your nation. for sixteen years i have seen your soldiers by my side on the fields of italy as on those of spain. "i applaud all that you have done; i authorize the efforts you wish to make; and all that depends on me to carry out your resolutions shall be done. "if your efforts are unanimous, you may indulge the hope of forcing your enemies to recognize your rights. but in these countries, so distant and so extensive, any hope of success can be founded only on the unanimous efforts of the population which occupies them. "i have maintained the same position since my first appearance in poland. i should add here that i have guaranteed to the emperor of austria the integrity of his states, and i could authorize no movement tending to disturb him in the peaceful possession of what remains to him of the polish provinces. let lithuania, samogitia, witepsk, polotsk, mohilow, wolhynia, ukraine, and podolia be animated by the same spirit i have seen in great poland, and providence will crown with success the holiness of your cause; it will recompense this devotion to your native country which has made you such an object of interest, and has obtained for you the right to my esteem and protection, on which you may rely under all circumstances." i have thought it best to give here the entire reply of the emperor to the deputies of the polish confederation, as i was a witness of the effect it produced at wilna. a few poles with whom i was associated spoke to me of it with sorrow; but their consternation was not loudly expressed, and the air did not the less resound with cries of "vive l'empereur!" each time the emperor showed himself in public, which is to say almost every day. during our stay at wilna some hopes were entertained that a new peace was about to be concluded, as an envoy had arrived from the emperor alexander. but these hopes were of short duration; and i have since ascertained that the russian officer, m. balochoff, fearing, like almost all of his nation, a reconciliation between the two emperors, delivered his message in such a manner as to rouse the pride of his majesty, who sent him back after a cool reception. everything smiled on the emperor. he was then at the head of the most numerous as well as most formidable army he had ever commanded. on m. balachoff's departure everything was set in order for the execution of his majesty's plans. when on the point of penetrating into the russian territory, his majesty no longer maintained his customary serenity; at least, i had occasion to remark that he was unusually silent at the hours i had the honor to approach him; and, nevertheless, as soon as his plans were made, and he had brought his troops from the other side of the vilia, the river on which wilna is situated, the emperor took possession of the russian territory with the enthusiastic ardor one would expect in a young man. one of the escort which accompanied him related to me that the emperor spurred his horse to the front, and made him run at his utmost speed nearly a league through the woods alone, and notwithstanding the numerous cossacks scattered through these woods which lie along the right bank of the vilia. i have more than once seen the emperor much annoyed because there was no enemy to fight. for instance, the russians had abandoned wilna, which we had entered without resistance; and again, on leaving this town scouts announced the absence of hostile troops, with the exception of those cossacks of whom i have spoken. i remember one day we thought we heard the distant noise of cannon, and the emperor almost shuddered with joy; but we were soon undeceived, the noise was the sound of thunder, and suddenly the most frightful storm i have ever seen burst over the army. the land for a space of more than four leagues was so covered with water that the road could not be seen; and this storm, as fatal as a battle could have been, cost us a large number of men, several thousand horses, and a part of the immense equipments of the expedition. it was known in the army that the russians had done an immense amount of work at drissa, where they had constructed an enormous intrenched camp; and the number of troops collected there, the considerable sums expended in the works, all gave reason to believe that the russian army would await the french at this point; and this belief was all the more reasonable since the emperor alexander, in his numerous proclamations disseminated through the army, and several of which fell into our hands, boasted of conquering the french at drissa, where (said these proclamations) we should find our grave. it was otherwise ordained by destiny; for the russians, constantly falling back towards the heart of russia, abandoned this famous camp of drissa on the approach of the emperor: i heard it said by many general officers that a great battle would have been at that time a salutary event for the french army, in which discontent was beginning to increase, first, for want of enemies to fight, and second; because privations of every kind became each day more unendurable. whole divisions lived, so to speak, by pillage. the soldiers devastated the dwellings and cottages found at rare intervals in the country; and, in spite of the severe orders of the emperor against marauding and pillaging, these orders could not be executed, for the officers themselves lived for the most part on the booty which the soldiers obtained and shared with them. the emperor affected before his soldiers a serenity which he was far from feeling; and from a few detached words which i heard him pronounce in this grave situation, i am authorized to believe that the emperor desired a battle so ardently, only in the hope that the emperor alexander would make him new overtures leading to peace. i think that he would then have accepted it after the first victory; but he would never have consented to retrace his steps after such immense preparations without having waged one of those great battles which furnish sufficient glory for a campaign; at least, that is what i heard him say repeatedly. the emperor also often spoke of the enemies he had to combat with an affected disdain which he did not really feel; his object being to cheer the officers and soldiers, many of whom made no concealment of their discouragement. before leaving wilna, the emperor established there a kind of central government, at the head of which he had placed the duke of bassano, with the object of having an intermediate point between france and the line of operations he intended to carry on in the interior of russia. disappointed, as i have said, by the abandonment of the camp of drissa by the russian army, he marched rapidly towards witepsk, where the greater part of the french forces were then collected: but here the ire of the emperor was again aroused by a new retreat of the russians; for the encounters of ostrovno and mohilev, although important, could not be considered as the kind of battle the emperor so ardently desired. on entering witepsk, the emperor learned that the emperor alexander, who a few days before had his headquarters there, and also the grand duke constantine, had quitted the army, and returned to st. petersburg. at this period, that is to say, on our arrival at witepsk, the report was spread abroad that the emperor would content himself with taking position there, and organizing means of subsistence for his army, and that he would postpone till the next year the execution of his vast designs on russia. i could not undertake to say what his inmost thoughts were on this subject; but what i can certify is that, being in a room adjoining his, i one day heard him say to the king of naples, that the first campaign of russia was ended, and that he would be the following year at moscow, the next at st. petersburg, and that the russian war was a three years' campaign. had it pleased providence that his majesty had executed this plan, which he outlined to the king of naples so earnestly, so many of the brave would not have laid down their lives a few months after in the frightful retreat, the horrors of which i shall hereafter describe. during our stay at witepsk, the heat was so excessive that the emperor was much exhausted, and complained of it incessantly; and i have never seen him under any circumstances so oppressed by the weight of his clothing. in his room he rarely wore his coat, and frequently threw himself on his bed to rest. this is a fact which many persons can attest as well as i; for he often received his general officers thus, though it had been his custom never to appear before them without the uniform which he habitually wore. nevertheless, the influence which the heat had on his physical condition had not affected his great soul; and his genius ever on the alert embraced every branch of the administration. but it was easily seen by those whose positions enabled them best to know his character that the source of his greatest suffering at witepsk was the uncertainty whether he should remain in poland, or should advance without delay into the heart of russia. while he was hesitating between these two decisions he was nearly always sad and taciturn. in this state of vacillation between repose and motion, the emperor's preference was not doubtful; and at the end of a council where i heard it said that his majesty met with much opposition, i learned that we were to move forward and advance on moscow, from which it was said that we were only twenty days' march distant. among those who opposed most vehemently this immediate march on moscow, i heard the names cited of the duke of vicenza and the count of lobau; but what i can assert of my own knowledge, and which i learned in a manner to leave no room for doubt, is that the grand marshal of the palace tried on numerous occasions to dissuade the emperor from this project. but all these endeavors were of no avail against his will. we then directed our course towards the second capital of russia, and arrived after a few days march at smolensk, a large and beautiful city. the russians, whom he thought he had caught at last, had just evacuated it, after destroying much booty, and burning the greater part of the stores. we entered by the light of the flames, but it was nothing in comparison to what awaited us at moscow. i remarked at smolensk two buildings which seemed to me of the greatest beauty,--the cathedral and the episcopal palace, which last seemed to form a village in itself, so extensive are the buildings, and being also separated from the city. i will not make a list of the places with barbarous names through which we passed after leaving smolensk. all that i shall add as to our itinerary during the first half of this gigantic campaign is that on the 5th of september we arrived on the banks of the moskwa, where the emperor saw with intense satisfaction that at last the russians were determined to grant him the great battle which he so ardently desired, and which he had pursued for more than two hundred leagues as prey that he would not allow to escape him. chapter v. the day after the battle of the moskwa, i was with the emperor in his tent which was on the field of battle, and the most perfect calm reigned around us. it was a fine spectacle which this army presented, calmly re-forming its columns in which the russian cannon had made such wide gaps, and proceeding to the repose of the bivouac with the security which conquerors ever feel. the emperor seemed overcome with fatigue. from time to time he clasped his hands over his crossed knees, and i heard him each time repeat, with a kind of convulsive movement, "moscow! moscow!" he sent me several times to see what was going on outside, then rose himself, and coming up behind me looked out over my shoulder. the noise made by the sentinel in presenting arms each time warned me of his approach. after about a quarter of an hour of these silent marches to and fro, the sentinel advanced and cried, "to arms!" and like a lightning flash the battalion square was formed around the emperor's tent. he rushed out, and then re-entered to take his hat and sword. it proved to be a false alarm, as a regiment of saxons returning from a raid had been mistaken for the enemy. there was much laughter over this mistake, especially when the raiders came in sight, some bearing quarters of meat spitted on the ends of their bayonets, others with half-picked fowls or hams which made the mouth water. i was standing outside the tent, and shall never forget the first movement of the sentinel as he gave the cry of alarm. he lowered the stock of his gun to see if the priming was in place, shook the barrel by striking it with his fist, then replaced the gun on his arm, saying, "well, let them come; we are ready for them." i told the occurrence to the emperor, who in his turn related it to prince berthier; and in consequence the emperor made this brave soldier drink a glass of his best chambertin wine. it was the duke of dantzic who first entered moscow, and the emperor came only after him. this entry was made in the night, and never was there a more depressing scene. there was something truly frightful in this silent march of an army halted at intervals by messages from inside the city, which seemed to be of a most ominous character. no muscovite figures could be distinguished except those of a few beggars covered with rags, who watched with stupid astonishment the army file past; and as some few of these appeared to be begging alms, our soldiers threw them bread and a few pieces of money. i cannot prevent a sad reflection on these unfortunate creatures, whose condition alone remains unchanged through great political upheavals, and who are totally without affection and without national sympathies. as we advanced on the streets of the faubourgs, we looked through the windows on each side, and were astonished to perceive no human being; and if a solitary light appeared in the windows of a few houses, it was soon extinguished, and these signs of life so suddenly effaced made a terrible impression. the emperor halted at the faubourg of dorogomilow, and spent the night there, not in an inn, as has been stated, but in a house so filthy and wretched that next morning we found in the emperor's bed, and on his clothes, vermin which are by no means uncommon in russia. we were tormented by them also to our great disgust, and the emperor did not sleep during the whole night he passed there. according to custom, i slept in his chamber; and notwithstanding the precaution i had taken to burn vinegar and aloes wood, the odor was so disagreeable that every moment the emperor called me. "are you asleep, constant?"--"no, sire."--"my son, burn more vinegar, i cannot endure this frightful odor; it is a torment; i cannot sleep." i did my best; but a moment after, when the fumes of the vinegar were evaporated, he again recommended me to burn sugar or aloes wood. it was two o'clock in the morning when he was informed that a fire had broken out in the city. the news was received through frenchmen residing in this country, and an officer of the russian police confirmed the report, and entered into details too precise for the emperor to doubt the fact. nevertheless, he still persisted in not believing it. "that is not possible. do you believe that, constant? go, and find out if it is true." and thereupon he threw himself again on his bed, trying to rest a little; then he recalled me to make the same inquiries. the emperor passed the night in extreme agitation, and when daylight came he knew all. he had marshal mortier called, and reprimanded both him and the young guard. mortier in reply showed him, houses covered with iron the roofs of which were uninjured, but the emperor pointed out to him the black smoke which was issuing from them, pressed his hands together, and stamped his heels on the rough planks of his sleeping-room. at six o'clock in the morning we were at the palace of the kremlin, where napoleon occupied the apartment of the czars, which opened on a vast esplanade reached by a broad stone staircase. on this same esplanade could be seen the church in which were the tombs of the ancient sovereigns, also the senatorial palace, the barracks, the arsenal, and a splendid clock tower, the cross on which towers above the whole city. this is the gilded cross of ivan. the emperor threw a satisfied glance over the beautiful scene spread out before him; for no sign of fire was yet seen in all the buildings which surrounded the kremlin. this palace is a mixture of gothic and modern architecture, and this mingling of the two styles gives it a most singular appearance. within these walls lived and died the old dynasties of the romanoff and ruric; and this is the same palace which has been so often stained with blood by the intrigues of a ferocious court, at a period when all quarrels were settled with the poniard. his majesty could not obtain there even a few hours of quiet sleep. in fact, the emperor, somewhat reassured by the reports of marshal mortier, was dictating to the emperor alexander words of peace, and a russian flag of truce was about to bear this letter, when the emperor, who was promenading the length and breadth of his apartment, perceived from his windows a brilliant light some distance from the palace. it was the fire, which had burst out again fiercer than ever; and as the wind from the north was now driving the flames in the direction of the kremlin, the alarm was given by two officers who occupied the wing of the building nearest the fire. wooden houses of many various colors were devoured in a few moments, and had already fallen in; magazines of oil, brandy, and other combustible materials, threw out flames of a lurid hue, which were communicated with the rapidity of lightning to other adjoining buildings. a shower of sparks and coals fell on the roofs of the kremlin; and one shudders to think that one of these sparks alone falling on a caisson might have produced a general explosion, and blown up the kremlin; for by an inconceivable negligence a whole park of artillery had been placed under the emperor's windows. soon most incredible reports reached the emperor; some said that russians had been seen stirring the fire themselves, and throwing inflammable material into the parts of houses still unburned, while those of the russians who did not mingle with the incendiaries, stood with folded arms, contemplating the disaster with an imperturbability which cannot be described. except for the absence of cries of joy and clapping of hands they might have been taken for men who witness a brilliant display of fireworks. it was soon very evident to the emperor that it was a concerted plot laid by the enemy. he descended from his apartment by the great northern staircase made famous by the massacre of the strelitz. the fire had already made such enormous progress that on this side the outside doors were half burned through, and the horses refused to pass, reared, and it was with much difficulty they could be made to clear the gates. the emperor had his gray overcoat burned in several places, and even his hair; and a moment later we were walking over burning firebrands. we were not yet out of danger, and were obliged to steer clear of the burning rubbish which encumbered our path. several outlets were tried, but unsuccessfully, as the hot breezes from the fire struck against our faces, and drove us back in terrible confusion. at last a postern opening on the moskwa was discovered, and it was through this the emperor with his officers and guard succeeded in escaping from the kremlin, but only to re-enter narrow streets, where the fire, inclosed as in a furnace, was increased in intensity, and uniting above our heads the flames thus formed a burning dome, which overshadowed us, and hid from us the heavens. it was time to leave this dangerous place from which one means of egress alone was open to us,--a narrow, winding street encumbered with debris of every kind, composed of flaming beams fallen from the roofs, and burning posts. there was a moment of hesitation among us, in which some proposed to the emperor to cover him from head to foot with their cloaks, and transport him thus in their arms through this dangerous passage. this proposition the emperor rejected, and settled the question by throwing himself on foot into the midst of the blazing debris, where two or three vigorous jumps put him in a place of safety. then ensued a touching scene between the emperor and the prince of eckmuhl, who, wounded at the moskwa, had himself borne back in order to attempt to save the emperor, or to die with him. from a distance the marshal perceived him calmly emerging from so great a peril; and this good and tender friend by an immense effort hastened to throw himself into the emperor's arms, and his majesty pressed him to his heart as if to thank him for rousing such gentle emotions at a moment when danger usually renders men selfish and egotistical. at length the air itself, filled with all these flaming masses, became so heated that it could no longer be breathed. the atmosphere itself was burning, the glass of the windows cracked,' and apartments became untenable. the emperor stood for a moment immovable, his face crimson, and great drops of perspiration rolling from his brow, while the king of naples, prince eugene, and the prince de neuchatel begged him to quit the palace, whose entreaties he answered only by impatient gestures. at this instant cries came from the wing of the palace situated farthest to the north, announcing that the walls had fallen, and that the fire was spreading with frightful rapidity; and seeing at last that his position was no longer tenable, the emperor admitted that it was time to leave, and repaired to the imperial chateau of petrovskoi. on his arrival at petrovskoi the emperor ordered m. de narbonne to inspect a palace which i think had belonged to catherine. this was a beautiful building, and the apartments handsomely furnished. m. de narbonne returned with this information; but almost immediately flames burst from every side, and it was soon consumed. such was the fury of these wretches who were hired to burn everything, that the boats which covered the moskwa laden with grain; oats, and other provisions, were burned, and sunk beneath the waves with a horrible crackling sound. soldiers of the russian police had been seen stirring up the fire with tarred lances, and in the ovens of some houses shells had been placed which wounded many of our soldiers in exploding. in the streets filthy women and hideous, drunken men ran to the burning houses and seized flaming brands, which they carried in every direction, and which our soldiers were obliged repeatedly to knock out of their hands with the hilts of their swords before they would relinquish them. the emperor ordered that these incendiaries when taken in the act should be hung to posts in the public squares; and the populace prostrated themselves around these gallows, kissing the feet of those executed, praying, and signing themselves with the sign of the cross. such fanaticism is almost unparalleled. one incident of which i was a witness proves that those hired to carry out this vast plot acted, evidently, according to instructions given by higher authorities. a man covered with a sheepskin, old and tattered, with a miserable capon his head, boldly mounted the steps of the kremlin. under this filthy disguise an elegant costume was concealed; and when a stricter surveillance was instituted, this bold beggar himself was suspected, arrested, and carried before the police, where he was questioned by the officer of the post. as he made some resistance, thinking this proceeding somewhat arbitrary, the sentinel put his hand on his breast to force him to enter; and this somewhat abrupt movement pushing aside the sheepskin which covered him, decorations were seen, and when his disguise was removed he was recognized as a russian officer. he had on his person matches which he had been distributing to the men of the people, and when questioned admitted that he was specially charged to keep alive the fire of the kremlin. many questions were asked, each eliciting new confessions, all of which were made in the most indifferent manner, and he was put in prison, and was, i think, punished as an incendiary; but of this i am not certain. when any of these wretches were brought before the emperor, he shrugged his shoulders, and with gestures of scorn and anger ordered that they should be removed from his sight, and the grenadiers sometimes executed justice on them with their bayonets; but such exasperation can be well understood in soldiers thus driven by these base and odious measures from a resting-place earned by the sword. in petrovskoi, a pretty residence belonging to one of alexander's chamberlains, a man was found concealed in one of the apartments his majesty was to occupy; but not being armed he was released, as it was concluded that fright alone had driven him into this dwelling. the emperor arrived during the night at his new residence, and waited there in intense anxiety till the fire should be extinguished at the kremlin, intending to return thither, for the pleasure house of a chamberlain was no suitable place for his majesty. thanks to the active and courageous actions of a battalion of the guard, the kremlin was preserved from the flames, and the emperor thereupon gave the signal for departure. in order to re-enter moscow it was necessary to cross the camp, or rather the several camps, of the army; and we wended our way over cold and miry ground, through fields where all was devastation and ruin. this camp presented a most singular aspect; and i experienced feelings of bitter melancholy as i saw our soldiers compelled to bivouac at the gates of a large and beautiful city of which they were the conquerors, but the fire still more than they. the emperor, on appointing marshal mortier governor of moscow, had said to him, "above all, no pillage; you will answer for it with your head." the order was strictly enforced up to the moment the fire began; but when it was evident that the fire would devour everything, and that it was useless to abandon to the flames what would be of much value to the soldiers, liberty was given them to draw largely from this great storehouse of the north. it was at once sad and amusing to see around poor plank sheds, the only tents our soldiers had, the most magnificent furniture, silk canopies, priceless siberian furs, and cashmere shawls thrown pell-mell with silver dishes; and then to see the food served on these princely dishes,--miserable black gruel, and pieces of horseflesh still bleeding. good ammunition-bread was worth at this time treble all these riches, and there came a time when they had not even horseflesh. on re-entering moscow the wind bore to us the insufferable odor of burning houses, warm ashes filled our mouths and eyes, and frequently we drew back just in time before great pillars which had been burned in two by the fire, and fell noiselessly on this calcined soil. moscow was not so deserted as we had thought. as the first impression conquest produces is one of fright, all the inhabitants who remained had concealed themselves in cellars, or in the immense vaults which extend under the kremlin; and driven out by the fire like wolves from their lairs, when we re-entered the city nearly twenty thousand inhabitants were wandering through the midst of the debris, a dull stupor depicted on faces blackened with smoke, and pale with hunger; for they could not comprehend how having gone to sleep under human roofs, they had risen next morning on a plain. they were in the last extremity of want; a few vegetables only remained in the gardens, and these were devoured raw, while many of these unfortunate creatures threw themselves at different times into the moskwa, endeavoring to recover some of the grain cast therein by rostopchin's orders; [count feodor rostopchin, born 1765; died 1826. he denied that moscow was burnt by his authority. he claimed that it was burnt partly by the french, and partly by russians without orders.] and a large number perished in the water in these fruitless efforts. such was the scene of distress through which the emperor was obliged to pass in order to reach the kremlin. the apartments which he occupied were spacious and well lighted, but almost devoid of furniture; but his iron bedstead was set up there, as in all the chateaux he occupied in his campaigns. his windows opened on the moskwa, and from there the fire could still be plainly seen in various quarters of the city, reappearing on one side as soon as extinguished on the other. his majesty said to me one evening with deep feeling, "these wretches will not leave one stone upon another." i do not believe there was ever in any country as many buzzards as at moscow. the emperor was annoyed by their presence, and exclaimed, "mon dieu! will they follow us everywhere?" there were a few concerts during our stay at the emperor's residence in moscow; but napoleon seemed much dejected when he appeared at them, for the music of the saloons made no impression on his harassed mind, and the only kind that ever seemed to stir his soul was that of the camp before and after a battle. the day after the emperor's arrival, messieurs ed---and v---repaired to the kremlin in order to interview his majesty, and after waiting some time without seeing him, were expressing their mutual regret at having failed in this expectation, when they suddenly heard a shutter open above their heads, and, raising their eyes, recognized the emperor, who said, "messieurs, who are you?"--"sire, we are frenchmen!" he requested them to mount the stairs to the room he occupied, and there continued his questions. "what is the nature of the occupation which has detained you in moscow?"--"we are tutors in the families of two russian noblemen, whom the arrival of the french troops have driven from their homes. we have submitted to the entreaties made by them not to abandon their property, and we are at present alone in their palaces." the emperor inquired of them if there were still other frenchmen at moscow, and asked that they should be brought to him; and then proposed that they should charge themselves with maintaining order, appointing as chief, m. m----, whom he decorated with a tri-colored scarf. he recommended them to prevent the pillage of the french soldiers in the churches, and to have the malefactors shot, and enjoined them to use great rigor towards the galley-slaves, whom rostopchin had pardoned on condition that they would set fire to the city. a part of these frenchmen followed our army in its retreat, seeing that a longer stay at moscow would be most disagreeable to them; and those who did not follow their example were condemned to work on the streets. the emperor alexander, when informed of the measures of rostopchin, harshly rebuked the governor, and ordered him at once to restore to liberty these unfortunate frenchmen. chapter vi. we re-entered the kremlin the morning of the 18th of september. the palace and the hospital for foundlings were almost the only buildings remaining uninjured. on the route our carriages were surrounded by a crowd of miserable muscovites begging alms. they followed us as far as the palace, walking through hot ashes, or over the heated stones, which crumbled beneath their feet. the poorest were barefoot; and it was a heart-rending sight to see these creatures, as their feet touched the burning debris, give vent to their sufferings by screams and gestures of despair. as the only unencumbered part of the street was occupied by our carriages, this swarm threw themselves pell-mell against the wheels or under the feet of our horses. our progress was consequently very slow, and we had so much the longer under our eyes this picture of the greatest of all miseries, that of a people burned out of their homes, and without food or the means to procure it. the emperor had food and money given them. when we were again established at the kremlin, and had resumed our regular routine of living, a few days passed in perfect tranquillity. the emperor appeared less sad, and in consequence those surrounding him became somewhat more cheerful. it seemed as if we had returned from the campaign, and taken up again the customary occupations of city life; but if the emperor sometimes indulged in this illusion, it was soon dispelled by the sight moscow presented as seen from the windows of his apartments, and each time napoleon's eyes turned in that direction it was evident that he was oppressed by the saddest presentiments, although he no longer manifested the same vehement impatience as on his first stay at the palace, when he saw the flames surrounding him and driving him from his apartments. but he exhibited the depressing calm of a careworn man who cannot foresee how things will result. the days were long at the kremlin while the emperor awaited alexander's reply, which never came. at this time i noticed that the emperor kept constantly on his table voltaire's history of charles xii. the emperor was a prey to his genius for administration, even in the midst of the ruins of this great city; and in order to divert his mind from the anxiety caused by outside affairs, occupied himself with municipal organization, and had already arranged that moscow should be stocked with provisions for the winter. a theater was erected near the kremlin, but the emperor never attended. the troupe was composed of a few unfortunate french actors, who had remained in moscow in a state of utter destitution; but his majesty encouraged this enterprise in the hope that theatrical representations would offer some diversion to both officers and soldiers. it was said that the first actors of paris had been ordered to moscow, but of that i know nothing positively. there was at moscow a celebrated italian singer whom the emperor heard several times, but only in his apartments, and he did not form part of the regular troupe. until the 18th of october the time was spent in discussions, more or less heated, between the emperor and his generals, as to the best course to be pursued. every one well knew that retreat had now become inevitable, and the emperor was well aware of this fact himself; but it was plainly evident that it cost his pride a terrible struggle to speak the decisive word. the last days preceding the 18th were the saddest i have ever known. in his ordinary intercourse with his friends and counselors his majesty manifested much coldness of manner; he became taciturn, and entire hours passed without any one present having the courage to begin a conversation. the emperor, who was generally so hurried at his meals, prolonged them most surprisingly. sometimes during the day he threw himself on a sofa, a romance in his hand which he simply pretended to read, and seemed absorbed in deep reverie. verses were sent to him from paris which he read aloud, expressing his opinion in a brief and trenchant style; he spent three days writing regulations for the french comedy at paris. it is difficult to understand this attention to such frivolous details when the future was so ominous. it was generally believed, and probably not without reason, that the emperor acted thus from motives of deep policy, and that these regulations for the french comedy at this time, when no bulletin had yet arrived to give information of the disastrous position of the french army, were written with the object of making an impression on the inhabitants of paris, who would not fail to say, "all cannot be going so badly, since the emperor has time to occupy himself with the theater." the news received on the 18th put an end to all uncertainty. the emperor was reviewing, in the first court of the kremlin palace, the divisions of ney, distributing the cross to the bravest among them, and addressing encouraging words to all, when an aide-de-camp, young beranger, brought the news that a sharp engagement had taken place at winkowo between murat and kutusoff, and that the vanguard of murat had been overwhelmed and our position taken. russia's intention to resume hostilities was now plainly evident, and in the first excitement of the news the emperor's astonishment was at its height. there was, on the contrary, among the soldiers of marshal ney an electric movement of enthusiasm and anger which was very gratifying to his majesty. charmed to see how the shame of a defeat, even when sustained without dishonor, excited the pride and aroused a desire to retrieve it in these impassioned souls, the emperor pressed the hand of the colonel nearest to him, continued the review, and ordered that evening a concentration of all the corps; and before night the whole army was in motion towards woronowo. a few days before quitting moscow, the emperor had the churches of the kremlin stripped of their finest ornaments. the ravages of the fire had relaxed the protection that the emperor had extended to the property of the russians. the most magnificent trophy in this collection was the immense cross of the great ivan. it was necessary to demolish a part of the tower on which it stood in order to take it down, and it required stupendous efforts to break this vast mass of iron. it was the emperor's intention to place it upon the dome of the invalides, but it was sunk in the waters of lake semlewo. the evening before the emperor was to hold a review, the soldiers were busily employed polishing their arms and putting everything in order, to conceal as far as possible the destitute condition to which they were reduced. the most imprudent had exchanged their winter clothing for provisions, many had worn out their shoes on the march, and yet each one made it a point of honor to make a good appearance on review; and when the glancing rays of the sun shone on the barrels of the well-polished guns, the emperor felt again in witnessing this scene some slight return of the emotions with which his soul was filled on the glorious day of his departure for the campaign. the emperor left twelve hundred wounded at moscow, four hundred of whom were removed by the last corps which quitted the city. marshal mortier was the last to go. at feminskoe, ten leagues from moscow, we heard the noise of a frightful explosion; it was the kremlin which had been blown up by the emperor's orders. a fuse was placed in the vaults of the palace, and everything arranged so that the explosion should not take place within a certain time. some cossacks came to pillage the abandoned apartments, in ignorance that a fire was smoldering under their feet, and were thrown to a prodigious height in the air. thirty thousand guns were abandoned in the fortress. in an instant part of the kremlin was a mass of ruins. a part was preserved, and a circumstance which contributed no little to enhance the credit of their great st. nicholas with the russians was that an image in stone of this saint remained uninjured by the explosion, in a spot where almost everything else was destroyed. this fact was stated to me by a reliable person, who heard count rostopchin himself relate it during his stay in paris. on the 28th of october the emperor retraced his way to smolensk, and passed near the battle-field of borodino. about thirty thousand corpses had been left on this vast plain; and on our approach flocks of buzzards, whom an abundant harvest had attracted, flew away with horrible croakings. these corpses of so many brave men presented a sickening spectacle, half consumed, and exhaling an odor which even the excessive cold could not neutralize. the emperor hastened past, and slept in the chateau of oupinskoe which was almost in ruins; and the next day he visited a few wounded who had been left in an abbey. these poor fellows seemed to recover their strength at the sight of the emperor, and forgot their sufferings, which must have been very severe, as wounds are always much more painful when cold weather first begins. all these pale countenances drawn with suffering became more serene. these poor soldiers also rejoiced to see their comrades, and questioned them with anxious curiosity concerning the events which had followed the battle of borodino. when they learned that we had bivouacked at moscow, they were filled with joy; and it was very evident that their greatest regret was that they could not have been with the others to see the fine furniture of the rich muscovites used as fuel at the bivouac fires. napoleon directed that each carriage of the suite should convey one of these unfortunates; and this was done, everybody complying with the order with a readiness which gratified the emperor exceedingly; and the poor wounded fellows said in accents of most ardent gratitude, that they were much more comfortable on these soft cushions than in the ambulances, which we could well believe. a lieutenant of the cuirassiers who had just undergone an amputation was placed in the landau of the emperor, while he traveled on horseback. this answers every accusation of cruelty so gratuitously made against the memory of a great man who has passed away. i have read somewhere with intense disgust that the emperor sometimes ordered his carriage to pass over the wounded, whose cries of agony made not the slightest impression on him; all of which is false and very revolting. none of those who served the emperor could have been ignorant of his solicitude for the unfortunate victims of war, and the care he had taken of them. foreigners, enemies, or frenchmen,--all were recommended to the surgeon's care with equal strictness. from time to time frightful explosions made us turn our heads, and glance behind us. they were caissons which were being exploded that we might no longer be encumbered with them, as the march became each day more painful. it produced a sad impression to see that we were reduced to such a point of distress as to be compelled to throw our powder to the winds to keep from leaving it to the enemy. but a still sadder reflection came into our minds at each detonation,--the grand army must be rapidly hastening to dissolution when the material remaining exceeded our needs, and the number of men still left was so much short of that required to use it. on the 30th, the emperor's headquarters were in a poor hovel which had neither doors nor windows. we had much difficulty in enclosing even a corner sufficient for him to sleep. the cold was increasing, and the nights were icy; the small fortified palisades of which a species of post relays had been made, placed from point to point, marked the divisions of the route, and served also each evening as imperial headquarters. the emperor's bed was hastily set up there, and a cabinet arranged as well as possible where he could work with his secretaries, or write his orders to the different chiefs whom he had left on the road and in the towns. our retreat was often annoyed by parties of cossacks. these barbarians rushed upon us, lance in hand, and uttering rather howls of ferocious beasts than human cries, their little, long-tailed horses dashing against the flanks of the different divisions. but these attacks, though often repeated, had not, at least at the beginning of the retreat, serious consequences for the army. when they heard this horrible cry the infantry was not intimidated, but closed ranks and presented bayonets, and the cavalry made it their duty to pursue these barbarians, who fled more quickly than they came. on the 6th of november, before leaving the army, the emperor received news of the conspiracy of malet and everything connected with it. he was at first astonished, then much dissatisfied, and ended by making himself very merry over the discomfiture of the chief of police, general savary; and said many times that had he been at paris no one would have budged, and that he could never leave at all without every one losing their heads at the least disturbance; and from this time he often spoke of how much he was needed in paris. speaking of general savary recalls to my memory an affair in which he was somewhat nonplussed. after quitting the command of the gendarmerie, to succeed fouche in the office of minister of police, he had a little discussion with one of the emperor's aides-de-camp. as he went so far as to threaten, the latter replied, "you seem to think you have handcuffs always in your pockets." on the 8th of november the snow was falling, the sky covered with clouds, the cold intense, while a violent wind prevailed, and the roads were covered with sleet. the horses could make no progress, for their shoes were so badly worn that they could not prevent slipping on the frozen ground. the poor animals were emaciated, and it was necessary that the soldiers should put their shoulders to the wheels in order to lighten their burdens. there is something in the panting breath which issues from the nostrils of a tired horse, in the tension of their muscles, and the prodigious efforts of their loins, which gives us, in a high degree, the idea of strength; but the mute resignation of these animals, when we know them to be overladen, inspires us with pity, and makes us regret the abuse of so much endurance. the emperor on foot in the midst of his household, and staff in hand, walked with difficulty over these slippery roads, meanwhile encouraging the others with kind words, each of whom felt himself full of good-will; and had any one then uttered a complaint he would have been badly esteemed by his comrades. we arrived in sight of smolensk. the emperor was the least fatigued of all; and though he was pale, his countenance was calm, and nothing in his appearance indicated his mental sufferings; and indeed they must needs have been intense to be evident to the public. the roads were strewn with men and horses slain by fatigue or famine; and men as they passed turned their eyes aside. as for the horses they were a prize for our famished soldiers. we at last reached smolensk on the 9th, and the emperor lodged in a beautiful house on the place neuve. although this important city had suffered since we had passed through before, it still had some resources, and we found there provisions of all kinds for the emperor's household and the officers; but the emperor valued but little this privileged abundance, so to speak, when he learned that the army needed food for man and beast. when he learned of this his rage amounted to frenzy, and i have never seen him so completely beside himself. he had the commissary in charge of the provisions summoned, and reproached him in such unmeasured terms that the latter turned pale, and could find no words to justify himself, whereupon the emperor became still more violent, and uttered terrible threats. i heard cries from the next room; and i have been told since that the quartermaster threw himself at the feet of his majesty, beseeching pardon, and the emperor, when his rage had spent itself, pardoned him. never did he sympathize more truly with the sufferings of his army; never did he suffer more bitterly from his powerlessness to struggle against such overwhelming misfortunes. on the 14th we resumed the route which we had traversed a few months before under far different auspices. the thermometer registered twenty degrees, and we were still very far from france. after a slow and painful march we arrived at krasnoi. the emperor was obliged to go in person, with his guard, to meet the enemy, and release the prince of eckmuhl. he passed through the fire of the enemy, surrounded by his old guard, who pressed around their chief in platoons in which the shell made large gaps, furnishing one of the grandest examples in all history of the devotion and love of thousands of men to one. when the fire was hottest, the band played the air, 'where can one be better than in the bosom of his family?' napoleon interrupted them, exclaiming, "play rather, 'let us watch over the safety of the empire.'" it is difficult to imagine anything grander. the emperor returned from this combat much fatigued. he had passed several nights without sleeping, listening to the reports made to him on the condition of the army, expediting orders necessary to procure food for the soldiers, and putting in motion the different corps which were to sustain the retreat. never did his stupendous activity find more constant employment; never did he show a higher courage than in the midst of all these calamities of which he seemed to feel the weighty responsibility. between orcha and the borysthenes those conveyances for which there were no longer horses were burned, and the confusion and discouragement became so great that in the rear of the army most of the stragglers threw down their arms as a heavy and useless burden. the officers of the armed police had orders to return by force those who abandoned their corps, and often they were obliged to prick them with their swords to make them advance. the intensity of their sufferings had hardened the heart of the soldier, which is naturally kind and sympathizing, to such an extent that the most unfortunate intentionally caused commotions in order that they might seize from some better equipped companion sometimes a cloak, sometimes food. "there are the cossacks!" was their usual cry of alarm; and when these guilty tricks became known, and our soldiers recovered from their surprise, there were reprisals, and the confusion reached its height. the corps of marshal davoust was one of those which suffered most in the whole army. of the seventy thousand men with which it left france, there only remained four or five thousand, and they were dying of famine. the marshal himself was terribly emaciated. he had neither clothing nor food. hunger and fatigue had hollowed his cheeks, and his whole appearance inspired pity. this brave marshal, who had twenty times escaped russian bullets, now saw himself dying of hunger; and when one of his soldiers gave him a loaf, he seized it and devoured it. he was also the one who was least silent; and while thawing his mustache, on which the rain had frozen, he railed indignantly against the evil destiny which had thrown them into thirty degrees of cold. moderation in words was difficult while enduring such sufferings. for some time the emperor had been in a state of great anxiety as to the fate of marshal ney, who had been cut off, and obliged to clear for himself a passage through the midst of the russians, who followed us on every side. as time passed the alarm increased. the emperor demanded incessantly if ney had yet been seen, accusing himself of having exposed this brave general too much, asking for him as for a good friend whom one has lost. the whole army shared and manifested the same anxiety, as if this brave soldier were the only one in danger. a few regarding him as certainly lost, and seeing the enemy threaten the bridges of the borysthenes, proposed to cut them; but the army was unanimous in their opposition to this measure. on the 20th, the emperor, whom this idea filled with the deepest dejection, arrived at basanoni, and was dining in company with the prince of neuchatel and the duke of dantzic, when general gourgaud rushed in with the announcement that marshal ney and his troops were only a few leagues distant. the emperor exclaimed with inconceivable joy, "can it be true?" m. gourgaud gave him particulars, which were soon known throughout the camp. this news brought joy to the hearts of all, each of whom accosted the other eagerly, as if each had found a long-lost brother; they spoke of the heroic courage which had been displayed; the talent shown in saving his corps in spite of snows, floods, and the attacks of the enemy. it is due marshal ney, to state here, that according to the opinion i have heard expressed by our most illustrious warriors, his safe retreat is a feat of arms to which history furnishes no parallel. the heart of our soldiers palpitated with enthusiasm, and on that day they felt the emotions of the day of victory! ney and his division gained immortality by this marvelous display of valor and energy. so much the better for the few survivors of this handful of braves, who can read of the great deeds they have done, in these annals inspired by them. his majesty said several times, "i would give all the silver in the vaults of the tuileries to have my brave ney at my side." to prince eugene was given the honor of going to meet marshal ney, with a corps of four thousand soldiers. marshal mortier had disputed this honor with him, but among these illustrious men there were never any but noble rivalries. the danger was immense; the cannon of prince eugene was used as a signal, understood by the marshal, to which he replied by platoon fires. the two corps met, and even before they were united, marshal ney and prince eugene were in each other's arms; and it is said that the latter wept for joy. such scenes make this horrible picture seem somewhat less gloomy. as far as the beresina, our march was only a succession of small skirmishes and terrible sufferings. the emperor passed one night at caniwki, in a wooden cabin containing only two rooms. the one at the back was selected by him, and in the other the whole service slept pell-mell. i was more comfortable, as i slept in his majesty's room; but several times during the night i was obliged to pass into this room, and was then compelled to step over the sleepers worn out by fatigue. although i took care not to hurt them, they were so close together that it was impossible not to place my feet on their legs or arms. in the retreat from moscow, the emperor walked on foot, wrapped in his pelisse, his head covered with a russian cap tied under the chin. i marched often near the brave marshal lefebvre, who seemed very fond of me, and said to me in his german-french, in speaking of the emperor, "he is surrounded by a set of who do not tell the truth; he does not distinguish sufficiently his good from his bad servants. how will he get out of this, the poor emperor, whom i love so devotedly? i am always in fear of his life; if there were needed to save him only my blood, i would shed it drop by drop; but that would change nothing, and perhaps he may have need of me." chapter vii. the day preceding the passage of the beresina was one of terrible solemnity. the emperor appeared to have made his decision with the cool resolution of a man who commits an act of desperation; nevertheless, councils were held, and it was resolved that the army should strip itself of all useless burdens which might harass its march. never was there more unanimity of opinion, never were deliberations more calm or grave. it was the calm of men who decide to make one last effort, trusting in the will of god and their own courage. the emperor had the eagles brought from each corps and burned, since he thought that fugitives had no need of them. it was a sad sight to see these men advancing from the ranks one by one, and casting in the flames what they valued more than their lives, and i have never seen dejection more profound, or shame more keenly felt; for this seemed much like a general degradation to the brave soldiers of the battle of la moskwa. the emperor had made these eagles talismans, and this showed only too plainly he had lost faith in them. and although the soldiers realized that the situation of affairs must be desperate to have come to this, it was at least some consolation to think that the russians would have only the ashes. what a scene was presented by the burning of these eagles, above all to those who like myself had been present at the magnificent ceremonies attending their distribution to the army in the camp of boulogne before the campaign of austerlitz! horses were needed for the artillery, and at this critical moment the artillery was the safeguard of the army. the emperor consequently gave orders that the horses should be impressed, for he estimated the loss of a single cannon or caisson as irreparable. the artillery was confided to the care of a corps composed entirely of officers, and numbering about five hundred men. his majesty was so much touched at seeing these brave officers become soldiers again, put their hand to the cannon like simple cannoneers, and resume their practice of the manual of arms in their devotion to duty, that he called this corps his sacred squadron. with the same spirit which made these officers become soldiers again, the other superior officers descended to a lower rank, with no concern as to the designation of their grade. generals of division grouchy and sebastiani took again the rank of simple captain. when near borizow we halted at the sound of loud shouts, thinking ourselves cut off by the russian army. i saw the emperor grow pale; it was like a thunderbolt. a few lancers were hastily dispatched, and we saw them soon returning waving their banners in the air. his majesty understood the signal, and even before the cuirassiers had reassured us, so clearly did he keep in mind even the possible position of each corps of his army, he exclaimed, "i bet it is victor." and in fact it was marshal victor, who awaited us with lively impatience. it seemed that the marshal's army had received very vague information of our disasters, and was prepared to receive the emperor with joy and enthusiasm. his soldiers still fresh and vigorous, at least compared with the rest of the army, could hardly believe the evidence of their own eyes when they saw our wretched condition; but the cries of "vive l'empereur" were none the less enthusiastic. but a different impression was made when the rear guard of the army filed before them; and great confusion ensued, as each one of the marshal's army who recognized a friend rushed out of the ranks and hastened to him, offering food and clothing, and were almost frightened by the voracity with which they ate, while many embraced each other silently in tears. one of the marshal's best and bravest officers stripped off his uniform to give it to a poor soldier whose tattered clothing exposed him almost naked to the cold, donning himself an old cloak full of holes, saying that he had more strength to resist the freezing temperature. if an excess of misery sometimes dries up the fountains of the heart, sometimes also it elevates men to a great height, as we see in this instance. many of the most wretched blew out their brains in despair; and there was in this act, the last which nature suggests as an end to misery, a resignation and coolness which makes one shudder to contemplate. those who thus put an end to their lives cared less for death than they did to put an end to their insupportable sufferings, and i witnessed during the whole of this disastrous campaign what vain things are physical strength and human courage when the moral strength springing from a determined will is lacking. the emperor marched between the armies of marshal victor and marshal oudinot; and it was a depressing sight to see these movable masses halt sometimes in succession,--first those in front, then those who came next, then the last. and when marshal oudinot who was in the lead suspended his march from any unknown cause, there was a general movement of alarm, and ominous rumors were circulated; and since men who have seen much are disposed to believe anything, false rumors were as readily credited as true, and the alarm lasted until the front of the army again moved forward, and their confidence was somewhat restored. on the 25th, at five o'clock in the evening, there had been thrown across the river temporary bridges made of beams taken from the cabins of the poles. it had been reported in the army that the bridges would be finished during the night. the emperor was much disturbed when informed that the army had been thus deceived; for he knew how much more quickly discouragement ensues when hope has been frustrated, and consequently took great pains to keep the rear of the army informed as to every incident, so that the soldiers should never be left under cruel delusions. at a little after five the beams gave way, not being sufficiently strong; and as it was necessary to wait until the next day, the army again abandoned itself to gloomy forebodings. it was evident that they must endure the fire of the enemy all the next day. but there was no longer any choice; for it was only at the end of this night of agony and suffering of every description that the first beams were secured in the river. it is hard to comprehend how men could submit to stand up to their mouths in water filled with ice, and rallying all the strength which nature had given them, with all that the energy of devotion furnished, and drive piles several feet deep into a miry bed, struggling against the most horrible fatigue, pushing back with their hands enormous blocks of ice, which would have submerged and sunk them with their weight; in a word, warring even to the death with cold, the greatest enemy of life. this marvelous feat was accomplished by our french pontoon corps. many perished, borne away by the current or benumbed by the cold. the glory of this achievement, in my opinion, exceeds in value many others. the emperor awaited daylight in a poor hut, and in the morning said to prince berthier, "well, berthier, how can we get out of this?" he was seated in his room, great tears flowing down his cheeks, which were paler than usual; and the prince was seated near him. they exchanged few words, and the emperor appeared overcome by his grief. i leave to the imagination what was passing in his soul. at last the king of naples opened his heart to his brother-in-law, and entreated him, in the name of the army, to think of his own safety, so imminent had the peril become. some brave poles had offered themselves as escort for the emperor; he could cross the beresina higher up, and reach wilna in five days. the emperor silently shook his head in token of refusal, which the king understood, and the matter was no longer considered. amid overwhelming disasters, the few blessings which reach us are doubly felt. i observed this many times in the case of his majesty and his unfortunate army. on the banks of the beresina, just as the first supports of the bridge had been thrown across, marshal ney and the king of naples rushed at a gallop to the emperor, calling to him that the enemy had abandoned his threatening position; and i saw the emperor, beside himself with joy, not being able to believe his ears, go himself at a run to throw a searching glance in the direction they said admiral tschitzakoff had taken. this news was indeed true; and the emperor, overjoyed and out of breath from his race, exclaimed, "i have deceived the admiral." this retrograde movement of the enemy was hard to understand, when the opportunity to overwhelm us was within his reach; and i doubt whether the emperor, in spite of his apparent satisfaction, was very sure of the happy consequences which this retreat of the enemy might bring to us. before the bridge was finished, about four hundred men were carried part of the way across the river on two miserable rafts, which could hardly sustain themselves against the current; and we saw them from the bank rudely shaken by the great blocks of ice which encumbered the river. these blocks came to the very edge of the raft, where, finding an obstacle, they remained stationary for some time, then were suddenly ingulfed under these frail planks with a terrible shock, though the soldiers stopped the largest with their bayonets, and turned their course aside from the rafts. the impatience of the army was at its height. the first who reached the opposite bank were the brave jacqueminot, aide-de-camp of marshal oudinot, and count predzieczki, a brave lithuanian, of whom the emperor was very fond, especially since he had shared our sufferings with such fidelity and devotion. both crossed the river on horseback, and the army uttered shouts of admiration as they saw that the chiefs were the first to set the example of intrepidity. they braved enough dangers to make the strongest brain reel. the current forced their horses to swim diagonally across, which doubled the length of the passage; and as they swam, blocks of ice struck against their flanks and sides, making terrible gashes. at one o'clock general legrand and his division were crossing the bridge constructed for the infantry, while the emperor sat on the opposite bank, and some of the cannon becoming entangled had for an instant delayed the march. the emperor rushed on the bridge, put his hand to the work, and assisted in separating the pieces. the enthusiasm of the soldiers was at its height; and it was amid cries of "vive l'empereur" that the infantry set foot on the opposite bank. a short time after, the emperor, learning that general partonneaux had laid down his arms, was deeply affected by this news, and gave vent to reproaches which were somewhat unjust to the general. later, when he had received more correct information, he understood perfectly the part which necessity and despair had played in this surrender. it is a fact that the brave general did not come to this decision till he had done all that a brave man could under the circumstances; for it is permitted a man to recoil when there is nothing left but to let himself be killed to no purpose. when the artillery and baggage-wagons passed, the bridge was so overloaded that it fell in; and instantly a retrograde movement took place, which crowded together all the multitude of stragglers who were advancing, like a flock being herded, in the rear of the artillery. another bridge had been constructed, as if the sad thought had occurred that the first might give way. but the second was narrow and without a railing; nevertheless, it at first seemed a very valuable makeshift in such a calamity. but how disasters follow each other! the stragglers rushed there in crowds. the artillery, the baggage-wagons, in a word, all the army material, had been in the front on the first bridge when, it was broken; and when, from the sudden panic which seized on those in the rear of this multitude, the dreadful catastrophe was learned, the last there found themselves first in gaining the other bridge. it was urgent the artillery should pass first, consequently it rushed impetuously towards the only road to safety which remained. no pen can describe the scene of horror which now ensued; for it was literally over a road of trampled human bodies that conveyances of all sorts reached the bridge. on this occasion could be seen how much brutality, and even cold-blooded ferocity, can be produced in the human mind by the instinct of self-preservation. there were some stragglers most frantic of all, who wounded, and even killed, with their bayonets, the unfortunate horses which obeyed the lash of their guides; and several caissons were left on the road in consequence of this slaughter. as i have said, the bridge had no railing; and crowds of those who forced their way across fell into the river and were ingulfed beneath the ice. others in their fall tried to stop themselves by grasping the planks of the bridge, and remained suspended over the abyss until their hands, crushed by the wheels of the vehicles, lost their grasp, and they went to join their comrades as the' waves closed over them. entire caissons, with drivers and horse were precipitated into the water. poor women were seen holding their children out of the water in the effort to delay for a few instants their death, and death in such a frightful form, a truly admirable maternal incident, which the genius of the painter has divined in painting scenes from the deluge, and which we saw in all its heartrending and frightful reality! the emperor wished to retrace his steps, believing that his presence might restore order; but he was dissuaded from this project so earnestly, that he withstood the promptings of his heart and remained, though certainly it was not his elevated rank which kept him on the bank. all the suffering he endured could be seen when he inquired every instant where the crossing was, if they could still hear cannon rolling over the bridge, if the cries had not ceased somewhat in that direction. "the reckless creatures! why could they not wait a little?" said he. there were fine examples of devotion under these distressing circumstances. a young artilleryman threw himself into the water to save a poor mother with two children, who was attempting to gain the other shore in a little canoe. the load was too heavy; an enormous block of ice floated against and sunk the little boat. the cannoneer seized one of the children, and, swimming vigorously, bore it to the bank; but the mother and the other child perished. this kind young man adopted the orphan as his son. i do not know if he had the happiness of regaining france. officers harnessed themselves to sleds to carry some of their companions who were rendered helpless by their wounds. they wrapped these unfortunates as warmly as possible, cheered them from time to time with a glass of brandy when they could procure it, and lavished on them most touching attentions. there were many who behaved in this manner, many of whose names we are ignorant; and how few returned to enjoy in their own country the remembrance of the most admirable deeds of their lives. the bridge was burned at eight o'clock in the morning. on the 29th the. emperor quitted the banks of the beresina, and we slept at kamen, where his majesty occupied a poor wooden building which the icy air penetrated from all sides through the windows; nearly all the glass of which being broken, we closed the openings as well as we could with bundles of hay. a short distance from us, in a large lot, were penned up the wretched russian prisoners whom the army drove before it. i had much difficulty in comprehending this delusion of victory which our poor soldiers still kept up by dragging after them this wretched luxury of prisoners, who could only be an added burden, as they required their constant surveillance. when the conquerors are dying of famine, what becomes of the conquered? these poor russians, exhausted by marches and famine, nearly all perished this night. in the morning they were found huddled pell-mell against each other, striving thus to obtain a little warmth. the weakest had succumbed; and their stiffened bodies were propped the whole night against the living without their even being aware of it. some in their hunger ate their dead companions. the hardihood with which the russians endure pain has often been remarked. i can cite one instance which surpasses belief. one of these fellows, after being separated from his corps, had been struck by a cannonball which had cut off both his legs and killed his horse. a french officer on a reconnoitering tour on the bank of the river where this russian had fallen, perceived at some distance an object which appeared to be a dead horse, and yet he could see that it moved. he approached, and saw the bust of a man whose extremities were concealed in the stomach of the horse. this poor creature had been there four days, inclosing himself in his horse as a shelter against the cold, and feeding upon infected morsels torn from this horrible retreat. on the 3d of december we arrived at malodeczno. during the whole day the emperor appeared thoughtful and anxious. he had frequent confidential conversations with the grand equerry, m. de caulaincourt, and i suspected some extraordinary measure. i was not deceived in my conjectures. at two leagues from smorghoni, the duke of vicenza summoned me, and told me to go on in front and give orders to have the six best horses harnessed to my carriage, which was the lightest of all, and keep them in constant readiness. i reached smorghoni before the emperor, who did not arrive till the following night. the cold was excessive; and the emperor alighted in a poor house on a square, where he established his headquarters. he took a light repast, wrote with his own hand the twenty-ninth bulletin of the army, and ordered all the marshals to be summoned. nothing had yet transpired as to the emperor's plans, but in great and desperate measures there is always something unusual which does not escape the most clear-sighted. the emperor was never so amiable nor so communicative, and one felt that he was endeavoring to prepare his most devoted friends for some overwhelming news. he talked for some time on indifferent subjects, then spoke of the great deeds performed during the campaign, referring with pleasure to the retreat of general ney whom they had at last found. marshal davoust appeared abstracted; and the emperor said to him, "at least say something, marshal." there had been for some time a little coolness between him and the emperor, and his majesty reproached him with the rarity of his visits, but he could not dissipate the cloud which darkened every brow; for the emperor's secret had not been as well kept as he had hoped. after supper the emperor ordered prince eugene to read the twenty-ninth bulletin, and spoke freely of his plan, saying that his departure was essential in order to send help to the army. he gave his orders to the marshals, all of whom appeared sad and discouraged. it was ten o'clock when the emperor, saying it was time to take some repose, embraced all the marshals and retired. he felt the need of withdrawing; for he had been oppressed by the constraint of this interview, as could easily be seen by the extreme agitation his countenance manifested at its close. about half an hour after, the emperor called me into his room and said, "constant, i am about to leave; i thought i should be able to take you with me, but i have taken into consideration the fact that several carriages would attract attention; it is essential that i experience no delay, and i have given orders that you are to set out immediately upon the return of my horses, and you will consequently follow me at a short distance." i was suffering greatly from my old malady; hence the emperor would not allow me to go with him on the boot as i requested, in order that he should receive his customary attentions from me. he said, "no, constant, you will follow me in a carriage, and i hope that you will be able to arrive not more than a day behind me." he departed with the duke of vicenza, and roustan on the box; my carriage was unharnessed, and i remained to my great regret. the emperor left in the night. by daybreak the army had learned the news, and the impression it made cannot be depicted. discouragement was at its height; and many soldiers cursed the emperor, and reproached him for abandoning them. there was universal indignation. the prince of neuchatel was very uneasy, and asked news of every one, though he would naturally have been the first to receive any information. he feared lest napoleon, who had a feeble escort, should be made prisoner by the cossacks, who, if they had learned his departure, would make the greatest efforts to carry him off. this night, the 6th, the cold increased greatly; and its severity may be imagined, as birds were found on the ground frozen stiff with the cold. soldiers who had seated themselves with their head in their hands, and bodies bent forward in order to thus feel less the emptiness of their stomachs, were found dead in this position. as we breathed, the vapor from our lips froze on our eyebrows, little white icicles formed on the mustaches and beards of the soldiers; and in order to melt them they warmed their chins by the bivouac fire, and as may be imagined a large number did not do this with impunity. artillerymen held their hands to the horses' nostrils to get a little warmth from the strong breathing of these animals. their flesh was the usual food of the soldiers. large slices of this meat were thrown on the coals; and when frozen by the cold, it was carried without spoiling, like salted bacon, the powder from the cartridge-boxes taking the place of salt. this same night we had with us a young parisian belonging to a very wealthy family, who had endeavored to obtain employment in the emperor's household. he was very young, and had been received among the boys of the apartments, and the poor child was taking his first journey. he was seized with the fever as we left moscow, and was so ill this evening that we could not remove him from the wagon belonging to the wardrobe service in which he had been made as comfortable as possible. he died there in the night, much to be regretted by all who knew him. poor lapouriel was a youth of charming character, fine education, the hope of his family, and an only son. the ground was so hard that we could not dig a grave, and experienced the chagrin of leaving his remains unburied. i set out next day armed with an order from the prince de neuchatel that all on the road should furnish me horses in preference to all others. at the first post after leaving smorghoni, whence the emperor had set out with the duke of vicenza, this order was of invaluable aid to me, for there were horses for only one carriage. i found myself a rival to m. the count daru, who arrived at the same time. it is useless to say that without the emperor's orders to rejoin him as quickly as possible i would not have exercised my right to take precedence over the intendant general of the army; but impelled by my duty i showed the order of the prince de neuchatel to m. the count daru, and the latter, after examining it, said to me, "you are right, m. constant; take the horses, but i beg you send them back as quickly as possible." how crowded with disasters was this retreat. after much suffering and privation we arrived at wilna, where it was necessary to pass a long, narrow bridge before entering the town. the artillery and wagons occupied the whole bridge so entirely that no other carriage could pass; and it was useless to say "his majesty's service," as we received only maledictions. seeing the impossibility of advancing, i alighted from my carriage, and found there the prince of aremberg, ordnance officer of the emperor, in a pitiable condition, his face, nose, ears, and feet having been frozen. he was seated behind my carriage. i was cut to the heart, and said to the prince that if he had informed me of his condition i would have given him my place. he could hardly answer me. i helped him for some time; but seeing how necessary it was that we should both advance, i undertook to carry him. he was delicate, slender, and about medium height. i took him in my arms; and with this burden, elbowing, pushing, hurting some, being hurt by others, i at last reached the headquarters of the king of naples, and deposited the prince there, recommending that he should receive every attention which his condition required. after this i resumed my carriage. everything had failed us. long before reaching wilna, the horses being dead, we had received orders to burn our carriages with all the contents. i lost heavily in this journey, as i had purchased several valuable articles which were burned with my baggage of which i always had a large quantity on our journeys. a large part of the emperor's baggage was lost in the same manner. a very handsome carriage of prince berthier, which had just arrived and had not been used, was also burned. at these fires, four grenadiers were stationed, who with fixed bayonet prevented any one from taking from the fire what had been ordered to be sacrificed. the next day the carriages which had been spared were visited in order to be assured that nothing had been kept back. i was allowed to keep only two shirts. we slept at wilna; but the next day very early the alarm was given that the russians were at the gates of the town. men rushed in, beside themselves with terror, crying, "we are lost!" the king of naples was quickly aroused; sprang from his bed; and the order was instantly given that the emperor's service should leave at once. the confusion made by all this can be imagined. there was no time for any arrangements; we were obliged to start without delay. the prince of aremberg was put into one of the king's carriages with what could be secured for the most pressing needs; and we had hardly left the town before we heard shouts behind us, and the thunder of cannon accompanied by rapid firing. we had to climb a mountain of ice. the horses were fatigued, and we made no progress. the wagon with the treasure-chest of the army was abandoned; and a part of the money was pillaged by men who had not gone a hundred steps before they were obliged to throw it away in order to save their lives. chapter viii. during the whole russian campaign, the emperor was nearly always badly lodged. it was necessary, however, to accommodate himself to circumstances; though this was a somewhat difficult task to those who were accustomed to lodge in palaces. the emperor accepted the situation bravely, and all his followers consequently did the same. in consequence of the system of incendiarism adopted as the policy of russia, the wealthy part of the population withdrew into the country, abandoning to the enemy their houses already ruined. in truth, on the whole road leading to moscow, with the exception of a few unimportant towns, the dwellings were very wretched; and after long and fatiguing marches, we were very happy if we found even a hut at the place the emperor indicated as headquarters. the owners of these miserable hovels on quitting them left there sometimes two or three seats and wooden beds, in which were an abundant supply of vermin that no invasion could drive out. the least filthy place was chosen, which was usually the most airy; and we knew when the cold came, icy breezes would not fail us. when the location had been chosen, and we decided to halt there, a carpet was spread on the ground, the emperor's iron bedstead set up, and a dressing-case containing everything necessary in a bedroom placed open on a small table. this case also contained a breakfast service for several persons, which luxury was displayed when the emperor entertained his marshals. it was necessary, at all events, to bring ourselves down to the habits of the humblest citizens of the province. if the house had two rooms, one served as sleeping and dining room, the other for his majesty's cabinet. the box of books, geographical maps, the portfolio, and a table covered with green cloth, were the entire furniture. this was also the council chamber; and from these beggarly huts were sent forth those prompt and trenchant decisions which changed the order of battle and often the fortunes of the day, and those strong and energetic proclamations which so quickly reanimated the discouraged army. when our residence was composed of three rooms,--an extremely rare occurrence, then the third room, or closet, was occupied by the prince de neuchatel, who always slept as near by as possible. we often found in these wretched dwellings old decayed furniture of singular shapes, and little images in wood or plaster of male or female saints which the proprietors had left. frequently, however, we found poor people in these dwellings, who, having nothing to save from conquest, had remained. these good people seemed much ashamed to entertain so badly the emperor of the french, gave us what they had, and were not, on that account, less badly esteemed by us. more of the poor than rich received the emperor into their houses; and the kremlin was the last of the foreign palaces in which the emperor slept during the russian campaign. when there were no houses to be found, we erected the emperor's tent, and, in order to divide it into three apartments curtains were hung; in one of these apartments the emperor slept, the next was the emperor's cabinet, and the third was occupied by his aides-de-camp and officers of the service; this latter room being ordinarily used as the emperor's dining-room, his meals being prepared outside. i alone slept in his room. roustan, who accompanied his majesty on horseback, slept in the entrance room of the tent, in order that the sleep which was so necessary to him should not be disturbed. the secretaries slept either in the cabinet or the entrance room. the higher officers and those of the service ate where and when they could, and, like the simple soldiers, made no scruple of eating without tables. prince berthier's tent was near that of the emperor, and the prince always breakfasted and dined with him. they were like two inseparable friends. this attachment was very touching, and points of difference rarely arose between them. nevertheless, there was, i think, a little coolness between him and the emperor at the time his majesty left the army of moscow. the old marshal wished to accompany him; but the emperor refused, and thereupon ensued an animated but fruitless discussion. the meals were served on the campaign by m. colin, controller of the kitchen service, and roustan, or a bedroom servant. during this campaign more than any other the emperor rose often in the night, put on his dressing-gown, and worked in his cabinet: frequently he had insomnia, which he could not overcome; and when the bed at last became unbearable, he sprang from it suddenly, took a book and read, walking back and forth, and when his head was somewhat relieved lay down again. it was very rarely he slept the whole of two nights in succession; but often he remained thus in the cabinet till the hour for his toilet, when he returned to his room and i dressed him. the emperor took great care of his hands; but on this campaign he many times neglected this species of coquetry, and during the excessive heat did not wear gloves, as they inconvenienced him so greatly. he endured the cold heroically, though it was easy to see he suffered much from it physically. at witepsk the emperor, finding the space in front of the house in which he had his quarters too small to hold a review of the troops, had several small buildings torn down in order to enlarge it. there was a small dilapidated chapel which it was also necessary to destroy in order to accomplish this, and it had been already partly torn down, when the inhabitants assembled in large numbers, and loudly expressed their disapprobation of this measure. but the emperor having given his consent to their removing the sacred objects contained in the chapel, they were pacified; and, armed with this authority, several among them entered the sacred place, and emerged bearing with great solemnity wooden images of immense height, which they deposited in the other churches. we were witnesses while in this town of a singular spectacle, and one well calculated to shock our sense of decency. for many days during the intense heat we saw the inhabitants, both men and women, rushing to the banks of the river, removing their clothing with the greatest indifference to spectators, and bathing together, most of them nearly naked. the soldiers of the guard took pleasure in mingling with these bathers of both sexes; but as the soldiers were not so decorous as the inhabitants, and as the imprudencies committed by our men soon went too far, these worthy people relinquished the pleasures of their bath, very much displeased because sport was made of an exercise they had enjoyed with so much gravity and seriousness. one evening i was present at a grand review of the foot grenadiers of the guard, in which all the regiments seemed to take much delight, since it was in honor of the installation of general friant [louis friant, born in picardy, 1758; brigadier-general, 1794; served on the rhine and in italy; accompanied napoleon to egypt, and became general of division; wounded at austerlitz (1805), and was at jena and wagram; commanded the grenadiers of the guard in russian campaign, and was severely wounded at waterloo; died 1829] as commander of the corps. the emperor gave him the accolade, which was the only occasion on which i saw this done during the campaign; and as the general was much beloved by the army, it was amidst the acclamations of all that he received this honor from the emperor. promotions were usually welcomed by the soldiers with great enthusiasm, for the emperor required that they should take place with much pomp and ceremony. many persons thought that to be near the emperor was a proof of being well provided for on the campaign. this is a great mistake, as even the kings and princes who accompanied his majesty on his campaigns could easily prove; and if these great personages lacked absolute necessaries, it may well be believed that the persons comprising the different services fared badly. the emperor himself often dispensed with ordinary comforts which would have been very agreeable to him after the fatigues of the day. at the hour for the bivouac it was a general "lodge who can;" but the poorest soldier never had in his deprivation the chagrin of seeing his superiors enjoying abundance and scandalous luxury. the first generals of the army often dined on ammunition-bread with as much pleasure as the simple soldier, and on the retreat the misery could not have been more general. this idea of deprivations shared by all did much to restore hope and energy to the most discouraged; and, i may add, never has more reciprocal sympathy between chiefs and soldiers been seen, in support of which statement innumerable instances could be given. when evening came the fires were kindled, and those foragers who had been most successful invited their companions to share their good cheer. in the worst times there was poor, yet still not the worst, fare to offer, consisting of slices of broiled horse-flesh. many soldiers deprived themselves of some valuable booty to offer it to their chief, and selfishness was not so general that this noble french courtesy did not reappear from time to time to recall the happy days of france. straw was the bed of all; and those of the marshals who in paris slept on most luxurious beds of down did not find this couch too hard in russia. m. de beausset has given me a very amusing account of one night, when sleeping pell-mell on a little straw, in very narrow quarters, the aides-de-camp attending upon the emperor stepped mercilessly on the limbs of their sleeping companions, who, fortunately, did not all suffer from gout like m. beausset, and were not injured by such sudden and oft-repeated onslaughts. he cried, "what brutes!" and drawing his legs under him, cowered down in his corner until this passing and repassing had ceased for a while. picture to yourself large rooms, filthy, unfurnished, and open to the wind, which entered through every window, nearly all the glass of which was broken, with crumbling walls and fetid air, which we warmed as well as possible with our breath, a vast litter of straw prepared as if for horses, and on this litter men shivering with cold, throwing themselves about, pressing against each other, murmuring, swearing, some unable to close their eyes, others more fortunate snoring loudly, and in the midst of this mass of legs and feet, a general awakening in the night when an order from the emperor arrived, and you may form an idea of the inn and the guests. as for myself, during the entire campaign i did not a single time undress to retire to bed, for i never found one anywhere. it was necessary to supply this deficiency by some means; and as it is well known that necessity is ever ready with inventions, we supplied deficiency in our furnishings in the following manner: we had great bags of coarse cloth made, into which we entered, and thus protected, threw ourselves on a little straw, when we were fortunate enough to obtain it; and for several months i took my rest during the night in this manner, and even this i frequently could not enjoy for as many as five or six nights at a time, so exacting were the requirements of my position. if it is remembered that all these sufferings continued in their petty details each day, and that when night came we had not even a bed on which to stretch our weary limbs, some idea may be formed of the privations we endured on this campaign. the emperor never uttered a word of complaint when beset by such discomforts, and his example inspired us with courage; and at last we became so accustomed to this fatiguing and wandering existence, that, in spite of the cold and privations of every sort to which we were subjected, we often jested about the dainty arrangements of our apartments. the emperor on the campaign was affected only by the sufferings of others, though his health was sometimes so much impaired as to cause anxiety, especially when he denied himself all rest not absolutely required; and yet i heard him constantly inquiring if there were lodgings for all, and he would not be satisfied until fully informed of every particular. although the emperor nearly always had a bed, the poor quarters in which it was set up were often so filthy, that in spite of all the care taken to clean it, i more than once found on his clothing a kind of vermin very disagreeable, and very common in russia. we suffered more than the emperor from this inconvenience, being deprived as we were of proper linen and other changes of clothing, since the greater part of our effects had been burned with the wagons containing them. this extreme measure had been taken, as i have said, for good reasons, all the horses having died from cold or famine. we were little better lodged in the palace of the czars than on the bivouac. for several days we had only mattresses; but as a large number of wounded officers had none, the emperor ordered ours to be given them. we made the sacrifice willingly, and the thought that we were assisting others more unfortunate than ourselves would have made the hardest bed endurable. besides, in this war we had more than one opportunity to learn how to put aside all feelings of egotism and narrow personality; and had we been guilty of such forgetfulness, the emperor was ever ready to recall us to this plain and simple duty. chapter ix. the only too famous twenty-ninth bulletin of the grand army was not published in paris, where the consternation it spread through all classes is well known, until the 16th of december; and the emperor, following close upon the heels of this solemn manifesto of our disasters, arrived in his capital forty-eight hours after, as if endeavoring to annul by his presence the evil effects which this communication might produce. on the 28th, at half past eleven in the evening, his majesty alighted at the palace of the tuileries. this was the first time since his accession to the consulate that paris had witnessed his return from a campaign without announcing a new peace conquered by the glory of our arms. under these circumstances, the numerous persons who from attachment to the empress josephine had always seen or imagined they saw in her a kind of protecting talisman of the success of the emperor, did not fail to remark that the campaign of russia was the first which had been undertaken since the emperor's marriage to marie louise. without any superstition, it could not be denied that, although the emperor was always great even when fortune was contrary to him, there was a very marked difference between the reign of the two empresses. the one witnessed only victories followed by peace. and the other, only wars, not devoid of glory, but devoid of results, until the grand and fatal conclusion in the abdication at fontainebleau. but it is anticipating too much to describe here events which few men dared to predict directly after the disasters of moscow. all the world knows that the cold and a freezing temperature contributed more to our reverses than the enemy, whom we had pursued even into the heart of his burning capital. france still offered immense resources; and the emperor was now there in person to direct their employment and increase their value. besides, no defection was as yet apparent; and, with the exception of spain, sweden, and russia, the emperor considered all the european powers as allies. it is true the moment was approaching when general yorck would give the signal,--for as well as i can recall, the first news came to the emperor on the 10th of the following january,--and it was easy to see that his majesty was profoundly affected by it, as he saw that prussia would have many imitators in the other corps of the allied armies. at smorghoni, where the emperor had left me setting out, as i have before related, with the duke of vicenza in the coach which had been destined for me, scarcely anything was thought of but how to extricate ourselves from the frightful situation in which we found ourselves placed. i well remember that after a few regrets that the emperor was not in the midst of his lieutenants, the idea of being assured that he had escaped from all danger became the dominant sentiment, so much confidence did all place in his genius. moreover, in departing, he had given the command to the king of naples, whose valor the whole army admired, although it is said that a few marshals were secretly jealous of his royal crown. i have learned since, that the emperor reached warsaw on the 10th, having avoided passing through wilna by making a circuit through the suburbs; and at last, after passing through silesia, he had arrived at dresden, where the good and faithful king of saxony, although very ill, had himself borne to the emperor. from this place his majesty had followed the road by nassau and mayence. i followed also the same route, but not with the same rapidity, although i lost no time. everywhere, and above all in poland at the places where i stopped, i was astonished to find the feeling of security i saw manifested. from all directions i heard the report that the emperor was to return at the head of an army of three hundred thousand men. the emperor had been known to do such surprising things, that nothing seemed impossible; and i learned that he himself had spread these reports on his passage, in order to restore the courage of the population. in several places i could procure no horses; and consequently, in spite of all my zeal, i did not reach paris until six or eight days after the emperor. i had hardly alighted from my carriage, when the emperor, who had been informed of my arrival, had me summoned. i observed to the messenger that i was not in a condition which would allow me to present myself before his majesty. "that makes no difference," replied he; "the emperor wishes you to come immediately, just as you are." i obeyed instantly; and went, or rather ran, to the emperor's cabinet, where i found him with the empress, queen hortense, and another person whose name i do not perfectly recall. the emperor deigned to give me a most cordial welcome; and as the empress seemed to pay no attention to me, said to her in a manner whose kindness i shall never forget, "louise, do you not recognize constant?" "i perceived him." [elsewhere constant has stated her reply was, "i had not perceived him."] this was the only reply of her majesty the empress; but such was not the case with queen hortense, who welcomed me as kindly as her adorable mother had always done. the emperor was very gay, and seemed to have forgotten all his fatigue. i was about to retire respectfully; but his majesty said to me, "no, constant, remain a minute longer, and tell me what you saw on your road." even if i had any intention to conceal from the emperor a part of the truth, taken thus unawares i should have lacked the time to prepare an agreeable falsehood; so i said to him that everywhere, even in silesia, my eyes had been struck by the same frightful spectacle, for everywhere i had seen the dead and the dying, and poor unfortunates struggling hopelessly against cold and hunger. "that is true, that is true," he said; "go and rest, my poor boy, you must be in need of it. to-morrow you will resume your service." the next day, in fact, i resumed my duties near the emperor, and i found him exactly the same as he had been before entering on the campaign; the same placidity was evident on his countenance. it would have been said that the past was no longer anything to him; and living ever in the future, he already saw victory perched again on our banner, and his enemies humiliated and vanquished. it is true that the numerous addresses he received, and discourses which were pronounced in his presence by the presidents of the senate and the council of state, were no less flattering than formerly; but it was very evident in his replies that if he pretended to forget this disastrous experience in russia, he was more deeply concerned about the affair of general malet than anything else. [in the reply of the emperor to the council of state occurred the following remarkable passage, which it may not be amiss to repeat at this period as very singular: "it is to idealism and that gloomy species of metaphysics which, seeking subtilely for first causes, wishes to place on such foundations the legislation of a people, instead of adapting the laws to their knowledge of the human heart, and to the lessons of history, that it is necessary to attribute all the misfortunes our beautiful france has experienced. these errors have necessarily led to the rule of the men of blood. in fact, who has proclaimed the principle of insurrection as a duty? who has paid adulation to the nation while claiming for it a sovereignty which it was incapable of exercising? who has destroyed the sanctity and respect for the laws, in making them depend, not on the sacred principles of justice, or the nature of things and on civil justice, but simply on the will of an assembly of men strangers to the knowledge of civil, criminal, administrative, political, and military law? when one is called on to regenerate a state, there are directly opposite principles by which one must necessarily be guided."--note by the editor of french edition. claude francois de malet, born at dole, 1754. in 1806 was a general officer, and was dismissed the service. plotting against the emperor, he was imprisoned from 1808 to 1812. on october 24 he issued a proclamation that the emperor had died in russia, and that he (malet) had been appointed governor of paris by the senate. he made savary prisoner, and shot general hullin. he was made prisoner in turn by general laborde, and summarily shot.-trans. (see "the memoirs" by bourrienne for the detail of this plot. d.w.)] as for myself i cannot deny the painful feelings i experienced the first time i went out in paris, and passed through the public promenades during my hours of leisure; for i was struck with the large number of persons in mourning whom i met,--the wives and sisters of our brave soldiers mowed down on the fields of russia; but i kept these disagreeable impressions to myself. a few days after my return to paris their majesties were present at the opera where 'jerusalem delivered' was presented. i occupied a box which count de remusat had the kindness to lend me for that evening (he was first chamberlain of the emperor, and superintendent of theaters), and witnessed the reception given the emperor and empress. never have i seen more enthusiasm displayed, and i must avow that the transition seemed to me most sudden from the recent passage of the beresina to those truly magical scenes. it was on sunday, and i left the theater a little before the close in order to reach the palace before the emperor's return. i was there in time to undress him, and i well remember that his majesty spoke to me that evening of the quarrel between talma and geoffroy which had occurred a few days before his arrival. the emperor, although he had a high opinion of talma, thought him completely in the wrong, and repeated several times, "a man of his age! a man of his age! that is inexcusable. zounds!" added he, smiling, "do not people speak evil of me also? have i not also critics who do not spare me? he should not be more sensitive than i?" this affair, however, had no disagreeable result for talma; for the emperor was much attached to him, and overwhelmed him with pensions and presents. talma in this respect was among the very privileged few; for giving presents was not in his majesty's role, especially to those in his private service. it was then near the 1st of january; but we built no air castles at this period, for the emperor never made gifts. we knew that we could not expect any emoluments; though i, especially, could exercise no economy, for the emperor required that my toilet should always be extremely elegant. it was something really extraordinary to see the master of half of europe not disdaining to occupy himself with the toilet of his valet de chambre; even going so far that when he saw me in a new coat which pleased him he never failed to compliment me on it, adding, "you are very handsome, monsieur constant." even on the occasion of the marriage of the emperor and marie louise, and that of the birth of the king of rome, those composing the private service of his majesty received no present, and the emperor thought the expenses of these ceremonies too great. on one occasion, however, but not in consequence of any unusual circumstance, the emperor said to me one morning as i finished dressing him, "constant, go to m. meneval; i have given him orders to allow you eighteen hundred livres of income." now, it happened that the funds had gone up in the interval between the order and its execution; and instead of receiving eighteen hundred livres of rent, i received only seventeen, which i sold a short time after, and with the product of this sale bought a modest piece of property in the forest of fontainebleau. sometimes the emperor made presents to the princes and princesses of his family, of which i was nearly always the bearer; and i can assert that with two or three rare exceptions this duty was perfectly gratuitous, a circumstance which i recall here simply as a recollection. queen hortense and prince eugene were never included, according to my recollection, in the distribution of imperial gifts, and the princess pauline was most often favored. in spite of the numerous occupations of the emperor, who after his return from the army spent much time during the day, and most of the nights, working in his cabinet, he showed himself more frequently in public than heretofore, going out almost without escort. on the 2d of january, 1813, for instance, i remember he went, accompanied only by marshal duroc, to visit the basilica of notre dame, the works of the archbishopric, those of the central depot of wines, and then, crossing the bridge of austerlitz, the granaries, the fountain of the elephant, and finally the palace of the bourse, which his majesty often said was the handsomest building then existing in europe. next to his passion for war, that for monuments was strongest in the emperor's heart. the cold was quite severe while his majesty was taking these solitary excursions; but in fact the cold weather in paris seemed a very mild temperature to all who had just returned from russia. i remarked at this time, that is to say at the end of 1812 and the beginning of 1813, that the emperor had never hunted so frequently. two or three times a week i assisted him to don his hunting-costume, which he, like all persons of his suite, wore in accordance with the recently revived usage of the ancient monarchy. the empress often accompanied him in a coach, although the cold was intense; but when he gave an order there was nothing to be said. knowing how distasteful the pleasures of the chase ordinarily were to his majesty, i was surprised at this recent fondness he manifested, but soon learned that he was acting purely from political motives. one day marshal duroc was in his room, while he was putting on his green coat with gold lace; and i heard the emperor say to the marshal, "it is very necessary that i should be in motion, and have the journals speak of it; for the imbeciles who write for the english journals repeat every day that i am sick, that i cannot move, and am no longer good for anything. have patience! i will soon show them that i have as much strength of body as of mind." besides all this, i think that the exercise of hunting in moderation was very good for the emperor's health; for i never saw him in better condition than during the very time the english journals took pleasure in describing him as ill, and perhaps by these false statements were contributing to still further improve his health. chapter x. on the 19th of january the emperor sent to inform the empress that he was to hunt in the wood of grosbois, and would breakfast with the princess de neuchatel, and requested that her majesty would accompany him. the emperor ordered me also to be at grosbois in order to assist him in changing his linen after the hunt. this hunting-party took place according to announcement; but to the unbounded amazement of the entire suite of the emperor, just as we were on the point of re-entering our carriages, instead of taking the road to paris, his majesty gave orders to proceed to fontainebleau. the empress and the ladies who accompanied her had nothing except their hunting costumes, and the emperor was much diverted by the tribulations their vanity underwent in being unexpectedly engaged in a campaign without toilet equipments. before leaving paris the emperor had given orders that there should be sent in all haste to fontainebleau all that the "empress could need; but her ladies found themselves totally unprovided for, and it was very amusing to see them immediately on their arrival expedite express after express for objects of prime necessity which they ordered should be sent posthaste. nevertheless, it was soon evident that the hunting-party and breakfast at grosbois had been simply a pretext, and that the emperor's object had been to put an end to the differences which had for some time existed between his holiness and his majesty. everything having been settled and prearranged, the emperor and the pope signed on the 25th an agreement under the name of concordat, of which this is the purport: "his majesty, the emperor and king, and his holiness, wishing to settle the differences which had arisen between them, and provide for difficulties which have unexpectedly arisen in regard to various affairs of the church, have agreed on the following articles as forming a basis for a definite arrangement: art. 1. his holiness will exercise the pontificate in france, and in the kingdom of italy, in the same manner and under the same regulations as his predecessors. 2. the ambassadors, ministers, and charges d'affaires to the holy father, and the ambassadors, ministers, and charges d'affaires from him to foreign powers, will enjoy the immunities and privileges of members of the diplomatic corps. 3. the domains possessed by the holy father, and which have not been alienated, shall be exempt from all kinds of impost; they shall be administered by his agents or representatives. those which have been alienated shall be replaced to the value of two million francs of revenue. 4. during the six months which usually follow the notification of appointments made by the emperor to the archbishoprics and bishoprics of the empire and the kingdom of italy the pope shall perform the canonical institution in conformity with the concordat, and by virtue of the present agreement; previous information concerning which shall be given by the archbishop. if six months shall expire without the pope having performed this institution, the archbishop, and in his absence, where his duties are concerned, the senior bishop of the province, shall proceed to the institution of the aforementioned bishop, to the end that a see shall never be vacant more than one year. 5. the pope shall appoint in france and in the kingdom of italy to ten bishoprics, which shall later be designated by mutual agreement. 6. the six suburban bishoprics shall be re-established, and shall be appointed to by the pope. the property now held shall be restored, and similar measures taken in regard to that already sold. on the death of the bishops of anagni and rieti, their dioceses shall be united with that of the six bishops aforesaid, in conformity with the agreement between his majesty and the holy father. 7. in respect to the bishops of the roman states, unavoidably absent from their dioceses, the holy father shall exercise his right of bestowing bishoprics 'in partibus'. he shall give them a pension equal to the revenue they formerly enjoyed, and their places in the sees thus vacated shall be supplied, both in the empire and the kingdom of italy. 8. his majesty and his holiness will agree on some opportune occasion as to the reduction to be made in the bishoprics of tuscany, and the province of genoa, as well as those to be established in holland, and the hanseatic departments. 9. the propaganda, the penitential court, and the court of archives shall be established in the place of residence of the holy father. 10. his majesty pardons freely the cardinals, bishops, priests, and laity who have incurred his disgrace in consequence of certain events. 11. the holy father agrees to the above resolutions in consideration of the existing condition of the church, and his confidence that his majesty will grant his powerful assistance to the needs of the church, which are so numerous in the times in which we live. "napoleon." "pius vii." "fontainebleau, 25 january, 1813." it has been attempted by every possible means to throw odium on the conduct of the emperor in this affair. he has been accused of having insulted the pope, and even of having threatened him, all of which is most signally false. everything was arranged in the most agreeable manner. m. devoisin, bishop of nantes, an ecclesiastic who was highly esteemed by the emperor, and was his favorite mediator, in the frequent points of difference which arose between the pope and his majesty, had come to the tuileries on the 19th of january, and after being closeted with the emperor for two hours, had left for fontainebleau. and it was immediately after this interview that the emperor entered his carriage with the empress in hunting costume, followed by the whole suite, similarly attired. the pope, forewarned by the bishop of nantes, awaited his majesty; and as the most important points had been discussed and arranged in advance, and only a few clauses accessory to the main body of the concordat remained to be decided, it was impossible that the interview should have been otherwise than amicable, a truth which is still more evident when we reflect on the kind feelings of the holy father towards the emperor, their friendship for each other, and the admiration inspired in the pope by the great genius of napoleon. i affirm then, and i think with good reason, that the affair was conducted in a most honorable manner, and that the concordat was signed freely and without compulsion by his holiness, in presence of the cardinals assembled at fontainebleau. it is an atrocious calumny which some one has dared to make that, on the reiterated refusal of the pope, the emperor placed in his hand a pen dipped in ink, and seizing him by the arm and hair, forced him to sign, saying that he ordered it, and that his disobedience would be punished by perpetual imprisonment. the one who invented this absurd fabrication must have known little of the emperor's character. a person who was present at this interview, the circumstances of which have been so falsified, related them to me, and is my authority on the subject. immediately on his arrival at fontainebleau, the emperor paid a visit to the holy father, who returned it next day, remaining two hours at least; and during this time his majesty's manner was calm and firm, it is true, but full of respect and kind feeling for the person of the venerable pope. a few stipulations of the proposed treaty alarmed the conscience of the holy father, which the emperor perceived; and without waiting for any arguments declared that he would renounce them, and every scruple remaining in the mind of the holy father being thus satisfied, a secretary was called, who drew up the articles, which the pope approved one by one, with most paternal benignity. on the 25th of january, after the concordat was definitely settled, the holy father repaired to the apartments of her majesty the empress; and both of the contracting parties appeared equally well satisfied, which is a sufficient proof that neither treachery nor violence had been used. the concordat was signed by the august parties in the midst of a magnificent assemblage of cardinals, bishops, soldiers, etc. cardinal doria performed the duties of grand master of ceremonies, and it was he who received the signatures. a countless number of congratulations were given and received, pardons asked and obtained, and relics, decorations, chaplets, and tobacco-boxes distributed by both parties. cardinal doria received from his majesty the gold eagle of the legion of honor. the great eagle was also given to cardinal fabricio ruffo; cardinal maury, the bishop of nantes, and the archbishop of tours received the grand cross of the order of the reunion; the bishops of evreux and treves, the cross of officers of the legion of honor; and finally the cardinal of bayonne and the bishop of evreux were made senators by his majesty. doctor porta, the pope's physician, was presented with a pension of twelve thousand francs, and the ecclesiastical secretary who entered the cabinet to copy the articles of the concordat received a present of a magnificent ring set with brilliants. his holiness had hardly signed the concordat before he repented of it. the following was related to marshal kellerman by the emperor at mayence the last of april: "the day after the signing of the famous concordat of fontainebleau, the pope dined in public with me; but in the night he was ill, or pretended to be. he was a lamblike, honest, and truly good man, whom i highly esteemed and loved, and who had some regard for me i am sure. would you believe it, he wrote me a week after signing the concordat that he much regretted having done so, that his conscience reproached him for it, and urged me earnestly to consider it as of no effect. this was owing to the fact that immediately after leaving me he had fallen into the hands of his usual advisers, who made a scarecrow out of what had just occurred. if we had been together i could easily have reassured him. i replied that what he demanded was contrary to the interests of france; and moreover, being infallible, he could not have made a mistake, and his conscience was too quick to take the alarm for him to have done wrong. "in fact, compare the condition of rome formerly with what it is to-day. paralyzed by the necessary consequences of the revolution, could she have risen again and maintained her position? a vicious government as to political matters has taken the place of the former roman legislation, which, without being perfect, nevertheless contributed to form great men of every kind. modern rome has applied to its political government principles better suited to a religious order, and has carried them out in a manner fatal to the happiness of the people. "thus charity is the most perfect of christian virtues; it is necessary to give charity to all who ask it. this form of reasoning has rendered rome the receptacle of the dregs of all nations. one sees collected there (so i am told, for i have never visited it) all the idlers of the earth, who come thither to take refuge, assured of finding an abundant support with much to spare. and thus the papal territory, which nature has destined to produce immense wealth from its situation under a favorable sky, from the multiplicity of streams with which it is watered, and above all from the fertility of the soil, languishes for want of cultivation. berthier has often told me that large tracts of country may be traversed without perceiving the impress of the hand of man. the women even, who are regarded as the most beautiful of italy, are indolent, and their minds evince no activity even in the ordinary duties of life. the inhabitants have all the languor of asiatic manners. "modern rome limits itself to preserving a certain pre-eminence by virtue of the marvelous works of art which it contains; but we have greatly weakened this claim. our museum is enriched by all the masterpieces which were a source of so much pride, and soon the magnificent edifice of the bourse which is to be erected at paris will eclipse all those of europe, either ancient or modern. "france before all." "viewed from a political standpoint, how would the papal government in these days appear compared with the great kingdoms of europe? formerly mediocre men succeeded to the pontifical throne at an age in which one breathes well only after resting. at this period of life routine and habit are everything; and nothing is considered but the elevated position, and how to make it redound to the advantage of his family. a pope now arrives at sovereign power with a mind sharpened by being accustomed to intrigue, and with a fear of making powerful enemies who may hereafter revenge themselves on his family, since his successor is always unknown. in fine, he cares for nothing but to live and die in peace. in the seat of sixtus v. [sixtus v., originally felix peretti, born at montalto, 1525, and in 1585 succeeded gregory xiii. as pope. he was distinguished by his energy and munificence. he constructed the vatican library, the great aqueduct, and other public works, and placed the obelisk before st. peter's. died 1589.] how many popes have there been who have occupied themselves only with frivolous subjects, as little advantageous to the best interests of religion as fruitful in inspiring scorn for such a government! but that would lead us too far." from the time of his return from moscow, his majesty occupied himself with unequaled activity in seeking means to arrest the invasion of the russians, who, having united with the prussians since general yorck's defection, constituted a most formidable mass. new levies had been ordered. for two months he had received and utilized the innumerable offers of horses and cavalry made by all the towns of the empire, by official bodies, and by rich individuals holding positions near the court, etc. the imperial guard was reorganized under the brave duke de frioul, who was alas! a few months later to be torn from his numerous friends. in the midst of these grave occupations his majesty did not for a moment lose sight of his cherished plan of making paris the most beautiful city of the world; and not a week passed without interviews with architects and engineers, who presented estimates, made reports, etc. "it is a shame," said the emperor one day, while inspecting the barracks of the guard, a species of black and smoke-begrimed shed, "it is a shame," said he to m. fontaine, "to make buildings as frightful as those of moscow. i should never have allowed such a building to be erected. are you not my chief architect?" m. fontaine excused himself by pointing out to his majesty that he was not responsible for the buildings of paris, as although he had the honor of being chief architect of the emperor, it was for the tuileries and the louvre alone. "that is true," replied his majesty; "but could there not be built here," pointing to the quay, "in place of this wooden dockyard, which produces such a bad effect, a residence for the italian minister?" m. fontaine replied that the plan was very feasible, but that it would require three or four millions. the emperor then seemed to abandon this idea, and turning his attention to the garden of the tuileries, perhaps in consequence of the conspiracy of general malet,gave orders to arrange all the entrances to the palace so that the same key might serve for all the locks; "and this key," his majesty added, "should be put in charge of the grand marshal after the doors were closed for the night." a few days after this conversation with m. fontaine, the emperor sent to him and m. costaz the following note, a copy of which fell into my hands. his majesty had that morning visited the buildings of chaillot. "there is yet ample time to discuss the construction of the palace for the king of rome. i do not wish to be led into foolish expenditures; i should like a palace not so large as saint-cloud, but larger than the luxemburg. i wish to be able to occupy it after the sixteenth million has been expended; then it will be a practicable affair. but if a more expensive building is attempted, it will result like the louvre, which has never been finished. the parks are first to be considered, their boundaries determined and inclosed. i wish this new palace to be somewhat handsomer than the elysee; and although that cost less than eight millions, it is one of the most beautiful palaces of paris. that of the king of rome will rank next to the louvre, which is itself a magnificent palace. it will be, so to speak, only a country seat for one residing in paris, for of course the winters would be passed at the louvre or the tuileries. i can with difficulty believe that saint-cloud cost sixteen millions. before inspecting the plan, i wish it to be carefully examined and discussed by the committee on buildings, so that i may have the assurance that the sum of sixteen millions will not be exceeded. i do not wish an ideal residence, but one constructed for my own enjoyment, and not for the pleasure of the architect alone. finishing the louvre will suffice for his glory; and when the plan is once adopted, i will see that it is executed. the elysee does not suit me, and the tuileries is barely inhabitable. nothing will please me unless it is perfectly simple, and constructed according to my tastes and manner of living, for then the palace will be useful to me. i wish it constructed in such a manner that it may be a complete 'sans souci'; [frederick the great's palace in the country near berlin.] and i especially desire that it may be an agreeable palace rather than a handsome garden,--two conditions which are incompatible. let there be something between a court and a garden, like the tuileries, that from my apartments i may promenade in the garden and the park, as at saint-cloud, though saint-cloud has the inconvenience of having no park for the household. it is necessary also to study the location, so that my apartments may face north and south, in order that i may change my residence according to the season. i wish the apartments i occupy to be as handsomely furnished as my small apartments at fontainebleau. i wish my apartments to be very near those of the empress, and on the same floor. finally, i wish a palace that would be comfortable for a convalescent, or for a man as age approaches. i wish a small theater, a small chapel, etc.; and above all great care should be taken that there be no stagnant water around the palace." the emperor carried his passion for building to excess, and seemed more active, more eager in the execution of his plans, and more tenacious of his ideas, than any architect i have ever known. nevertheless, the idea of putting the palace of the king of rome on the heights of chaillot was not entirely his own, and m. fontaine might well claim to have originated it. it was mentioned the first time while discussing the palace of lyons, which in order to present a handsome appearance m. fontaine remarked should be situated on an elevation overlooking the city, as, for example, the heights of chaillot overlooked paris. the emperor did not appear to notice m. fontaine's remark, and had two or three days previously given orders that the chateau of meudon should be put in a condition to receive his son, when one morning he summoned the architect, and ordered him to present a plan for embellishing the bois de boulogne, by adding a country house on the summit of chaillot. "what do you think of it?" added he, smiling; "does the site appear well chosen?" one morning in the month of march, the emperor brought his son to a review on the champ-de-mars; he was received with indescribable enthusiasm, the sincerity of which was undoubted; and it could easily be seen that these acclamations came from the heart. the emperor was deeply moved by this reception, and returned to the tuileries in a most charming frame of mind, caressed the king of rome, covered him with kisses, and dilated to m. fontaine and myself on the precocious intelligence displayed by this beloved child. "he was not at all frightened; he seemed to know that all those brave men were my friends." on that day he held a long conversation with m. fontaine, while amusing himself with his son, whom he held in his arms; and when the conversation turned on rome and its monuments, m. fontaine spoke of the pantheon with the most profound admiration. the emperor asked if he had ever lived at rome; and m. fontaine having replied that he remained there three years on his first visit, his majesty remarked, "it is a city i have not seen; i shall certainly go there some day. it is the city whose people formerly were the sovereigns of the world." and his eyes were fixed on the king of rome with paternal pride. when m. fontaine had left, the emperor made me a sign to approach, and began by pulling my ears, according to custom when in good humor. after a few personal questions, he asked me what was my salary. "sire, six thousand francs."--"and monsieur colin, how much has he?"--"twelve thousand francs."--"twelve thousand francs! that is not right; you should not have less than m. colin. i will attend to that." and his majesty was kind enough to make immediate inquiries, but was told that the accounts for the year were made out; whereupon the emperor informed me that till the end of the year, m. le baron fain [born in paris, 1778; attended napoleon in his campaigns as secretary of the records; wrote memoirs of the last three years of napoleon's reign; died 1837.] would give me each month out of his privy purse five hundred francs, as he wished that my salary should equal that of m. colin. chapter xi. after the emperor left the army and committed, as we have seen, the command to the king of naples, his sicilian majesty also abandoned the command intrusted to him, and set out for his states, leaving prince eugene at the head of the forces. the emperor was deeply interested in the news he received from posen, where the general headquarters were in the latter part of february and beginning of march, and where the prince vice-king had under his orders only the remains of different corps, some of which were represented by a very small number of men. moreover, each time that the russians appeared in force, there was nothing to be done but to fall back; and each day during the month of march the news became more and more depressing. the emperor consequently decided at the end of march to set out at an early day for the army. for some time previous the emperor, much impressed by malet's conspiracy during his last absence, had expressed the opinion that it was dangerous to leave his government without a head; and the journals had been filled with information relative to the ceremonies required when the regency of the kingdom had been left in the hands of queens in times past. as the public well knew the means frequently adopted by his majesty to foster in advance opinions favorable to any course of conduct he intended to pursue, no one was surprised to see him before leaving confide the regency to the empress marie louise, circumstances not having yet furnished him the opportunity of having her crowned, as he had long desired. the empress took the solemn oath at the palace of the elysee, in presence of the princes, great dignitaries, and ministers. the duke of cadore was made secretary of the regency, as counselor to her majesty the empress, together with the arch-chancellor; and the command of the guard was confided to general caffarelli. the emperor left saint-cloud on the 15th of april, at four o'clock in the morning, and at midnight of the 16th entered mayence. on his arrival his majesty learned that erfurt and the whole of westphalia were in a state of the deepest alarm. this news added incredible speed to his march, and in eight hours he was at erfurt. his majesty remained but a short while in that town, as the information that he there received set his mind at rest as to the result of the campaign. on leaving erfurt the emperor wished to pass through weimar in order to salute the grand duchess, and made his visit on the same day and at the same hour that the emperor alexander went from dresden to toeplitz in order to visit another duchess of weimar (the hereditary princess, her sister). the grand duchess received the emperor with a grace which enchanted him, and their conversation lasted nearly half an hour. on leaving, his majesty said to the prince de neuchatel, "that is an astonishing woman; she has the intellect of a great man." the duke accompanied the emperor as far as the borough of eckhartsberg, where his majesty detained him to dine. note by constant.--his majesty's household, reorganized in part for this campaign of 1813, was composed of the following persons: grand marshal of the palace, the duke of frioul. grand equerry, the duke of vicenza. aides-de-camp: generals mouton, count de lobau; lebrun, duke de plaisance; generals drouot, flahaut, dejean, corbineau, bernard, durosnel, and aogendorp. first ordinance officer, colonel gourgaud. ordinance officers: baron de mortemart, baron athalin, m. beranger, m. de lauriston; messieurs barons desaix, laplace, and de caraman; messieurs de saint marsan, de lamezan, pretet, and pailhou; there was also m. d'aremberg, but at this time he was a prisoner in the town of dantzic. first chamberlain and master of the wardrobe, the count of turenne. prefect of the palace, baron de beausset. quartermaster of the palace, baron de canouville. equerries, barons van lenneps, montaran, and de mesgrigny. private secretaries, baron mounier and baron fain. clerks, messieurs jouanne and provost. secretary interpreters, messieurs lelorgue, dideville, and vouzowitch. director of the topographical bureau, baron bacler d'albe. geographical engineers, messieurs lameau and duvivier. pages, messieurs montarieu, devienne, sainte perne, and ferreri. the emperor had his headquarters on the square of eckhartsberg. he had only two rooms, and his suite slept on the landing and the steps of the staircase. this little town, transformed in a few hours into headquarters, presented a most extraordinary spectacle. on a square surrounded by camps, bivouacs, and military parks, in the midst of more than a thousand vehicles, which crossed each other from every direction, mingled together, became entangled in every way, could be seen slowly defiling regiments, convoys, artillery trains, baggage wagons, etc. following them came herds of cattle, preceded or divided by the little carts of the canteen women and sutlers,--such light, frail vehicles that the least jolt endangered them; with these were marauders returning with their booty, peasants pulling vehicles by their own strength, cursing and swearing amid the laughter of our soldiers; and couriers, ordinance officers, and aides-de-camp, galloping through all this wonderfully variegated and diversified multitude of men and beasts. and when to this is added the neighing of horses, bellowing of cattle, rumbling of wheels over the stones, cries of the soldiers, sounds from trumpets, drums, fifes, and the complaints of the inhabitants, with hundreds of persons all together asking questions at the same time, speaking german to the italians, and french to the germans, how could it be possible that his majesty should be as tranquil and as much at his ease in the midst of this fearful uproar as in his cabinet at saint-cloud or the tuileries? this was nevertheless the case; and the emperor, seated before a miserable table covered with a kind of cloth, a map spread before him, compass and pen in hand, entirely given up to meditation, showed not the least impatience; and it would have been said that no exterior noise reached his ears. but let a cry of pain be heard in any direction, the emperor instantly raised his head, and gave orders to go and ascertain what had happened. the power of thus isolating one's self completely from all the surrounding world is very difficult to acquire, and no one possessed it to the same degree as his majesty. on the 1st of may the emperor was at lutzen, though the battle did not occur till next day. on that day, at six o'clock in the evening, the brave marshal bessieres, duke of istria, was killed by a cannon-ball, just at the moment when, mounted on a height, wrapped in a long cloak which he had put on in order not to be remarked, he had just given orders for the burial of a sergeant of his escort, whom a ball had just slain a few steps in front of him. from the first campaigns in italy the duke of istria had hardly left the emperor at all; had followed him in all his campaigns; had taken part in all his battles, and was always distinguished for his well-proved bravery, and a frankness and candor very rare among the high personages by whom his majesty was surrounded. he had passed through almost all grades up to the command of the imperial guard; and his great experience, excellent character, good heart, and unalterable attachment to the emperor, had rendered him very dear to his majesty. the emperor was much moved on learning of the death of the marshal, and remained some time silent with bent head, and eyes fastened on the ground. at last he said, "he has died like turenne; his fate is to be envied." he then passed his hand over his eyes and withdrew. the body of the marshal was embalmed and carried to paris, and the emperor wrote the following letter to the duchess of istria: "my cousin,- "your husband has died on the field of honor. the loss sustained by you and your children is doubtless great, but mine is greater still. the duke of istria has died a most glorious death, and without suffering. he leaves a stainless reputation, the richest heritage he could have left his children. my protection is assured, and they will also inherit the affection i bore their father. find in all these considerations some source of consolation in your distress, and never doubt my sentiments towards you. "this letter having no other object, i pray that god, my cousin, may have you in his holy keeping. "napoleon." the king of saxony reared a monument to the duke of istria on the exact spot where he fell. the victory so long disputed in this battle of lutzen was on that account only the more glorious for the emperor, and was gained principally by the young conscripts, who fought like lions. marshal ney expected this of them; for before the battle he said to his majesty, "sire, give me a good many of those young men, i will lead them wherever i wish. the old bearded fellows know as much as we, they reflect, they are too cold blooded; but these intrepid children know no difficulties, they look straight before them, and neither to the right nor left." in fact, in the midst of the battle, the prussians, commanded by the king in person, attacked the corps of marshal ney with such fury that it fell back, but the conscripts did not take flight. they withstood the fire, rallied by platoons, and flanked the enemy, crying with all their might, "vive l'empereur." the emperor appeared; and recovering from the terrible shock they had sustained, and electrified by the presence of their hero, they attacked in their turn with incredible violence. his majesty was astonished. "in the twenty years," said he, "i have commanded french armies i have never witnessed such remarkable bravery and devotion." it was indeed a touching sight to see those youthful soldiers, although grievously wounded, some without an arm, some without a leg, with but a few moments of life remaining, making a last effort, as the emperor approached, to rise from the ground, and shout with their latest breath, "vive l'empereur." tears fill my eyes as i think of those youths, so brilliant, so strong, and so courageous. the enemy displayed the same bravery and enthusiasm. the light infantry of the prussian guard were almost all young men who saw fire for the first time; they exposed themselves to every hazard, and fell by hundreds before they would recoil a step. in no other battle, i think, was the emperor so visibly protected by his destiny. balls whistled around his ears, carrying away as they passed pieces of the trappings of his horse, shells and grenades rolled at his feet, but nothing touched him. the soldiers observed this, and their enthusiasm rose to the highest pitch. at the beginning of the battle, the emperor saw a battalion advancing whose chief had been suspended from his office two or three days before for some slight breach of discipline. the disgraced officer marched in the second rank with his soldiers, by whom he was adored. the emperor saw him, and halting the battalion, took the officer by the hand, and placed him again at the head of his troop. the effect produced by this scene was indescribable. on the 8th of may, at seven o'clock in the evening, the emperor entered dresden, and took possession of the palace, which the emperor of russia and king of prussia had quitted that very evening. a short distance from the barriers the emperor was saluted by a deputation from the municipality of that town. "you deserve," said he to these deputies, "that i should treat you as a conquered country. i know all that you have done while the allies occupied your town; i have a statement of the number of volunteers whom you have clothed, equipped, and armed against me, with a generosity which has astonished even the enemy. i know the insults you have heaped on france, and how many shameless libels you have to suppress or to burn today. i am fully aware with what transports of joy you received the emperor of russia and the king of prussia within your walls. your houses are still decorated with the garlands, and we still see lying on the earth the flowers which the young girls scattered in their path. nevertheless, i am willing to pardon everything. thank your king for this; it is he who saves you, and i pardon you only from love of him. send a deputation to entreat him to return to you. my aide-de-camp, general durosnel, will be your governor. your good king himself could not make a better selection." as soon as he entered the city the emperor was informed that a part of the russian rear-guard sought to hold its ground in the new town, separated from the old by the river elbe, and had fallen into the power of our army. his majesty immediately ordered that everything should be done in order to drive out this remnant of the enemy; and during an entire day there was a continued cannonading and shooting in the town from one bank to the other. bullets and shell fell like hail on the spot occupied by the emperor. a shell struck the walls of a powder-magazine not far from him, and scattered the pieces around his head, but fortunately the powder did not ignite. a few moments after another shell fell between his majesty and several italians; they bent to avoid the explosion. the emperor saw this movement, and laughingly said to them, "ah, coglioni! non fa male." ["ah, scamps! don't behave badly."] on the 11th of may, in the morning, the russians were put to flight and pursued, the french army entering the city from all sides. the emperor remained on the bridge the whole day, watching his troops as they filed in. the next day at ten o'clock the imperial guard under arms were placed in line of battle on the road from pirna to gross garten. the emperor reviewed it, and ordered general flahaut to advance. the king of saxony arrived about noon. on meeting again, the two sovereigns alighted from their horses and embraced each other, and then entered dresden amid general acclamations. general flahaut, who had gone to meet the king of saxony with a part of the imperial guard, received from this good king the most flattering testimonials of appreciation and gratitude. it is impossible to show more cordiality and friendliness than the king of saxony displayed. the emperor said of him and his family that they were a patriarchal family, and that all who comprised it joined to striking virtues an expansive kindness of manner which made them adored by their subjects. his majesty paid this royal personage the most affectionate attentions, and as long as the war lasted sent couriers each day to keep the king informed of the least circumstance: he came himself as often as possible, and, in fact, constantly treated him with that cordiality he so well knew how to display and to render irresistible when he chose. a few days after his arrival at dresden his majesty held a long conversation with the king of saxony, in which the emperor alexander was the principal subject of conversation. the characteristics and faults of this prince were fully analyzed; and the conclusion drawn from this conversation was that the emperor alexander had been sincere in the interview at erfurt, and that it must have been very complicated intrigues which had thus led to the rupture of all their treaties of friendship. "sovereigns are most unfortunate," said his majesty; "always deceived, always surrounded by flatterers or treacherous counselors, whose greatest desire is to prevent the truth from reaching the ears of their masters, who have so much interest in knowing it." the two sovereigns next spoke of the emperor of austria. his majesty appeared profoundly grieved that his union with the archduchess marie louise, whom he did all in his power to render the happiest of women, should have failed in producing the result he had anticipated, of obtaining for him the confidence and friendship of her father. "it is perhaps because i was not born a sovereign," said the emperor; "and nevertheless, i should think that this would be an additional inducement to the friendship of my father-in-law. i shall never be convinced that such ties are not strong enough to obtain the alliance of the emperor of austria; for, in fact, i am his son-in-law, my son is his grandson, he loves his daughter, and she is happy; how, then, can he be my enemy?" on learning of the victory of lutzen, and the entrance of the emperor into dresden, the emperor of austria hastened to send m. de bubna to his son-in-law. he arrived on the evening of the 16th; and the interview, which his majesty immediately granted, lasted until two hours after midnight. this led us to hope that peace was about to be concluded, and we consequently formed a thousand conjectures, each more encouraging than the other; but when two or three days had passed away, and we still witnessed only preparations for war, we saw that our hopes were cruelly deceived. then it was i heard the unfortunate marshal duroc exclaim, "this is lasting too long! we will none of us outlive it!" he had a presentiment of his own death. during the whole of this campaign the emperor had not a moment of repose. the days passed away in combats or marches, always on horseback; the nights in labors in the cabinet. i never comprehended how his body could endure such fatigue, and yet he enjoyed almost continuously the most perfect health. the evening before the battle of bautzen he retired very late, after visiting all the military posts, and, having given all necessary orders, slept profoundly. early next morning, the 20th of may, movements began, and we awaited at headquarters with eager impatience the results of this day. but the battle was not over even then; and after a succession of encounters, always ending in our favor, although hotly contested, the emperor, at nine o'clock in the evening, returned to headquarters, took a light repast, and remained with prince berthier until midnight. the remainder of the night was passed in work, and at five o'clock in the morning he was on his feet and ready to return to the combat. three or four hours after his arrival on the battlefield the emperor was overcome by an irresistible desire for sleep, and, foreseeing the issue of the day, slept on the side of a ravine, in the midst of the batteries of the duke of ragusa, until he was awaked with the information that the battle was gained. this fact, which was related to me in the evening, did not astonish me in the least; for i have already remarked that when he was compelled to yield to the necessity of sleep, that imperious want of nature, the emperor took the repose which was so necessary to him when and where he could, like a true soldier. although the result was decided, the battle was continued until five o'clock in the evening. at six o'clock the emperor had his tent erected near a solitary inn, which had served as headquarters for the emperor alexander during the two preceding days. i received orders to attend him there, and did so with all speed; but his majesty, nevertheless, passed the whole night receiving and congratulating the chief generals, and working with his secretaries. all the wounded who were able to march were already on the road to dresden, where all necessary help awaited them. but on the field of battle were stretched more than ten thousand men, frenchmen, russians, prussians, etc.,--hardly able to breathe, mutilated, and in a most pitiable condition. the unremitting labors of the kind and indefatigable baron larrey and the multitude of surgeons encouraged by his heroic example did not suffice even to dress their wounds. and what means could be found to remove the wounded in this desolate country, where all the villages had been sacked and burned, and where it was no longer possible to find either horses or conveyances? must they then let all these men perish after most horrible sufferings, for lack of means to convey them to dresden? it was then that this population of saxon villagers, who it might have been thought must be embittered by the horrors of war,--in seeing their dwellings burned, their fields ravaged,--furnished to the army an example of the sublime sentiments which pity can inspire in the heart of man. they perceived the cruel anxiety which m. larrey and his companions suffered concerning the fate of so many unfortunate wounded, and immediately men, women, children, and even old men, hastily brought wheelbarrows. the wounded were lifted, and placed on these frail conveyances. two or three persons accompanied each wheelbarrow all the way to dresden, halting if by a cry or gesture even, the wounded indicated a desire to rest, stopping to replace the bandages which the motion had displaced, or near a spring to give them water to allay the fever which devoured them. i have never seen a more touching sight. baron larrey had an animated discussion with the emperor. among the wounded, there were found a large number of young soldiers with two fingers of their right hand torn off; and his majesty thought that these poor young fellows had done it purposely to keep from serving. having said this to m. larrey, the latter vehemently exclaimed that it was an impossibility, and that such baseness was not in keeping with the character of these brave young conscripts. as the emperor still maintained his position, larrey at length became so angry that he went so far as to tax the emperor with injustice. things were in this condition when it was positively proved that these uniform wounds came from the haste with which these young soldiers loaded and discharged their guns, not being accustomed to handling them. whereupon his majesty saw that m. de larrey was right, and praised him for his firmness in maintaining what he, knew to be the truth. "you are a thoroughly good man, m. de larrey," said the emperor. "i wish i could be surrounded only with men like you; but such men are very rare." chapter xii. we had now reached the eve of the day on which the emperor, still deeply affected by the loss he had sustained in the death of the duke of istria, was to receive a blow which he felt perhaps most keenly of all those which struck deep into his heart as he saw his old companions in arms fall around him. the day following that on which the emperor had, with baron larrey, the discussion which i related at the end of the preceding chapter was made memorable by the irreparable loss of marshal duroc. the emperor's heart was crushed; and indeed not one of us failed to shed sincere tears--so just and good was he, although grave and severe in his manner towards persons whom the nature of their duties brought into contact with him. it was a loss not only to the emperor, who possessed in him a true friend, but, i dare to assert, also to the whole of france. he loved the emperor with a passionate devotion, and never failed to bestow on him his faithful admonitions, although they were not always heeded. the death of marshal duroc was an event so grievous and so totally unexpected, that we remained for some time uncertain whether to believe it, even when the only too evident reality no longer permitted us to remain under any delusion. these are the circumstances under which this fatal event occurred which spread consternation throughout the army: the emperor was pursuing the rear guard of the russians, who continually eluded him, and had just escaped for the tenth time since the morning, after having killed and taken prisoners large numbers of our brave soldiers, when two or three shells dug up the ground at the emperor's feet, and caused him to exclaim, "what! after such butchery no result! no prisoners! those men there will not leave me a nail." hardly had he finished speaking when a shell passed, and threw a chasseur of the cavalry escort almost under the legs of his majesty's horse. "ah, duroc," added he, turning towards the grand marshal, "fortune protects us to-day."--"sire," said an aide-de-camp, rushing, up at a gallop, "general bruyeres has just been killed." "my poor comrade of italy! is it possible? ah! it is necessary to push on, nevertheless." and noticing on the left an elevation from which he could better observe what was passing, the emperor started in that direction amidst a cloud of dust. the duke of vicenza, the duke of treviso, marshal duroc, and general of engineers kirgener followed his majesty closely; but the wind raised such a cloud of dust and smoke that they could hardly see each other. suddenly a tree near which the emperor passed was struck by a shell and cut in half. his majesty, on reaching the plateau, turned to ask for his field-glass, and saw no one near him except the duke of vicenza. duke charles de plaisance came up, his face showing a mortal pallor, leaned towards the grand equerry, and said a few words in his ear. "what is it?" vehemently inquired the emperor; "what has happened?"--"sire," said the duke of plaisance, weeping, "the grand marshal is dead!"-"duroc? but you must be mistaken. he was here a moment ago by my side." several aides-de-camp arrived, and a page with his majesty's field-glass. the fatal news was confirmed, in part at least. the grand duke of frioul was not yet dead; but the shell had wounded him in the stomach, and all surgical aid would be useless. the shell after breaking the tree had glanced, first striking general kirgener, who was instantly killed, and then the duke of frioul. monsieurs yvan and larrey were with the wounded marshal, who had been carried into a house at markersdorf. there was no hope of saving him. the consternation of the army and his majesty's grief on this deplorable event were indescribable. he mechanically gave a few orders and returned to camp, and when he had reached the encampment of the guard, seated himself on a bench in front of his tent, with lowered head and clasped hands, and remained thus for nearly an hour without uttering a word. since it was nevertheless essential that orders should be given for the next day, general drouot approached, [count antoine drouot, chief of artillery of the guard, born at nancy, 1774; fought as captain at hohenlinden,1800; distinguished himself at wagram (1809) and borodino (1812); made general of division at bautzen, 1813; went to elba as commander of the guard, and was by the emperor's side at waterloo; died in 1847. he was a protestant, and was often seen during heavy firing reading his testament calmly.] and in a voice interrupted by sobs asked what should be done. "to-morrow, everything," replied the emperor, and said not a word more. "poor man!" exclaimed the old watchdogs of the guard; "he has lost one of his children." night closed in. the enemy was in full retreat; and the army having taken its position, the emperor left the camp, and, accompanied by the prince de neuchatel, m. yvan, and the duke of vicenza, repaired to the house where the grand marshal had been conveyed. the scene was terrible. the emperor, distracted with grief, repeatedly embraced this faithful friend, endeavoring to cheer him; but the duke, who was perfectly conscious of his condition, replied only by entreaties to have opium given him. at these words the emperor left the room; he could no longer control his emotions. the duke de frioul died next morning; and the emperor ordered that his body should be conveyed to paris, and paced under the dome of the invalides. [on either side of the entrance to the sarcophagus of porphyry which holds the mortal remains of the great emperor, rest duroc and bertrand, who in life watched over him as marshals of his palace.- trans.] he bought the house in which the grand marshal died, and charged the pastor of the village to have a stone placed in the spot where his bed had stood, and these words engraved thereon: "here general duroc, duke of frioul, grand marshal of the palace of the emperor napoleon, mortally wounded by a shell, died in the arms of his friend, the emperor." the preservation of this monument was imposed as an obligation on the occupant of the house, who received it as a gift with this condition annexed. the pastor, the magistrate of the village, and the one who accepted this gift, were summoned to his majesty's presence; and he made known to them his wishes, which they solemnly engaged to fulfill. his majesty then drew from his privy purse the necessary funds, and handed them to these gentlemen. it is well that the reader should know how this agreement so solemnly made was executed. this order of the russian staff will inform him. "a copy of a receipt dated the 16th (28th) of march states that the emperor napoleon handed to hermann, pastor of the church at markersdorf, the sum of two hundred gold napoleons for the purpose of erecting a monument to the memory of marshal duroc, who died on the field of battle. his excellency prince repnin, governor-general of saxony, having ordered that a deputy from my office be sent to markersdorf in order to bring the said sum and deposit it with me until it is finally disposed of, my secretary, meyerheim, is charged with this mission, and consequently will go at once to dlarkersdorf, and, as an evidence of his authority, will present to minister hermann the accompanying order, and take possession of the above mentioned sum of two hundred gold napoleons. the secretary meyerheim will account to me alone for the execution of this order. at dresden this 20th of march (1st of april), 1814. "(signed) baron de rosen." this order needs no comment. after the battles of bautzen and wurschen, the emperor entered silesia. he saw on every occasion combined armies of the allies put to flight before his own in every encounter; and this sight, while flattering his vanity exceedingly, also greatly strengthened him in the belief that he would soon find himself master of a rich and fertile country, where the abundant means of subsistence would be of much advantage in all his undertakings. many times a day he exclaimed, "how far are we from such a town? when do we arrive at breslau?" his impatience did not prevent him meanwhile from occupying his mind with every object which struck his attention, as if he were free from all care. he examined the houses, one by one, as he passed through each village, remarked the direction of rivers and mountain ranges, and collected the most minute information which the inhabitants could or would give him. on the 27th of may, his majesty, when not more than three days march from breslau, met in front of a little town called michelsdorf several regiments of russian cavalry who held the road. they were quite near the emperor and his staff before his majesty had even perceived them. the prince de neuchatel, seeing the enemy so near, hastened to the emperor, and said, "sire, they are still advancing."-"well, we will advance also," replied his majesty, smiling. "look behind you--" and he showed the prince the french infantry approaching in close columns. a few discharges soon drove the russians from this position; but half a league or a league farther we found them again, and this maneuver was again and again repeated. the emperor, perceiving this, maneuvered accordingly, and in person directed with the greatest precision the troops as they advanced. he went from one height to another, and thoroughly inspected the towns and villages on the route in order to reconnoiter their position, and ascertain what resources he could obtain from the country; and, as a result of his attentive care and indefatigable oversight, the scene changed ten times a day. if a column emerged from a deep ravine, a wood, or a village, it could take immediate possession of a height, since a battery was found already in position to defend it. the emperor indicated every movement with admirable tact, and in such a manner that it was impossible to be taken at a disadvantage. he commanded only the troops as a whole, transmitting either personally, or through his staff officers, his orders to the commander of the corps and divisions, who in their turn transmitted or had them transmitted to the chiefs of battalions. all orders given by his majesty were short, precise, and so clear that it was never necessary to ask explanations. on the 29th of may, not knowing how far on the road to breslau it was prudent to advance, his majesty established himself on a little farm called rosnig, which had been pillaged, and presented a most miserable aspect. as there could be found in the house only a small apartment with a closet suitable for the emperor's use, the prince de neuchatel and his suite established themselves as well as they could in the surrounding cottages, barns, and even in the gardens, since there was not sufficient shelter for all. the next day a fire broke out in a stable near the lodging of the emperor. there were fourteen or fifteen wagons in this barn, which were all burned. one of these wagons contained the traveling treasury chest; in another were the clothes and linen belonging to the emperor, as well as jewelry, rings, tobacco boxes, and other valuable objects. we saved very few things from this fire; and if the reserve corps had not arrived promptly, his majesty would have been obliged to change his customary toilet rules for want of stockings and shirts. the saxon major d'odeleben, who has written some interesting articles on this campaign, states that everything belonging to his majesty was burned; and that it was necessary to have him some pantaloons made in the greatest haste at breslau. this is a mistake. i do not think that the baggage-wagon was burned; but even if it had been, the emperor would not on that account have needed clothing, since there were always four or five complete suits either in advance or in the rear of the headquarters. in russia, when the order was given to burn all carriages which lacked horses, this order was rigorously executed in regard to the persons of the household, and they were consequently left with almost nothing; but everything was reserved which might be considered indispensable to his majesty. at length on the 1st of june, at six o'clock in the morning, the advance guard entered breslau, having at its head general lauriston, and general hogendorp, whom his majesty had invested in advance with the functions of governor of this town, which was the capital of silesia. thus was fulfilled in part the promise the emperor had made in passing through warsaw on his return from russia: "i go to seek three hundred thousand men. success will render the russians bold. i will deliver two battles between the elbe and the oder, and in six months i will be again on the niemen." these two battles fought and gained by conscripts, and without cavalry, had re-established the reputation of the french army. the king of saxony had been brought back in triumph to his capital. the headquarters of the emperor were at breslau; one of the corps of the grand army was at the gates of berlin, and the enemy driven from hamburg. russia was about to be forced to withdraw into its own boundaries, when the emperor of austria, acting as mediator in the affairs of the two allied sovereigns, advised them to propose an armistice. they followed this advice; and as the emperor had the weakness to consent to their demands, the armistice was granted and signed on the fourth of june, and his majesty at once set out on his return to dresden. an hour after his departure he said, "if the allies do not in good faith desire peace, this armistice may become very fatal to us." on the evening of the 8th of june, his majesty reached gorlitz. on that night fire broke out in the faubourg where the guard had established its quarters; and at one o'clock one of the officials of the town came to the headquarters of the emperor to give the alarm, saying that all was lost. the troops extinguished the fire, and an account was rendered the emperor of what had occurred. i dressed him in all haste, as he wished to set out at break of day. "to how much does the loss amount?" demanded the emperor. "sire, to seven or eight thousand francs at least for the cases of greatest need."--"let ten thousand be given, and let it be distributed immediately." the inhabitants were immediately informed of the generosity of the emperor; and as he left the village an hour or two after, he was saluted with unanimous acclamations. on the morning of the 10th we returned from dresden. the emperor's arrival put an end to most singular rumors which had been circulated there since the remains of grand marshal duroc had passed through the city. it was asserted that the coffin contained the body of the emperor; that he had been killed in the last battle, and his body mysteriously concealed in a room of the chateau, through the windows of which lights could be seen burning all night. when he arrived, some persons perfectly infatuated with this idea went so far as to repeat what had already been reported, with the added circumstance that it was not the emperor who was seen in his carriage, but a figure made of wax. nevertheless, when next day he appeared before the eyes of all on horseback in a meadow in front of the gates of the city, they were compelled to admit that he still lived. the emperor alighted at the marcolini palace, a charming summer residence situated in the faubourg of friedrichstadt. an immense garden, the beautiful meadows of osterwise on the banks of the elbe, in addition to an extremely fine landscape, rendered this sojourn much more attractive than that of the winter palace; and consequently the emperor was most grateful to the king of saxony for having prepared it for him. there he led the same life as at schoenbrunn; reviews every morning, much work during the day, and few distractions in the evening; in fact, more simplicity than display. the middle of the day was spent in cabinet labors; and during that time such perfect tranquillity reigned in the palace, that except for the presence of two sentinels on horseback and videttes, which showed that it was the dwelling of a sovereign, it would have been difficult to imagine that this beautiful residence was inhabited even by the simplest private citizen. the emperor had chosen for his apartments the right wing of the palace; the left was occupied by the prince de neuchatel. in the center of the building were a large saloon and two smaller ones which served as reception rooms. two days after his return, his majesty sent orders to paris that the actors of the "comedy" theater from paris should spend the time of the armistice at dresden. the duke of vicenza, charged in the interim with the duties of grand marshal of the palace, was ordered to make all necessary preparations to receive them. he committed this duty to the care of messieurs de beausset and de turenne, to whom the emperor gave the superintendence of the theater; and a hall to be used for this purpose was erected in the orangery of the marcolini palace. this hall communicated with the apartments, and could seat about two hundred persons. it was erected as if by magic, and was opened, while awaiting the arrival of the french troupe, with two or three representations given by the italian comedians of the king of saxony. the actors from paris were: for tragedy, messieurs saint-prix and talma and mademoiselle georges. for comedy: messieurs fleury, saint-fal, baptiste the younger, armand, thenard, michot, devigny, michelot and barbier; mesdames mars, bourgoin, thenard, emilie contat, and mezeray. the management of the theater was given to m. despres. all these actors arrived on the 19th of june, and found every arrangement made for their comfort,--tastefully furnished lodgings, carriages, servants, everything which could enable them to agreeably endure the ennui of a residence in a foreign land, and prove to them at the same time how highly his majesty appreciated their talents; an appreciation which most of them richly merited, both on account of their excellent social qualities, and the nobility and refinement of their manners. the debut of the french troupe at the theater of the orangery took place on the 22d of june, in the 'gageure imprevue', and another piece, then much in vogue at paris, and which has often since been witnessed with much pleasure, 'la suite d'un bal masque'. as the theater of the orangery would have been too small for the representation of tragedy, that was reserved for the grand theater of the city; and persons were admitted on those occasions only by cards from the count of turenne, no admission fee being charged. at the grand theater on the days of the french play, and also in the theater at the marcolini palace, the footmen of his majesty attended upon the boxes, and served refreshments while the piece was being played. this is how the days were spent after the arrival of the actors of the french theater. everything was quiet until eight o'clock in the morning, unless a courier arrived, or some aide-de-camp was unexpectedly summoned. at eight o'clock i dressed the emperor; at nine he held his levee, which all could attend who held as high a rank as colonel. the civil and military authorities of the country were also admitted; the dukes of weimar and d'anhalt, the brothers and nephews of the king of saxony, sometimes attended. next came breakfast; then the parade in the meadows of osterwise, about one hundred paces distant from the palace, to which the emperor always went on horseback, and dismounted on arriving; the troops filed before him, and cheered him three times with their customary enthusiasm. the evolutions were commanded sometimes by the emperor, sometimes by the count of lobau. as soon as the cavalry began to defile, his majesty re-entered the palace and began to work. then began that perfect stillness of which i have spoken; and dinner was not served until late,--seven or eight o'clock. the emperor often dined alone with the prince de neuchatel, unless there were guests from the royal family of saxony. after dinner they attended the theater, when there was a play; and afterwards the emperor returned to his cabinet to work again, either alone or with his secretaries. each day it was the same thing, unless, which was very rarely the case, fatigued beyond measure by the labors of the day, the emperor took a fancy to send for madame georges after the tragedy. then she passed two or three hours in his apartment, but never more. sometimes the emperor invited talma or mademoiselle mars to breakfast. one day, in a conversation with this admirable actress, the emperor spoke to her concerning her debut. "sire," said she, in that graceful manner which every one remembers, "i began very young. i slipped in without being perceived."--"without being perceived!" replied his majesty quickly; "you are mistaken. be assured moreover, mademoiselle, that i have always, in common with all france, highly appreciated your wonderful talents." the emperor's stay at dresden brought wealth and abundance. more than six million francs of foreign money were spent in this city between the 8th of may and 16th of november, if one can believe the statements published on saxon authority of the number of lodgings distributed. this sojourn was a harvest of gold, which keepers of boarding-houses, hotels, and merchants carefully reaped. those in charge of military lodgings furnished by the inhabitants also made large profits. at dresden could be seen parisian tailors and bootmakers, teaching the natives to work in the french style. even bootblacks were found on the bridges over the elbe, crying, as they had cried on the bridges of the seine, "shine your boots!" around the city numerous camps had been established for the wounded, convalescents, etc. one of these, called the westphalian camp, presented a most beautiful scene. it was a succession of beautiful small gardens; there a fortress made of turf, its bastions crowned with hortensias; here a plot had been converted into a terrace, its walks ornamented with flowers, like the most carefully tended parterre; on a third was seen a statue of pallas. the whole barrack was decked with moss, and decorated with boughs and garlands which were renewed each day. as the armistice would end on the 15th of august, the fete of his majesty was advanced five days. the army, the town, and the court had made extensive preparations in order that the ceremony might be worthy of him in whose honor it was given. all the richest and most distinguished inhabitants of dresden vied with each other in balls, concerts, festivities, and rejoicings of all sorts. the morning before the day of the review, the king of saxony came to the residence of the emperor with all his family, and the two sovereigns manifested the warmest friendship for each other. they breakfasted together, after which his majesty, accompanied by the king of saxony, his brothers and nephews, repaired to the meadow behind the palace, where fifteen thousand men of the guard awaited him in as fine condition as on the most brilliant parades on the champ-de-mars. after the review, the french and saxon troops dispersed through the various churches to hear the te deum; and at the close of the religious ceremony, all these brave soldiers seated themselves at banqueting tables already prepared, and their joyous shouts with music and dancing were prolonged far into the night. chapter xiii. the entire duration of the armistice was employed in negotiations tending to a treaty of peace, which the emperor ardently desired, especially since he had seen the honor of his army restored on the fields of lutzen and bautzen; but unfortunately he desired it only on conditions to which the enemy would not consent, and soon the second series of our disasters recommenced, and rendered peace more and more impossible. besides, from the beginning of negotiations relative to the armistice, whose limit we had now nearly reached, the emperor alexander, notwithstanding the three battles won by napoleon, would listen to no direct proposals from france, except on the sole condition that austria should act as mediator. this distrust, as might be expected, did not tend to produce a final. reconciliation, and, being the conquering party, the emperor was naturally irritated by it; nevertheless, under these grave circumstances he conquered the just resentment caused by the conduct of the emperor of russia towards himself. the result of the time lost at dresden, like the prolongation of our sojourn at moscow, was a great advantage to the enemy. all hopes of a peaceful adjustment of affairs now having vanished, on the 15th of august the emperor ordered his carriage; we left dresden, and the war recommenced. the french army was still magnificent and imposing, with a force of two hundred thousand infantry, but only forty thousand cavalry, as it had been entirely impossible to repair completely the immense loss of horses that had been sustained. the most serious danger at that time arose from the fact that england was the soul of the coalition of russia, prussia, and sweden against france. her subsidies having obtained her the supreme control, nothing could be decided without consulting her; and i have since learned that even during the pretended negotiations the british government had declared to the emperor of russia that under the circumstances the conditions of the treaty of luneville would be far too favorable to france. all these complications might be expressed in these words: "we desire war!" war was then waged, or rather the scourge continued to desolate germany, and soon threatened and invaded france. i should, moreover, call attention to the fact that what contributed to render our position extremely critical in case of reverses was that prussia waged on us not simply a war of regular armies, but that it had now assumed the character of a national war, by the calling out of the zandwehr and zandsturm which made the situation far more dangerous than against the tactics of the best disciplined army. to so many other complications was added the fear, soon only too well justified, of seeing austria from an inoffensive and unbiased mediator become a declared enemy. before going farther, i deem it best to refer again to two or three occurrences i have inadvertently omitted which took place during our stay at dresden previous to what might be called the second campaign of 1813. the first of these was the appearance at dresden of the duke of otranto, whom his majesty had summoned. he had been very rarely seen at the tuileries since the duke of rovigo had replaced him as minister of general police; and i noticed that his presence at headquarters was a great surprise to every one, as he was thought to be in complete disgrace. those who seek to explain the causes of the smallest events think that his majesty's idea was to oppose the subtle expedients of the police under m. fouche to the then all-powerful police of the baron de stein, the armed head of all the secret parties which were forming in every direction, and which were regarded, not without reason, as the rulers of popular opinion in prussia and germany, and, above all, in the numerous schools, where the students were only awaiting the moment for taking up arms. these conjectures as to m. fouche's presence at dresden were without foundation. the emperor in recalling him had a real motive, which he, however, disguised under a specious pretext. having been deeply impressed by the conspiracy of malet, his majesty thought that it would not be prudent to leave at paris during his absence a person so discontented and at the same time so influential as the duke of otranto; and i heard him many times express himself on this subject in a manner which left no room for doubt. but in order to disguise this real motive, the emperor appointed m. fouche governor of the illyrian provinces in place of count bertrand, who was given the command of an army-corps, and was soon after appointed to succeed the adorable general duroc in the functions of grand marshal of the palace. whatever the justice of this distrust of fouche, it is very certain that few persons were so well convinced of the superiority of his talents as a police officer as his majesty himself. several times when anything extraordinary occurred at paris, and especially when he learned of the conspiracy of malet, the emperor, recalling in the evening what had impressed him most deeply during the day, ended by saying, "this would not have happened if fouche had been minister of police!" perhaps this was undue partiality; for the emperor assuredly never had a more faithful and devoted servant than the duke of rovigo, although many jests were made in paris over his custom of punishing by a few hours imprisonment. prince eugene having returned to italy at the beginning of the campaign in order to organize a new army in that country, we did not see him at dresden; the king of naples, who had arrived on the night of the 13th or 14th august presented himself there almost alone; and his contribution to the grand army consisted of only the small number of neapolitan troops he had left there on his departure for naples. i was in the emperor's apartment when the king of naples entered, and saw him for the first time. i did not know to what cause to attribute it, but i noticed that the emperor did not give his brother-in-law as cordial a welcome as in the past. prince murat said that he could no longer remain idle at naples, knowing that the french army to which he still belonged was in the field, and he asked only to be allowed to fight in its ranks. the emperor took him with him to the parade, and gave him the command of the imperial guard; and a more intrepid commander would have been difficult to find. later he was given the general command of the cavalry. during the whole time of the armistice, spun out rather than filled with the slow and useless conferences of the congress of prague, it would be impossible to describe the various labors in which the emperor occupied himself from morning till evening, and often far into the night. he could frequently be seen bending over his maps, making, so to speak, a rehearsal of the battles he meditated. nevertheless, greatly exasperated by the slowness of the negotiations as to the issue of which he could no longer delude himself, he ordered, shortly before the end of july, that everything should be prepared and in readiness for a journey he intended making as far as mayence. he made an appointment to meet the empress there; and as she was to arrive on the 25th, the emperor consequently arranged his departure so as to arrive only a short time after. i recall this journey only as a fact, since it was signalized by nothing remarkable, except the information the emperor received at this time of the death of the duke of abrantes, who had just succumbed at dijon to a violent attack of his former malady. although the emperor was already aware that he was in a deplorable state of mental alienation, and must consequently have expected this loss, he felt it none the less sensibly, and sincerely mourned his former aide-decamp. the emperor remained only a few days with the empress, whom he met again with extreme pleasure. but as important political considerations recalled him, he returned to dresden, visiting several places on his route, and the 4th of august we returned to the capital of saxony. travelers who had seen this beautiful country only in a time of peace would have recognized it with difficulty. immense fortifications had metamorphosed it into a warlike town; numerous batteries had been placed in the suburbs overlooking the opposite bank of the elbe. everything assumed a warlike attitude, and the emperor's time became so completely and entirely absorbed that he remained nearly three days without leaving his cabinet. nevertheless, in the midst of the preparations for war all arrangements were made to celebrate on the 10th of august the emperor's fete, which had been advanced five days, because, as i have previously observed, the armistice expired precisely on the anniversary of saint-napoleon; and, as may be readily inferred from his natural passion for war, the resumption of hostilities was not an addition to his fete which he would be likely to disdain. there was at dresden, as had been customary at paris, a special representation at the theater on the evening before the emperor's fete. the actors of the french theater played two comedies on the 9th at five o'clock in the evening; which representation was the last, as the actors of the french comedy received orders immediately afterwards to return to paris. the next day the king of saxony, accompanied by all the princes of the royal family, repaired at nine o'clock in the morning to the marcolini palace, in order to pay his respects to the emperor; after which a grand morning reception was held as was the custom at the tuileries, and a review, at which the emperor inspected a part of his guard, several regiments, and the saxon troops, who were invited to dine by the french troops. on that day the city of dresden without much exaggeration might have been compared to a great dining-hall. in fact, while his majesty was dining in state at the palace of the king of saxony, where the whole family of this prince was assembled, the entire diplomatic corps was seated at the table of the duke of bassano; baron bignon, envoy from france to warsaw, feasted all the distinguished poles present in dresden; count darn gave a grand dinner to the french authorities; general friant to the french and saxon generals; and baron de serra, minister from france to dresden, to the chiefs of the saxon colleges. this day of dinings was concluded by a supper for nearly two hundred guests, which general henri durosnel, governor of dresden, gave that evening at the close of a magnificent ball at the residence of m. de serra. on our return from mayence to dresden i learned that the residence of general durosnel was the rendezvous of all the highest circles of society, both saxon and french. during the absence of his majesty, the general, taking advantage of this leisure, gave numerous fetes, among others one to the actors and actresses of french comedy. i recall in this connection an amusing anecdote which was related to me at the time. baptiste junior, with no lack either of decorum or refinement, contributed greatly to the amusement of the evening, being presented under the name of my lord bristol, english diplomat, en route to the council of prague. his disguise was so perfect, his accent so natural, and his phlegm so imperturbable, that many persons of the saxon court were completely deceived, which did not in the least astonish me; and i thereby saw that baptiste junior's talent for mystification had lost nothing since the time when i had been so highly diverted at the breakfasts of colonel beauharnais. how many events had occurred since that time. the emperor, seeing that nothing could longer delay the resumption of hostilities, had consequently divided the two hundred thousand men of his infantry into fourteen army corps, the command of which was given to marshals victor, ney, marmont, augereau, macdonald, oudinot, davoust, and gouvion saint-cyr, prince poniatowski, and generals reynier, rapp, lauriston, vandamme, and bertrand. the forty thousand cavalry formed six grand divisions under the command of generals nansouty, latour-maubourg, sebastiani, arrighi, milhaud, and kellermann; and, as i have already said, the king of naples had the command of the imperial guard. moreover, in this campaign appeared for the first time on our fields of battle the guard of honor, a select troop recruited from the richest and most distinguished families, and which had been increased to more than ten thousand men, divided into two divisions under the simple title of regiments; one of which was commanded by general count of pully, and the other, if i am not mistaken, by general segur. these youths, but lately idlers given up to repose and pleasure, became in a short time most excellent cavalry, which signalized itself on various occasions, notably at the battle of dresden, of which i shall soon have occasion to speak. the strength of the french army has been previously stated. the combined army of the allies amounted to four hundred and twenty thousand infantry, and its cavalry to hardly less than one hundred thousand, without counting a reserve army corps of eighty thousand russians, in readiness to leave poland under the command of general beningsen. thus the enemy's army outnumbered ours in the proportion of two to one. at the time we entered into this campaign, austria had just declared war openly against us. this blow, although not unexpected, struck the emperor deeply, and he expressed himself freely in regard to it before all persons who had the honor to approach him. m. de metternich, i have heard it stated, had almost certainly forewarned him of this in the last interviews this minister had at dresden with his majesty; but the emperor had been entirely unable to bring himself to the belief that the emperor of austria would make common cause with the coalition of the north against his own daughter and grandson. finally all doubts were solved by the arrival of count louis de narbonne, who was returning from prague to dresden, as bearer of a declaration of war from austria. every one foresaw that france must soon count among its enemies all the countries no longer occupied by its troops, and results justified this prediction only too well. nevertheless, everything was not lost, for we had not yet been compelled to take the defensive. chapter xiv. war recommenced before negotiations were finally broken, for the duke of vicenza was still in communication with m. de metternich. the emperor, as he mounted his horse, said to the numerous generals surrounding him that he now marched to conquer a peace. but what hope could remain after the declaration of war by austria, and above all, when it was known that the allied sovereigns had incessantly increased their pretensions in proportion as the emperor granted the concessions demanded? the emperor left dresden at five o'clock in the afternoon, advancing on the road to koenigstein, and passed the next day at bautzen, where he revisited the battlefield, the scene of his last victory. there the king of naples, who did not wish royal honors to be rendered himself, came to rejoin the emperor at the head of the imperial guard, who presented as imposing an appearance as in its pristine days. we arrived at gorlitz on the 18th, where the emperor found the duke of vicenza, who was returning from bohemia. he confirmed the truth of the report his majesty had already received at dresden, that the emperor of austria had already decided to make common cause with the emperor of russia and the kings of prussia and sweden against the husband of his daughter, the princess whom he had given to the emperor as a pledge of peace. it was also through the duke of vicenza that the emperor learned that general blucher had just entered silesia at the head of an army of one hundred thousand men, and, in violation of most sacred promises, had seized on breslau the evening before the day fixed for the rupture of the armistice. this same day general jomini, swiss by birth, but until recently in the service of france, chief of staff to marshal ney, and loaded with favors by the emperor, had deserted his post, and reported at the headquarters of the emperor alexander, who had welcomed him with demonstrations of most intense satisfaction. [baron henri jomini, author of the celebrated treatise on the art of war, was born in the canton de vaud, 1779; aide-de-camp to ney, 1804; distinguished himself in several battles, and on his desertion was made lieutenant-general and aide to emperor alexander; died 1869.] the duke of vicenza gave the particulars of this desertion, which seemed to affect his majesty more than all the other news. he told him, among other things, that when general jomini had entered the presence of alexander, he found this monarch surrounded by his chiefs, among whom moreau was pointed out to him. this was the first information the emperor had received of general moreau's presence at the enemy's headquarters. the duke of vicenza added, that when the emperor alexander presented general jomini to moreau the latter saluted him coolly, and jomini replied only by a slight inclination of his head, and retired without uttering a word, and the remainder of the evening remained in gloomy silence in a corner of the saloon opposite to that occupied by general moreau. this constraint had not escaped the emperor alexander's observation; and the next morning, as he was making his toilet, he addressed marshal ney's ex-chief of staff: "general jomini," said he, "what is the cause of your conduct yesterday? it seems to me that it would have been agreeable to you to meet general moreau."--"anywhere else, sire."--"what!"--"if i had been born a frenchman, like the general, i should not be to-day in the camp of your majesty." when the duke of vicenza had finished his report to the emperor, his majesty remarked with a bitter smile, "i am sure that wretch jomini thinks he has performed a fine action! ah, caulaincourt, these desertions will destroy me!" perhaps moreau, in welcoming general jomini so coldly, was actuated by the thought that were he still serving in the french army he would not have betrayed it with arms in his hand; and after all it is not an unusual thing to see two traitors each blush for the other, deluding themselves at the same time in regard to their own treachery, not comprehending that the sentiments they feel are the same as those they inspire. however that may be, the news which m. de caulaincourt brought caused the emperor to make some changes in his plans for the campaign. his majesty entirely abandoned the idea of repairing in person to berlin, as he had expressed his intention of doing, and, realizing the necessity of ascertaining first of all the contemplated operations of the grand army of austria, commanded by the prince of schwarzenberg, penetrated into bohemia; but learning through the couriers of the army and his spies that eighty thousand russians still remained on the opposite side with a considerable body of the austrian army, he retraced his steps after a few engagements in which his presence decided the victory, and on the 24th we found ourselves again at bautzen. his majesty from this place sent the king of naples to dresden, in order to restore the courage of the king of saxony and the inhabitants when they should find the enemy at the gates of their city. the emperor sent them the assurance that the enemy's forces would not enter, since he had returned to defend its approaches, and urged them at the same time not to allow themselves to be dismayed by any sudden or unexpected attack made by isolated detachments. murat arrived at a most opportune moment, for we learned later that consternation had become general in the city; but such was the prestige attached to the emperor's assurances that all took courage again on learning of his presence. after the king of naples had gone to fulfill this mission, colonel gourgaud was called during the morning into the emperor's tent, where i then was. "i will be tomorrow on the road to pirna," said his majesty; "but i shall halt at stolpen. as for you, hasten to dresden; go with the utmost speed; reach it this night. interview on your arrival the king of naples, durosnel, the duke of bassano, and marshal gouvion saint-cyr; reassure them all. see also the saxon minister gersdorf. say to him that you could not see the king because you set out in such haste; but that i can to-morrow bring forty thousand men into dresden, and that i am preparing to enter with all the army. next day you will see the commandant of the engineering corps; you will visit the redoubts and the fortifications of the town; and when you have inspected everything, you will return quickly and meet me at stolpen. report to me exactly the real state of affairs, as well as the opinion of marshal saint-cyr and the duke of bassano. set out." the colonel left immediately at a gallop, though he had eaten nothing as yet that day. the next evening at eleven o'clock, colonel gourgaud returned to the emperor, after performing all the requirements of his mission. meanwhile the allied army had descended into the plain of dresden, and had already made some attacks upon the advance posts. it resulted from information given by the colonel that when the king of naples arrived, the city, which had been in a state of complete demoralization, now felt that its only hope was in the emperor's arrival. in truth, hordes of cossacks were already in sight of the faubourgs, which they threatened to attack; and their appearance had compelled the inhabitants of these faubourgs to take refuge in the interior of the city. "as i left," said colonel gourgaud, "i saw a village in flames half a league from the great gardens, and marshal gouvion saint-cyr was preparing to evacuate that position."--"but after all," said the emperor eagerly, "what is the opinion of the duke of bassano?"--"sire, the duke of bassano does not think that we can hold out twenty-four hours."--"and you?"--"i, sire? i think that dresden will be taken to-morrow if your majesty is not there."--"i can then rely upon what you tell me?"-"sire, i will answer for it with my head." then his majesty summoned general haxo, and said to him, his finger on the map, "vandamme is advancing by way of pirna beyond the elbe. the eagerness of the enemy in penetrating as far as dresden has been extreme. vandamme will find himself in his rear. i intend to sustain his movement with my whole army; but i am uneasy as to the fate of dresden, and am not willing to sacrifice that city. i can reach it in a few hours, and i shall do so, although it grieves me much to abandon a plan which if well executed might furnish the means of routing all the allies at one blow. happily vandamme is still in sufficient strength to supplement the general movement by attacks at special points which will annoy the enemy. order him, then, to go from pirna to ghiesubel, to gain the defiles of peterswalde, and when intrenched in this impregnable position, to await the result of operations under the walls of dresden. i reserve for him the duty of receiving the swords of the vanquished. but in order to do this it is necessary that he should keep his wits about him, and pay no attention to the tumult made by the terrified inhabitants. explain to general vandamme exactly what i expect of him. never will he have a finer opportunity to gain the marshal's baton." general haxo set out instantly; and the emperor made colonel gourgaud reenter his apartment, and ordered him to take a fresh horse, and return to dresden more quickly than he had come, in order to announce his arrival. "the old guard will precede me," said his majesty. "i hope that they will have no more fear when they see that." on the morning of the 26th the emperor was seated on his horse on the bridge of dresden, and began, amid cries of joy from both the young and old guard, to make dispositions for the terrible battle which lasted three days. it was ten o'clock in the morning when the inhabitants of dresden, now reduced to despair, and speaking freely of capitulation, witnessed his majesty's arrival. the scene changed suddenly; and to the most complete discouragement succeeded most entire confidence, especially when the haughty cuirassiers of latour-maubourg defiled over the bridge, holding their heads high, and their eyes fixed on the neighboring hillsides covered by the enemy's lines. the emperor immediately alighted at the palace of the king, who was preparing to seek an asylumn in the new town, but whose intentions were changed by the arrival of this great man. the interview was extremely touching. i cannot undertake to describe all the occurrences of those memorable days, in which the emperor covered himself with glory, and was more exposed to danger than he had ever been at any time. pages, equerries, and aides-decamp fell dead around him, balls pierced the stomach of his horse, but nothing could touch him. the soldiers saw this and redoubled their ardor, and also their confidence and admiration. i shall simply state that the emperor did not re-enter the chateau until midnight, and then spent the hours until daylight dictating orders, while promenading up and down the room with great strides, until at break of day he remounted his horse. the weather was horrible, and the rain lasted the whole day. in the evening, the enemy being completely routed, the emperor returned to the palace in a frightful condition. from the time he mounted his horse, at six o'clock in the morning, the rain had not ceased a single instant, and he was so wet that it could be said without any figure of speech that the water ran down into his boots from the collar of his coat, for they were entirely filled with it. his hat of very fine beaver was so ruined that it fell down over his shoulders, his buff belt was perfectly soaked with water; in fact a man just drawn out of the river would not be wetter than the emperor. the king of saxony, who awaited him, met him in this condition, and embraced him as a cherished son who had just escaped a great danger; and this excellent prince's eyes were full of tears as he pressed the saviour of his capital to his heart. after a few reassuring and tender words from the emperor, his majesty entered his apartments, leaving everywhere traces of the water which dripped from every part of his clothing, and i had much difficulty in undressing him. knowing that the emperor greatly enjoyed a bath after a fatiguing day, i had it prepared; but as he felt unusually fatigued, and in addition to this began to shiver considerably, his majesty preferred retiring to his bed, which i hurriedly warmed. hardly had the emperor retired, however, than he had baron fain, one of his secretaries, summoned to read his accumulated correspondence, which was very voluminous. after this he took his bath, but had remained in it only a few moments when he was seized with a sudden sickness accompanied by vomiting, which obliged him to retire to bed. his majesty said to me, "my dear constant, a little rest is absolutely indispensable to me; see that i am not awaked except for matters of the gravest importance; say this to fain." i obeyed the emperor's orders, after which i took my position in the room in front of his majesty's chamber, watching with the attention of a sentinel on duty lest he should be awakened, or any one should even approach his apartment. the next morning the emperor rang very early, and i entered his room immediately, anxious to know how he had passed the night. i found him almost entirely restored, and in fine spirits. he told me, however, that he had had a short attack of fever. i must here remark that it was the only time the emperor had fever, and during the whole time i was with him i never saw him ill enough to keep his bed for twenty-four hours. he rose at his usual hour, and when he descended was intensely gratified by the fine appearance made by the battalion on duty. those brave grenadiers, who the evening before had served as his escort, and reentered dresden with him in a most pitiable condition, this morning he saw ranged in the court of the palace in splendid condition, and bearing arms as brilliant as if it were a day of parade on the place du carrousel. these brave fellows had spent the night polishing their arms, and drying themselves around great fires which they had kindled for the purpose, having thus preferred the satisfaction of presenting themselves in faultless condition before their emperor's eyes to the sleep and rest which they must so greatly have needed. one word of approbation repaid them for their fatigue, and it may be truly said never was a military chief so much beloved by his soldiers as his majesty. the last courier who had returned from paris to dresden, and whose dispatches were read, as i have said, to the emperor, bore several letters for me written by my family and two or three of my friends; and all who have accompanied his majesty on his campaigns, in whatever rank or employment, well know how we valued news received from home. these letters informed me, i remember, of a famous lawsuit going on in the court of assizes between the banker michel and reynier, which scandalous affair caused much comment in the capital, and almost divided with the news from the army the interest and attention of the public; and also of the journey the empress was about to make to cherbourg, to be present at the opening of the dikes, and filling the harbor with water from the ocean. this journey, as may well be imagined, had been suggested by the emperor, who sought every opportunity of putting the empress forward, and making her perform the duties of a sovereign, as regent of the empire. she summoned and presided over the council of ministers, and more than once i heard the emperor congratulate himself after the declaration of war with austria that his louise, as he called her, acted solely for the interests of france, and had nothing austrian but her birth. he also allowed her the satisfaction of herself publishing and in her own name all the official news of the army. the bulletins were no longer issued; but the news was transmitted to her all ready for publication, which was doubtless an attention on the part of his majesty in order to render the empress regent more popular, by making her the medium of communication between the government and the public. moreover, it is a fact, that we who were on the spot, although we knew at once whether the battle was gained or lost, often did not know the entire operations of the different corps maneuvering on an immense line of battle, except through the journals of paris; and our eagerness to read them may well be imagined. chapter xv. during the second day of the battle of dresden, at the end of which the emperor had the attack of fever i mentioned in the preceding chapter, the king of naples, or rather marshal murat, performed prodigies of valor. much has been said of this truly extraordinary prince; but only those who saw him personally could form a correct idea of him, and even they never knew him perfectly until they had seen him on a field of battle. there he seemed like those great actors who produce a complete illusion amid the fascinations of the stage, but in whom we no longer find the hero when we encounter them in private life. while at paris i attended a representation of the death of 'hector' by luce de lancival, and i could never afterwards hear the verses recited in which the author describes the effect produced on the trojan army by the appearance of achilles without thinking of prince murat; and it may be said without exaggeration that his presence produced exactly this effect the moment he showed himself in front of the austrian lines. he had an almost gigantic figure, which alone would have sufficed to make him remarkable, and in addition to this sought every possible means to draw attention to himself, as if he wished to dazzle those who, might have intended to attack him. his regular and strongly marked features, his handsome blue eyes rolling in their orbits, enormous mustaches, and black hair falling in long ringlets over the collar of a kurtka with narrow sleeves, struck the attention at first sight. add to this the richest and most elegant costume which one would wear even at the theater,--a polish coat richly embroidered, and encircled by a gilded belt from which hung the scabbard of a light sword, with a straight and pointed blade, without edge and without guard; large amaranth-colored pantaloons embroidered in gold on the seams, and nankeen boots; a large hat embroidered in gold with a border of white feathers, above which floated four large ostrich plumes with an exquisite heron aigrette in the midst; and finally the king's horse, always selected from the strongest and handsomest that could be found, was covered with an elegantly embroidered sky-blue cloth which extended to the ground, and was held in place by a hungarian or turkish saddle of the richest workmanship, together with a bridle and stirrups not less magnificent than the rest of the equipment. all these things combined made the king of naples a being apart, an object of terror and admiration. but what, so to speak, idealized him was his truly chivalrous bravery, often carried to the point of recklessness, as if danger had no existence for him. in truth, this extreme courage was by no means displeasing to the emperor; and though he perhaps did not always approve of the manner in which it was displayed, his majesty rarely failed to accord it his praise, especially when he thought necessary to contrast it with the increasing prudence shown by some of his old companions in arms. on the 28th the emperor visited the battlefield, which presented a frightful spectacle, and gave orders that everything possible should be done to alleviate the sufferings of the wounded, and also of the inhabitants and peasants who had been ravaged and pillaged, and their fields and houses burned, and then ascended the heights from which he could follow the course of the enemy's retreat. almost all the household followed him in this excursion. a peasant was brought to him from nothlitz, a small village where the emperor alexander and the king of prussia had their headquarters during the two preceding days. this peasant, when questioned by the duke of vicenza, said he had seen a great personage brought into nothlitz, who had been wounded the evening before on the staff of the allies. he was on horseback, and beside the emperor of russia, at the moment he was struck. the emperor of russia appeared to take the deepest interest in his fate. he had been carried to the headquarters of nothlitz on lances of the cossacks interlaced, and to cover him they could find only a cloak wet through with the rain. on his arrival at nothlitz the emperor alexander's surgeon came to perform the amputation, and had him carried on an extending chair to dippoldiswalde, escorted by several austrian, prussian, and russian detachments. on learning these particulars the emperor was persuaded that the prince von schwarzenberg was the person in question. "he was a brave man," said he; "and i regret him." then after a silent pause, "it is then he," resumed his majesty, "who is the victim of the fatality! i have always been oppressed by a feeling that the events of the ball were a sinister omen, but it is very evident now that it was he whom the presage indicated." while the emperor gave himself up to these conjectures, and recalled his former presentiments, prisoners who were brought before his majesty had been questioned; and he learned from their reports that the prince von schwarenzberg had not been wounded, but was well, and was directing the retreat of the austrian grand army. who was, then, the important personage struck by a french cannonball? conjectures were renewed on this point, when the prince de neuchatel received from the king of saxony a collar unfastened from the neck of a wandering dog which had been found at nothlitz. on the collar was written these words, "i belong to general moreau." this furnished, of course, only a supposition; but soon exact information arrived, and confirmed this conjecture. thus moreau met his death the first occasion on which he bore arms against his native country,--he who had so often confronted with impunity the bullets of the enemy. history has judged him severely; nevertheless, in spite of the coldness which had so long divided them, i can assert that the emperor did not learn without emotion the death of moreau, notwithstanding his indignation that so celebrated a french general could have taken up arms against france, and worn the russian cockade. this unexpected death produced an evident effect in both camps, though our soldiers saw in it only a just judgment from heaven, and an omen favorable to the emperor. however that may be, these are the particulars, which i learned a short time after, as they were related by the valet de chambre of general moreau. the three sovereigns of russia, austria, and prussia had been present on the 27th at the battle on the heights of nothlitz, but had retired as soon as they saw that the battle was lost. that very day general moreau was wounded by a cannon-ball near the intrenchments in front of dresden, and about four o'clock in the afternoon was conveyed to nothlitz, to the country house of a merchant named salir, where the emperors of austria and russia had established their headquarters. both limbs of the general were amputated above the knee. after the amputation, as he requested something to eat and a cup of tea, three eggs were brought him on a plate; but he took only the tea. about seven o'clock he was placed on a litter, and carried to passendorf by russian soldiers, and passed the night in the country house of m. tritschier, grand master of forests. there he took only another cup of tea, and complained greatly of the sufferings he endured. the next day, the 28th of august, at four o'clock in the morning, he was conveyed, still by russian soldiers, from passendorf to dippodiswalde, where he took a little white bread and a glass of lemonade at the house of a baker named watz. an hour after he was carried nearer to the frontiers of bohemia, borne by russian soldiers in the body of a coach taken off the wheels. during the entire route he incessantly uttered cries which the extremity of his sufferings drew from him. these are the details which i learned in regard to moreau; and, as is well known, he did not long survive his wound. the same ball which broke both his legs carried off an arm from prince ipsilanti, then aide-de-camp to the emperor alexander; so that if the evil that is done can be repaired by the evil received, it might be said that the cannon-shot which tore away from us general kirgener and marshal duroc was this day sent back on the enemy. but alas! it is a sad sort of consolation that is drawn from reprisals. it may be seen from the above, and especially from the seemingly decisive benefits arising from the battle of dresden, that since the resumption of hostilities, in every place where our troops had been sustained by the all-powerful presence of the emperor, they had obtained successes; but unfortunately this was not the case at points distant from the main line of operations. nevertheless, seeing the allies routed by the army which he commanded in person, and certain, moreover, that general vandamme had held the position which he had indicated to him through general haxo, his majesty returned to his first idea of marching on berlin, and already even had disposed his troops with this intention, when the fatal news arrived that vandamme, the victim of his own rashness, had disappeared from the field of battle, and his ten thousand men, surrounded on all sides, and overwhelmed by numbers, had been cut to pieces. it was believed that vandamme was dead, and it was not until later we learned that he had been taken prisoner with a part of his troop. it was learned also that vandamme, incited by his natural intrepidity, and unable to resist a desire to attack the enemy whom he saw within his grasp, had left his intrenchments to make the attack. he had conquered at first, but when after his victory he attempted to resume his former position he found it occupied, as the prussians had seized it; and though he fought with all the abandon of despair, it was all in vain, and general kleist, proud of this fine trophy, conducted him in triumph to prague. it was while speaking of this audacious attack of vandamme that the emperor used this expression, which has been so justly admired, "for a retreating enemy it is necessary to make a bridge of gold, or oppose a wall of brass." the emperor heard with his usual imperturbability the particulars of the loss he had just experienced, but nevertheless repeatedly expressed his astonishment at the deplorable recklessness of vandamme, and said he could not comprehend how this experienced general could have allowed himself to be drawn away from his position. but the deed was done, and in such instances the emperor never lost time in useless recriminations. "come," said he, addressing the duke of bassano, "you have just heard--that means war from early in the morning until late in the evening." after giving various orders to the army and his chiefs, the emperor left dresden on the evening of the 3d of september, with the intention of regaining what he had lost from the audacious imprudence of general vandamme. but this defeat, the first we had sustained since the resumption of hostilities, became the forerunner of the long series of reverses which awaited us. it might have been said that victory, having made one last effort in our favor at dresden, had finally grown weary; for the remainder of the campaign was but a succession of disasters, aggravated by treachery of every description, and ending in the horrible catastrophe at leipzig. before leaving dresden we had learned of the desertion to the enemy of a westphalian regiment, with arms and baggage. the emperor left marshal saint-cyr in dresden with thirty thousand men, with orders to hold it to the last extremity, since the emperor wished to preserve this capital at any price. the month of september was spent in marches and countermarches around this city, with no events of decided importance. alas! the emperor was never again to see the garrison of dresden. circumstances becoming still more embarrassed, imperiously demanded that his majesty should promptly oppose some obstacle to the progress of the allies. the king of saxony, furnishing an example of fidelity rare among kings, determined to accompany the emperor, and entered his carriage in company with the queen and the princess augusta, having the headquarters' staff as escort. two days after his departure the saxon troops joined the french army at eilenburg, on the banks of the mulda. the emperor exhorted these allies, whom he believed faithful, to maintain the independence of their country, pointed out to them how prussia was threatening saxony, and endeavoring to acquire her most beautiful provinces, and reminded them of the proclamation of their sovereign, his worthy and faithful ally; finally he spoke to them in the name of military honor, urging them, in closing, to take it always as their guide, and to show themselves worthy rivals of the soldiers of the grand army with whom they had made common cause, and beside whom they were now about to fight. the words of the emperor were translated and repeated to the saxons by the duke of vicenza; and this language from the lips of one whom they regarded as the friend of their sovereign and the saviour of their capital seemed to produce a profound impression. the march was then begun in confidence, with no premonition of the approaching defection of these very men who had so often greeted the emperor with their cries of enthusiasm, swearing to fight to the death rather than abandon him. his majesty's plan then was to fall on blucher and the prince royal of sweden, from whom the french army was separated only by a river. we therefore left eilenburg, where the emperor parted with the king of saxony and his family, the duke of bassano, the grand park of artillery, and all the conveyances, and directed our course towards duben. blucher and bernadotte had retired, leaving berlin uncovered. then the emperor's plans became known; and it was seen that he was marching on berlin, and not on leipzig, and that diiben was only the meeting-place for the various corps, who, when united, were to march on the capital of prussia, which the emperor had already seized twice. the time was unfortunately past when a simple indication of the emperor's plans was regarded as a signal of victory. the chiefs of the army, who had until now been perfectly submissive, began to reflect, and even took the liberty of disapproving of plans which they were afraid to execute. when the army became aware of the emperor's intention to march on berlin, it was the signal for almost unanimous discontent. the generals who had escaped the disasters of moscow, and the dangers of the double campaign in germany, were fatigued, and perhaps eager to reap the benefits of their good fortune, and at last to enjoy repose in the bosom of their families. a few went so far as to accuse the emperor of being anxious to still extend the war. "have there not been enough killed?" said they, "must we all share the same fate?" and these complaints were not kept for secret confidences, but were uttered publicly, and often even loud enough to reach the ears of the emperor; but in that case his majesty seemed not to hear. amidst this disaffection of a large number of the chiefs of the army, the defection of bavaria was learned, and gave an added strength to the anxiety and discontent inspired by the emperor's resolution; and then occurred what had never taken place before: his staff united their entreaties that he should abandon his plans in regard to berlin, and march on leipzig. i saw how much the emperor suffered from the necessity of listening to such remonstrances, notwithstanding the respectful language in which they were couched. for two entire days his majesty remained undecided; and how long these forty-eight hours were! never did abandoned cabin or bivouac present a more mournful sight than the sad chateau of duben. in this doleful residence i saw the emperor for the first time entirely unemployed; the indecision to which he was a prey absorbed him so entirely that his character seemed entirely changed. who could believe it? to the activity which drove him on, and, so to speak, incessantly devoured him, had succeeded a seeming indifference which is perfectly indescribable. i saw him lie on the sofa nearly a whole day, the table before him covered with maps and papers at which he did not even glance, and with no other occupation for hours than slowly tracing large letters on sheets of white paper. this was while he was vacillating between his own will and the entreaties of his generals. at the end of two days of most painful suspense he yielded; and from that time all was lost. how much better it would have been had he not listened to their complaints, but had again allowed himself to be guided by the presentiments which possessed him! he repeated often, with grief, while recalling the concessions he made at that time, "i should have avoided many disasters by continuing to follow my own impulses; i failed only by yielding to those of others." the order for departure was given; and as if the army felt as much pride in triumphing over the will of its emperor as they would have felt in beating the enemy by obeying the dictates of his genius, they abandoned themselves to outbursts of joy which were almost beyond reason. every countenance was radiant. "we shall now," they repeated on all sides, "we shall now see france again, embrace our children, our parents, and our friends!" the emperor and marshal augereau alone did not share the general light-heartedness. the duke of castiglione had just arrived at headquarters, after having in some measure avenged on the army of bohemia, vandamme's defeat. he, like the emperor, had dark presentiments as to the consequences of this retrograde movement, and knew that desertions on the way would add to the number of the enemy, and were so much the more dangerous since these deserters had so recently been our allies and knew our positions. his majesty yielded with a full conviction of the evil which would result; and i heard him at the end of a conversation with the marshal which had lasted more than an hour, utter these words, "they would have it so." the emperor on his march to duben was at the head of a force which might be estimated at one hundred and twenty-five thousand men. he had taken this direction with the hope of finding blucher again on the mulda; but the prussian general had recrossed the river, which contributed much to give credit to a rumor which had been circulated for some time. it was said that in a council of the allied sovereigns held recently at prague, and at which moreau and the prince royal of sweden were present, it had been agreed that as far as possible they should avoid engaging in a battle whenever the emperor commanded his army in person, and that operations should be directed only against smaller bodies commanded by his lieutenants. it is impossible, certainly, to render more striking homage to the superiority of the emperor's genius; but it was at the same time stopping him in his glorious career, and paralyzing his usually all-powerful action. however that may be, the evil genius of france having obtained the ascendency over the good genius of the emperor, we took the road to leipzig, and reached it early on the morning of the 15th of october. at that very moment the king of naples was in the midst of an engagement with the prince von schwarzenberg; and his majesty, on hearing the sound of cannon, crossed the town, and visited the plain where the engagement was taking place. on his return he received the royal family of saxony, who had come to join him. during his short stay at leipzig, the emperor performed an act of clemency which must undoubtedly be considered most meritorious if we take into consideration the gravity of the circumstances in which we were placed. a merchant of this city named moldrecht was accused and convicted of having distributed among the inhabitants, and even in the army, several thousand copies of a proclamation in which the prince royal of sweden invited the saxons to desert the cause of the emperor. when arraigned before a tribunal of war, m. moldrecht could not exculpate himself; and, indeed, this was an impossibility, since several packages of the fatal proclamation had been found at his residence. he was condemned to death, and his family in deep distress threw themselves at the feet of the king of saxony; but, the facts being so evident and of such a nature that no excuse was possible, the faithful king did not dare to grant indulgence for a crime committed even more against his ally than against himself. only one recourse remained for this unhappy family, which was to address the emperor; but as it was difficult to reach him, m. leborgne d'ideville, interpreting secretary, was kind enough to undertake to place a note on the emperor's desk, who after reading it ordered a postponement which was equivalent to a full pardon. events followed in their course, and the life of m. moldrecht was saved. leipzig, at this period, was the center of a circle in which engagements took place at numerous points and almost incessantly. engagements lasted during the days of the 16th, 17th, and 18th; and his majesty, as a poor return for his clemency towards m. moldrecht, reaped the bitter fruits of the proclamation which had been scattered in every direction through the efforts of this merchant. on that day the saxon army deserted our cause, and reported to bernadotte. this left the emperor a force of only one hundred and ten thousand men, with an opposing force of three hundred and thirty thousand; so that if when hostilities were resumed we were only as one to two, we were now only one to three. the day of the 18th was, as is well known, the fatal day. in the evening the emperor, seated on a folding stool of red morocco in the midst of the bivouac fires, was dictating to the prince of neuchatel his orders for the night, when two commanders of artillery were presented to his majesty, and gave him an account of the exhausted condition of the ammunition chests. in five days we had discharged more than two hundred thousand cannon-balls, and the ammunition being consequently exhausted there was barely enough left to maintain the fire for two hours longer; and as the nearest supplies were at madgeburg and erfurt, whence it would be impossible to obtain help in time, retreat was rendered absolutely necessary. orders were therefore given for a retreat, which began next day, the 19th, at the end of a battle in which three hundred thousand men had engaged in mortal combat, in a confined space not more than seven or eight leagues in circumference. before leaving leipzig, the emperor gave to. prince poniatowski, who had just earned the baton of a marshal of france, the defense of one of the faubourgs. "you will defend the faubourg on the south," said his majesty to him. "sire," replied the prince, "i have very few men."--"you will defend it with those you have." "ah, sire, we will remain; we are all ready to die for your majesty." the emperor, moved by these words, held out his arms to the prince, who threw himself into them with tears in his eyes. it was really a farewell scene, for this interview of the prince with the emperor was their last; and soon the nephew of the last king of poland found, as we shall soon see, a death equally as glorious as deplorable under the waves of the elster. [prince joseph anthony poniatowski, born at warsaw, 1762. nephew of stanislas augustus, the last king of poland. he commanded the polish army against russia, 1792, and served under kosciuszko, 1794. he led an army of poles under napoleon, 1807 and 1809, and commanded a corps in the russian campaign. had napoleon succeeded in that campaign, poniatowski would have been made king of poland. wounded, and made a marshal at liepzig, he was drowned on the retreat.] at nine o'clock in the morning the emperor took leave of the royal family of saxony. the interview was short, but distressing and most affectionate on the part of each. the king manifested the most profound indignation at the conduct of his troops. "i could never have imagined it," said he; "i thought better of my saxons; they are only cowards;" and his grief was so intense that the emperor, notwithstanding the immense disadvantage which had accrued to him from the desertion of the saxons during the battle, sought to console this excellent prince. as his majesty urged him to quit leipzig in order that he might not be exposed to the dangers attending the capitulation which had now become absolutely necessary, this venerable prince replied, "no; you have already done enough, and it is carrying generosity too far to risk your person by remaining a few minutes longer in order to console us." whilst the king of saxony was expressing himself thus, the sound of heavy firing of musketry was heard, and the queen and princess augusta joined their entreaties to those of the monarch, in their excessive fright already seeing the emperor taken and slain by the prussians. some officers entered, and announced that the prince royal of sweden had already forced the entrance of one of the faubourgs; that general beningsen, general blucher, and the prince von swarzenberg were entering the city on every side; and that our troops were reduced to the necessity of defending themselves from house to house, and the emperor was himself exposed to imminent peril. as there was not a moment to lose, he consented at. last to withdraw; and the king of saxony escorted him as far as the foot of the palace staircase, where they embraced each other for the last time. chapter xvi. it was exceedingly difficult to find an exit from leipzig, as this town was surrounded on every side by the enemy. it had been proposed to the emperor to burn the faubourgs which the heads of the columns of the allied armies had reached, in order to make his retreat more sure; but he indignantly rejected this proposal, being unwilling to leave as a last adieu to the king of saxony his cities abandoned to the flames. after releasing him from his oath of fidelity, and exhorting him to now consider only his own interests, the emperor left him, and directed his course to the gate of ramstadt; but he found it so encumbered that it was an impossibility to clear a passage, and he was compelled to retrace his steps, again cross the city, and leave it through the northern gate, thus regaining the only point from which he could, as he intended, march on erfurt; that is, from the boulevards on the west. the enemy were not yet completely masters of the town, and it was the general opinion that it could have been defended much longer if the emperor had not feared to expose it to the horrors of a siege. the duke of ragusa continued to offer strong resistance in the faubourg of halle to the repeated attacks of general blucher; while marshal ney calmly saw the combined forces of general woronzow, the prussian corps under the orders of general billow, and the swedish army, break themselves to pieces against his impregnable defenses. so much valor was nevertheless at last compelled to yield to numbers, and above all to treachery; for at the height of the combat before the gates of leipzig, a battalion from baden, which until then had fought valiantly in the french ranks, suddenly abandoned the gate saint-peter, which it was commissioned to defend, and at the entrance to the city gave itself up to the enemy. thereupon, according to what i have heard related by several officers who were in this terrible tumult, the streets of leipzig presented a most horrible sight; and our soldiers, now compelled to retire, could do so only by disputing every step of the ground. an irreparable misfortune soon filled the emperor's soul with despair. i shall now relate the events which signalized this deplorable day just as my memory recalls them. i do not know to what cause to attribute it, but none of the many stirring events which i witnessed present themselves more distinctly before my mind than a scene which took place under the walls of leipzig. having triumphed over incredible obstacles, we at last succeeded in crossing the elster on the bridge at the mill of lindenau. i can still see the emperor as he stationed officers along the road charged to indicate to stragglers where they might rejoin their respective commands. on this day, after the immense loss sustained owing to a disparity of numbers, he showed the same solicitude concerning everything as after a decisive triumph. but he was so overcome by fatigue that a few moments of sleep became absolutely necessary, and he slept profoundly under the noise of the cannon which thundered around him on all sides. suddenly a terrible explosion occurred, and a few moments after the king of naples entered his majesty's barrack accompanied by marshal augereau. they brought sad news-the great bridge over the elster had just been blown up. this was the last point of communication with the rear guard, which consisted of twenty thousand men now left on the other side of the river under the command of marshal macdonald. "this, then, is how my orders are executed!" exclaimed the emperor, clasping his head between his hands. he remained a moment buried in thought and absorbed in his own reflections. the fact was, his majesty had given orders to undermine all the bridges over the elster and have them blown up, but not until after the french army had crossed the river in safety. i have since heard this event discussed from many points of view, and have read many contradictory accounts. it is not my province to shed light on a point of history which forms such a subject of controversy, and i have consequently limited myself to relating as i have done only what came within my own knowledge. nevertheless, i may be permitted to make to my readers one simple observation which presents itself to my mind whenever i read or hear it said that the emperor himself had the bridge blown up in order to shelter himself from the enemy's pursuit. i ask pardon for such an expression, but this supposition appeared to me an absurdity so incredible as to surpass belief; for it is very evident that if under these disastrous circumstances he could think only of his own personal safety, he would not a short time before have voluntarily prolonged his stay in the palace of the king of saxony, where he was exposed to much more imminent danger than he could have encountered after leaving leipzig. moreover, the emperor was far from enjoying the consternation which struck him when he learned that twenty thousand of his brave soldiers were separated from him perhaps forever. how many misfortunes were the inevitable results of the destruction of the last bridge on the road from leipzig to lindenau! and how many deeds of heroism, the greater part of which will remain forever unknown, mark this disaster! marshal macdonald, seeing himself separated from the army, plunged on horseback into the elster, and was fortunate enough to reach the other bank; but general dumortier, attempting to follow his intrepid chief, disappeared and perished in the waves with a great number of officers and soldiers; for all had sworn not to surrender themselves to the enemy, and it was only a small number who submitted to the cruel necessity of being made prisoners. the death of prince poniatowski caused intense sorrow in the heart of the emperor; and it may be said that every one at headquarters was deeply distressed at the loss of our polish hero, and all were eager to learn the particulars of so grievous and irreparable a misfortune. as was well known, his majesty had given him orders to cover the retreat of the army, and all felt that the emperor could not have bestowed this trust more worthily. it is related that seeing himself pressed by the enemy against the bank of the river, with no means of crossing, he was heard to say to those around him, "gentlemen, here we must die with honor!" it is added that putting into practice this heroic resolution he swam across the waters of the pleisse in spite of the wounds he had received in the stubborn combat he had sustained since morning. then finding no longer any refuge from inevitable captivity, except in the waters of the elster, the brave prince had thrown himself into it without considering the impassable steepness of the opposite bank, and in a few moments he with his horse was ingulfed beneath the waves. his body was not found until five days afterwards, and then drawn from the water by a fisherman. such was the end, both deplorable and glorious, of one of the most brilliant and chivalrous of officers, who showed himself worthy to rank among the foremost french generals. meanwhile the lack of ammunition compelled the emperor to retire promptly, although in remarkably good order, to erfurt, a town well furnished with both provisions and forage, as well as material for arming and equipping the army,--in fact with all the materials of war. his majesty arrived on the 23d, having engagements each day, in order to protect his retreat against forces four or five times as numerous as those remaining at his disposal. at erfurt the emperor remained only two days, and left on the 25th after bidding adieu to his brother-in-law the king of naples, whom he was never to see again. i witnessed a part of this last interview, and remarked a certain constraint in the manner of the king of naples, which, however, his majesty seemed not to perceive. it is true that the king did not announce his immediate departure, and his majesty was ignorant that this prince had secretly received an austrian general. [this was count mier, charged to guarantee to murat the possession of his kingdom if he abandoned the cause of the emperor. he abandoned him. what did he gain?--note by the editor.] his majesty was not informed of this until afterwards, and manifested little surprise. moreover (i call attention to this because i so often had occasion to remark it), so many severe blows repeated in such quick succession had struck the emperor for some time past, that he seemed to have become almost insensible, and it might well have been said that he felt himself perfectly intrenched in his ideas of fatality. nevertheless, his majesty, though unmoved under his own misfortunes, gave full vent to his indignation on learning that the allied sovereigns considered the king of saxony as their prisoner, and had declared him a traitor, simply because he was the only one who had not betrayed him. certainly if fortune had again become favorable to him, as in the past, the king of saxony would have found himself master of one of the most extensive kingdoms of europe; but fortune was hereafter to be always adverse, and even our victories brought us only a barren glory. thus, for instance, the french army soon covered itself with glory at hanau, through which it was necessary to pass by overwhelming the immense army of austrians and bavarians collected at this point under the command of general wrede. six thousand prisoners were the result of this triumph, which at the same time opened to us the road to mayence, which we expected to reach without other obstacles. it was on the 2d of november, after a march of fourteen days from leipzig, that we again beheld the banks of the rhine, and felt that we could breathe in safety. having devoted five days to reorganizing the army, giving his orders, and assigning to each of the marshals and chiefs of the several corps the post he was to occupy during his absence, the emperor left mayence on the 7th, and on the 9th slept at saint-cloud, to which he returned preceded by a few trophies, as both at erfurt and frankfort we had taken twenty banners from the bavarians. these banners, presented to the minister of war by m. lecouteux aide-de-camp to the prince de neuchatel, had preceded his majesty's arrival in paris by two days, and had already been presented to the empress, to whom the emperor had done homage in the following terms: "madame, and my very dear wife,- "i send you twenty banners taken by my army at the battles of wachau, leipzig, and hanau. this is an homage it gives me pleasure to render to you. i desire that you will accept it as a mark of my entire satisfaction with the manner in which you have administered the regency which i confided to you." under the consulate and during the first six years of the empire, whenever the emperor had returned to paris after a campaign, it was because that campaign was finished, and the news of a peace concluded in consequence of a victory had always preceded him. for a second time he returned from mayence under different circumstances. in this case, as on the return from smorghoni, he left the war still in progress, and returned, not for the purpose of presenting to france the fruit of his victories, but to demand new subsidies of men and money in order to repair the defeat and losses sustained by our army. notwithstanding this difference in the result of our wars, the welcome accorded to his majesty by the nation was still the same, apparently at least; and the addresses by the different towns of the interior were not less numerous, nor less filled with expressions of devotion; and those especially who were the prey of fears for the future showed themselves even more devoted than all others, fearing lest their fatal premonitions should be discovered. for my own part, it had never occurred to me that the emperor could finally succumb in the struggle he was maintaining; for my ideas had never reached this point, and it is only in reflecting upon it since that i have been able to comprehend the dangers which threatened him at the period we had now reached. he was like a man who had passed the night on the edge of a precipice, totally unaware of the danger to which he was exposed until it was revealed by the light of day. nevertheless, i may say that every one was weary of the war, and that all those of my friends whom i saw on the return from mayence spoke to me of the need of peace. within the palace itself i heard many persons attached to the emperor say the same thing when he was not present, though they spoke very differently in the presence of his majesty. when he deigned to interrogate me, as he frequently did, on what i had heard people say, i reported to him the exact truth; and when in these confidential toilet conversations of the emperor i uttered the word peace, he exclaimed again and again, "peace! peace! ah! who can desire it more than i? there are some, however, who do not desire it, and the more i concede the more they demand." an extraordinary event which took place the very day of his majesty's arrival at saint-cloud, when it became known, led to the belief that the allies had conceived the idea of entering upon new negotiations. in fact, it was learned that m. de saint-aignan, his majesty's minister at the ducal court of saxony, had been taken by main force and conducted to frankfort, where were then assembled m. de metternich, the prince von schwarzenberg, and the ministers of russia and prussia. there overtures entirely in the interests of peace were made to him on the part of the allied sovereigns, after which m. de saint-aignan was allowed to return immediately to the emperor to inform him of the details of his seizure and the propositions which had been made to him. these offers made by the allies, of which i was not informed, and consequently can say nothing, seemed to strike the emperor as worthy of consideration; and there was soon a general rumor in the palace that a new congress was to be assembled at manheim; that the duke of vicenza had been appointed by his majesty as minister plenipotentiary; and that in order to give more dignity to his mission, the portfolio of foreign affairs had been at the same time committed to him. i remember that this news revived the hopes of all, and was most favorably received; for although it was doubtless the effect of prejudice, no one could be ignorant that the general public did not see with pleasure the duke of bassano in the place to which the duke of vicenza was called to succeed him. the duke of bassano was said to have acted in accordance with what he believed to be the secret wishes of the emperor, and to be averse to peace. it will be seen later, by an answer which his majesty made to me at fontainebleau, how groundless and without foundation were these rumors. it seemed then exceedingly probable that the enemy really intended to treat for peace; since in procuring openly by force a french negotiator, they had forestalled any credit which might accrue to the emperor from making overtures for peace. what above all gave great weight to the general belief in the disposition of europe towards peace was that not simply a continental peace was in question as at tilsit and schoenbrunn, but also a general peace, in which england was to enter as a contracting party; so that in consequence it was hoped that the gain in the permanence of such peace would offset the severity of its terms. but unfortunately this hope, which was indulged with the joy of anticipation, lasted only a short time; and it was soon learned that the propositions made to m. de saint-aignan were only a bait, and an old diplomatic ruse which the foreigners had made use of simply in order to gain time by deluding the emperor with vain hopes. in fact, a month had not passed away, there had not even been time to complete the preliminary correspondence usual in such cases, when the emperor learned of the famous declaration of frankfort, in which, far from entering into negotiations with his majesty, it was attempted to separate his cause from that of france. what a mass of intrigues! let one bless with a thankful heart his mediocrity when he compares himself with men condemned to live amid this labyrinth of high impostures and honorable hypocrisies! a sad certainty was obtained that the foreigners wished a war of extermination, and renewed consternation ensued where hope had begun to reign; but the genius of his majesty had not yet deserted him, and from this time all his efforts were directed towards the necessity of once again meeting the enemy face to face, no longer in order to conquer his provinces, but to prevent an invasion of the sacred soil of his own country. chapter xvii. in speaking of the year 1813, an account of the incredible number of affiliations which took place at this time between secret societies recently formed in italy and germany should not be omitted. the emperor from the time when he was only first consul, not only did not oppose the opening of masonic lodges, but we have every reason to believe secretly favored them. he was very sure that nothing originated in these meetings which could be dangerous to his person or injurious to his government; since freemasonry counted among its votaries, and even had as chiefs, the most distinguished personages of the state. moreover, it would have been impossible in these societies, where a few false brethren had slipped in, for a dangerous secret, had there been one, to escape the vigilance of the police. the emperor spoke of it sometimes as pure child's play, suitable to amuse idlers; and i can affirm that he laughed heartily when told that the archchancellor, in his position as chief of the grand orient, had presided at a masonic banquet with no less dignity than would have comported with the presidency of the senate or of the council of state. nevertheless, the emperor's indifference did not extend to societies known in italy under the name of carbonari, and in germany under various titles. we must admit, in fact, that since the undertakings of two young germans initiated in illuminism, it was natural that his majesty should not have seen without anxiety the propagation of those bonds of virtue in which young fanatics were transformed into assassins. i know nothing remarkable in relation to the carbonari, since no circumstance connected our affairs with those of italy. in regard to the secret societies of germany, i remember that during our stay at dresden i heard them mentioned with much interest, and not without fears for the future, by a saxon magistrate with whom i had the honor of associating frequently. he was a man about sixty years of age, who spoke french well, and united in the highest degree german stolidity with the gravity natural to age. in his youth he had lived in france, and part of his education had been received at the college of soreze; and i attributed the friendship which he showed for me to the pleasure he experienced in conversing about a country the memory of which seemed very dear to him. i remember perfectly well to-day the profound veneration with which this excellent man spoke to me of one of his former professors of soreze, whom he called don ferlus; and i must have had a defective memory indeed had i forgotten a name which i heard repeated so often. my saxon friend was named m. gentz, but was no relation of the diplomat of the same name attached to the austrian chancellery. he was of the reformed religion, very faithful in the performance of his religious duties; and i can assert that i never knew a man with more simple tastes, or who was more observant of his duties as a man and a magistrate. i would not like to risk saying what were his inmost thoughts concerning the emperor; for he rarely spoke of him, and if he had anything unpleasant to say it may be readily understood that he would not have chosen me as his confidant. one day when we were together examining the fortifications which his majesty had erected at many points on the left bank of the elbe, the conversation for some reason happened to fall on the secret societies of germany, a subject with which i was perfectly unacquainted. as i was questioning him in order to obtain information, m. gentz said to me, "it must not be believed that the secret societies which are multiplying in germany in such an extraordinary manner have been protected by the sovereigns; for the prussian government sees them grow with terror, although it now seeks to use them in order to give a national appearance to the war it has waged against you. societies which are to-day tolerated have been, even in prussia, the object of bitter persecutions. it has not been long, for instance, since the prussian government used severe measures to suppress the society called 'tugendverein', taking the precaution, nevertheless, to disguise it under a different title. doctor jahn put himself at the head of the black chevaliers, who were the precursors of a body of partisans known under the name of the black chasseurs, and commanded by colonel lutzow. in prussia the still vivid memory of the late queen exercised a great influence over the new direction given to its institutions, in which she occupied the place of an occult divinity. during her lifetime she gave to baron nostitz a silver chain, which as her gift became the decoration, or we might rather say the rallying signal, of a new society, to which was given the name of the conederation of louise. and lastly, m. lang declared himself the chief of an order of concordists, which he instituted in imitation of the associations of that name which had for some time existed in the universities. "my duties as magistrate," added m. gentz, "have frequently enabled me to obtain exact information concerning these new institutions; and you may consider the information which i give you on this subject as perfectly authentic. the three chiefs whom i have just mentioned apparently direct three separate societies; but it is very certain that the three are in reality only one, since these gentlemen engage themselves to follow in every particular the vagaries of the tugendverein, and are scattered throughout germany in order that by their personal presence they may have a more direct influence. m. jahn is more especially in control of prussia; m. lang of the north, and baron de nostitz of the south, of germany. the latter, knowing perhaps the influence of a woman over young converts, associated with himself a beautiful actress named madame brede; and she has already been the means of making a very important acquisition to the confederation of louise, and one which might become still more so in the future if the french should meet with reverses. the former elector of hesse, admitted through the influence of madame brede, accepted almost immediately after his reception the grand chieftancy of the confederation of louise, and the very day of his installation placed in the hands of m. de nostitz the sum necessary to create and equip a free corps of seven hundred men destined to enter the service of prussia. it is true that having once obtained possession of this sum the baron did nothing towards the formation of the corps, which greatly incensed the ex-elector; but by dint of skill and diplomacy madame brede succeeded in reconciling them. it has been proved, in fact, that m, de nostitz did not appropriate the funds deposited with him, but used them for other purposes than the arming of a free corps. m. de nostitz is beyond doubt the most zealous, ardent, and capable of the three chiefs. i do not know him personally, but i know he is one of those men best calculated to obtain unbounded influence over all with whom he comes in contact. he succeeded in gaining such dominion over m. stein, the prussian minister, that the latter placed two of his secretaries at the disposal of baron de nostitz to prepare under his direction the pamphlets with which germany is flooded; but i cannot too often repeat," continued m. gentz, "that the hatred against the french avowed by these various societies is simply an accidental thing, a singular creation of circumstances; since their prime object was the overthrow of the government as it existed in germany, and their fundamental principle the establishment of a system of absolute equality. this is so true that the question has been earnestly debated amongst the members of the tugendverein of proclaiming the sovereignty of the people throughout germany; and they have openly declared that the war should not be waged in the name of the governments, which according to their belief are only the instruments. i do not know what will be the final result of all these machinations; but it is very certain that by giving themselves an assumed importance these secret societies have given themselves a very real one. according to their version it is they alone who have decided the king of prussia to openly declare himself against france, and they boast loudly that they will not stop there. after all, the result will probably be the same as in nearly all such cases,--if they are found useful they will be promised wonderful things in order to gain their allegiance, and will be abandoned when they no longer serve the intended purposes; for it is an entire impossibility that reasonable governments should lose sight of the real end for which they are instituted." this is, i think, an exact summary, not of all m. gentz said to me concerning the secret societies of germany, but of what i recall; and i also remember that when i gave the emperor an account of this conversation, his majesty deigned to give most earnest attention, and even made me repeat certain parts, which, however, i do not now remember positively. as to the carbonari, there is every reason to think that they belonged by secret ramifications to the german societies; but as i have already said, i have not been able to obtain exact information as to them. nevertheless, i will endeavor to repeat here what i heard concerning the initiation of a carbonari. this story, which may perhaps be only imaginary, struck my attention deeply. moreover, i give it here with much hesitation, not knowing whether some one has not already profited by it, as i was by no means the only auditor of this narration. i obtained it from a frenchman who lived in the north of italy at the time my conversation with m. gentz occurred. a french officer, formerly attached to general moreau, a man of enthusiastic but at the same time gloomy and melancholy character, left the service after the trial instituted against his general at paris. he took no part in the conspiracy; but unalterably attached to republican principles, this officer, whose tastes were very simple, and who possessed an ample competence, left france when the empire was established, and took no pains to disguise his aversion to the head of an absolute government. finally, although of most inoffensive conduct, he was one of those designated under the name of malcontents. after traveling several years in greece, germany, and italy, he settled himself in a little village in the venetian tyrol. there he lived a very retired life, holding little communication with his neighbors, occupied in the study of natural science, given up to meditation, and no longer occupying himself, so to speak, with public affairs. this was his position, which appeared mysterious to some persons, at the time the institution of the ventes of the carbonari were making such incredible progress in most of the italian provinces, especially in those on the borders of the adriatic. several notable inhabitants of the country, who were ardent carbonari, conceived the plan of enrolling in their society this french officer, whom they knew, and being aware of his implacable resentment against the chief of the imperial government, whom he regarded as a great man, in fact, but at the same time as the destroyer of his beloved republic. in order not to rouse the supposed susceptibilities of this officer, they organized a hunting-party to meet in the locality where he usually took his solitary rambles. this plan was adopted, and so well carried out that the intended meeting took place apparently by chance. the officer did not hesitate to engage in conversation with the hunters, some of whom he already knew; and after some desultory remarks the conversation turned on the carbonari, those new votaries of secret liberty. the magic word liberty had not lost its power to stir to its depths the heart of this officer, and consequently produced upon him the exact effect they desired, by awaking enthusiastic memories of his youth, and a joy to which he had long been a stranger; and consequently when they proposed to add his name to the brotherhood which was now around him, no difficulty was experienced. the officer was received, the secret signs and words of recognition were given him, and he took the oath by which he engaged to be always and at every hour at the disposal of his brethren, and to perish rather than betray their secrets; and was then initiated and continued to live as in the past, but expecting every moment a summons. the adventurous character of the inhabitants of the venetian tyrol afford a striking contrast to the character of the inhabitants of italy; but they have in common suspicious natures, and from suspicion to revenge the descent is rapid. the french officer had hardly been admitted, than there were found among them some who condemned this action, and regarded it as dangerous; and there were some who even went so far as to say that his being a frenchman should have been a sufficient impediment, and that, besides, at a time when the police were employing their best men to uncover all disguises, it was necessary that the firmness and constancy of the newly elected should be put to some other proof than the simple formalities they had required. the sponsors of the officer, those who had, so to speak, earnestly desired him as a brother, raised no objections, being perfectly satisfied as to the correctness of their choice. this was the state of affairs when news of the disaster of the french army at leipzig were received in the neighboring provinces of the adriatic, and redoubled the zeal of the carbonari. about three months had passed since the reception of the french officer; and having received no news from his brethren, he thought that the duties of the carbonari must be very inconsiderable, when one day he received a mysterious letter enjoining him to be the following night in a neighboring wood, at a certain spot exactly at midnight, and to wait there until some, one came to him. the officer was promptly at the rendezvous at the appointed hour, and remained until daylight, though no one appeared. he then returned to his home, thinking that this had been simply a proof of his patience. his convictions, in this respect, were somewhat changed, however, when a few days afterwards he received another letter ordering him to present himself in the same manner at the same spot; and he again passed the night there in vain expectation. nothing further had occurred, when a third and similar rendezvous was appointed, at which the french officer presented himself with the same punctuality and inexhaustible patience. he had waited several hours, when suddenly, instead of witnessing the arrival of his brethren, he heard the clash of swords; and moved by irresistible impulse, he rushed towards the spot from which the noise issued and seemed to recede as he advanced. he soon arrived at a spot where a frightful crime had just been committed, and saw a man weltering in his blood, attacked by two assassins. quick as lightning he threw himself, sword in hand, on the two murderers; but, as they immediately disappeared in the thick woods, he was devoting his attention to their victim, when four gendarmes arrived on the scene; and the officer then found himself alone with unsheathed sword near the murdered man. the latter, who still breathed, made a last effort to speak, and expired while indicating his defender as his murderer, wherepon the gendarmes arrested him; and two of them took up the corpse, while the others fastened the arms of the officer with ropes, and escorted him to a neighboring village, one league distant, where they arrived at break of day. he was there conducted before a magistrate, questioned, and incarcerated in the prison of the place. imagine the situation of this officer, with no friends in that country, not daring to recommend himself to his own government, by whom his well-known opinions had rendered him suspected, accused of a horrible crime, well aware of all the proofs against him, and, above all, completely crushed by the last words of the dying man! like all men of firm and resolute character, he accepted the situation without complaint, saw that it was without remedy, and resigned himself to his fate. meanwhile, a special commission had been appointed, in order to make at least a pretense of justice; but when he was led before this commission, he could only repeat what he had already said; that is to say, give an exact account of the occurrence, protest his innocence, and admit at the same time that appearances were entirely against him. what could he reply when asked wherefore, and with what motive, he had been found alone in the night, armed with a sword, in the thickest of the wood? here his oath as carbonari sealed his lips, and his hesitation was taken as additional proof. what could he reply to the deposition of the gendarmes who had arrested him in the very act? he was consequently unanimously condemned to death, and reconducted to his prison until the time fixed for the execution of his sentence. a priest was first sent to him. the officer received him with the utmost respect, but refused to make confession, and was next importuned by the visit of a brotherhood of penitents. at last the executioner came to conduct him to the place of punishment; and while he was on the way, accompanied by several gendarmes and a long line of penitents, the funeral procession was interrupted by the unexpected arrival of the colonel of the gendarmerie, whom chance brought to the scene. this officer bore the name of colonel boizard, a man well known in all upper italy, and the terror of all malefactors. the colonel ordered a halt, for the purpose of himself questioning the condemned, and made him give an account of the circumstances of the crime and the sentence. when he was alone with the officer, he said, "you see that all is against you, and nothing can save you from the death which awaits you. i can, nevertheless, save you, but only on one condition. i know that you belong to the society of the carbonari. give me the names of your accomplices in these terrible conspiracies and your life shall be the reward."--"never!"--"consider, nevertheless."--"never, i tell you; lead me to execution." it was then necessary to set out anew for the place of execution. the executioner was at his post; and as the officer with a firm step mounted the fatal scaffold, colonel boizard rushed up to him and begged him still to save his life on the conditions he had offered. "no! no! never!" instantly the scene changed; the colonel, the executioner, the gendarmes, the priest, penitents, and spectators, all gathered round the officer, each one eager to press him to their hearts, and he was conducted in triumph to his dwelling. all that had passed was simply an initiation. the assassins in the forest and their victim, as well as the judges and the pretended colonel boizard, had been playing a role; and the most suspicious carbonari now knew how far their new brother would carry the constancy of his heroism and the observance of his oath. this is almost exactly the recital which i heard, as i have said, with the deepest interest, and which i take the liberty of repeating, though i well understand how much it will lose by being written. can it be implicitly believed? this is what i would not undertake to decide; but i can affirm that my informant gave it as the truth, and was perfectly certain that the particulars would be found in the archives of milan, since this extraordinary initiation was at the time the subject of a circumstantial report addressed to the vice-king, whom fate had determined should nevermore see the emperor. chapter xviii. i digressed considerably, in the preceding chapter, from my recollections of paris subsequent to our return from germany after the battle of leipzig, and the emperor's short sojourn at mayence. i cannot even now write the name of the latter town without recalling the spectacle of tumult and confusion which it presented after the glorious battle of hanau, where the bavarians fought so bravely on this the first occasion when they presented themselves as enemies before those in whose ranks they had so recently stood. it was, if i am not mistaken, in this last engagement that the bavarian general, wrede, was, with his family, the immediate victims of their treachery. the general, whom the emperor had overwhelmed with kindness, was mortally wounded, all his relatives in the bavarian army were slain, and his son-in-law, prince of oettingen, met the same fate. it was one of those events which never failed to make a deep impression on the mind of his majesty, since it strengthened his ideas of fatality. it was also at mayence that the emperor gave orders for the assembling of the corps legislatif on the 2d of december. the opening was delayed, as we shall see; and far better would it have been had it been indefinitely postponed; since in that case his majesty would not have experienced the misfortunes he afterwards endured from their opposition, symptoms of which now manifested themselves for the first time in a manner which was, to say the least, intemperate. one of the things which astonished me most at the time, and which still astonishes me when i recall it now, was the incredible activity of the emperor, which, far from diminishing, seemed to increase each day, as if the very exercise of his strength redoubled it. at the period of which i now speak, it is impossible to describe how completely every moment of his majesty's time was filled. since he had again met the empress and his son, the emperor had resumed his accustomed serenity; and i rarely surprised him in that open abandonment to dejection to which he sometimes gave way, in the retirement of his chamber, immediately after our return from moscow. he was occupied more ostensibly than usual in the numerous public works which were being prosecuted in paris, and which formed a useful distraction to his engrossing thoughts of war and the distressing news which reached him from the army. almost every day, troops, equipped as if by magic, were reviewed by his majesty, and ordered immediately to the rhine, nearly the whole course of which was threatened; and the danger, which we then scarcely thought possible, must have appeared most imminent to the inhabitants of the capital, not infatuated, like ourselves, by the kind of charm the emperor exercised over all those who had the honor of approaching his august person. in fact, for the first time he was compelled to demand of the senate to anticipate the levy for the ensuing year, and each day also brought depressing news. the prince arch-treasurer returned the following autumn, forced to quit holland after the evacuation of this kingdom by our troops; whilst marshal gouvion saint-cyr was compelled at dresden to sign a capitulation for himself and the thirty thousand men whom he had held in reserve at that place. the capitulation of marshal saint-cyr will never, surely, occupy an honorable place in the history of the cabinet of vienna. it is not my province to pass judgment on these political combinations; but i cannot forget the indignation which was generally manifested at the palace when it was learned that this capitulation had been shamelessly violated by those who had now become the stronger party. it was stated in this capitulation that the marshal should return to france with the troops under his command, carrying with him a part of his artillery, and that these troops should be exchanged for a like number of the allied troops; that the wounded french who remained at dresden should be returned to france on their restoration to health; and that, finally, the marshal should begin these movements on the 16th of november. no part of this agreement was complied with. imagine, then, the indignation of the emperor, already so deeply afflicted by the capitulation of dresden, when he learned that, contrary to every stipulation agreed upon, these troops had been made prisoners by the prince von swarzenberg. i remember one day the prince de neuchatel being in his majesty's cabinet, which i happened to enter at the moment, the emperor remarked to him, with considerable vehemence, "you speak to me of peace. how can i believe in the good faith of those people? you see what happened at dresden. no, i tell you, they do not wish to treat with us; they are only endeavoring to gain time, and it is our business not to lose it." the prince did not reply; or, at least, i heard no more, as i just then left the cabinet, having executed the duty which had taken me there. moreover, i can add, as an additional proof of the confidence with which his majesty honored me, that when i entered he never interrupted himself in what he was saying, however important it might be; and i dare to affirm that if my memory were better, these souvenirs would contain much more valuable information. since i have spoken of the evil tidings which overwhelmed the emperor in such quick succession during the last months of the year 1813, there is one i should not omit, since it affected his majesty so painfully. i refer to the death of count louis de narbonne. of all those who had not begun their careers under the eyes of the emperor, m. de narbonne was the one for whom he felt the deepest affection; and it must be admitted that it was impossible to find a man in whom genuine merit was united to more attractive manners. the emperor regarded him as a most proper person to conduct a negotiation, and said of him one day, "narbonne is a born ambassador." it was known in the palace why the emperor had appointed him his aide-decamp at the time he formed the household of the empress marie louise. the emperor had at first intended to appoint him chevalier of honor to the new empress, but a skillfully concocted intrigue caused him to refuse this position; and it was in some degree to make amends for this that he received the appointment of aide-de-camp to his majesty. there was not at that time a position more highly valued in all france; many foreign and even sovereign princes had solicited in vain this high mark of favor, and amongst these i can name prince leopold de saxe-coburg, [later he became king of the belgians (in 1831), and the next year married the daughter of louis philippe. his first wife, princess charlotte of england, whom he married in 1816, died the same year. leopold was born 1790, and died 1865.] who married princess charlotte of england, and who refused to be king of greece, after failing to obtain the position of aide-de-camp to the emperor. i would not dare to say, according to my recollection, that no one at the court was jealous on seeing m. de narbonne appointed aide-de-camp to the emperor; but if there were any i have forgotten their names. however that may have been, he soon became very popular, and each day the emperor appreciated more highly his character and services. i remember on one occasion to have heard his majesty say--i think it was at dresden--that he had never thoroughly known the cabinet of vienna until the fine nose of narbonne--that was the emperor's expression--had scented out those old diplomats. after the pretended negotiations, of which i have spoken above, and which occupied the entire time of the armistice at dresden, m. de narbonne had remained in germany, where the emperor had committed to him the government of torgau; and it was there he died, on the 17th of november, in consequence of a fall from his horse, in spite of all the attentions lavished on him by baron desgenettes. with the exception of the death of marshal duroc and prince poniatowski, i do not remember to have ever seen the emperor show more sincere sorrow than on this occasion. meanwhile, almost at the very moment he lost m. de narbonne, but before he had heard of his death, the emperor had made arrangements to fill the place near his person of the man he had loved most, not even excepting general desaix. he had just called general bertrand to the high position of grand marshal of the palace; and this choice was generally approved by all who had the honor of count bertrand's acquaintance. but what is there for me to say here of a man whose name in history will never be separated from that of the emperor? this same period had seen the fall of the duke of istria, one of the four colonel-generals of the guard, and marshal duroc: and this same appointment included the names of their successors; for marshal suchet was appointed at the same time as general bertrand, and took the place of marshal bessieres as colonel-general of the guard. [louis gabriel suchet, born at lyons, 1770. served in the italian campaign in 1796. brigadier-general, 1797; general of division, 1799. governor of genoa, 1800, and served at austerlitz, 1805. for his brilliant services in spain he was created duke of albufera and marshal, 1811. at st. helena, napoleon stated he was the ablest of his generals then surviving. suchet married the niece of the wives of joseph bonaparte and bernadotte, and his widow died as recently as 1891. suchet died 1826.] at the same time his majesty made several other changes in the higher offices of the empire. a committee of the senate having conferred on the emperor the right to appoint, of his own choice, the president of the corps legislatif, his majesty bestowed this presidency on the duke of massa, who was replaced in his former position as grand judge by count mole, the youngest of the emperor's ministers. the duke of bassano became the secretary of state, and the duke of vicenza received the portfolio of foreign relations. as i have said, during the autumn of 1813 his majesty frequently visited the public works. he usually went almost unattended, and on foot, to visit those of the tuileries and the louvre, and afterwards mounted his horse, accompanied by one or two officers at most, and m. fontaine, and went to examine those which were more distant. one day,--it was about the end of november, having seized the opportunity of his majesty's absence to take a walk through the faubourg saint germain, i unexpectedly encountered his majesty on his way to the luxembourg, just as he arrived at the entrance of the rue de tournon; and it is impossible to describe the intense satisfaction with which i heard shouts of "vive l'empereur" break forth as he approached. i found myself driven by the crowd very near the emperor's horse, and yet i did not imagine for a moment that he had recognized me. on his return, however, i had proofs to the contrary. his majesty had seen me; and as i assisted him to change his clothing the emperor gayly remarked to me, "well, m. le drole! ah! ah! what were you doing in the faubourg saint germain? i see just how it is! a fine thing really! you spy on me when i go out," and many other jests of the same kind; for on that day the emperor was in such fine spirits that i concluded he had been much pleased with his visit. whenever at this time the emperor experienced any unusual anxiety, i noticed that in order to dispel it he took pleasure in exhibiting himself in public more frequently, perhaps, than during his other sojourns in paris, but always without any ostentation. he went frequently to the theater; and, thanks to the obliging kindness of count de remusat, i myself frequently attended these assemblies, which at that time always had the appearance of a fete. assuredly, when on the occasion of the first representation of the ballet of nina, their majesties entered their box, it would have been difficult to imagine that the emperor had already enemies among his subjects. it is true that the mothers and widows in mourning were not there; but i can affirm that i have never seen more perfect enthusiasm. the emperor enjoyed this from the depths of his heart, even more, perhaps, than after his victories. the conviction that he was beloved by the french people impressed him deeply, and in the evening he condescended to speak to me of it--shall i dare to say like a child puffed up with pride at the reward he has just received? then in the perfect freedom of privacy he said repeatedly, "my wife! my good louise! truly, she should be well satisfied." the truth is, that the desire to see the emperor at the theater was so great in paris, that as he always took his place in the box at the side, opening on the proscenium, each time that he made his appearance there the boxes situated on the opposite side of the hall were rented at incredible figures, and even the uppermost tiers were preferred to those from which they could not see him easily. no one who lived in paris at that time can fail to recognize the correctness of this statement. some time after the first representation of the ballet of nina, the emperor again attended the theater, and i was also present. as formerly, the emperor accompanied her majesty; and i could not keep back the thought, as the play proceeded, that the emperor had some memories sufficient to distract his attention from the exquisite music. it was at the italian theater then occupying the odeon. the cleopatra of nazzolini was played; and the representation was among the number of those called extraordinary, since it was on the occasion of madame grassini's benefit. it had been only a short while since this singer, celebrated in more ways than one, had first appeared in public on a parisian stage, i think this was really only the third or fourth time; and i should state, in order to be exactly correct, that she did not produce on the parisian public exactly the impression which had been expected from her immense reputation. it had been long since the emperor had received her privately; but, nevertheless, her voice and crescentini's had been reserved until then for the privileged ears of the spectators of saint-cloud and the theater of the tuileries. on, this occasion the emperor was very generous towards the beneficiary, but no interview resulted; for, in the language of a poet of that period, the cleopatra of paris did not conquer another antony. thus, as we see, the emperor on a few occasions laid aside the important affairs which occupied him, less to enjoy the theater than for the purpose of showing himself in public. all useful undertakings were the objects of his care; and he did not depend entirely even on the information of men to whom he had most worthily committed them, but saw everything for himself. among the institutions especially protected by his majesty, there was one in which he took an especial interest. i do not think that in any of the intervals between his wars the emperor had come to paris without making a visit to the institution of the daughters of the legion of honor, of which madame campan was in charge, first at ecouen, and afterwards at saint-denis. the emperor visited it in the month of november, and i remember an anecdote which i heard related to his majesty on this occasion which diverted him exceedingly. nevertheless, i cannot remember positively whether this anecdote relates to the visit of 1813, or one made previously. in the first place, it must be explained that, in accordance with the regulation of the household of the young ladies of the legion of honor, no man, with the exception of the emperor, was admitted into the interior of the establishment. but as the emperor was always attended by an escort, his suite formed in some sort a part of himself, and entered with him. besides his officers, the pages usually accompanied him. in the evening on his return from saint-denis, the emperor said to me, laughing, as he entered his room, where i was waiting to undress him, "well, my pages wish to resemble the pages of former times! the little idiots! do you know what they do? when i go to saint-denis, they have a contest among themselves as to who shall be on duty. ha! ha!" the emperor, while speaking, laughed and rubbed his hands together; and then, having repeated several times in the same tone; "the little idiots," he added, following out one of those singular reflections which sometimes struck him, "i, constant, would have made a very poor page; i would never have had such an idea. moreover, these are good young men; good officers have already come from among them. this will lead one day to some marriages." it was very rare, in fact, that a thing, though frivolous in appearance, did not lead, on the emperor's part, to some serious conclusion. hereafter, indeed, with the exception of a few remembrances of the past, i shall have only serious and often very sad events to relate; for we have now arrived at the point where everything has taken a serious turn, and clothed itself in most somber tints. chapter xix. for the last time we celebrated in paris the anniversary fete of his majesty's coronation. the gifts to the emperor on this occasion were innumerable addresses made to him by all the towns of the empire, in which offers of sacrifices and protestations of devotion seemed to increase in intensity in proportion to the difficulty of the circumstances. alas! in four months the full value of these protestations was proved; and, nevertheless, how was it possible to believe that this enthusiasm, which was so universal, was not entirely sincere? this would have been an impossibility with the emperor, who, until the very end of his reign, believed himself beloved by france with the same devotion which he felt for her. a truth, which was well proved by succeeding events, is that the emperor became more popular among that part of the inhabitants called the people when misfortunes began to overwhelm him. his majesty had proofs of this in a visit he made to the faubourg saint-antoine; and it is very certain that, if under other circumstances he had been able to bend from his dignity to propitiate the people, a means which was most repugnant to the emperor in consequence of his remembrances of the revolution, all the faubourgs of paris would have armed themselves in his defense. how can this be doubted after the event which i here describe? the emperor, towards the end of 1813 or the beginning of 1814, on one occasion visited the faubourg saint-antoine. i cannot to-day give the precise date of this unexpected visit; but at any rate he showed himself on this occasion familiar, even to the point of good fellowship, which emboldened those immediately around to address him. i now relate the conversation which occurred between his majesty and several of the inhabitants, which has been faithfully recorded, and admitted to be true by several witnesses of this really touching scene. an inhabitant.--"is it true, as i am told, that the condition of affairs is so bad?" the emperor.--"i cannot say that they are in a very good condition." the inhabitant.--"but how, then, will all this end?" the emperor.--"by my faith, god alone knows." the inhabitant.--"but what! is it possible the enemy could really enter france?" the emperor.--"that might occur, and they might even penetrate as far as this place, if you do not come to my aid. i have not a million arms. i cannot do everything alone." numerous voices.--"we will uphold you, we will uphold you." still more voices.--"yes, yes. count on us." the emperor.--"in that case the enemy will be beaten, and we will preserve our glory untarnished." several voices.--"but what, then, shall we do?" the emperor.--"be enrolled and fight." a new voice.--"we would do this gladly, but we would like to make certain conditions." the emperor.--"well, speak out frankly. let us know; what are these conditions?" several voices.--"that we are not to pass the frontiers." the emperor.--"you shall not pass them." several voices.--"we wish to enter the guard." the emperor.--"well, then, you shall enter the guard." his majesty had hardly pronounced these last words, when the immense crowd which surrounded him made the air resound with cries of "vive l'empereur!" and their number continued to increase all the way as the emperor slowly returned to the tuileries, until, by the time he reached the gates of the carrousel, he was accompanied by an innumerable cortege. we heard these noisy acclamations; but they were so badly interpreted by the commandant of the post at the palace, that he thought it was an insurrection, and the iron gates of the tuileries on that side of the court were closed. when i saw the emperor, a few moments after his return, he appeared more annoyed than pleased; for everything having an appearance of disorder was excessively distasteful to him, and a popular tumult, whatever its cause, had always in it something unpleasant to him. meanwhile this scene, which his majesty might well have repeated, produced a deep impression on the people; and this enthusiasm had positive and immediate results, since on that day more than two thousand men were voluntarily enrolled, and formed a new regiment of the guard. on the anniversary fete of the coronation and of the battle of austerlitz, there were as usual free representations in all the theaters of paris; but at these the emperor did not appear, as he had so often done. there were also amusements, a free distribution of eatables, and also illuminations; and twelve young girls, whose marriage dowries were given by the city of paris, were married to old soldiers. i remember that among everything which marked the ceremonials of the empire, the custom of performing these marriages was the one most pleasing to the emperor, and he often spoke of it in terms of approbation; for, if i may be allowed to make the observation, his majesty had what might be called a kind of mania on the subject of marriage. we were now settled at the tuileries, which the emperor had not left since the 20th of november when he had returned from saint-cloud, and which he did not leave again until his departure for the army. his majesty often presided over the deliberations of the council of state, which were of grave interest. i learned at that time, in relation to a certain decree, a circumstance which appeared to me very singular. the commune of montmorency had long since lost its ancient name; but it was not until the end of november, 1813, that the emperor legally took away the name of emile which it had received under the republic in honor of j. j. rousseau. it may well be believed that it had retained it so long simply because the emperor's attention had not been directed to it sooner. i do not know but i should ask pardon for relating so trivial an event, when so many great measures were being adopted by his majesty. in fact, each day necessitated new dispositions, since the enemy was making progress at every point. the russians occupied holland under the command of general witzengerode, who had opposed us so bitterly during the russian campaign; already, even, the early return to amsterdam of the heir of the house of orange was discussed; in italy prince eugene was holding out only by dint of superior skill against the far more numerous army of bellegarde, who had just passed the adige; that of the prince von swarzenberg occupied the confines of switzerland; the prussians and the troops of the confederation were passing the rhine at several points. there remained to the emperor not a single ally, as the king of denmark, the only one who had until now remained faithful, had succumbed to the northern torrent, and concluded an armistice with russia; and in the south all the strategy of marshal soult barely sufficed to delay the progress of the duke of wellington, who was advancing on our frontiers at the head of an army far more numerous than that with which we could oppose him, and which, moreover, was not suffering from the same privations as our own. i remember well to have heard several generals blame the emperor at that time, because he had not abandoned spain, and recalled all his troops to france. i make a note of this, but, as may well be believed, am not willing to risk my judgment on such matters. at all events, it is evident that war surrounded us on every side; and in this state of affairs, and with our ancient frontiers threatened, it would have been strange if there had not been a general cry for peace. the emperor desired it also; and no one now holds a contrary opinion. all the works which i have read, written by those persons best situated to learn the exact truth of these events, agree on this point. it is known that his majesty had dictated to the duke of bassano a letter in which he adhered to the basis of the proposal for a new congress made at frankfort by the allies. it is also known that the city of mannheim was designated for the session of this new congress, to which the duke of vicenza was to be sent. the latter, in a note of the 2d of december, made known again the adhesion of the emperor to the original principles and summary to be submitted to the congress of mannheim. the count de metternich, on the 10th, replied to this communication that the sovereigns would inform their allies of his majesty's adhesion. all these negotiations were prolonged only on account of the allies, who finally declared at frankfort that they would not consent to lay down their arms. on the 20th of december they openly announced their intention to invade france by passing through switzerland, whose neutrality had been solemnly recognized by treaty. at the period of which i speak, my position kept me, i must admit, in complete ignorance of these affairs; but, on learning them since, they have awakened in me other remembrances which have powerfully contributed to prove their truth. every one, i hope, will admit that if the emperor had really desired war, it is not before me he would have taken the trouble to express his desire for the conclusion of peace, as i heard him do several times; and this by no means falsifies what i have related of a reply given by his majesty to the prince of neuchatel, since in this reply he attributes the necessity of war to the bad faith of his enemies. neither the immense renown of the emperor nor his glory needs any support from me, and i am not deluding myself on this point; but i ask to be allowed like any other man to give my mite of the truth. i have said previously, that when passing through mayence the emperor had convened the corps legislatif for the 2d of december; but by a new decree it was postponed until the 19th of that month, and this annual solemnity was marked by the introduction of unaccustomed usages. in the first place, as i have said, to the emperor alone was given the right of naming the president without the presentation of a triple list, as was done in former times by the senate; moreover, the senate and the council of state repaired in a body to the hall of the corps legislatif to be present at the opening of the session. i also remember that this ceremony was anticipated with more than usual interest; since throughout paris all were curious and eager to hear the address of the emperor, and what he would say on the situation of france. alas, we were far from supposing that this annual ceremony would be the last. the senate and the council of state, having taken the places indicated to them in the hall, the empress, arrived, and entered the reserved gallery, surrounded by her ladies and the officers of her household. at last the emperor appeared, a quarter of an hour after the empress, and was introduced with the accustomed ceremonials. when the new president, the duke of massa, had taken the oath at the hands of the emperor, his majesty pronounced the following discourse: "senators; councilors of state; deputies from the departments to the corps legislatif: brilliant victories have made the french arms illustrious in this campaign, but unexampled defections have rendered these victories useless. everything has turned against us. even france would be in danger were it not for the energy and union of the french people. under these momentous circumstances my first thought was to summon you. my heart felt the need of the presence and affection of my subjects. i have never been seduced by prosperity; adversity will find me above the reach of its attacks. i have many times given peace to nations, even when they had lost all. on a part of my conquests i have erected thrones for kings who have now abandoned me. i have conceived and executed great plans for the happiness of the world. both as a monarch and a father i feel that peace adds to the security of thrones and of families. negotiations have been entered into with the confederated powers. i have adhered to the fundamental principles which they have presented. i then hoped that, before the opening of this session, the congress of mannheim would have assembled; but renewed delays, which cannot be attributed to france, have deferred this moment, which the whole world so eagerly desires. i have ordered that all the original articles contained in the portfolio of foreign affairs should be submitted to you. you will be informed of them through a committee. the spokesmen of my council will inform you of my wishes on this subject. nothing has been interposed on my part to the re-establishment of peace; i know and share the sentiments of the french people. i repeat, of the french people, since there are none among them who desire peace at the expense of honor. it is with regret that i demand of this generous people new sacrifices, but they are necessary for their noblest and dearest interests. i have been compelled to re-enforce my armies by numerous levies, for nations treat with security only when they display all their strength. an increase of receipts has become indispensable. the propositions which my minister of finance will submit to you are in conformity with the system of finance i have established. we will meet all demands without borrowing, which uses up the resources of the future, and without paper money, which is the greatest enemy of social order. i am well satisfied with the sentiments manifested towards me under these circumstances by my people of italy. denmark, and naples alone remain faithful to their alliance. the republic of the united states of america successfully continues its war with england. i have recognized the neutrality of the nineteen swiss cantons. senators; councillors of state; deputies of the departments in the corps legislatif: you are the natural organs of the throne. it is your province to display an energy which will hold our country up to the admiration of all future generations. let it not be said of us: 'they sacrificed the first interests of their country; they submitted to the control which england has sought in vain for four centuries to impose on france.' "my people need not fear that the policy of their emperor will ever betray the glory of the nation; and on my part i have the conviction that the french people will ever prove worthy of themselves and of me." this address was received with unanimous shouts of "vive l'empereur;" and, when his majesty returned to the. tuileries, he had an air of intense satisfaction, although he had a slight headache, which disappeared after half an hour's repose. in the evening it was entirely gone, and the emperor questioned me on what i had heard people say. i told, him truthfully that the persons of my acquaintance unanimously agreed that the desire for peace was universal. "peace, peace!" said the emperor, "who can desire it more than i? go, my son, go." i withdrew, and his majesty went to the empress. it was about this time, i do not remember the exact day, that the emperor gave a decision on a matter in which i had interested myself with him; and i affirm that it will be seen from this decision what a profound respect his majesty had for the rights of a legitimate marriage, and his excessive antipathy to divorced persons. but, in order to support this assertion, i will give an anecdote which recurs to my memory at this moment. during the russian campaign general dupont-derval was slain on the battlefield, fighting valiantly. his widow, after his majesty's return to paris, had often, but always in vain, endeavored to present a petition to his majesty describing her unfortunate condition. at length some one advised her to secure my services; and, touched by her unhappiness, i presented her demand to the emperor. his majesty but rarely refused my solicitations of this kind, as i conducted them with the utmost discretion; and consequently i was fortunate enough to obtain for madame dupont-derval a very considerable pension. i do not remember how the emperor discovered that general dupont-derval had been divorced, and had left a daughter by a former marriage, who, as well as her mother, was still living. he learned besides that general dupont-derval's second wife was the widow of a general officer by whom she had two daughters. none of these circumstances, as may be imagined, had been cited in the petition; but, when they came to the emperor's knowledge, he did not withdraw the pension, for which the order had not yet been given, but simply changed its destination, and gave it to the first wife of--general dupont-derval, making it revertible to her daughter, though she was sufficiently wealthy not to need it, and the other madame dupont-derval was in actual need. meanwhile, as one is always pleased to be the bearer of good tidings, i had lost no time in informing my petitioner of the emperor's favorable decision. when she learned what had taken place, of which i was still in entire ignorance, she returned to me, and from what she said i imagined she was the victim of some mistake. in this belief i took the liberty of again speaking to his majesty on the subject, and my astonishment may be imagined when his majesty himself condescended to relate to me the whole affair. then he added: "my poor child, you have allowed yourself to be taken for a simpleton. i promised a pension, and i gave it to the wife of general derval, that is to say, to his real wife, the mother of his daughter." the emperor was not at all angry with me. i know very well that the matter would not have been permitted to continue thus without my interesting myself further in it; but events followed each other in rapid succession until the abdication of his majesty, and the affair finally remained as thus settled. chapter xx. it was not only by force of arms that the enemies of france endeavored at the end of 1813 to overthrow the power of the emperor. in spite of our defeats the emperor's name still inspired a salutary terror; and it was apparent that although so numerous, the foreigners still despaired of victory as long as there existed a common accord between the emperor and the french people. we have seen in the preceding chapter in what language he expressed himself to the great united bodies of the state, and events have proved whether his majesty concealed the truth from the representatives of the nation as to the real condition of france. to this discourse which history has recorded, i may be allowed to oppose here another made at the same period. this is the famous declaration of frankfort, copies of which the enemies of the emperor caused to be circulated in paris; and i would not dare to wager that persons of his court, while performing their duties near him, did not have a copy in their pockets. if there still remains any doubt as to which party was acting in good faith, the reading of what follows is sufficient to dispel these; for there is no question here of political considerations, but simply the comparison of solemn promises with the actions which succeeded. "the french government has just ordered a new levy of three hundred thousand men; the proclamations of the senate contain a challenge to the allied powers. they find themselves called on again to promulgate to the world the views by which they are guided in this present war, the principles which form the basis of their conduct, their wishes, and their intentions. the allied powers are not making war on france, but on the openly admitted preponderance which, to the great misfortune of europe and france, the emperor napoleon has too long maintained outside the limits of his empire. victory has brought the allied armies to the rhine. the first use their imperial and royal majesties have made of victory has been to offer peace to his majesty the emperor of the french. a position reenforced by the accession of all the sovereigns and princes of germany has had no influence on the conditions of this peace, for these conditions are founded on the independence of the other states of europe. the objects of these powers are just in their aims, generous and liberal in their application, reassuring to all, and honorable to each. the allied sovereigns desire that france should be great, strong, and happy, since its greatness and power is one of the foundations of the social edifice. they desire that france should be happy, that french commerce should revive, that the arts, those blessings of peace, should flourish, because a great people are tranquil only when satisfied. the powers confirm the french empire in the possession of an extent of territory which france has never attained under her kings, since a generous nation should not be punished because it has experienced reverses in a bloody and well-contested struggle in which it has fought with its accustomed bravery. but the powers themselves also wish to be happy and peaceful. they desire a condition of peace which, by a wise partition of force, by a just equilibrium, may hereafter preserve their people from the innumerable calamities which have for twenty years overwhelmed europe. "the allied powers will not lay down their arms until they have obtained this grand and beneficent result, the worthy object of all their efforts. they will not lay down their arms until the political condition of europe is again secure; until immutable principles have regained their ascendency over new pretensions, and the sanctity of treaties has finally assured a genuine peace to europe." it needs only common sense to ascertain whether the allied powers were sincere in this declaration, the object of which evidently was to alienate from the emperor the affections of his people by holding up his majesty before them as an obstacle to peace, and separating his cause from that of france; and on this point i am glad to support my own opinion by that of m. de bourrienne, whom surely no one will accuse of partiality for his majesty. several passages of his memoirs, above all those in which he blames the emperor, have pained me, i must confess; but on this occasion he does not hesitate to admit the insincerity of the allies, which opinion is of much weight according to my poor judgment. m. de bourrienne was then at paris under the special surveillance of the duke of rovigo. i frequently heard this minister mention him to the emperor, and always favorably; but the enemies of the former secretary of the first consul must have been very powerful, or his majesty's prejudices very strong, for m. de bourrienne never returned to favor. the emperor, who, as i have said, sometimes condescended to converse familiarly with me, never spoke to me of m. de bourrienne, whom i had not seen since the emperor had ceased to receive him. i saw him again for the first time among the officers of the national guard, the day these gentlemen were received at the palace, as we shall see later, and i have never seen him since; but as we were all much attached to him on account of his kind consideration for us, he was often the subject of conversation, and, i may add, of our regrets. moreover, i was long ignorant that at the period of which i am now speaking, his majesty had offered him the mission to switzerland, as i learned this circumstance only from reading his memoirs. i would not conceal, however, that i was painfully affected by reading this, so greatly would i have desired that bourrienne should overcome his resentment against his majesty, who in the depths of his heart really loved him. whatever was done, it is evident now to all that the object of the declaration of frankfort was to cause alienation between the emperor and the french people, and subsequent events have shown that this was fully understood by the emperor, but unfortunately it was soon seen that the enemy had partly obtained their object. not only in private society persons could be heard expressing themselves freely in condemnation of the emperor, but dissensions openly arose even in the body of the corps legislatif. after the opening session, the emperor having rendered a decree that a commission should be named composed of five senators and five members of the corps legislatif, these two bodies consequently assembled. this commission, as has been seen from his majesty's address, had for its object the consideration of articles submitted relative to pending negotiations between france and the allied powers. count regnault de saint jean d'angely bore the decree to the corps legislatif, and supported it with his usual persuasive eloquence, recalling the victories of france and the glory of the emperor; but the ballot elected as members of the commission five deputies who had the reputation of being more devoted to the principles of liberty than to the emperor. these were m. raynouard, laine, gallois, flaugergues, and maine de biran. the emperor from the first moment appeared much dissatisfied with this selection, not imagining, however, that this commission would soon show itself so entirely hostile. i remember well that i heard his majesty say in my presence to the prince of neuchatel, with some exasperation though without anger, "they have appointed five lawyers." nevertheless, the emperor did not allow the least symptoms of his dissatisfaction to be seen; and as soon as he had officially received the list of commissioners, addressed to the president of the corps legislatif the following letter bearing the date of the 23d of december: "monsieur, duke of massa, president of the legislative corps: we address you the inclosed letter to make known to you our intention that you report to-morrow, the 24th instant, at the residence of our cousin the prince archchancellor of the empire, in company with the commission appointed yesterday by the legislative corps in compliance with our decree of the 20th instant, and which is composed of the following gentlemen: raynouard, lain, galiois, flaugergues, and maine de biran, for the purpose of considering the articles relative to the negotiations, and also the declaration of the confederated powers, which will be communicated by count regnault minister of state, and count d'hauterive councilor of state attached to the department of foreign relations, who will be the bearer of the aforesaid articles and declaration. "our intention also is that our cousin aforesaid should preside over this commission. with this etc." the members of the senate appointed on this commission were m. de fontanel, m. the prince of benevent, m. de saint marsan, m. de barbe-marbois, and m. de beurnonville. with the exception of one of these gentlemen, whose disgrace and consequent opposition were publicly known, the others were thought to be sincerely attached to the emperor; and whatever may have been their opinions and their subsequent conduct they had done nothing then to deserve the same distrust from the emperor as the members of the committee from the corps legislatif. no active opposition, no signs of discontent, had been shown by the conservative senate. at this time the duke of rovigo came frequently, or i might rather say every day, to the emperor. his majesty was much attached to him, and that alone suffices to prove that he was not afraid to hear the truth; for since he had been minister, the duke of rovigo had never concealed it; which fact i can affirm, having been frequently an eyewitness. in paris there was nevertheless only unanimous opposition to this minister. i can, however, cite one anecdote that the duke of rovigo has not included in his memoirs, and of which i guarantee the authenticity; and it will be seen from this incident whether or not the minister of police sought to increase the number of persons who compromised themselves each day by their gratings against the emperor. among the employees of the treasury was a former receiver of the finances who led a retired and contented life in this modest employment. he was a very enthusiastic man of much intelligence. his devotion to the emperor amounted to a passion, and he never mentioned him without a sort of idolatry. this employee was accustomed to pass his evenings with a circle of friends who met in the rue de vivienne. the regular attendants of this place, whom the police very naturally had their eyes upon, did not all hold the same opinion as the person of whom i have just spoken, and began openly to condemn the acts of government, the opposing party allowing their discontent to be plainly manifest; and the faithful adorer of his majesty became proportionately more lavish of his expressions of admiration, as his antagonists showed themselves ready with reproaches. the duke of rovigo was informed of these discussions, which each day became more eager and animated; and one fine day our honest employee found on returning to his home a letter bearing the seal of the general of police. he could not believe his eyes. he, a good, simple, modest man living his retired life, what could the minister of general police desire of him? he opens the letter, and finds that the minister orders him to appear before him the next morning. he reports there as may be imagined with the utmost punctuality, and then a dialogue something like this ensued between these gentlemen. "it appears, monsieur," said the duke of rovigo, "that you are very devoted to the emperor."--"yes, i love him; i would give him my blood, my life."--"you admire him greatly?"-"yes, i admire him! the emperor has never been so great, his glory has never--"--"that is all very well, monsieur; your sentiments do you honor, and i share those sentiments with you; but i urge on you to reserve the expression of them for yourself, for, though i should regret it very much, you may drive me to the necessity of having you arrested."--"i, my lord, have me arrested? ah! but doubtless--why?"--"do you not see that you cause the expression of opinions that might remain concealed were it not for your enthusiasm; and finally, you will force, many good men to compromise themselves to a certain extent, who will return to us when things are in better condition. go, monsieur, let us continue to love, serve, and admire the emperor; but at such a time as this let us not proclaim our fine sentiments so loudly, for fear of rendering many guilty who are only a little misguided." the employee of the treasury then left the minister, after thanking him for his advice and promising to follow it. i would not dare to assert that he kept his word scrupulously, but i can affirm that all i have just said is the exact truth; and i am sure that if this passage in my memoirs falls under the eyes of the duke of rovigo it will remind him of an occurrence which he may perhaps have forgotten, but which he will readily recall. meanwhile the commission, composed as i have said of five senators and five members of the corps legislatif, devoted itself assiduously to the duty with which it was charged. each of these two grand bodies of the state presented to his majesty a separate address. the senate had received the report made by m. de fontanes; and their address contained nothing which could displease the emperor, but was on the contrary expressed in most proper terms. in it a peace was indeed demanded, but a peace which his majesty could obtain by an effort worthy of him and of the french people. "let that hand so many times victorious," they said, "lay down its arms after having assured the repose of the world." the following passage was also noteworthy: "no, the enemy shall not destroy this beautiful and noble france, which for fourteen hundred years has borne itself gloriously through such diverse fortunes, and which for the interest of the neighboring nations themselves should always bear considerable weight in the balance of power in europe. we have as pledges of this your heroic constancy and the national honor." then again, "fortune does not long fail nations which do not fail in their duty to themselves." this language, worthy of true frenchmen, and which the circumstances at least required, was well pleasing to the emperor, as is evident from the answer he made on the 29th of december to the deputation from the senate with the prince archchancellor at its head: "senators," said his majesty, "i am deeply sensible of the sentiments you express. you have seen by the articles which i have communicated to you what i am doing towards a peace. the sacrifices required by the preliminary basis which the enemy had proposed to me i have accepted; and i shall make them without regret, since my life has only one object,--the happiness of the french people. "meanwhile bearn, alsace, franche-comte, and brabant have been entered, and the cries of that part of my family rend my soul. i call the french to the aid of the french! i call the frenchmen of paris, brittany, normandy, champagne, burgundy, and the other departments to the aid of their brothers. will they abandon them in misfortune? peace and the deliverance of our territory should be our rallying cry. at the sight of this whole people in arms the foreigner will flee, or will consent to peace on the terms i have proposed to him. the question is no longer the recovery of the conquests we have made." it was necessary to be in a position to thoroughly know the character of the emperor to understand how much it must have cost him to utter these last words; but from a knowledge of his character also resulted the certainty that it would have cost him less to do what he promised than to say them. it would seem that this was well understood in paris; for the day on which the 'moniteur' published the reply of his majesty to the senate, stocks increased in value more than two francs, which the emperor did not fail to remark with much satisfaction; for as is well known, the rise and decline of stocks was with him the real thermometer of public opinion. in regard to the conduct of the corps legislatif, i heard it condemned by a man of real merit deeply imbued with republican principles. he uttered one day in my presence these words which struck me: "the corps legislatif did then what it should have done at all times, except under these circumstances." from the language used by the spokesman of the commission, it is only too evident that the speaker believed in the false promises of the declaration of frankfort. according to him, or rather according to the commission of which he was after all only the organ, the intention of the foreigners was not to humiliate france; they only wished to keep us within our proper limits, and annul the effects of an ambitious activity which had been so fatal for twenty years to all the nations of europe. "the propositions of the confederated powers," said the commission, "seem to us honorable for the nation, since they prove that foreigners both fear and respect us." finally the speaker, continuing his reading, having reached a passage in which allusion was made to the empire of the lily, added in set phrase that the rhine, the alps, the pyrenees, and the two seas inclosed a vast territory, several provinces of which had not belonged to ancient france, and that nevertheless the crown royal of france shone brilliantly with glory and majesty among all other diadems. at these words the duke of massa interrupted the speaker, exclaiming, "what you say is unconstitutional;" to which the speaker vehemently replied, "i see nothing unconstitutional here except your presence," and continued to read his report. the emperor was each day informed of what took place in the sitting of the corps legislatif; and i remember that the day on which their report was read he, appeared much disturbed, and before retiring walked up and down the room in much agitation, like one trying to make some important decision. at last he decided not to allow the publication of the address of the corps legislatif, which had been communicated to him according to custom. time pressed; the next day would have been too late, as the address would be circulated in paris, where the public mind was already much disturbed. the order was consequently given to the minister of general police to have the copy of the report and the address seized at the printing establishment, and to break the forms already set up. besides this the order was also given to close the doors of the corps legislatif, which was done, and the legislature thus found itself adjourned. i heard many persons at this time deeply regret that his majesty had taken these measures, and, above all, that having taken them he had not stopped there. it was said that since the corps legislatif was now adjourned by force, it was better, whatever might be the result, to convoke another chamber, and that the emperor should not recognize the members of the one he had dismissed. his majesty thought otherwise, and gave the deputies a farewell audience. they came to the tuileries; and there his only too just resentment found vent in these words: "i have suppressed your address, as it was incendiary. eleven-twelfths of the corps legislatif are composed of good citizens whom i know and for whom i have much regard; the other twelfth is composed of seditious persons who are devoted to england. your commission and its chairman, m. laine, are of this number. he corresponds with the prince regent, through the lawyer deseze. i know it, and have proof of it. the other four are of the same faction. if there are abuses to be remedied, is this a time for remonstrances, when two hundred thousand cossacks are crossing our frontiers? is this the moment to dispute as to individual liberty and safety, when the question is the preservation of political liberty and national independence? the enemy must be resisted; you must follow the example of the alsatians, vosges, and inhabitants of franche-comte, who wish to march against them, and have applied to me--for arms. you endeavor in your address to separate the sovereign from the nation. it is i who here represent the people, who have given me four million of their suffrages. if i believed you i should cede to the enemy more than he demands. you shall have peace in three months or i shall perish. your address was an insult to me and to the corps legislatif." although the journals were forbidden to repeat the details of this scene, the rumors of it spread through paris with the rapidity of lightning. the emperor's words were repeated and commented on; the dismissed deputies sounded them through all the departments. i remember seeing the prime arch-chancellor next day come to the emperor and request an audience; it was in favor of m. deseze, whose protector he then was. in spite of the threatening words of his majesty, he found him not disposed to take severe measures; for his anger had already exhausted itself, as was always the case with the emperor when he had abandoned himself to his first emotions of fury. however, the fatal misunderstanding between the corps legislatif and the emperor, caused by the report of the committee of that body, produced the most grievous effects; and it is easy to conceive how much the enemy must have rejoiced over this, as they never failed to be promptly informed by the numerous agents whom they employed in france. it was under these sad circumstances that the year 1813 closed. we will see in future what were the consequences of it, and in fact the history, until now unwritten, of the emperor's inner life at fontainebleau; that is to say, of the most painful period of my life. chapter, xxi. in order to neutralize the effects which might be produced in the provinces by the reports of the members of the corps legislatif and the correspondence of the alarmists, his majesty appointed from the members of the conservative senate a certain number of commissioners whom he charged to visit the departments and restore public confidence. this was a most salutary measure, and one which circumstances imperiously demanded; for discouragement began to be felt among the masses of the population, and as is well known in such cases the presence of superior authority restores confidence to those who are only timid. nevertheless, the enemy were advancing at several points, and had already pressed the soil of old france. when this news reached the emperor, it afflicted him deeply without overcoming him. at times, however, his indignation broke forth; above all, when he learned from the reports that french emigrants had entered the enemy's ranks, whom he stigmatized by the name of traitors, infamous and wretched creatures, unworthy of pity. i remember that on the occasion of the capture of huningen he thus characterized a certain m. de montjoie, who was now serving in the bavarian army after taking a german name, which i have forgotten. the emperor added, however: "at least, he has had the modesty not to keep his french name." in general easy to conciliate on nearly all points, the emperor was pitiless towards all those who bore arms against their country; and innumerable times i have heard him say that there was no greater crime in his eyes. in order not to add to the complication of so many conflicting interests which encountered and ran contrary to each other still more each day, the emperor already had the thought of sending ferdinand vii. back into spain. i have the certainty that his majesty had even made some overtures to him on this subject during his last stay in paris; but it was the spanish prince who objected to this, not ceasing, on the contrary, to demand the emperor's protection. he desired most of all to become the ally, of his majesty, and it was well known that in his letters to his majesty he urged him incessantly to give him a wife of the emperor's selection. the emperor had seriously thought of marrying him to the eldest daughter of king joseph, which seemed a means of conciliating at the same time the rights of prince joseph and those of ferdinand vii., and king joseph asked nothing better than to be made a party to this arrangement; and from the manner in which he had used his royalty since the commencement of his reign, we may be permitted to think that his majesty did not greatly object to this. prince ferdinand had acquiesced in this alliance, which appeared very agreeable to him, when suddenly at the end of the year 1813 he demanded time; and the course of events placed this affair among the number of those which existed only in intention. prince ferdinand left valencay at last, but later than the emperor had authorized him to do, and for some time his presence had been only an additional embarrassment. however, the emperor had no reason to complain of his conduct towards him until after the events of fontainebleau. at any rate, in the serious situation of affairs, matters concerning the prince of spain were only an incidental matter, no more important than the stay of the pope at fontainebleau; the great point, the object which predominated everything, was the defense of the soil of france, which the first days of january found invaded at many points. this was the one thought of his majesty, which did not prevent him, nevertheless, from entering according to custom into all the duties of his administration; and we will soon see the measures he took to re-establish the national guard of paris. i have on this subject certain documents and particulars which are little known, from a person whose name i am not permitted to give, but whose position gave him the opportunity of learning all the intricacies of its formation. as all these duties still required for more than a month the presence of his majesty at paris, he remained there until the 25th of january. but what fatal news he received during those twenty-five days! first the emperor learned that the russians, as unscrupulous as the austrians in observing the conditions of a capitulation which are usually considered sacred, had just trampled under their feet the stipulations made at dantzic. in the name of the emperor alexander, the prince of wurtemberg who commanded the siege had acknowledged and guaranteed to general rapp and the troops placed under his command the right to return to france, which agreement was no more respected than had been a few months before that made with marshal saint-cyr by the prince of schwarzenberg; thus the garrison of dantzic were made prisoners with the same bad faith as that of dresden had been. this news, which reached him at almost the same time as that of the surrender of torgau, distressed his majesty so much the more as it contributed to prove to him that these powerful enemies wished to treat of peace only in name, with a resolution to retire always before a definite conclusion was reached. at the same period the news from lyons was in no wise reassuring. the command of this place had been confided to marshal augereau, and he was accused of having lacked the energy necessary to foresee or arrest the invasion of the south of france. further i will not now dwell on this circumstance, proposing in the following chapter to collect my souvenirs which relate more especially to the beginning of the campaign in france, and some circumstances which preceded it. i limit myself consequently to recalling, as far as my memory serves, events which occurred during the last days the emperor passed in paris. from the 4th of january his majesty, although having lost, as i said a while since, all hope of inducing the invaders to conclude a peace, which the whole world so much needed, gave his instructions to the duke of vicenza, and sent him to the headquarters of the allies; but he was compelled to wait a long time for his passports. at the same time special orders were sent to the prefects of departments in the invaded territory as to the conduct they should pursue under such difficult circumstances. thinking at the same time that it was indispensable to make an example in order to strengthen the courage of the timid, the emperor ordered the creation of a commission of inquiry, charged to inquire into the conduct of baron capelle, prefect of the department of the leman at the time of the entrance of the enemy into geneva. finally a decree mobilized one hundred and twenty battalions of the national guard of the empire, and ordered a levy en masse on all the departments of the east of all men capable of bearing arms. excellent measures doubtless, but vain! destiny was stronger than even the genius of a great man. meanwhile on the 8th of january appeared the decree which called out for active duty thirty thousand men of the national guard of paris on the very day when by a singular and fatal coincidence the king of naples signed a treaty of alliance with great britain. the emperor reserved for himself the chief command of the national parisian guard, and constituted the staff as follows: a vice-commander-in-chief, four aides who were major-generals, four adjutant commandants, and eight assistant captains. a legion was formed in each district, and each legion was divided into four battalions subdivided into five companies.--next the emperor appointed the following to superior grades: general vice-commander-in-chief.--marshal de moncey, duke of conegliano. aides--major-generals.--general of division, count hullin; count bertrand, grand marshal of the palace; count of montesquieu, grand chamberlain; count de montmorency, chamberlain of the emperor. adjutant-commandants.--baron laborde, adjutant-commandant of the post of paris; count albert de brancas, chamberlain of the emperor; count germain, chamberlain of the emperor; m. tourton. assistant captains.--count lariboisiere; chevalier adolphe de maussion; messieurs jules de montbreton, son of the equerry of the princess borghese; collin, junior, the younger; lecordier, junior; lemoine, junior; cardon, junior; malet, junior. chiefs of the twelve legions.--first legion, count de gontaut, senior; second legion, count regnault de saint jean d'angely; third legion, baron hottinguer, banker; fourth legion, count jaubert, governor of the bank of france; fifth legion, m. dauberjon de murinais; sixth legion, m. de fraguier; seventh legion, m. lepileur de brevannes; eighth legion, m. richard lenoir; ninth legion, m. devins de gaville; tenth legion, the duke of cadore; eleventh legion, count de choiseul-praslin, chamberlain of the emperor; twelfth legion, m. salleron. from the names we have just read, we may judge of the incredible insight by which his majesty was enabled to choose, among the most distinguished persons of the different classes of society, those most popular and most influential from their positions. by the side of the names which had gained glory under the eyes of the emperor, and by seconding him in his great undertakings, could be found those whose claim to distinction was more ancient and recalled noble memories, and finally the heads of the principal industries in the capital. this species of amalgamation delighted the emperor greatly; and he must have attached to it great political importance, for this idea occupied his attention to such an extent that i have often heard him say, "i wish to confound all classes, all periods, all glories. i desire that no title may be more glorious than the title of frenchman." why is it fate decreed that the emperor should not be allowed time to carry out his extensive plans for the glory and happiness of france of which he so often spoke? the staff of the national guard and the chiefs of the twelve legions being appointed, the emperor left the nomination of the other officers, as well as the formation of the legions, to the selection of m. de chabrol, prefect of the seine. this worthy magistrate, to whom the emperor was much attached, displayed under these circumstances the greatest zeal and activity, and in a short time the national guard presented an imposing appearance. they were armed, equipped, and clothed in the best possible manner; and this ardor, which might be called general, was in these last days one of the consolations which most deeply touched the heart of the emperor, since he saw in it a proof of the attachment of the parisians to his person, and an additional motive for feeling secure as to the tranquillity of the capital during his approaching absence. be that as it may, the bureau of the national guard was soon formed, and established in the residence which marshal moncey inhabited on the rue du faubourg saint-honore, near the square beauveau; and one master of requests and two auditors of the council of state were attached to it. the master of requests, a superior officer of engineers, the chevalier allent, soon became the soul of the whole administration of the national guard, no one being more capable than he of giving a lively impulse to an organization which required great promptness. the person from whom i obtained this information, which i intermingle with my personal souvenirs, has assured me that following upon, that is to say, after our departure for chalons-sur-marne, m. allent became still more influential in the national guard, of which he was the real head. in fact, when king joseph had received the title of lieutenant-general to the emperor, which his majesty conferred on him during the time of his absence, m. allent found himself attached on one hand to the staff of king joseph as officer of engineers, and on the other to the vice-general-in-chief in his quality of master of requests. it resulted that he was the mediator and counselor in all communications which were necessarily established between the lieutenant-general of the emperor and marshal moncey, and the promptness of his decisions was a source of great benefit to that good and grave marshal. he signed all letters, "the marshal, duke de conegliano;" and wrote so slowly that m. allent had, so to speak, time to write the correspondence while the marshal was signing his name. the auditors to the council of state duties of the two were nothing, or nearly so; but these men were by no means nobodies, as has been asserted, though a few of that character of course slipped into the council, since the first condition for holding this office was simply to prove an income of at least six thousand francs. these were messieurs ducancel, the dean of the auditors, and m. robert de sainte-croix. a shell had broken the latter's leg during the return from moscow; and this brave young man, a captain of cavalry, had returned, seated astride a cannon, from the banks of the beresina to wilna. having little physical strength, but gifted with a strong mind, m. robert de sainte-croix owed it to his moral courage not to succumb; and after undergoing the amputation of his leg, left the sword for the pen, and it was thus he became auditor to the council of state. the week after the national guard of the city of paris had been called into service, the chiefs of the twelve legions and the general staff were admitted to take the oath of fidelity at the emperor's hands. the national guard had already been organized into legions; but the want of arms was keenly felt, and many citizens could procure only lances, and those who could not obtain guns or buy them found themselves thereby chilled in their ardor to equip themselves. nevertheless, the citizen guard soon enrolled the desired number of thirty thousand men, and by degrees it occupied the different posts of the capital; and whilst fathers of families and citizens employed in domestic work were enrolled without difficulty, those who had already paid their debts to their country on the battlefield also demanded to be allowed to serve her again, and to shed for her the last drop of their blood. invalided soldiers begged to resume their service. hundreds of these brave soldiers forgot their sufferings, and covered with honorable wounds went forth again to confront the enemy. alas! very few of those who then left the hotel des invalides were fortunate enough to return. meanwhile the moment of the emperor's departure approached; but before setting out he bade a touching adieu to the national guard, as we shall see in the next chapter, and confided the regency to the empress as he had formerly intrusted it to her during the campaign in dresden. alas this time it was not necessary to make a long journey before the emperor was at the head of his army. chapter xxii. we are now about to begin the campaign of miracles; but before relating the events which i witnessed on this campaign, during which i, so to speak, never left the emperor, it is necessary that i here inscribe some souvenirs which may be considered as a necessary introduction. it is well known that the swiss cantons had solemnly declared to the emperor that they would not allow their territory to be violated, and that they would do everything possible to oppose the passage of the allied armies who were marching on the frontiers of france by way of the breisgau. the emperor, in order to stop them on their march, relied upon the destruction of the bridge of bale; but this bridge was not destroyed, and switzerland, instead of maintaining her promised neutrality, entered into the coalition against france. the foreign armies passed the rhine at bale, at schaffhausen, and at mannheim. capitulations made with the generals of the confederated troops in regard to the french garrisons of dantzic, dresden, and other strong towns had been, as we have seen, openly violated. thus marshal gouvion saint-cyr and his army corps had been, contrary to the stipulations contained in the treaties, surrounded by superior forces, disarmed, and conducted as prisoners to austria; and twenty thousand men, the remains of the garrison of dantzic, were thus arrested by order of the emperor alexander, and conveyed to the russian deserts. geneva opened its gates to the enemy in the following january. vesoul, epinal, nancy, langres, dijon, chalons-sur-saone, and bar-sur-aube were occupied by the allies. the emperor, in proportion as the danger became more pressing, displayed still more his energy and indefatigable activity. he urged the organization of new levies, and in order to pay the most urgent expenses drew thirty millions from his secret treasury in the vaults of the pavilion marsan. the levies of conscripts were, however, made with difficulty; for in the course of the year 1813 alone, one million forty thousand soldiers had been summoned to the field, and france could no longer sustain such enormous drains. meanwhile veterans came from all parts to be enrolled; and general carnot offered his services to the emperor, who was much touched by this proceeding, and confided to him the defense of antwerp. the zeal and courage with which the general acquitted himself of this important mission is well known. movable columns and corps of partisans placed themselves under arms in the departments of the east, and a few rich proprietors levied and organized companies of volunteers, while select cavalry formed themselves into corps, the cavaliers of which equipped themselves at their own expense. in the midst of these preparations the emperor received news which moved him deeply,--the king of naples had just joined the enemies of the french. on a previous occasion, when his majesty had seen the prince royal of sweden, after having been marshal and prince of the empire, enter into a coalition against his native country, i heard him break forth into reproaches and exclamations of indignation, although the king of sweden had more than one reason to offer in his own defense, being alone in the north, and shut in by powerful enemies against whom he was entirely unable to struggle, even had the interests of his new country been inseparable from those of france. by refusing to enter into the coalition he would have drawn on sweden the anger of her formidable neighbors, and with the throne he would have sacrificed and fruitlessly ruined the nation which had adopted him. it was not to the emperor he owed his elevation. but king joachim, on the contrary, owed everything to the emperor; for it was he who had given him one of his sisters as a wife, who had given him a throne, and had treated him as well as, and even better than, if he had been a brother. it was consequently the duty of the king of naples as well as his interest not to separate his cause from that of france; for if the emperor fell, how could the kings of his own family, whom he had made, hope to stand? both king joseph and jerome had well understood this, and also the brave and loyal prince eugene, who supported courageously in italy the cause of his adopted father. if the king of naples had united with him they could together have marched on vienna, and this audacious but at the same time perfectly practicable movement would have infallibly saved france. these are some of the reflections i heard the emperor make in speaking of the treachery of the king of naples, though in the first moments, however, he did not reason so calmly. his anger was extreme, and with it was mingled grief and emotions near akin to pity: "murat!" cried he, "murat betray me! murat sell himself to the english! the poor creature! he imagines that if the allies succeed in overthrowing me they would leave him the throne on which i have seated him. poor fool! the worst fate that can befall him is that his treachery should succeed; for he would have less pity to expect from his new allies than from me." the evening before his departure for the army, the emperor received the corps of officers of the national parisian guard, and the reception was held in the great hall of the tuileries. this ceremony was sad and imposing. his majesty presented himself before the assembly with her majesty the empress, who held by the hand the king of rome, aged three years lacking two months. although his speech on this occasion is doubtless already well known, i repeat it here, as i do not wish that these beautiful and solemn words of my former master should be wanting in my memoirs: "gentlemen, officers of the national guard,--it is with much pleasure i see you assembled around me. i leave to-night to place myself at the head of the army. on leaving the capital i place with confidence in your care my wife and my son on whom rests so many hopes. i owe you this proof of my confidence, in return for all the innumerable proofs you have repeatedly given me in the important events of my life. i shall depart with my mind free from anxiety, since they will be under your faithful protection. i leave with you what is dearest to me in the world, next to france, and i freely commit it to your care. "it may occur that in consequence of the maneuvers i am about to make, the enemy may find the opportunity of approaching your walls. if this should take place, remember that it will be an affair of only a few days, and i will soon come to your assistance. i recommend to you to preserve unity among yourselves, and to resist all the insinuations by which efforts will be made to divide you. there will not be wanting endeavors to shake your fidelity to duty, but i rely upon you to repel these perfidious attempts." at the end of this discourse, the emperor bent his looks on the empress and the king of rome, whom his august mother held in her arms, and presenting both by his looks and gestures to the assembly this child whose expressive countenance seemed to reflect the solemnity of the occasion, he added in an agitated voice, "i confide him to you, messieurs; i confide him to the love of my faithful city of paris!" at these words of his majesty innumerable shouts were heard, and innumerable arms were raised swearing to defend this priceless trust. the empress, bathed in tears and pale with the emotion by which she was agitated, would have fallen if the emperor had not supported her in his arms. at this sight the enthusiasm reached its height, tears flowed from all eyes, and there was not one present who did not seem willing as he retired to shed his blood for the imperial family. on this occasion i again saw for the first time m. de bourrienne at the palace; he wore, if i am not mistaken, the uniform of captain in the national guard. on the 25th of january the emperor set out for the army, after conferring the regency on her majesty the empress; and that night we reached chalons-sur-marne. his arrival stopped the progress of the enemy's army and the retreat of our troops. two days after he, in his turn, attacked the allies at saint-dizier. his majesty's entrance into this town was marked by most touching manifestations of enthusiasm and devotion. the very moment the emperor alighted, a former colonel, m. bouland, an old man more than seventy years old, threw himself at his majesty's feet, expressing to him the deep grief which the sight of foreign bayonets had caused him, and his confidence that the emperor would drive them from the soil of france. his majesty assisted the old veteran to rise, and said to him cheerfully that he would spare nothing to accomplish such a favorable prediction. the allies conducted themselves in the most inhuman manner at saint-dizier: women and old men died or were made ill under the cruel treatment which they received; and it may be imagined what a cause of rejoicing his majesty's arrival was to the country. the enemy having been repulsed at saint-dizier, the emperor learned that the army of silesia was being concentrated on brienne, and immediately set out on the march through the forest of deo, the brave soldiers who followed him appearing as indefatigable as he. he halted at the village of eclaron, where his majesty paid a certain sum to the inhabitants to repair their church, which the enemy had destroyed. the surgeon of this town advanced to thank the emperor; and his majesty examining him attentively said to him, "you have served in the army, monsieur?"--"yes, sire; i was in the army of egypt."--"why have you no cross?"--"sire, because i have never asked for it."--"monsieur, you are only the more worthy of it. i hope you will wear the one i shall give you." and in a few moments his certificate was signed by the emperor, and handed to the new chevalier, whom the emperor recommended to give the most careful attention to the sick and wounded of our army who might be committed to his care. [it is known that the emperor was not lavish in the distribution of the cross of honor. of this fact i here give an additional proof. he was much pleased with the services of m. veyrat, inspector general of police, and he desired the cross. i presented petitions to this effect to his majesty, who said to me one day, "i am well satisfied with veyrat. he serves me well, and i will give him as much money as he wishes; but the cross, never!" --constant.] on entering mezieres his majesty was received by the authorities of the city, the clergy, and the national guard. "messieurs," said the emperor to the national guard who pressed around him, "we fight to day for our firesides; let us defend them in such a manner that the cossacks may not come to warm themselves beside them. they are bad guests, who will leave no place for you. let us show them that every frenchman is born a soldier, and a brave one!" his majesty on receiving the homage of the curate, perceiving that this ecclesiastic regarded him with extreme interest and agitation, consequently considered the good priest more attentively, and soon recognized in him one of the former regents of the college of brienne. "what! is it you, my dear master?" cried the emperor. "you have, then, never left your retirement! so much the better, since for that reason you will be only the better able to serve the cause of your native land. i need not ask if you know the country around here."--"sire," replied the curate, "i could find my way with my eyes shut."--"come with us, then; you will be our guide, and we will converse." the worthy priest immediately saddled his well-broken horse, and placed himself in the center of the imperial staff. the same day we arrived before brienne. the emperor's march had been so secret and so rapid that the prussians had heard nothing of it until he suddenly appeared before their eyes. a few general officers were made prisoners; and blucher himself, who was quietly coming out of the chateau, had only time to turn and fly as quickly as he could, under a shower of balls from our advance guard. the emperor thought for a moment that the prussian general had been taken, and exclaimed, "we have got that old swash-buckler. now the campaign will not be long." the russians who were established in the village set it on fire, and an engagement took place in the midst of the flames. night arrived, but the combat still continued; and in the space of twelve hours the village was taken and retaken many times. the emperor was furious that blucher should have escaped. as he returned to headquarters, which had been established at mezieres, his majesty narrowly escaped being pierced through with the lance of a cossack; but before the emperor perceived the movement of the wretch, the brave colonel gourgaud, who was marching behind his majesty, shot the cossack dead with his pistol. the emperor had with him only fifteen thousand men, and they had waged an equal struggle with eighty thousand foreign soldiers. at the close of the combat the prussians retreated to bar-sur-aube; and his majesty established himself in the chateau of brienne, where he passed two nights. i recalled during this stay the one that i had made ten years before in this same chateau of brienne, when the emperor was on his way to milan with the intention of adding the title of king of italy to that of emperor of the french. "to-day," i said to myself, "not only is italy lost to him, but here in the center of the french empire, and a few leagues from his capital, the emperor is defending himself against innumerable enemies!" the first time i saw brienne, the emperor was received as a sovereign by a noble family who fifteen years before had welcomed him as a protege. he had there revived the happiest remembrances of his childhood and youth; and in comparing himself in 1805 with what he had been at the ecole militaire had spoken with pride of the path he had trod. in 1814, on the 31st of january, the end to which this path was tending began to be seen. it is not that i wish to announce myself as having foreseen the emperor's fall, for i did not go so far as that. accustomed to see him trust to his star, the greater part of those who surrounded him trusted it no less than he; but nevertheless we could not conceal from ourselves that great changes had taken place. to delude ourselves in this respect it would have been necessary to close our eyes that we might neither see nor hear this multitude of foreigners, whom we had until now seen only in their own country, and who, in their turn, were now in our midst. at each step, in fact, we found terrible proofs of the enemy's presence. after taking possession of the towns and villages, they had arrested the inhabitants, maltreated them with saber-strokes and the butt ends of their guns, stripping them of their clothing, and compelling those to follow them whom they thought capable of serving as guides on their march; and if they were not guided as they expected they killed with the sword or shot their unfortunate prisoners. everywhere the inhabitants were made to furnish provisions, drink, cattle, forage, in a word, everything that could be useful to an army making enormous requisitions; and when they had exhausted all the resources of their victims, they finished their work of destruction by pillage and burning. the prussians, and above all the cossacks, were remarkable for their brutal ferocity. sometimes these hideous savages entered the houses by main force, shared among themselves everything that fell into their hands, loaded their horses with the plunder, and broke to pieces what they could not carry away. sometimes, not finding sufficient to satisfy their greed, they broke down the doors and windows, demolished the ceiling in order to tear out the beams, and made of these pieces and the furniture, which was too heavy to be carried away, a fire, which being communicated to the roofs of neighboring houses consumed in a moment the dwellings of the unhappy inhabitants, and forced them to take refuge in the woods. sometimes the more wealthy inhabitants gave them what they demanded, especially brandy, of which they drank eagerly, thinking by this compliance to escape their ferocity; but these barbarians, heated by drink, then carried their excesses to the last degree. they seized girls, women, and servants, and beat them unmercifully, in order to compel them to drink brandy until they fell in a complete state of intoxication. many women and young girls had courage and strength to defend themselves against these brigands; but they united three or four against one, and often to avenge themselves for the resistance of these poor creatures mutilated and slew them, after having first violated them, or threw them into the midst of the bivouac fires. farms were burned up, and families recently opulent or in comfortable circumstances were reduced in an instant to despair and poverty. husbands and old men were slain with the sword while attempting to defend the honor of their wives and daughters; and when poor mothers attempted to approach the fires to warm the children at their breasts, they were burned or killed by the explosion of packages of cartridges, which the cossacks threw intentionally into the fire; and the cries of pain and agony were stifled by the bursts of laughter from these monsters. i should never end if i attempted to relate all the atrocities committed by these foreign hordes. it was the custom at the time of the restoration to say that the complaints and narrations of those who were exposed to these excesses were exaggerated by fear or hatred. i have even heard very dignified persons jest pleasantly over the pretty ways of the cossacks. but these wits always kept themselves at a distance from the theater of war, and had the good fortune to inhabit departments which suffered neither from the first nor second invasion. i would not advise them to address their pleasantries to the unfortunate inhabitants of champagne, or of the departments of the east in general. it has been maintained also that the allied sovereigns and the general officers of the russian and prussian army severely forbade all violence in their regular troops, and that the atrocities were committed by undisciplined and ungovernable bands of cossacks. i have been in a position to learn, on many occasions, especially at troves, proofs to the contrary. this town has not forgotten, doubtless, how the princes of wurtemberg and hohenlohe and the emperor alexander himself justified the burnings, pillage, violations, and numerous assassinations committed under their very eyes, not only by the cossacks, but also by regularly enlisted and disciplined soldiers. no measures were taken by the sovereigns or by their generals to put an end to such atrocities, and nevertheless when they left a town there was needed only an order from them to remove at once the hordes of cossacks who devastated the country. the field of the la rothiere was, as i have said, the rendezvous of the pupils of the military school of brienne. it was there that the emperor, when a child, had foreshadowed in his engagement with the scholars his gigantic combats. the engagement at la rothiere was hotly contested; and the enemy obtained, only at the price of much blood, an advantage which they owed entirely to their numerical superiority. in the night which followed this unequal struggle, the emperor ordered the retreat from troves. on returning to the chateau after the battle, his majesty narrowly escaped an imminent danger. he found himself surrounded by a troop of uhlans, and drew his sword to defend himself. m. jardin, junior, his equerry, who followed the emperor closely, received a ball in his arm. several chasseurs of the escort were wounded, but they at last succeeded in extricating his majesty. i can assert that his majesty showed the greatest self-possession in all encounters of this kind. on that day, as i unbuckled his sword-belt, he drew it half out of the scabbard, saying, "do you know, constant, the wretches have made me cut the wind with this? the rascals are too impudent. it is necessary to teach them a lesson, that they may learn to hold themselves at a respectful distance." it is not my intention to write the history of this campaign in france, in which the emperor displayed an activity and energy which excited to the highest point the admiration of those who surrounded him. unfortunately, the advantages which he had obtained gradually exhausted his own troops, while only creating losses in the enemy's, which they easily repaired. it was, as m. bourrienne has well said, a combat of an alpine eagle with a flock of ravens: "the eagle may kill them by hundreds. each blow of his beak is the death of an enemy; but the ravens return in still greater numbers, and continue their attack on the eagle until they at last overcome him." at champ-aubert, at montmirail, at nangis, at montereau, and at arcis, and in twenty other engagements, the emperor obtained the advantage by his genius and by the courage of our army; but it was all in vain. hardly had these masses of the enemy been scattered, before fresh ones were formed again in front of our soldiers, exhausted by continuous battles and forced marches. the army, especially that which blucher commanded, seemed to revive of itself, and whenever beaten reappeared with forces equal, if not superior, to those which had been destroyed or dispersed. how can such an immense superiority of numbers be indefinitely resisted? chapter xxiii. the emperor had never shown himself so worthy of admiration as during this fatal campaign in france, when, struggling against misfortunes, he performed over again the prodigies of his first wars in italy, when fortune smiled on him. his career had begun with an attack, and the end was marked by the most magnificent defense recorded in the annals of war. and it may be said with truth that at all times and everywhere his majesty showed himself both the perfect general and the soldier, under all circumstances furnishing an example of personal courage to such an extent, indeed, that all those who surrounded him, and whose existence was dependent on his own, were seriously alarmed. for instance, as is well known, the emperor, at the battle of montereau, pointed the pieces of artillery himself, recklessly exposed himself to the enemy's fire, and said to his soldiers, who were much alarmed at his danger and attempted to remove him, "let me alone, my friends; the bullet which is to kill me has not yet been molded." at arcis the emperor again fought as a common soldier, and more than once drew his sword in order to cut his way through the midst of the enemy who surrounded him. a shell fell a few steps from his horse. the animal, frightened, jumped to one side, and nearly unhorsed the emperor, who, with his field-glass in his hand, was at the moment occupied in examining the battlefield. his majesty settled himself again firmly in his saddle, stuck his spurs in the horse's sides, forced him to approach and put his nose to it. just then the shell burst, and, by an almost incredible chance, neither the emperor nor his horse was even wounded. in more than one similar circumstance the emperor seemed, during this campaign, to put his life at a venture; and yet it was only in the last extremity that he abandoned the hope of preserving his throne. it was a painful sacrifice to him to treat with the enemy so long as they occupied french territory; for he wished to purge the soil of france of the presence of foreigners before entering into any agreement with them whatever. and this feeling was the reason of his hesitation and refusal to accept the peace which was offered him on various occasions. on the 8th of february, the emperor, at the end of a long discussion with two or three of his intimate advisers, retired very late, and in a state of extreme preoccupation. he woke me often during the night, complaining of being unable to sleep, and made me extinguish and relight his lamp again and again. about five o'clock in the morning i was called again. i was almost fainting with fatigue, which his majesty noticed, and said to me kindly, "you are worn out, my poor constant; we are making a severe campaign, are we not? but hold out only a little longer; you will soon rest." encouraged by the sympathizing tones of his majesty, i took the liberty of replying that no one could think of complaining of the fatigue or privations he endured, since they were shared by his majesty; but that, nevertheless, the desire and hope of every one were for peace. "ah, yes," replied the emperor, with a kind of subdued violence, "they will have peace; they will realize what a dishonorable peace is!" i kept silence; his majesty's chagrin distressed me deeply; and i wished at this moment that his army could have been composed of men of iron like himself, then he would have made peace only on the frontiers of france. the tone of kindness and familiarity in which the emperor spoke to me on this occasion recalls another circumstance which i neglected to relate in its proper place, and which i must not pass over in silence, since it furnishes such a fine example of his majesty's conduct towards the persons of his service, and especially myself. roustan witnessed the occurrence, and it was from him i learned the opening details. in one of his campaigns beyond the rhine (i do not remember which), i had passed several nights in succession without sleep, and was exhausted. the emperor went out at eleven o'clock, and remained three or four hours; and i seated myself in his armchair, near his table, to await his return, intending to rise and retire as soon as i heard him enter, but was so exhausted with fatigue that sleep suddenly overtook me, and i dropped into a deep slumber, my head resting on my arm, and my arm on his majesty's table. the emperor returned at last with marshal berthier, and followed by roustan. i heard nothing. the prince de neuchatel wished to approach and shake me that i might awake and resign to his majesty his seat and table; but the emperor stopped him, saying, "let the poor fellow sleep; he has passed many nights with none." then, as there was no other chair in the apartment, the emperor seated himself on the edge of the bed, made the marshal also seat himself there, and they held a long conversation while i continued to sleep. at length, needing one of the maps from the table on which my arm rested, his majesty, although he drew it out most cautiously, awoke me; and i immediately sprang to my feet, overwhelmed with confusion, and excusing myself for the liberty i had so involuntarily taken. "monsieur constant," the emperor then said with an exceedingly kind smile, "i am distressed to have disturbed you. pray, excuse me." i trust that this, in addition to what i have already related of the same nature, may serve as an answer to those who have accused him of harshness to his servants. i resume my recital of the events of 1814. on the night of the 8th the emperor seemed to have decided on making peace; and the whole night was spent in preparing dispatches, which on the morning of the 9th at nine o'clock were brought to him to sign; but he had changed his mind. at seven o'clock he had received news from the russian and prussian army; and when the duke of bassano entered, holding in his hand the dispatches to be signed, his majesty was asleep over the maps where he had stuck his pens. "ah, it is you," said he to his minister; "we will no longer need those. we are now laying plans to attack blucher; he has taken the road from montmirail. i am about to start. to-morrow i will fight, and again the next day. the aspect of affairs is on the point of changing, as we shall see. let us not be precipitate; there is time enough to make such a peace as they propose." an hour after we were on the road to sezanne. for several days in succession after this, the heroic efforts of the emperor and his brave soldiers were crowned with brilliant success. immediately on their arrival at champ-aubert, the army, finding itself in presence of the russian army corps, against which they had already fought at brienne, fell on it without even waiting to take repose, separated it from the prussian army, and took the general-in-chief and several general officers prisoners. his majesty, whose conduct towards his conquered foes was always honorable and generous, made them dine at his table, and treated them with the greatest consideration. the enemy were again beaten at the farm des frenaux by marshals ney and mortier, and by the duke of ragusa at vaux-champs, where blucher again narrowly escaped being made prisoner. at nangis the emperor dispersed one hundred and fifty thousand men commanded by the prince von schwarzenberg, and ordered in pursuit of them marshals oudinot, kellermann, macdonald, and generals treilhard and gerard. the eve of the battle of wry, the emperor inspected all the surroundings of this little town; and his observing glasses rested on an immense extent of marshy ground in the midst of which is the village of bagneux, and at a short distance the village of anglure, past which the aube flows. after rapidly passing over the unsafe ground of these dangerous marshes, he set foot on solid ground, and seated himself on a bundle of reeds, and there, leaning against the wall of a night-hunter's hut, he unrolled his map of the campaign; and, after examining it a few moments, remounted his horse and set off at a gallop. at this moment a flock of teal and snipe flew up before his majesty; and he exclaimed laughingly: "go, go, my beauties; make room for other game." his majesty said to those around him, "this time we have them!" the emperor was galloping towards anglure, in order to see if the hill of baudemont, which is near this village, was occupied by the artillery, when the noise of cannon heard in the direction of wry compelled him to retrace his steps; and he accordingly returned to wry, saying to the officers who accompanied him, "let us gallop, gentlemen, our enemies are in a hurry; we should not keep them waiting." a half hour after he was on the battlefield. enormous clouds of smoke from the burning of wry were driven in the faces of the russian and prussian columns, and partly hid the maneuvers of the french army. at that moment everything indicated the success of the plans the emperor had formed that morning in the marshes of bagneux, for all went well. his majesty foresaw the defeat of the allies, and france saved, while at anglure all were given up to despair. the population of many villages shuddered at the approach of the enemy; for not a piece of cannon was there to cut off their retreat, not a soldier to prevent them from crossing the river. the position of the allies was so exceedingly critical that the whole french army believed them destroyed, as they had plunged with all their artillery into the marshes, and would have been mowed down by the shower of balls from our cannon if they had remained there. but suddenly they were seen to make a new effort, place themselves in line of battle, and prepare to pass the aube. the emperor, who could pursue them no farther without exposing his army to the danger of being swallowed up in the marshes, arrested the impetuosity of his soldiers, believing that the heights of baudemont were covered with artillery ready to overwhelm the enemy; but hearing not a single shot in this direction, he hurried to sezanne to hasten the advance of the troops, only to learn that those he expected to find there had been sent toward fere champenoise. during this interval, a man named ansart, a land owner at anglure, mounted his horse, and hurried at the utmost speed to sezanne in order to inform the marshal that the enemy were pursued by the emperor, and about to cross the aube. having reached the duke, and seeing that the corps he commanded was not taking the road to anglure, he hastened to speak. apparently the emperor's, orders had not been received; for the marshal would not listen to him, treated him as a spy, and it was with much difficulty this brave man escaped being shot. while this scene was taking place, his majesty had already reached sezanne; and seeing many inhabitants of this village around him, he requested some one to guide him to fere champenoise, whereupon a bailiff presented himself. the emperor immediately set out, escorted by the officers who had accompanied him to sezanne, and left the town, saying to his guide, "go in front, monsieur, and take the shortest road." arrived at a short distance from the battlefield of fere champenoise, his majesty saw that every report of the artillery made the poor bailiff start. "you are afraid," said the emperor to him. "no, sire."--"then, what makes you dodge your head?"--"it is because i am not accustomed like your majesty to hearing all this uproar."--"one should accustom himself to everything. fear nothing; keep on." but the guide, more dead than alive, reined in his horse, and trembled in every limb. "come, come; i see you are really afraid. go behind me." he obeyed, turned his horse's head, and galloped as far as sezanne without stopping, promising himself most faithfully never again to serve as guide to the emperor on such an occasion. at the battle of mery, the emperor, under the very fire of the enemy, had a little bridge thrown over the river which flows near the town. this bridge was constructed in an hour by means of ladders fastened together, and supported by wooden beams; but as this was not sufficient, it was necessary that planks should be placed on this. none could be found, however; for those who might have been able to procure them did not dare to approach the exposed spot his majesty occupied at this moment. impatient, and even angry, because he could not obtain the planks for this bridge, his majesty had the shutters of several large houses a short distance from the river taken down, and had them placed and nailed down under his own eyes. during this work he was tormented by intense thirst, and was about to dip water up in his hand to slake it, when a young girl, who had braved danger in order to draw near the emperor, ran to a neighboring house, and brought him a glass of water and some wine, which he eagerly drank. astonished to see this young girl in so perilous a place, the emperor said to her, smiling, "you would make a brave soldier, mademoiselle; and if you are willing to wear epaulets you shall be one of my aides-de-camp." the young girl blushed, and made a courtesy to the emperor, and was going away, when he held out his hand to her, and she kissed it. "later," he said, "come to paris, and remind me of the service you have rendered me to-day. you will be satisfied of my gratitude." she thanked the emperor and withdrew, very proud of his words of commendation. the day of the battle of nangis an austrian officer came in the evening to headquarters, and had a long, secret conference with his majesty. forty-eight hours after, at the close of the engagement at mery, appeared a new envoy from the prince von schwarzenberg, with a reply from the emperor of austria to the confidential letter which his majesty had written two days before to his father-in-law. we had left mery in flames; and in the little hammock of chatres, where headquarters had been established, there could no shelter be found for his majesty except in the shop of a wheelwright; and the emperor passed the night there, working, or lying on the bed all dressed, without sleeping. it was there also he received the austrian envoy, the prince of lichtenstein. the prince long remained in conversation with his majesty; and though nothing was known of the subject of their conversation, no one doubted that it related to peace. after the departure of the prince, the emperor was in extraordinarily high spirits, which affected all those around him. our army had taken from the enemy thousands of prisoners; paris had just received the russian and prussian banners taken at nangis and montereau; the emperor had put to flight the foreign sovereigns, who even feared for a time that they might not be able to regain the frontiers; and the effect of so much success had been to restore to his majesty his former confidence in his good fortune, though this was unfortunately only a dangerous illusion. the prince of lichtenstein had hardly left headquarters when m. de saint-aignan, the brother-in-law of the duke of vicenza, and equerry of the emperor, arrived. m. de saint-aignan went, i think, to his brother-in-law, who was at the congress of chatillon, or at least had been; for the sessions of this congress had been suspended for several days. it seems that before leaving paris m. de saint-aignan held an interview with the duke of rovigo and another, minister, and they had given him a verbal message to the emperor. this mission was both delicate and difficult. he would have much preferred that these gentlemen should have sent in writing the communications which they insisted he should bear to his majesty, but they refused; and as a faithful servant m. de saint-aignan performed his duty, and prepared to speak the whole truth, whatever danger he might incur by so doing. when he arrived at the wheelwright's shop at chatres, the emperor, as we have just seen, was abandoning himself to most brilliant dreams; which circumstance was most unfortunate for m. de saint-aignan, since he was the bearer of disagreeable news. he came, as we have learned since, to announce to his majesty that he should not count upon the public mind at the capital, since they were murmuring at the prolongation of the war, and desired that the emperor should seize the occasion of making peace. it has even been stated that the word disaffection was uttered during this secret conference by the sincere and truthful lips of m. de saint-aignan. i cannot assert that this is true; for the door was closely shut, and m. de saint-aignan spoke in a low tone. it is certain, however, that his report and his candor excited his majesty's anger to the highest degree; and in dismissing him with an abruptness he had certainly not merited, the emperor raised his voice to such a pitch as to be heard outside. when m. de saint-aignan withdrew, and his majesty summoned me to my duties near him, i found him much agitated, and pale with anger. a few hours after this scene the emperor ordered his horse, and m. de saint-aignan, who had resumed his duties as equerry, approached to hold his stirrup; but as soon as the emperor perceived him he threw on him an angry glance, made him a sign to withdraw, exclaiming loudly, "mesgrigny!" this was baron de mesgrigny, another of his majesty's squires. in compliance with his majesty's wishes, m. de mesgrigny performed the duties of m. de saint-aignan, who withdrew to the rear of the army to wait till the storm should be past. at the end of a few days his disgrace was ended, and all who knew him rejoiced; for the baron de saint-aignan was beloved by all for his affability and loyalty. from chatres the emperor marched on troyes. the enemy who occupied this town seemed at first disposed to defend themselves there, but soon yielded, and evacuated it at the close of a capitulation. during the short time the, allies passed at troyes, the royalists had publicly announced their hatred to the emperor, and their adherence to the allied powers, who came, they said, only to establish the bourbons on the throne, and even had the imprudence to display the white flag and white cockade; and the foreign troops had consequently protected them, while exercising extreme harshness and severity towards those inhabitants who held contrary opinions. unfortunately for the royalists they were in a very feeble minority, and the favor shown to them by the russians and prussians led the populace oppressed by the latter to hate the proteges as much as their protectors. even before the entrance of the emperor into troyes, royalist proclamations addressed to the officers of his household or the army had fallen into his hands. he had showed no anger, but had urged those who had received, or who might receive, communications of this nature, to destroy them, and to inform no one of the contents. on his arrival at troyes his majesty rendered a decree proclaiming penalty of death against all frenchmen in the service of the enemy, and those who wore the emblems and decorations of the ancient dynasty. an unfortunate emigre, accused before a council of war, was convicted of having worn the cross of st. louis and the white cockade during the stay of the allies at troyes, and of having furnished to the foreign generals all the information in his power. the council pronounced sentence of death, for the proofs were positive, and the law not less so; and chevalier gonault fell a victim to his ill-judged devotion to a cause which was still far from appearing national, especially in the departments occupied by the allied armies, and was executed according to military usage. chapter xxiv. after the brilliant successes obtained by the emperor in such a short time, and with forces so exceedingly inferior to the great masses of the enemy, his majesty, realizing the necessity of allowing his troops to take a rest of some days at troyes, entered into negotiations for an armistice with the prince von schwarzenberg. at this juncture it was announced to the emperor that general blucher, who had been wounded at mery, was descending along both banks of the maine, at the head of an army of fresh troops, estimated at not less than one hundred thousand men, and that he was marching on meaux. the prince von schwarzenberg, having been informed of this movement of blucher's, immediately cut short the negotiations, and assumed the offensive at bar-sur-seine. the emperor, whose genius followed by a single glance all the marches and, operations of the enemy, though he could not be everywhere at once, resolved to confront blucher in person, while by means of a stratagem he made it appear that he was present opposite schwarzenberg; and two army corps, commanded, one by marshal oudinot, the other by marshal macdonald, were then sent to meet the austrians. as soon as the troops approached the enemy's camp they made the air resound with the shouts of confidence and cheers with which they usually announced the presence of his majesty, though at this very moment he was repairing in all haste to meet general blucher. we halted at the little village of herbisse, where we passed the night in the manse; and the curate, seeing the emperor arrive with his marshals, aides-de-camp, ordnance officers, service of honor, and the other services, almost lost his wits. his majesty on alighting said to him, "monsieur le cure, we come to ask your hospitality for a night. do not be frightened by this visit; we shall disturb you as little as possible." the emperor, conducted by the good curate, beside himself with eagerness and embarrassment, established himself in the only apartment the house contained, which served at the same time as kitchen, diningroom, bedroom, cabinet, and reception-room. in an instant his majesty had his maps and papers spread out before him, and prepared himself for work with as much ease as in his cabinet at the tuileries. but the persons of his suite needed somewhat more time to install themselves, for it was no easy thing for so many persons to find a place in a bakehouse which, with the room occupied by his majesty, composed the entire manse of herbisse; but these gentlemen, although there were among them more than one dignitary and prince of the empire, were uncomplaining, and readily disposed to accommodate themselves to circumstances. the gay good humor of these gallant soldiers, in spite of all the combats they had to sustain each day, while events every instant took a more alarming turn, was most noteworthy, and depicts well the french character. the youngest officers formed a circle around the curate's niece, who sang to them the songs of the country. the good curate, in the midst of continual comings and goings, and the efforts he made to play worthily his role of master of the mansion, found himself attacked on his own territory, that is to say, on his breviary, by marshal lefebvre, who had studied in his youth to be a priest, and said that he had preserved nothing from his first vocation except the shaven head, because it was so easy to comb. the worthy marshal intermingled his latin quotations with those military expressions he so freely used, causing those present to indulge in bursts of laughter, in which even the curate himself joined, and said, "monseigneur, if you had continued your studies for the priesthood you would have become a cardinal at least."--"very likely," observed one of the officers; "and if the abbe maury had been a sergeant-major in '89, he might to-day be marshal of france."--"or dead," added the duke of dantzic, using a much more energetic expression; "and so much the better for him, since in that case he would not see the cossacks twenty leagues from paris."--"oh, bah! monseigneur, we will drive them away," said the same officer. "yes," the marshal muttered between his clinched teeth; "we shall see what we shall see." at this moment the mule arrived bearing the sutler's supplies, which had been long and impatiently expected. there was no table; but one was made of a door placed on casks, and seats were improvised with planks. the chief officers seated themselves, and the others ate standing. the curate took his place at this military table on which he had himself placed his best bottles of wine, and with his native bonhomie continued to entertain the guests. at length the conversation turned on herbisse and its surroundings, and the host was overcome with astonishment on finding that his guests knew the country so thoroughly. "ah, i have it!" exclaimed he, considering them attentively one after the other; "you are champenois!" and in order to complete his surprise these gentlemen drew from their pockets plans on which they made him read the names of the very smallest localities. then his astonishment only changed its object, for he had never dreamed that military science required such exact study. "what labor!" replied the good curate, "what pains! and all this in order the better to shoot cannon-balls at each other!" the supper over, the next thought was the arrangements for sleeping; and for this purpose we found in the neighboring barns a shelter and some straw. there remained outside, and near the door of the room occupied by the emperor, only the officers on duty, roustan and myself, each of whom had a bundle of straw for his bed. our worthy host, having given up his bed to his majesty, remained with us, and rested like us from the fatigues of the day, and was still sleeping soundly when the staff left the manse; for the emperor arose, and set off at break of day. the curate when he awoke expressed the deepest chagrin that he had not been able to make his adieux to his majesty. a purse was handed him containing the sum the emperor was accustomed to leave private individuals of limited means at whose residences he halted as indemnity for their expense and trouble; and we resumed our march in the steps of the emperor, who hastened to meet the prussians. the emperor wished to reach soissons before the allies; but although they had been obliged to traverse roads which were practically impassable, they had arrived before our troops, and as he entered la ferte his majesty saw them retiring to soissons. the emperor was rejoiced at this sight. soissons was defended by a formidable garrison, and could delay the enemy, while marshals marmont and mortier and his majesty in person attacked blucher in the rear and on both flanks, and would have inclosed him as in a net. but this time again the enemy escaped from the snare the emperor had laid for him at the very moment he thought he had seized him, for blucher had hardly presented himself in front of soissons before the gates were opened. general moreau, commandant of the place, had already surrendered the town to billow, and thus assured to the allies the passage of the aisne. on receiving this depressing news the emperor exclaimed, "the name of moreau has always been fatal to me!" meanwhile his majesty, continuing his pursuit of the prussians, was occupied in delaying the passage of the aisne. on the 5th of march he sent general nansouty in advance, who with his cavalry took the bridge, drove the enemy back as far as corbeny, and made a russian colonel prisoner. after passing the night at bery-au-bac, the emperor was marching towards laon when it was announced to him that the enemy was coming to meet us; these were not prussians, but an army corps of russians commanded by sacken. on advancing farther, we found the russians established on the heights of craonne, and covering the road to laon in what appeared to be an impregnable position; but nevertheless the advance guard of our army, commanded by marshal ney, rushed forward and succeeded in taking craonne. that was enough glory for this time, and both sides then passed the night preparing for the battle of next day. the emperor spent it at the village of corbeny, but without sleeping, as inhabitants of the neighboring villages arrived at all hours to give information as to the position of the enemy and the geography of the country. his majesty questioned them himself, praised them or recompensed their zeal, and profited by their information and services. thus, having recognized in the mayor of one of the communes in the suburbs of craonne one of his former comrades in the regiment of la fere, he placed him in the number of his aides-de-camp, and arranged that he should serve as guide through this country, which no one knew better than he. m. de bussy (that was the officer's name) had left france during the reign of terror, and on his return had not re-entered the army, but lived in retirement on his estates. the emperor met again this same night one of his old companions in arms in the regiment of la fere, an alsatian named wolff, who had been a sergeant of artillery in the regiment in which the emperor and m. de bussy had been his superior officers. he came from strasburg, and testified to the good disposition of the inhabitants through the whole extent of the country he had traversed. the dismay caused in the allied armies by the first attacks of the emperor made itself felt even to the frontiers; and on each road the peasants rose, armed themselves, and cut off the retreat, and killed many, of the enemy. corps of the emperor's adherents were formed in the vosges, with officers of well-proved bravery at their head, who were accustomed to this species of warfare. the garrisons of the cities and fortified places of the east were full of courage and resolution; and it would have well suited the wishes of the population of this part of the empire had france become, according to the wish expressed by the emperor, the tomb of the foreign armies. the brave wolff, after having given this information to the emperor, repeated it before many other persons, myself among the number. he took only a few hours' repose, and set out again immediately; but the emperor did not dismiss him until he had been decorated with the cross of honor, as the reward of his devotion. the battle of craonne commenced, or i should say recommenced, on the 7th at break of day, the infantry commanded by the prince of moskwa--[marshall ney] and the duke of belluno, who was wounded on this day. generals grouchy and nansouty, the first commanding the cavalry of the army, the second at the head of the cavalry of the guard, also received severe wounds. the difficulty was not so much to take the heights, as to hold them when taken. meanwhile the french artillery, directed by the modest and skillful general drouot, forced the enemy's artillery to yield their ground foot by foot. this was a terribly bloody struggle; for the sides of the heights were too steep to allow of attacking the russians on the flank, and the retreat was consequently slow and murderous. they fell back at length, however, and abandoned the field of battle to our troops, who pursued them as far as the inn of the guardian angel, situated on the highroad from soissons to laon, when they wheeled about, and held their position in this spot for several hours. the emperor, who in this battle as in every other of this campaign, had exposed his person and incurred as many dangers as the most daring soldiers, now transferred his headquarters to the village of bray. as soon as he entered the room which served as his cabinet, he had me summoned, and i pulled off his boots, while he leaned on my shoulder without uttering a word, threw his hat and sword on the table, and threw himself on his bed, uttering a deep sigh, or rather one of those exclamations which we cannot tell whether they arise from discouragement or simply from fatigue. his majesty's countenance was sad and careworn, nevertheless he slept from sheer weariness for many hours. i awoke him to announce the arrival of m. de rumigny, who was the bearer of dispatches from chatillon. in the condition of the emperor's mind at this moment he seemed ready to accept any reasonable conditions which might be offered him; therefore i admit i hoped (in which many joined me) that we were approaching the moment when we should obtain the peace which we so ardently desired. the emperor received m. de rumigny without witnesses, and the interview lasted a long while. nothing transpired of what had been said, and it occurred to me that this mystery argued nothing good. the next day early m. de rumigny returned to chatillon, where the duke of vicenza awaited him; and from the few words his majesty uttered as he mounted his horse to return to his advance posts, it was easy to see that he had not yet resigned himself to the idea of making a peace which he regarded as dishonorable. while the duke of vicenza was at chatillon or lusigny for the purpose of treating for a peace, the orders of the emperor delayed or hastened the conclusion of the treaty according to his successes or repulses. on the appearance of a ray of hope he demanded more than they were willing to grant, imitating in this respect the example which the allied sovereigns had set him, whose requirements since the armistice of dresden increased in proportion as they advanced towards france. at last everything was finally broken off, and the duke of vicenza rejoined his majesty at saint-dizier. i was in a small room so near his sleeping-room that i could not avoid hearing their conversation. the duke of vicenza earnestly besought the emperor to accede to the proposed conditions, saying that they were reasonable now, but later would no longer be so. as the duke of vicenza still returned to the charge, arguing against the emperor's postponing his positive decision, his majesty burst out vehemently, "you are a russian, caulaincourt!"--"no, sire," replied the duke with spirit, "no; i am a frenchman! i think that i have proved this by urging your majesty to make peace." the discussion thus continued with much warmth in terms which unfortunately i cannot recall. but i remember well that every time the duke of vicenza insisted and endeavored to make his majesty appreciate the reasons on account of which peace had become indispensable, the emperor replied, "if i gain a battle, as i am sure of doing, i will be in a situation to exact the most favorable conditions. the grave of the russians is under the walls of paris! my measures are all taken, and victory cannot fail." after this conversation, which lasted more than an hour, and in which the duke of vicenza was entirely unsuccessful, he left his majesty's room, and rapidly crossed the saloon where i was; and i remarked as he passed that his countenance showed marks of agitation, and that, overcome by his deep emotion, great tears rolled from his eyes. doubtless he was deeply wounded by what the emperor had said to him of his partiality for russia; and whatever may have been the cause, from that day i never saw the duke of vicenza except at fontainebleau. the emperor, meanwhile, marched with the advance guard, and wished to reach laon on the evening of the 8th; but in order to gain this town it was necessary to pass on a narrow causeway through marshy land. the enemy was in possession of this road, and opposed our passage. after a few cannon-shots were exchanged his majesty deferred till next day the attempt to force a passage, and returned, not to sleep (for at this critical time he rarely slept), but to pass the night in the village of chavignon. in the middle of this night general flahaut [count auguste charles joseph flahaut de la billarderie, born in paris, 1785; colonel in 1809; aide-de-camp to the emperor, 1812; and made a general of division for conduct at leipzig; was at waterloo. ambassador to vienna, 1841-1848, and senator, 1853; died 1870. he was one of the lovers of queen hortense, and father by her of the late duc de morny.--trans.] came to announce to the emperor that the commissioners of the allied powers had broken the conferences at lusigny. the army was not informed of this, although the news would probably have surprised no one. before daylight general gourgaud set out at the head of a detachment selected from the bravest soldiers of the army, and following a cross road which turned to the left through the marshes, fell unexpectedly on the enemy, slew many of them in the darkness, and drew the attention and efforts of the allied generals upon himself, while marshal ney, still at the head of the advance guard, profited by this bold maneuver to force a passage of the causeway. the whole army hastened to follow this movement, and on the evening of the 9th was in sight of laon, and ranged in line of battle before the enemy who occupied the town and its heights. the army corps of the duke of ragusa had arrived by another road, and also formed in line of battle before the russian and prussian armies. his majesty passed the night expediting his orders, and preparing everything for the grand attack which was to take place next morning at daylight. the appointed hour having arrived, i had just finished in haste the toilet of the emperor, which was very short, and he had already put his foot in the stirrup, when we saw running towards us on foot, with the utmost speed and all out of breath, some cavalrymen belonging to the army corps of the duke of ragusa. his majesty had them brought before him, and inquired angrily the meaning of this disorder. they replied that their bivouacs had been attacked unexpectedly by the enemy; that they and their comrades had resisted to the utmost these overwhelming forces, although they had barely time to seize their arms; that they had at last been compelled to yield to numbers, and it was only by a miracle they had escaped the massacre. "yes," said the emperor knitting his brow, "by a miracle of agility, as we have just seen. what has become of the marshal?" one of the soldiers replied that he saw the duke of ragusa fall dead, another that he had been taken prisoner. his majesty sent his aide-de-camp and orderly officers to ascertain, and found that the report of the cavalrymen was only too true. the enemy had not waited to be attacked, but had fallen on the army corps of the duke of ragusa, surrounded it, and taken a part of his artillery. the marshal, however, had been neither wounded nor taken prisoner, but was on the road to rheims, endeavoring to arrest and bring back the remains of his army corps. the news of this disaster greatly increased his majesty's chagrin; but nevertheless the enemy was driven back to the gates of laon, though the recapture of the city was impossible. after a few fruitless attempts, or rather after some false attacks, the object of which was to conceal his retreat from the enemy, the emperor returned to chavignon and passed the night. the next day, the 11th, we left this village, and the army fell back to soissons. his majesty alighted at the bishopric, and immediately commanded marshal mortier, together with the principal officials of the place, to take measures to put the town in a state of defense. for two days the emperor shut himself up at work in his cabinet, and left it only to examine the locality, visit the fortifications, and everywhere give orders and see that they were executed. in the midst of these preparations for defense, his majesty learned that the town of rheims had been taken by the russian general, saint-priest, notwithstanding the vigorous resistance of general corbineau, of whose fate we were ignorant, but it was believed that he was dead or had fallen into the hands of the russians. his majesty confided the defense of soissons to the marshal duke of treviso, and himself set out for rheims by forced marches; and we arrived the same evening at the gates of the city, where the russians were not expecting his majesty. our soldiers entered this battle without having taken any repose, but fought with the resolution which the presence and example of the emperor never failed to inspire. the combat lasted the whole evening, and was prolonged far into the night; but after general saint-priest had been grievously wounded the resistance of his troops became less vigorous, and at two o'clock in the morning they abandoned the town. the emperor and his army entered by one gate while the russians were emerging from the other; and as the inhabitants pressed in crowds around his majesty, he inquired before alighting from his horse what havoc the enemy was supposed to have made. it was answered that the town had suffered only the amount of injury which was the inevitable result of a bloody nocturnal struggle, and that moreover the enemy had maintained severe discipline among the troops during their stay and up to the moment of retreat. among those who pressed around his majesty at this moment was the brave general corbineau. he wore a citizen's coat, and had remained disguised and concealed in a private house of the town. on the morning of the next day he again presented himself before the emperor, who welcomed him cordially, and complimented him on the courage he had displayed under such trying circumstances. the duke of ragusa had rejoined his majesty under the walls of rheims, and had contributed with his army corps to the capture of the town. when he appeared before the emperor, the latter burst out in harsh and severe reproaches regarding the affair at laon; but his anger was not of long duration, and his majesty soon resumed towards the marshal the tone of friendship with which he habitually honored him. they held a long conference, and the duke of ragusa remained to dine with the emperor. his majesty spent three days at rheims in order to give his troops time to rest and recuperate before continuing this arduous campaign. they were in sore need of this; for even old soldiers would have had great difficulty in enduring such continued forced marches, which often ended only in a bloody battle; nevertheless, the greater part of the brave men who obeyed with such unwearied ardor the emperor's orders, and who never refused to endure any fatigue or any danger, were conscripts who had been levied in haste, and fought against the most warlike and best disciplined troops in europe. the greater part had not had even sufficient time to learn the drill, and took their first lessons in the presence of the enemy, brave young fellows who sacrificed themselves without a murmur, and to whom the emperor once only did injustice,--in the circumstance which i have formerly related, and in which m. larrey played such a heroic part. it is a well-known fact that the wonderful campaign of 1814 was made almost entirely with conscripts newly levied. during the halt of three days which we made at rheims, the emperor saw with intense joy, which he openly manifested, the arrival of an army corps of six thousand men, whom the brave dutch general janssens brought to his aid. this re-enforcement of experienced troops could not have come more opportunely. while our soldiers were taking breath before recommencing a desperate struggle, his majesty was giving himself up to the most varied labors with his accustomed ardor. in the midst of the cares and dangers of war the emperor neglected none of the affairs of the empire, but worked for several hours each day with the duke of bassano, received couriers from paris, dictated his replies, and fatigued his secretaries almost as much as his generals and soldiers. as for himself, he was indefatigable as of yore. chapter xxv. affairs had reached a point where the great question of triumph or defeat could not long remain undecided. according to one of the habitual expressions of the emperor, the pear was ripe; but who was to gather it? the emperor while at rheims appeared to have no doubt that the result would be in his favor. by one of those bold combinations which astonish the world, and change in a single battle the face of affairs, although the enemy had approached the capital, his majesty being unable to prevent it, he nevertheless resolved to attack them in the rear, compel them to wheel about, and place themselves in opposition to the army which he commanded in person, and thus save paris from their invasion. with the intention of executing this bold combination the emperor left rheims. meanwhile, being anxious concerning his wife and son, the emperor, before attempting this great enterprise, wrote in the greatest secrecy to his brother, prince joseph, lieutenant-general of the empire, to have them conveyed to a place of safety in case the danger became imminent. i knew nothing of this order the day it was sent, as the emperor kept it a secret from every one; but when i learned afterwards that it was from rheims that this command had been addressed to prince joseph, i thought that i could without fear of being mistaken fix the date at march 15th. that evening, in fact, his majesty had talked to me as he retired of the empress and the king of rome; and as usual, whenever he had during the day been deeply impressed with any idea, it always recurred to him in the evening; and for that reason i conclude that this was the day on which his mind had been occupied with putting in a place of shelter from the dangers of the war the two objects of his most devoted affection. from rheims we directed our course to epernay, the garrison and inhabitants of which had just repulsed the enemy, who the evening before had attempted to capture it. there the emperor learned of the arrival at troyes of the emperor alexander and the king of prussia. his majesty, in order to testify to the inhabitants of epernay his satisfaction with their admirable conduct, rewarded them in the person of their mayor by giving him the cross of the legion of honor. this was m. moet, whose reputation has become almost as european as that of champagne wine. during this campaign, without being too lavish of the cross of honor, his majesty presented it on several occasions to those of the inhabitants who were foremost in resisting the enemy. thus, for example, i remember that before leaving rheims he gave one to a simple farmer of the village of selles whose name i have forgotten. this brave man, on learning that a detachment of prussians was approaching his commune, put himself at the head of the national guard, whom he encouraged both by word and example; and the result of his enterprise was forty-five prisoners, among them three officers, whom he brought into the town. how many deeds similar to this occurred which it is impossible to remember! however all that may be, the emperor on leaving epernay marched towards fere-champenoise, i will not say in all haste, for that is a term which might be used concerning all his majesty's movements, who sprang with the rapidity of an eagle on the point where his presence seemed most necessary. nevertheless, the enemy's army, which had crossed the seine at pont and nogent, having learned of the re-occupation of rheims by the emperor, and understanding the movement he wished to make on their rear, began their retreat on the 17th, and retook successively the bridges which he had constructed at pont, nogent, and arcis-sur-aube. on the 18th occurred the battle of fere-champenoise, which his majesty fought to clear the road intervening between him and arcis-sur-aube, where were the emperor alexander and the king of prussia, who, on learning of this new success of the emperor, quickly fell back to troyes. the pronounced intention of his majesty was then to go as far as bar-sur-aube. we had already passed the aube at plancy, and the seine at mery, but it was necessary to return to plancy. this was on the 19th, the same day on which the count d'artois arrived at nancy, and on which the rupture of the congress of chatillon occurred, which i mentioned in the preceding chapter, following the order in which my souvenirs recurred to my mind. the 20th march was, as i have said, an eventful date in the emperor's life, and was to become still more so one year later. the 20th march, 1814, the king of rome completed his third year, while the emperor was exposing himself, if it were possible, even more than was his usual custom. at the battle of arcis-sur-aube, which took place on that day, his majesty saw that at last he would have new enemies to encounter. the austrians themselves entered the line of battle; and an immense army, under the command of the prince von schwarzenberg, spread itself out before him, when he supposed he had only an advance guard to resist. the coincidence may not perhaps appear unimportant that the austrian army did not begin to fight seriously or attack the emperor in person until the day after the rupture of the congress of chatillon. was this the result of chance, or did the emperor of austria indeed prefer to remain in the second line, and spare the person of his son-in-law, so long as peace appeared possible to him? this is a question which it is not my province to answer. the battle of arcis-sur-aube was terrible, and ended only with the close of day. the emperor still occupied the city in spite of the combined efforts of an army of one hundred and thirty thousand fresh troops, who attacked thirty thousand worn out by fatigue. the battle still continued during the night, while the fire of the faubourgs lighted our defenses and the works of the besieging-party. it was at last found impossible to hold our position longer, and only one bridge remained by which the army could effect its retreat. the emperor had another constructed; and the retreat commenced, but in good order, in spite of the numerous masses which closely threatened us. this unfortunate affair was the most disastrous his majesty had experienced during the whole campaign, since the roads leading to the capital had been left uncovered; and the prodigies of his genius and valor were unavailing against such overwhelming numbers. an instance which furnishes an excellent proof of the presence of mind which the emperor preserved in the most critical positions was, that before evacuating arcis he committed to the sisters of charity a sum sufficient for the first needs of the wounded. on the evening of the 21st we arrived at sommepuis, where the emperor passed the night. there i heard him for the first time pronounce the name of the bourbons. his majesty was extremely agitated, and spoke in such broken tones that i understood only these words, which he repeated many times: "recall them myself--recall the bourbons! what would the enemy say? no, no? it is impossible! never!" these words which escaped the emperor in one of those attacks of preoccupation to which he was subject whenever his soul was deeply moved astonished me inexpressibly; for the idea had never once entered my mind that there could be any other government in france than that of his majesty. besides, it may be easily understood that in the position i then occupied i had scarcely heard the bourbons mentioned, except to the empress josephine in the early days of the consulate, while i was still in her service. the various divisions of the french army and the masses of the enemy were then so closely pressed against each other, that the enemy occupied each point the moment we were compelled to abandon it; thus, on the 22d the allies seized epernay, and, in order to punish this faithful town for the heroic defense it had previously made, orders were given that it should be pillaged. pillage? the emperor called it the crime of war; and i heard him often express in most vehement terms the horror with which it inspired him, which was so extreme that at no time did he authorize it during his long series of triumphs. pillage! and yet every proclamation of our devastators declared boldly that they made war only on the emperor; they had the audacity to repeat this statement, and some were foolish enough to believe them. on this point i saw too plainly what actually occurred to have ever believed in the ideal magnanimity which has since been so much vaunted. on the 23d we were at saint-dizier, where the emperor returned to his first plan of attacking the enemy's rear. the next day, just as his majesty mounted his horse to go to doulevent, a general officer of the austrians was brought to him, whose arrival caused a great sensation at headquarters, as it delayed the emperor's departure for a few moments. i soon learned that it was baron de weissemberg, ambassador from austria to london, who was returning from england. the emperor ordered that he should follow him to doulevent, where his majesty gave him a verbal message to the emperor of austria, while colonel galbois was charged with a letter which the emperor had the duke of vicenza write. but after a movement by the french army towards chaumont, by the road of langres, the emperor of austria, finding himself separated from the emperor alexander, was forced to fall back as far as dijon. i remember that on his arrival at doulevent his majesty received secret information from his faithful director-general of the post, m. de lavalette. this information, the purport of which i did not know, appeared to produce the deepest impression on the emperor; but he soon resumed before the eyes of those around his accustomed serenity, though for some time past i had seen that this was only assumed. i have learned since that m. de lavalette informed the emperor that there was not a moment to lose if he would save the capital. such an opinion from such a man could only be an expression of the real truth, and it was this conviction which contributed to increase the emperor's anxiety. until then the news from paris had been favorable; and much had been said of the zeal and devotion of the national guard, which nothing could dismay. at the various theaters patriotic pieces had been played, and notably the 'oriflamme' at the opera, a very trivial circumstance apparently, but which nevertheless acted very powerfully on the minds of enthusiasts, and for this reason was not to be disdained. indeed, the small amount of news that we had received represented paris as entirely devoted to his majesty, and ready to defend itself against any attacks. and in fact, this news was not untrue; and the handsome conduct of the national guard under the orders, of marshal moncey, the enthusiasm of the different schools, and the bravery of the pupils of the polytechnic schools, soon furnished proof of this. but events were stronger than men. meanwhile, time passed on, and we were approaching the fatal conclusion; each day, each moment, saw those immense masses collecting from the extremities of europe, inclosing paris, and pressing it with a thousand arms, and during these last days it might well be said that the battle raged incessantly. on the 26th the emperor, led by the noise of a fierce cannonade, again repaired to saint-dizier, where his rear-guard was attacked by very superior forces, and compelled to evacuate the town; but general milhaud and general sebastiani repulsed the enemy on the marne at the ford of valcourt; the presence of the emperor produced its accustomed effect, and we re-entered saint-dizier, while the enemy fled in the greatest disorder over the road to vitry-le-francais and that of bar-sur-ornain. the emperor moved towards the latter town, thinking that he now had the prince of schwarzenberg in his power; but just as he arrived there learned that it was not the austrian general-in-chief whom he had fought, but only one of his lieutenants, count witzingerode. schwarzenberg had deceived him; on the 23d he had made a junction with general blucher, and these two generals at the head of the coalition had rushed with their masses of soldiers upon the capital. however disastrous might be the news brought to headquarters, the emperor wished to verify its truth in person, and on his return from saint-dizier made a detour to vitry, in order to assure himself of the march of the allies on paris; and all his doubts were dissipated by what he saw. could paris hold out long enough for him to crush the enemy against its walls? thereafter this was his sole and engrossing thought. he immediately placed himself at the head of his army, and we marched on paris by the road to troyes. at doulencourt he received a courier from king joseph, who announced to him the march of the allies on paris. that very moment he sent general dejean in haste to his brother to inform him of his speedy arrival. if he could defend himself for two days, only two days, the allied armies would enter paris, only to find there a tomb. in what a state of anxiety the emperor then was! he set out with his headquarters squadrons. i accompanied him, and left him for the first time at troyes, on the morning of the 30th, as will be seen in the following chapter. chapter xxvi. what a time was this! how sad the period and events of which i have now to recall the sad memory! i have now arrived at the fatal day when the combined armies of europe were to sully the soil of paris, of that capital, free for so many years from the presence of the invader. what a blow to the emperor! and what cruel expiation his great soul now made for his triumphant entries into vienna and berlin! it was, then, all in vain that he had displayed such incredible activity during the admirable campaign of france, in which his genius had displayed itself as brilliantly as during his italian campaign. the first time i saw him on the day after a battle was at marengo; and what a contrast his attitude of dejection presented when i saw him again on the 31st of march at fontainebleau. having accompanied his majesty everywhere, i was near him at troyes on the morning of the 30th of march. the emperor set out at ten o'clock, accompanied only by the grand marshal and the duke of vicenza. it was then known at headquarters that the allied troops were advancing on paris; but we were far from suspecting that at the very moment of the emperor's hurried departure the battle before paris was being most bitterly waged. at least i had heard nothing to lead me to believe it. i received an order to move to essonne, and, as means of transportation had become scarce and hard to obtain, did not arrive there until the morning of the 31st, and had been there only a short time when the courier brought me an order to repair to fontainebleau, which i immediately did. it was then i learned that the emperor had gone from troyes to montereau in two hours, having made the journey of ten leagues in that short space of time. i also learned that the emperor and his small suite had been obliged to make use of a chaise on the road to paris, between essonne and villejuif. he advanced as far as the cour de france with the intention of marching on paris; but there, verifying the news and the cruel certainty of the surrender of paris, had sent to me the courier whom i mentioned above. i had been at fontainebleau only a short while when the emperor arrived. his countenance was pale and harassed to a greater degree than i had ever seen it; and he who knew so well how to control all the emotions of his soul did not seem to attempt to conceal the dejection which was so manifest both in his attitude and in his countenance. it was evident how greatly he was suffering from all the disastrous events which had accumulated one after the other in terrible progression. the emperor said nothing to any one, and closeted himself immediately in his cabinet, with the dukes of bassano and vicenza and the prince of neuchatel. these generals remained a long while with the emperor, who afterwards received some general officers. his majesty retired very late, and appeared to me entirely crushed. from time to time i heard stifled sighs escape from his breast, with which were mingled the name of marmont, which i could not then understand, as i had heard nothing of the terms of the surrender, and knew that the duke of ragusa was a marshal to whom the emperor seemed always deeply attached. i saw that evening, at fontainebleau, marshal moncey, who the evening before had bravely commanded the national guard at the barricade of clichy, and also the duke of dantzic. a gloomy and silent sadness which is perfectly indescribable reigned at fontainebleau during the two days which followed. overcome by so many repeated blows, the emperor seldom entered his cabinet, where he usually passed so many hours engaged in work. he was so absorbed in his conflicting thoughts, that often he did not notice the arrival of persons whom he had summoned, looked at them, so to speak, without seeing them, and sometimes remained nearly half an hour without addressing them; then, as if awaking from this state of stupefaction, asked them questions without seeming to hear the reply; and even the presence of the duke of bassano and the duke of vicenza, whom he summoned more frequently, did not interrupt this condition of preoccupation or lethargy, so to speak. the hours for meals were the same, and they were served as usual; but all took place amid complete silence, broken only by the necessary noise of the service. at the emperor's toilet the same silence; not a word issued from his lips; and if in the morning i suggested to him one of the drinks that he usually took, he not only did not reply, but nothing in his countenance which i attentively observed could make me believe that he had heard me. this situation was terrible for all the persons attached to his majesty. was the emperor really so overwhelmed by his evil fortune? was his genius as benumbed as his body? i must admit, in all candor, that seeing him so different from what he appeared after the disasters of moscow, and even when i had left him at troyes a few days before, i strongly believed it. but this was by no means the case; his soul was a prey to one fixed idea that of taking the offensive and marching on paris. and though, indeed, he remained overwhelmed with consternation in his intimate intercourse with his most faithful ministers and most skillful generals, he revived at sight of his soldiers, thinking, doubtless, that the one would suggest only prudent counsels while the others would never reply aught but in shouts of "vive l'empereur!" to the most daring orders he might give. for instance, on the 2d of april he momentarily, so to speak, shook off his dejection, and in the court of the palace held a review of his guard, who had just rejoined him at fontainebleau. he addressed his soldiers in a firm voice, saying: "soldiers! the enemy has stolen three marches on us, and has taken possession of paris; we must drive them out. unworthy frenchmen, emigres to whom we have extended pardon, have donned the white cockade, and gone over to our enemies. the cowards! they will reap the reward of this new treason. let us swear to conquer or to die, and to have respect shown to this tricolored cockade, which for twenty-five years we have borne on the road to glory and honor." the troops were roused to enthusiasm at the sound of their chief's voice, and shouted in unison, "paris! paris!" but the emperor, nevertheless, resumed his former dejection on crossing the threshold of the palace, which arose no doubt from the fear, only too well founded, of seeing his desire to march on paris thwarted by his lieutenants. it is only since, that reflecting on the events of that time, i am enabled to conjecture as to the struggles which passed in the soul of the emperor; for then, as during my entire period of service, i would not have dared to think of going outside the limits of my ordinary duties and functions. meanwhile, the situation became more and more unfavorable to the wishes and plans of the emperor. the duke of vicenza had been sent to paris, where a provisional government had been formed under the presidency of the prince of benevento, without having succeeded in his mission to the emperor alexander; and each day his majesty with deep grief witnessed the adhesion of the marshals and a large number of generals to the new government. he felt the prince de neuchatel's desertion deeply; and i must say that, unaccustomed as we were to political combinations, we were overcome with astonishment. here i find that i am compelled to speak of myself, which i have done as little as possible in the course of these memoirs, and i think this is a justice which all my readers will do me; but what i have to say is too intimately connected with the last days i passed with the emperor, and concerns my personal honor too nearly, for me to suppose that i can be reproached for so doing. i was, as may well be supposed, very anxious as to the fate of my family, of whom i had received no news for a long while; and, at the same time, the cruel disease from which i had long suffered had made frightful progress, owing to the fatigue of the last campaign. nevertheless, the mental suffering to which i saw the emperor a victim so entirely absorbed all my thoughts, that i took no precautions against the physical suffering which i endured; and i had not even thought of asking for a safeguard for the country-house i possessed in the environs of fontainebleau. a free corps having seized it, had established themselves there, after having pillaged and destroyed everything, even the little flock of merino sheep which i owed to the kindness of the empress josephine. the emperor, having been informed of it by others than myself, said to me one morning at his toilet, "constant, i owe you indemnity."--"sire?"--"yes, my child, i know that your place has been pillaged, i know that you have incurred considerable losses in the russian campaign; i have given an order that fifty thousand francs should be handed you to cover the whole." i thanked his majesty, who more than indemnified me for my losses. this occurred during the first days of our last stay at fontainebleau. at the same period the emperor's removal to the island of elba having been already discussed, the grand marshal of the palace asked me if i would follow his majesty to this residence. god is my witness that i had no other wish than to consecrate all my life to the service of the emperor; therefore i did not need a moment's reflection to reply that this could not be a matter of doubt; and i occupied myself almost immediately with preparations for the sojourn, which proved to be not a long one, but the duration of which no human intelligence could then have been able to foretell. meanwhile, in the retirement of his chamber, the emperor became each day more sad and careworn; and when i saw him alone, which often occurred, for i tried to be near him as much as possible, i remarked the extreme agitation which the reading of the dispatches he received from paris caused him; this agitation was many times so great that i noticed he had torn his leg with his nails until the blood flowed, without being aware of it. i then took the liberty of informing him of the fact as gently as possible, with the hope of putting an end to this intense preoccupation, which cut me to the heart. several times also the emperor asked roustan for his pistols; fortunately i had taken the precaution, seeing his majesty so unnerved, to recommend him not to give them to him, however much the emperor might insist. i thought it my duty to give an account of all this to the duke of vicenza, who entirely approved of my conduct. one morning, i do not recall whether it was the 10th or 11th of april, but it was certainly on one of those days, the emperor, who had said nothing to me in the morning, had me called during the day. i had hardly entered his room when he said to me, in a tone of most winning kindness, "my dear constant, there is a hundred thousand francs waiting for you at peyrache's; if your wife arrives before our departure, you will give them to her; if she should not, put them in the corner of your country-place, note the exact location of the spot, which you will send to her by some safe person. when one has served me well he should not be in want. your wife will build a farm, in which she will invest this money; she will live with your mother and sister, and you will not have the fear of leaving her in need." even more moved by the provident kindness of the emperor, who thus deigned to consider the interests of my family affairs, than delighted with the great value of the present he had made me, i could hardly find words to express to him my gratitude; and such was, besides, my carelessness of the future, so far from me had been the thought that this great empire could come to an end, that this was the first time i had really considered the embarrassed condition in which i would have left my family, if the emperor had not thus generously provided for them. i had, in fact, no fortune, and possessed in all the world only my pillaged house, and the fifty thousand francs destined to repair it. under these circumstances, not knowing when i should see my wife again, i made arrangements to follow the advice his majesty had been kind enough to give me; converted my hundred thousand francs into gold, which i put into five bags; and taking with me the wardrobe boy denis, whose honesty was above suspicion, we followed the road through the forest to avoid being seen by any of the persons who occupied my house. we cautiously entered a little inclosure belonging to me, the gate of which could not be seen on account of the trees, although they were now without foliage; and with the aid of denis i succeeded in burying my treasure, after taking an exact note of the place, and then returned to the palace, being certainly very far from foreseeing how much chagrin and tribulation those hundred thousand francs would cause me, as we shall see in the succeeding chapters. chapter xxvii. here more than ever i must beg the indulgence of my readers as to the order in which i relate the events i witnessed during the emperor's stay at fontainebleau, and those connected with them which did not come to my knowledge until later. i must also apologize for any inaccuracy in dates of which i may be guilty, though i remember collectively, so to speak, all that occurred during the unhappy twenty days which ensued between the occupation of paris and the departure of his majesty for the island of elba; for i was so completely absorbed in the unhappy condition of my good master that all my faculties hardly sufficed for the sensations i experienced every moment. we suffered in the emperor's sufferings; it occurred to none of us to imprint on his memory the recollection of so much agony, for we lived, so to speak, only provisionally. during the first days of our stay at fontainebleau the idea that the emperor would soon cease to reign over france was very far from entering the minds of any of those around him, for every one was possessed with the conviction that the emperor of austria would not consent that his son-in-law, daughter, and grandson should be dethroned; in this they were strangely mistaken. i remarked during these first days that even more petitions than usual were addressed to his majesty; but i am ignorant whether he responded favorably, or even if he replied at all. the emperor often took up the daily papers, but after casting his eyes over them threw them down angrily; and if we recall the shameless abuse in which those writers indulged who had so often lavished fulsome praises on him, it may well be understood that such a transition would naturally excite his majesty's disgust. the emperor usually remained alone; and the person whom he saw most frequently was the duke of bassano, the only one of his ministers then at fontainebleau; for the duke of vicenza, being charged continually with missions, was, so to speak, constantly on the wing, especially as long as his majesty retained the hope of seeing a regency in favor of his son succeed him in the government. in seeking to recall the varied feelings whose impress i remarked on his majesty's countenance, i think i may affirm that he was even more deeply affected by being compelled to renounce the throne for his son than in resigning it for himself. when the marshals or the duke of vicenza spoke to his majesty of arrangements relating to his person, it was easy to see that he forced himself to listen to them only with the greatest repugnance. one day when they spoke of the island of elba, and i do not know what sum per year, i heard his majesty reply vehemently: "that is too much, much too much for me. if i am no longer anything more than a common soldier, i do not need more than one louis per day." nevertheless, the time arrived when, pressed on every side, his majesty submitted to sign the act of abdication pure and simple, which was demanded of him. this memorable act was conceived in these terms: "the allied powers having proclaimed that the emperor napoleon is the only obstacle to the re-establishment of peace in europe, the emperor napoleon, faithful to his oath, declares that he renounces for himself and his heirs the thrones of france and italy, and that there is no personal sacrifice, even his life, which he is not willing to make for the interests of france. "done at the palace of fontainebleau, 11th of april, 1814. "napoleon." i do not need to say that i then had no knowledge of the act of abdication above given; it was one of those state secrets which emanated from the cabinet, and hardly entered into the confidence of the bedroom. i only recall that there was some discussion of the matter, though very vague, that same day in the household; and, besides, it was evident that something extraordinary was taking place, and the whole day his majesty seemed more depressed than at any previous time; but, nevertheless, i was far from anticipating the agony which followed this fatal day! i beg the reader in advance to give earnest attention to the event which i shall now relate. i now become a historian, since i inscribe the painful remembrance of a striking act in the career of the emperor; of an event which has been the subject of innumerable controversies, though it has been necessarily only a matter of surmise, since i alone knew all the painful details. i refer to the poisoning of the emperor at fontainebleau. i trust i do not need to protest my perfect truthfulness; i feel too keenly the great importance of such a revelation to allow myself to omit or add the least circumstance to the truth. i shall therefore relate events just as they occurred, just as i saw them, and as memory, has engraved the painful details indelibly on my mind. on the 11th of april i undressed the emperor as usual, i think rather earlier than usual; for, if i remember aright, it was not quite half-past ten. as he retired he appeared to me better than during the day, and in nearly the same condition he had been on previous evenings. i slept in a room on the next floor, situated behind the emperor's room, with which it communicated by a small, dark staircase. for some time past i had slept in my clothes, in order to attend the emperor more promptly if he should call me; and i was sleeping soundly, when at midnight i was awaked by m. pelard, who was on duty. he told me that the emperor had asked for me, and on opening my eyes i saw on his face an expression of alarm which astounded me. i threw myself out of the bed, and rapidly descended the staircase, as m. pelard added, "the emperor has poured something in a glass and drunk it." i entered his majesty's room, a prey to indescribable anxiety. the emperor had lain down; but in advancing towards his bed i saw on the floor between the fireplace and the bed the little bag of black silk and skin, of which i spoke some time since. it was the same he had worn on his neck since the campaign in spain, and which i had guarded so carefully from one campaign to another. ah! if i had suspected what it contained. in this terrible moment the truth was suddenly revealed to me! meanwhile, i was at the head of the emperor's bed. "constant," said he, in a voice painfully weak and broken, "constant, i am dying! i cannot endure the agony i suffer, above all the humiliation of seeing myself surrounded by foreign emissaries! my eagles have been trailed in the dust! i have not been understood! my poor constant, they will regret me when i am no more! marmont dealt me the finishing stroke. the wretch! i loved him! berthier's desertion has ruined me! my old friends, my old companions in arms!" the emperor said to me many other things which i fear i might not repeat correctly; and it may well be understood that, overwhelmed as i was with despair, i did not attempt to engrave in my memory the words which at intervals escaped the emperor's lips; for he did not speak continuously, and the complaints i have related were uttered only between intervals of repose, or rather of stupor. while my eyes were fastened on the emperor's countenance, i noticed on it a sudden contraction, which was the premonition of a convulsion which frightened me terribly; fortunately this convulsion brought on a slight attack of vomiting, which gave me some hope. the emperor, amidst his complicated physical and mental sufferings, maintained perfect selfpossession, and said to me, after the first vomiting spell, "constant, call m. yvan and caulaincourt." i half opened the door, and gave the order to m. pelard, without leaving the emperor's room, and returning to his bed, besought and entreated him to take a soothing potion; but all my efforts were in vain, so strong was his determination to die, even when in the presence of death. in spite of the obstinate refusal of the emperor, i was still entreating him when m. de caulaincourt and m. yvan entered the room. his majesty made a sign to the duke of vicenza to approach his bed, and said to him, "caulaincourt, i recommend to you my wife and child; serve them as you have served me. i have not long to live!" at this moment the emperor was interrupted by another fit of vomiting, but slighter than the first, during which i tried to tell the duke that the emperor had taken poison; he understood rather than heard me, for sobs stifled my voice to such an extent that i could not pronounce a word distinctly. m. yvan drew near, and the emperor said to him, "do you believe the dose was strong enough?" these words were really an enigma to m. yvan; for he was not aware of the existence of this sachet, at least not to my knowledge, and therefore answered, "i do not know what your majesty means;" to which his majesty made no reply. the duke of vicenza, m. yvan, and i, having united our entreaties to the emperor, were so fortunate at length as to induce him, though not without much difficulty, to drink a cup of tea, which he had refused when i had made it in much haste and presented it to him, saying, "let me alone, constant; let me alone." but, as a result of our redoubled efforts, he drank it at last, and the vomiting ceased. soon after taking the tea the emperor appeared calmer and fell asleep. these gentlemen quietly retired; and i remained alone in his room, where i awaited until he woke. after a sleep of a few hours the emperor awoke, seeming almost as usual, although his face still bore traces of what he had suffered, and while i assisted him in his morning toilet did not utter a word relating in the most indirect manner to the frightful night he had just passed. he breakfasted as usual, only a little later than ordinary. his appearance had resumed its usual calm, and he seemed more cheerful than for a long time past. was it the result of his satisfaction at having escaped death, which a momentary despair had made him desire? or did it not rather arise from the certainty of no longer fearing it in his bed more than on the battlefield? however that may be, i attribute the remarkable preservation of the emperor's life to the fact that the poison contained in the bag had lost its efficacy. when everything had returned to its usual order, without any one in the palace except those i have named suspecting what had occurred, i learned that m. yvan had left fontainebleau. overwhelmed by the question the emperor had addressed to him in the presence of the duke of vicenza, and fearing that he might suspect that he had given his majesty the means of attempting his life, this skillful physician, so long and so faithfully attached to the emperor's person, had, so to speak, lost his head in thinking of the responsibility resting on him. hastily descending the stairs from the emperor's apartments, and finding a horse ready saddled and bridled in one of the courts of the palace, he threw himself upon it, and hastily took the road to paris. this was the morning of the same day that roustan left fontainebleau. on the 12th of april, the emperor also received the last adieux of marshal macdonald. when he was introduced, the emperor was still feeling the effects of the events of the preceding night; and i am sure the duke of tarentum perceived, without divining the cause, that his majesty was not in his usual condition. he was accompanied by the duke of vicenza; and at this moment the emperor was still so much depressed, and seemed so entirely absorbed in thought, that he did not at first perceive these gentlemen, although he was perfectly wide awake. the duke of tarentum brought to the emperor the treaty with the allies, and i left the room as he was preparing to sign it. a few moments after the duke of vicenza summoned me; and his majesty said, "constant, bring me the saber which mourad-bey presented to me in egypt. you know which it is?"--"yes, sire." i went out, and immediately returned with this magnificent sword, which the emperor had worn at the battle of mount tabor, as i have heard many times. i handed it to the duke of vicenza, from whose hands the emperor took it, and presented it to marshal macdonald; and as i retired heard the emperor speaking to him most affectionately, and calling him his worthy friend. these gentlemen, according to my recollection, were present at the emperor's breakfast, where he appeared calmer and more cheerful than for a long time past; and we were all surprised to see him converse familiarly and in the most amiable manner with persons to whom for some time past he had usually addressed very brief and distant remarks. however, this gayety was only momentary; and, indeed, the manner in which the emperor's mood varied from one moment to another during the whole time of our stay at fontainebleau was perfectly indescribable. i have seen him on the same day plunged for several hours into the most terrible depression; then, a moment after, walking with great strides up and down his room, whistling or humming la monaco; after which he suddenly fell into a kind of stupor, seeing nothing around him, and forgetting even the orders he had given. a fact which impressed me forcibly was the remarkable effect produced on him by letters addressed to him from paris. as soon as he perceived them his agitation became extreme,--i might say convulsive, without fear of being taxed with exaggeration. in support of what i have said of the incredible preoccupation of the emperor, i will mention an occurrence which comes to my memory. during our sojourn at fontainebleau the countess walewska, of whom i have heretofore spoken, came, and having summoned me, told me how anxious she was to see the emperor. thinking that this would be sure to distract his majesty, i mentioned it to him that very evening, and received orders to have her come at ten o'clock. madame walewska was, as may well be believed, promptly on hand at the appointed hour, and i entered the emperor's room to announce her arrival. he was lying on his bed, and plunged so deeply in meditation that it was only on a second reminder from me he replied, "ask her to wait." she then waited in the apartment in front of his majesty's, and i remained to keep her company. meanwhile the night passed on, and the hours seemed long to the beautiful visitor; and her distress that the emperor did not summon her became so evident that i took pity on her, and reentered the emperor's room to remind him again. he was not asleep, but was so deeply absorbed in thought that he made no reply. at last day began to break; and the countess, fearing to be seen by the people of the household, withdrew in despair at not having bidden adieu to the object of her affections; and she had been gone more than an hour when the emperor remembered that she was waiting, and asked for her. i told his majesty how it was, and did not conceal the state of despair in which the countess took her departure. the emperor was much affected. "poor woman, she thinks herself humiliated! constant, i am really grieved. if you see her again, tell her so. but i have so many things there!" added he in a, very energetic tone, striking his brow with his hand. the visit of this lady to fontainebleau recalls another of almost the same kind, but to describe which it is necessary that i take up the thread of events a little further back. [i have learned since that the countess de walewska went with her son to visit the emperor on the island of elba. this child resembled his majesty so greatly that the report was started that the king of rome had visited his father. madame de walewska remained only a short time at the island of elba.--constant.] a short time after his marriage with the archduchess marie louise, although she was a young and beautiful woman, and although he really loved her devotedly, the emperor was no more careful than in the time of the empress josephine to scrupulously observe conjugal fidelity. during one of our stays at saint-cloud he took a fancy to madamoiselle l----, whose mother's second husband was a chief of squadron. these ladies then stayed at bourg-la-reine, where they were discovered by m. de ----, one of the most zealous protectors of the pretty women who were presented to his majesty, and who spoke to him of this young person, then seventeen years old. she was a brunette of ordinary height, but with a beautiful figure, and pretty feet and hands, her whole person full of grace, and was indeed perfectly charming in all respects, and, besides, united with most enticing coquetry every accomplishment, danced with much grace, played on several instruments, and was full of intelligence; in fact, she had received that kind of showy education which forms the most charming mistresses and the worst wives. the emperor told me one day, at eight o'clock in the evening, to seek her at her mother's, to bring her and return at eleven o'clock at latest. my visit caused no surprise; and i saw that these ladies had been forewarned, no doubt by their obliging patron, for they awaited me with an impatience they did not seek to conceal. the young person was dazzling with ornaments and beauty, and the mother radiant with joy at the idea of the honor destined for her daughter. i saw well that she imagined the emperor could not fail to be captivated by so many charms, and that he would be seized with a great passion; but all this was only a dream, for the emperor was amorous only when all things suited. however, we arrived at saint-cloud at eleven o'clock, and entered the chateau by the orangery, for fear of indiscreet eyes. as i had a pass-key to all the gates of the chateau, i conducted her into the emperor's apartments without being seen by any one, where she remained about three hours. at the end of this time i escorted her to her home, taking the same precautions on leaving the chateau. this young person, whom the emperor had since seen three or four times at most, also came to fontainebleau, accompanied by her mother; but, being unable to see his majesty, this lady, like the countess walewska, determined to make the voyage to the island of elba, where it is said the emperor married mademoiselle l---to a colonel of artillery. what i have just written has carried me back almost unconsciously to happier times. it is necessary, however, to return to the sad stay at fontainebleau; and, after what i have said of the dejection in which the emperor lived, it is not surprising that, overwhelmed by such crushing blows, his mind was not disposed to gallantry. it seems to me i can still see the evidences of the gloomy melancholy which devoured him; and in the midst of so many sorrows the kindness of heart of the man seemed to increase in proportion to the sufferings of the dethroned sovereign. with what amenity he spoke to us in these last days! he then frequently deigned to question me as to what was said of recent events. with my usual artless candor i related to him exactly what i had heard; and i remember that one day, having told him i had heard many persons remark that the continuation of the last wars which had been so fatal to us was generally attributed to the duke of bassano, "they do poor maret gross injustice," said he. "they accuse him wrongfully. he has never done anything but execute orders which i gave." then, according to his usual habit, when he had spoken to me a moment of these serious affairs, he added, "what a shame! what humiliation! to think that i should have in my very palace itself a lot of foreign emissaries!" chapter xxviii. after the 12th of april there remained with the emperor, of all the great personages who usually surrounded him, only the grand marshal of the palace and count drouot. the destination reserved for the emperor, and the fact that he had accepted it, was not long a secret in the palace. on the 16th we witnessed the arrival of the commissioners of the allies deputed to accompany his majesty to the place of his embarkment for the island of elba. these were count schuwaloff, aide-de-camp of the emperor alexander from russia; colonel neil campbell from england; general kohler from austria; and finally count of waldburg-truchsess for prussia. although his majesty had himself demanded that he should be accompanied by these four commissioners, their presence at fontainebleau seemed to make a most disagreeable impression on him. however, each of these gentlemen received from the emperor a different welcome; and after a few words that i heard his majesty say, i was convinced on this, as on many previous occasions, that he esteemed the english far more than all his other enemies, and colonel campbell was, therefore, welcomed with more distinction than the other ministers; while the ill-humor of the emperor vented itself especially on the commissioner of the king of prussia, who took no notice of it, and put on the best possible countenance. with the exception of the very slight apparent change made at fontainebleau by the presence of these gentlemen, no remarkable incident, none at least in my knowledge, came to disturb the sad and monotonous life of the emperor in the palace. everything remained gloomy and silent among the inhabitants of this last imperial residence; but, nevertheless, the emperor personally seemed to me more calm since he had come to a definite conclusion than at the time he was wavering in painful indecision. he spoke sometimes in my presence of the empress and his son, but not as often as might have been expected. but one thing which struck me deeply was, that never a single time did a a word escape his lips which could recall the act of desperation of the night of the 11th, which fortunately, as we have seen, had not the fatal results we feared. what a night! what a night! in my whole life since i have never been able to think of it without shuddering. after the arrival of the commissioners of the allied powers, the emperor seemed by degrees to acclimate himself, so to speak, to their presence; and the chief occupation of the whole household consisted of duties relating to our preparations for departure. one day, as i was dressing his majesty, he said to me smiling, "ah, well, my son, prepare your cart; we will go and plant our cabbages." alas! i was very far from thinking, as i heard these familiar words of his majesty, that by an inconceivable concurrence of events, i should be forced to yield to an inexplicable fatality, which did not will that in spite of my ardent desire i should accompany the emperor to his place of exile. the evening before the day fixed for our departure the grand marshal of the palace had me called. after giving me some orders relative to the voyage, he said to me that the emperor wished to know what was the sum of money i had in charge for him. i immediately gave an account to the grand marshal; and he saw that the sum total was about three hundred thousand francs, including the gold in a bog which baron fain had sent me, since he would not be on the journey. the grand marshal said he would present the account to the emperor. an hour after he again summoned me, and said that his majesty thought he had one hundred thousand francs more. i replied that i had in my possession one hundred thousand francs, which the emperor had presented to me, telling me to bury it in my garden; in fact, i related to him all the particulars i have described above, and begged him to inquire of the emperor if it was these one hundred thousand francs to which his majesty referred. count bertrand promised to do this, and i then made the great mistake of not addressing myself directly to the emperor. nothing would have been easier in my position; and i had often found that it was always better, when possible, to go directly to him than to have recourse to any intermediate person whatever. it would have been much better for me to act thus, since, if the emperor had demanded the one hundred thousand francs which he had given me, which, after all, was hardly possible, i was more than disposed to restore them to him without a moment's hesitation. my astonishment may be imagined when the grand marshal reported to me that the emperor did not remember having given me the sum in question. i instantly became crimson with anger. what! the emperor had allowed it to be believed by count bertrand that i had attempted--i, his faithful servant--to appropriate a sum which he had given me under all the circumstances i have related! i was beside myself at this thought. i left in a state impossible to be described, assuring the grand marshal that in an hour at most i would restore to him the fatal present of his majesty. while rapidly crossing the court of the palace i met m. de turenne, to whom i related all that had occurred. "that does not astonish me," he replied, "and we will see many other similar cases." a prey to a sort of moral fever, my head distracted, my heart oppressed, i sought denis, the wardrobe boy, of whom i have spoken previously; i found him most fortunately, and hastened with him to my country place; and god is my witness that the loss of the hundred thousand francs was not the cause of my distress, and i hardly thought of it. as on the first occasion, we passed along the side of the woods in order not to be seen; and began to dig up the earth to find the money we had placed there; and in the eagerness with which i hunted for this miserable gold, in order to restore it to the grand marshal, i dug up more than was necessary. i cannot describe my despair when i saw that we had found nothing; i thought that some one had seen and followed us, in fact, that i had been robbed. this was a more crushing blow to me than the first, and i foresaw the consequences with horror; what would be said, what would be thought, of me? would my word be taken? the grand marshal, already prejudiced by the inexplicable reply of the emperor, would consider me a person totally devoid of honor. i was overwhelmed by these fatal thoughts when denis suggested to me that we had not dug in the right spot, and had made a mistake of some feet. i eagerly embraced this ray of hope; we began again to dig up the earth with more eagerness than ever, and i can say without exaggeration that my joy bordered almost on delirium when i saw the first of the bags. we drew out in succession all the five; and with the assistance of denis i carried them to the palace, and placed them without delay in the hands of the grand marshal, with the keys of the emperor's trunk, and the casket which m. fain had committed to me. i said to him as i left, "monseigneur, be good enough to say to his majesty that i will not accompany him."--"i will tell him." after this cold and laconic reply i immediately left the palace, and was soon after in rue du coq-gris, with m. clement, a bailiff, who for a long time had been charged with my small affairs, and had given the necessary attention to my farm during the long absences which the journeys and campaigns of the emperor necessitated. then i gave full vent to my despair. i was choking with rage as i remembered that my honesty had been suspected,--i, who for fourteen years had served the emperor with a disinterestedness which was so scrupulous, and even carried to such a point that many persons called it silliness; i, who had never demanded anything of the emperor, either for myself or my people! my brain reeled as i tried to explain to myself how the emperor, who knew all this so well, could have allowed me to appear to a third person as a dishonorable man; the more i thought of it the more extreme became my irritation, and yet it was not possible to find the shadow of a motive for the blow aimed at me. my despair was at its height, when m. hubert, ordinary valet de chambre of the emperor, came to tell me that his majesty would give me all i wished if i would follow him, and that three hundred thousand francs would be immediately handed me. in these circumstances, i ask of all honest men, what could i do, and what would they have done in my place? i replied that when i had resolved to consecrate my whole life to the service of the unfortunate emperor, it was not from views of vile interest; but i was in despair at the thought that he should have made me appear before count bertrand as an impostor and a dishonest man. ah! how happy would it then have been for me had the emperor never thought of giving me those accursed one hundred thousand francs! these ideas tortured me. ah! if i could only have taken twenty-four hours for reflection, however just might have been my resentment, how gladly would i have sacrificed it! i would have thought of the emperor alone, and would have followed him; but a sad and inexplicable fatality had not decreed this. this took place on the 19th of april, the most miserable day of my life. what an evening, what a night i passed! what was my grief on learning the next day that the emperor had departed at noon, after making his adieux to his guard! when i awoke that morning, all my resentment had been appeased in thinking of the emperor. twenty times i wished to return to the palace; twenty times after his departure i wished to take post horses and overtake him; but i was deterred by the offer he had made me through m. hubert. "perhaps," i thought, "he will think it is the money which influences me; this will, doubtless, be said by those around him; and what an opinion he will have of me!" in this cruel perplexity i did not dare to decide. i suffered all that it is possible for a man to suffer; and, at times, that which was only too true seemed like a dream to me, so impossible did it seem that i could be where the emperor was not. everything in this terrible situation contributed to aggravate my distress. i knew the emperor well enough to be aware that even had i returned to him then, he would never have forgotten that i had wished to leave him; i felt that i had not the strength to bear this reproach from his lips. on the other side, the physical suffering caused by my disease had greatly increased, and i was compelled to remain in bed a long while. i could, indeed, have triumphed over these physical sufferings however cruel they might have been, but in the frightful complications of my position i was reduced to a condition of idiocy; i saw nothing of what was around me; i heard nothing of what was said; and after this statement the reader will surely not expect that i shall have anything to say about the farewell of the emperor to his old and faithful guard, an account of which, moreover, has been often enough published for the facts to be well known concerning this event, which, besides, took place in public. here my memoirs might well close; but the reader, i well believe, cannot refuse me his attention a few moments longer, that i may recall some facts which i have a right to explain, and to relate some incidents concerning the return from the island of elba. i, therefore, now continue my remarks on the first of these heads, and the second will be the subject of the next chapter. the emperor had then already started; and as for myself, shut up alone, my country house became henceforth a sad residence to me. i held no communication with any one whatever, read no news, and sought to learn none. at the end of a short time i received a visit from one of my friends from paris, who said to me that the journals spoke of my conduct without understanding it, and that they condemned it severely. he added that it was m. de turenne who had sent to the editors the note in which i had been so heavily censured. i must say that i did not believe this; i knew m. de turenne too well to think him capable of a proceeding so dishonorable, inasmuch as i had frankly explained everything to him, when he made the answer i gave above. but however the evil came, it was nevertheless done; and by the incredible complications of my position i found myself compelled to keep silence. nothing certainly would have been easier than to repel the calumny by an exact rehearsal of the facts; but should i justify myself in this manner by, so to speak, accusing the emperor at a moment especially when the emperor's enemies manifested much bitterness? when i saw such a great man made a mark for the shafts of calumny, i, who was so contemptible and insignificant among the crowd, could surely allow a few of these envenomed shafts to fall on me. to-day the time has come to tell the truth, and i have done so without restriction; not to excuse myself, for on the contrary i blame myself for not having completely sacrificed myself, and for not having accompanied the emperor to the island of elba regardless of what might have been said. nevertheless, i may be allowed to say in my own defense, that in this combination of physical and mental sufferings which overwhelmed me all at once, a person must be very sure of infallibility himself to condemn completely this sensitiveness so natural in a man of honor when accused of a fraudulent transaction. this, then, i said to myself, is the recompense for all my care, for the endurance of so much suffering, for unbounded devotion, and a refinement of feeling for which the emperor had often praised me, and for which he rendered me justice later, as will be seen when i shall have occasion to speak of certain circumstances occurring about the 20th of march of the following year. but gratuitously, and even malevolently, interested motives have been attributed to me for the decision i made to leave the emperor. the simplest common-sense, on the contrary, would suffice to see that, had i allowed myself to be guided by my interests, everything would have influenced me to accompany his majesty. in fact, the chagrin which the incident i have mentioned caused me, and the manner in which i was completely overwhelmed by it, have injured my fortune more than any determination to follow the emperor could possibly have done. what could i hope for in france, where i had no right to anything? is it not, besides, very evident to whoever would recall my position, which was one of confidence near the emperor, that, if i had been actuated by a love of money, this position would have given me an opportunity to reap an abundant harvest without injuring my reputation; but my disinterestedness was so well known that, whatever may be said to the contrary, i can assert that during the whole time my favor with the emperor continued, i on no occasion used it to render any other but unselfish services, and often i refused to support a demand for the sole reason that the petition had been accompanied by offers of money, which were often of very considerable amount. allow me to cite one example among many others of the same nature. i received one day an offer of the sum of four hundred thousand francs, which was made me by a lady of a very noble family, if i would influence the emperor to consider favorably a petition in which she claimed indemnity for a piece of property belonging to her, on which the port of bayonne had been constructed. i had succeeded in obtaining favorable answers to applications more difficult than this, but i refused to agree to support her petition solely on account of the offer which had been made to me; i would have been glad to oblige this lady, but only for the pleasure of being obliging, and it was for this reason alone i allowed myself to solicit of the emperor the pardons which he nearly always granted. neither can it be said that i ever demanded of the emperor licenses for lottery drawings, or anything else of this kind, in which, as is well known, a scandalous commerce is often made, and which, no doubt, if i had demanded them of the emperor he would have readily granted. the confidence in me which the emperor had always shown was such that even at fontainebleau, when it had been decided that none of the ordinary valets de chambre were to accompany him to the island of elba, the emperor left to my choice the selection of a young man to assist me in my duties. i selected a boy of the apartments, whose upright character was well known to me, and who was, moreover, the son of madame marchand, the head nurse of the king of rome. i spoke of him to the emperor, who accepted him; and i went immediately to inform m. marchand, who received the position most gratefully, and proved to me, by his thanks, how delighted he would be to accompany us. i say us, for at this moment i was very far from foreseeing the succession of fatal events which i have faithfully narrated; and it may be seen afterwards, from the manner in which m. marchand expressed himself concerning me at the tuileries during the hundred days, that i had not bestowed my confidence unworthily. chapter xxix. i became a stranger to all the world after the departure of the emperor for the island of elba, and, filled with a deep sense of gratitude for the kindness with which his majesty had overwhelmed me during the fourteen years i had passed in his service, thought incessantly of this great man, and took pleasure in renewing in memory all the events, even the most trivial, of my life with him. i thought it best suited my former position to live in retirement, and passed my time most tranquilly in the bosom of my family in the country-house belonging to me. at the same time a fatal idea preoccupied my mind involuntarily; for i feared that persons who were jealous of my former favor might succeed in deceiving the emperor as to my unalterable devotion to his person, and strengthen in his mind the false opinion that they had for a time succeeded in giving him of me. this opinion, although my conscience told me that it was unjust, was not the less painful to me; but, as will soon be seen, i was fortunate enough to obtain the certainty that my fears in this respect were without foundation. although an entire stranger to politics, i had read with deep interest the newspapers i received in my retreat, since the great political change to which the name of the restoration was given; and it seemed to me to need only the simplest common-sense to see the marked difference which existed between the government which had been overthrown and the new. in all departments i saw a succession of titled men take the places of the long list of distinguished men who had given under the empire so many proofs of merit and courage; but i was far from thinking, notwithstanding the large number of discontented, that the fortunes of the emperor and the wishes of the army would ever restore him to that throne which he had voluntarily abdicated in order that he might not be the cause of a civil war in dance. therefore, it would be impossible to describe my astonishment, and the multiplicity of varied feelings which agitated me, when i received the first news of the landing of the emperor on the coast of provence. i read with enthusiasm the admirable proclamation in which he announced that his eagles would fly from steeple to steeple, and that he himself would follow so closely in his triumphal march from the bay of juan to paris. here i must make a confession, which is, that only since i had left the emperor, had i fully comprehended the immensity of his greatness. attached to his service almost from the beginning of the consulate, at a time when i was still very young, he had grown, so to speak, without my having perceived it, and i had above all seen in him, from the nature of my duties, the excellent master rather than the great man; consequently, in this instance the effects of distance were very different from what it usually produces. it was with difficulty i could realize, and i am often astonished to-day in recalling the frank candor with which i had dared to defend to the emperor what i knew to be the truth; his kindness, however, seemed to encourage me in this, for often, instead of becoming irritated by my vehemence, he said to me gently, with a benevolent smile, "come, come! m. constant, don't excite yourself." adorable kindness in a man of such elevated rank! ah, well i this was the only impression it made on me in the privacy of his chamber, but since then i have learned to estimate it at its true value. on learning that the emperor was to be restored to us, my first impulse was to repair at once to the palace, that i might be there on his arrival; but more mature reflection and the advice of my family made me realize that it would be more suitable for me to await his orders, in case he wished to recall me to my former service. i congratulated myself on deciding to take the latter course, since i had the happiness to learn that his majesty had been kind enough to express his approval of my former conduct. i learned from most reliable authority, that he had hardly arrived at the tuileries, when he condescended to inquire of m. eible, then concierge of the palace, "well, what is constant doing? how is he succeeding? where is he?"--"sire, he is at his country-place, which he has not left."--"ah, very good. he is happy raising his cabbages." i learned also that, during the first days of the emperor's return, his majesty had been investigating the list of pensions, and had been good enough to make a note that mine should be increased. finally, i experienced an intense satisfaction of another kind, no doubt, but none the less sincere in the certainty of not being considered an ingrate. i have stated that i had been fortunate enough to procure a position for m. marchand with the emperor; and this is what was related to me by an eye-witness. m. marchand, in the beginning of the hundred days, happened to be in one of the saloons of the palace of the tuileries, where several persons were assembled, and some of them were expressing themselves most unkindly in regard to me. my successor with the emperor interrupted them brusquely, saying that there was not a word of truth in the calumnies which were asserted of me; and added that, while i held the position, i had uniformly been most obliging to all persons of the household who had addressed themselves to me, and had done no injury to any one. in this respect i can affirm that m. marchand told only the truth; but i was none the less deeply grateful to him for so honorably defending me, especially in my absence. not being in paris on the 20th of march, 1815, as we have just seen, i could have nothing to say of the circumstances of this memorable epoch, had i not collected from some of my friends particulars of what occurred on the night following the re-entrance of the emperor into the palace, once again become imperial; and it may be imagined how eager i was to know everything relating to the great man whom we regarded at this moment as the savior of france. i will begin by repeating exactly the account which was given me by one of my friends, a brave and excellent man, at that time sergeant in the national guard of paris, who happened to be on duty at the tuileries exactly on the 20th of march. "at noon," he said, "three companies of national guards entered the court of the tuileries, to occupy all the interior and exterior posts of the palace. i belonged to one of these companies, which formed a part of the fourth legion. my comrades and i were struck with the inexpressible sadness produced by the sight of an abandoned palace. everything, in fact, was deserted. only a few men were seen here and there in the livery of the king, occupied in taking down and removing portraits of the various members of the bourbon family. outside could be heard the clamorous shouts of a frantic mob, who climbed on the gates, tried to scale them, and pressed against them with such force that at last they bent in several places so far that it was feared they would be thrown down. this multitude of people presented a frightful spectacle, and seemed as if determined to pillage the palace. "hardly a quarter of an hour after we entered the interior court an accident occurred which, though not serious in itself, threw consternation into our ranks, as well as among those who were pressing against the grating of the carrousel. we saw flames issuing from the chimney of the king's apartments, which had been accidentally set on fire by a quantity of papers which had just been burned therein. this accident gave rise to most sinister conjectures, and soon the rumor spread that the tuileries had been undermined ready for an explosion before the departure of louis xviii. a patrol was immediately formed of fifteen men of the national guard, commanded by a sergeant; they explored the chateau most thoroughly, visited each apartment, descended into the cellars, and assured themselves that there was nowhere the slightest indication of danger. "reassured on this point, we were nevertheless not without anxiety. in returning to our posts we had heard numerous groups shouting, 'vive le roi! vivent les bourbons!' and we soon had proofs of the exasperation and fury of a part of the people against napoleon; for we witnessed the arrival in our midst, in a most pitiable condition, of a superior officer who had imprudently donned too soon the tricolored cockade, and consequently had been pursued by the mob from the rue saint-denis. we took him under our protection, and made him enter the interior of the palace, as he was almost exhausted. at this moment we received orders to force the people to withdraw, as they had become still more determined to scale the gates; and in order to accomplish this we were compelled to have recourse to arms. "we had occupied the post at the tuileries an hour at most when general excelmans, who had received the chief command of the guard at the chateau, gave orders to raise the tricolored banner over the middle pavilion. "the reappearance of the national colors excited among us all emotions of the most intense satisfaction; and immediately the populace substituted the cry of 'vive l'empereur' for that of 'vive le roi,' and nothing else was heard the whole day. as for us, when we were ordered to don the tricolored cockade it was a very easy performance, as a large number of the guard had preserved their old ones, which they had simply covered with a piece of white cambric. we were ordered to stack arms in front of the arch of triumph, and nothing extraordinary occurred until six o'clock; then lights began to shine on the expected route of the emperor, and a large number of officers on half pay collected near the pavilion of flora; and i learned from one of them, m. saunier, a decorated officer, that it was on that side the emperor would re-enter the palace of the tuileries. i repaired there in all haste; and as i was hurrying to place myself on his route, i was so fortunate as to meet a commanding officer, who assigned me to duty at the very door of napoleon's apartment, and to this circumstance i owe the fact that i witnessed what now remains to be related. "i had for some time remained in expectation, and in almost perfect solitude, when, at fifteen minutes before nine, an extraordinary noise that i heard outside announced to me the emperor's arrival; and a few moments after i saw him appear, amidst cries of enthusiasm, borne on the arms of the officers who had escorted him from the island of elba. the emperor begged them earnestly to let him walk; but his entreaties were useless, and they bore him thus to the very door of his apartment, where they deposited him near me. i had not seen the emperor since the day of his farewell to the national guard in the great court of the palace; and in spite of the great agitation into which i was thrown by all this commotion, i could not help noticing how much stouter he had become. "the emperor had hardly entered his apartments than i was assigned to duty in the interior. marshal bertrand, who had just replaced general excelmans in the command of the tuileries, gave me an order to allow no one to enter without informing him, and to give him the names of all who requested to see the emperor. one of the first to present himself was cambaceres, who appeared to me even more pallid than usual. a short time after came the father of general bertrand; and as this venerable old man attempted to pay his respects first to the emperor, napoleon said to him, 'no, monsieur! nature first;' and in saying this, with a movement as quick as his words, the emperor, so to speak, threw him into the arms of his son. next came queen hortense, accompanied by her two children; then, count regnault de saint-jean d'angely, and many other persons whose names have escaped me. i did not see again those i announced to marshal bertrand, as they all went out by another door. i continued this duty till eleven o'clock in the evening, at which time i was relieved of my duties, and was invited to supper at an immense table of about three hundred covers. all the persons presented at the palace took their places at this table, one after the other. i there saw the duke of vicenza, and found myself placed opposite general excelmans. the emperor supped alone in his room with marshal bertrand, and their supper was by no means so splendid as ours, for it consisted only of a roast chicken and a dish of lentils; and yet i learned from an officer who fad attended him constantly since he left fontainebleau, that his majesty had eaten nothing since morning. the emperor was exceedingly fatigued; i had opportunity to mark this each time his door was opened. he was seated on a chair in front of the fire, with his feet on the mantelpiece. "as we all remained at the tuileries, word was sent us about one o'clock that the emperor had just retired, and that in case any soldiers should arrive during the night who had accompanied him, he had given orders that they should be on duty at the palace conjointly with the national guard. the poor creatures were hardly in a condition to obey such an order. at two o'clock in the morning we saw two of them arrive in a most pitiable condition; they were perfectly emaciated, and their feet blistered. all that they could do was to throw themselves on their bags, on which they fell sound asleep; and they did not even awake while the duty of bandaging their feet was attended to in the room which they had reached with so much difficulty. all were eager to lavish every attention on them; and i admit that i have always regretted not having inquired the names of these two brave grenadiers, who inspired in all of us an interest i cannot describe. "after retiring at one o'clock, the emperor was on his feet at five o'clock in the morning; and the order was immediately given to the soldiers on half pay to hold themselves ready for a review, and at break of day they were ranged in three ranks. at this moment i was deputed to watch over an officer who was pointed out as suspicious, and who, it was said, had come from saint-denis. this was m. de saint-chamans. at the end of a quarter of an hour of arrest, which had nothing disagreeable in it, he was simply asked to leave. meanwhile, the emperor had descended from the palace, and passed through the ranks of the soldiers on half pay, speaking to each one, taking many of them by the hand, and saying to them, 'my friends, i need your services; i rely on you as you may rely on me.' magic words on the lips of napoleon, and which drew tears of emotion from all those brave soldiers whose services had been ignored for a year. "from the morning the crowd increased rapidly on all the approaches to the tuileries, and a mass of people assembled under the windows of the chateau, demanding with loud shouts to see napoleon. marshal bertrand having informed him of this, the emperor showed himself at the window, where he was saluted by the shouts which his presence had so often excited. after showing himself to the people, the emperor himself presented to them marshal bertrand, his arm resting on the marshal's shoulder, whom he pressed to his heart with demonstrations of the liveliest affection. during this scene, which deeply affected all the witnesses, who cheered with all their might, officers, standing behind the emperor and his friend, held above their heads banners surmounted by their eagles, of which they formed a kind of national canopy. at eleven o'clock the emperor mounted his horse, and reviewed the various regiments which were arriving from every direction, and the heroes of the island of elba who had returned to the tuileries during the night. all seemed deeply impressed with the appearance of these brave men, whom the sun of italy had tanned, and who had traveled nearly two hundred leagues in twenty days." these are the curious details which were given to me by a friend; and i can guarantee the truth of his recital the same as if i myself had been an eye-witness of all that occurred during the memorable night of the 20th and 21st march, 1815. continuing in my retreat during the hundred days, and long after, i have nothing to say which all the world would not know as well as i concerning this important epoch in the life of the emperor. i have shed many tears over his sufferings at the time of his second abdication, and the tortures inflicted on him at st. helena by the miserable hudson lowe, whose infamy will go down through the ages side by side with the glory of the emperor. i will simply content myself by adding to the preceding a certain document which was confided to me by the former queen of westphalia, and saying a word in conclusion as to the destination i thought best to give to the first cross of the legion of honor which the first consul had worn. princess catharine of wurtemberg, the wife of prince jerome, is, as is well known, a woman of great beauty, gifted at the same time with more solid qualities, which time increases instead of diminishing. she joins, to much natural intelligence, a highly cultivated mind, a character truly worthy of a sister-in-law of the emperor, and carries even to enthusiasm her love of duty. events did not allow her to become a great queen, but they have not prevented her remaining an accomplished wife. her sentiments are noble and elevated; but she shows haughtiness to none, and all who surround her take pleasure in boasting of the charms of her kindness towards her household, and she possesses the happiest gift of nature, which consists in making herself beloved by every one. prince jerome is not without a certain grandeur of manner and formal generosity, which he learned while on the throne of cassel, but he is generally very haughty. although in consequence of the great changes which have taken place in europe since the fall of the emperor, prince jerome owes the comfortable maintenance which he still enjoys to the love of the princess, she does not any the less show a truly exemplary submission to his will. princess catharine occupies herself almost exclusively with her three children, two boys and one girl, all of whom are very beautiful. the eldest was born in the month of august, 1814. her daughter, the princess mathilde, owes her superior education to the care her mother exercised over it; she is pretty, but less so than her brothers, who all have their mother's features. after the description, which is not at all flattered, which i have just given of princess catharine, it may seem surprising that, provided as she is with so many solid qualities, she has never been able to conquer an inexplicable weakness regarding petty superstitions. thus, for instance, she is extremely afraid to seat herself at a table where there are thirteen guests. i will relate an anecdote of which i can guarantee the authenticity, and which, perhaps, may foster the weakness of persons subject to the same superstitions as the princess of wurtemberg. one day at florence, being present at a family dinner, she perceived that there were exactly thirteen plates, suddenly grew pale, and obstinately refused to take her seat. princess eliza bacciochi ridiculed her sister-in-law, shrugged her shoulders, and said to her, smiling, "there is no danger, there are in truth fourteen, since i am enceinte." princess catharine yielded, but with extreme repugnance. a short time after she had to put on mourning for her sister-in-law; and the death of the princess eliza, as may well be believed, contributed no little to render her more superstitious than ever as to the number thirteen. well! let strong minds boast themselves as they may; but i can console the weak, as i dare to affirm that, if the emperor had witnessed such an occurrence in his own family, an instinct stronger than any other consideration, stronger even than his all-powerful reason, would have caused him some moments of vague anxiety. now, it only remains for me to render an account of the bestowal i made of the first cross of honor the first consul wore. the reader need not be alarmed; i did not make a bad use of it; it is on the breast of a brave soldier of our old army. in 1817 i made the acquaintance of m. godeau, a former captain in the imperial guard. he had been severely wounded at leipzig by a cannon-ball, which broke his knee. i found in him an admiration for the emperor so intense and so sincere, he urged me so earnestly to give him something, whatever it might be, which had belonged to his majesty, that i made him a present of the cross of honor of which i have spoken, as he had long ago been decorated with that order. this cross is, i might say, a historical memento, being the first, as i have stated, which his majesty wore. it is of silver, medium size, and is not surmounted with the imperial crown. the emperor wore it a year; it decorated his breast for the last time the day of the battle of austerlitz. from that day, in fact, his majesty wore an officer's cross of gold with the crown, and no longer wore the cross of a simple member of the legion. here my souvenirs would end if, in re-reading the first volumes of my memoirs, the facts i have there related had not recalled to me some others which may be of interest. with the impossibility of presenting them in the proper order and connection, i have decided, in order that the reader may not be deprived of them, to offer them as detached anecdotes, which i have endeavored to class as far as possible, according to the order of time. chapter xxx. anecdotes and incidents. as i have often-had occasion to remark, the emperor's tastes were extremely simple in everything relating to his person; moreover, he manifested a decided aversion to the usages of fashion; he did not like, so to speak, to turn night into day, as was done in the most of the brilliant circles of society in paris under the consulate, and at the commencement of the empire. unfortunately, the empress josephine did not hold the same views, and being a submissive slave of fashion, liked to prolong her evenings after the emperor had retired. she had the habit of then collecting around her her most intimate ladies and a few friends, and giving them tea. gaming was entirely precluded from these nocturnal reunions, of which conversation was the only charm. this conversation of the highest circles of society was a most agreeable relaxation to the empress; and this select circle assembled frequently without the emperor being aware of it, and was, in fact, a very innocent entertainment. nevertheless, some obliging person was so indiscreet as to make the emperor a report concerning these assemblies, containing matters which roused his displeasure. he expressed his dissatisfaction to the empress josephine, and from that time she retired at the same time as the emperor. these teas were then abandoned, and all persons attached to the service of the emperor received orders not to sit up after the emperor retired. as well as i remember, this is how i heard his majesty express himself on the occasion. "when the masters are asleep, the valets should retire to bed; and when the masters are awake, the valets should be on their feet." these words produced the intended effect; and that very evening, as soon as the emperor was in bed, all at the palace retired, and at half-past eleven no one was awake but the sentinels. by degrees, as always occurs, the strict observance of the emperor's orders was gradually relaxed, still without the empress daring to resume her nocturnal gatherings. the words of his majesty were not forgotten, however, and were well remembered by m. colas, concierge of the pavilion of flora. one morning about four o'clock, m. colas heard an unaccustomed noise, and a continued movement in the interior of the palace, and supposed from this that the emperor was awake, in which he was not mistaken. he dressed in all haste, and had been ten minutes at his post when the emperor, descending the staircase with marshal duroc, perceived him. his majesty usually took pleasure in showing that he remarked exactness in fulfilling his orders; therefore he stopped a moment, and said to m. colas, "ah! already awake, colas?"--"yes, sire; i have not forgotten that valets should be on foot when the masters are awake."--"you have a good memory, colas; an excellent thing." all this was very well, and the day began for m. colas under most favorable auspices; but in the evening the medal of the morning was obliged to show the opposite side. the emperor went that morning to visit the works on the canal of the ourcq. he was apparently much dissatisfied; for he returned to the palace in such evident illhumor, that m. colas, perceiving it, let these words escape his lips, "il y a de l'oignon." although he spoke in a low tone, the emperor heard him, and turning abruptly to him, repeated angrily, "yes, monsieur, you are not mistaken; il y a de l'oignon." he then rapidly remounted the staircase, while the concierge, fearing he had said too much, approached the grand marshal, begging him to excuse him to his majesty; but he never had an idea of punishing him for the liberty he had taken, and the expression which had escaped his lips one would hardly expect to find in the imperial vocabulary. the coming of the pope to paris for the purpose of crowning the emperor is one of those events which suffice to mark the grandeur of a period. the emperor never spoke of it except with extreme satisfaction, and he wished his holiness to be received with all the magnificence which should attend the founder of a great empire. with this intention his majesty gave orders that, without any comment, everything should be furnished not only that the pope, but also all that the persons of his suite, might demand. alas! it was not by his own personal expenses that the holy father assisted to deplete the imperial treasury. pius vii. drank only water, and his sobriety was truly apostolic; but this was not the case with the abbes attached to his service, for these gentlemen each day required five bottles of chambertin wine, without counting those of other kinds and most expensive liquors. this recalls another occurrence, which, however, relates only indirectly to the pope's stay in paris. it is known that david was ordered by the emperor to execute the picture of the coronation, a work which offered an incredible number of almost insurmountable difficulties, and which was, in fact, one of the masterpieces of the great painter. at all events, the preparation of this picture gave rise to controversies in which the emperor was compelled to interfere; and the case was serious, as we shall see, since a cardinal's wig was in question. david persisted in not painting the head of cardinal caprara with a wig; and on his part the cardinal was not willing to allow him to paint his head without the wig. some took sides with the painter, some with the model; and though the affair was treated with much diplomacy, no concession could be obtained from either of the contracting parties, until at last the emperor took the part of his first painter against the cardinal's wig. this recalls the story of the artless man who would not allow his head to be painted bare because he took cold so easily, and his picture would be hung in a room without a fire. when m. de bourrienne left the emperor, as is well known, he was replaced by m. de meneval, who had been formerly in the service of prince joseph. the emperor became more and more attached to his new private secretary in proportion as he came to know him better. by degrees the work of the cabinet, in which was transacted the greater part of the most important business, became so considerable that it was impossible for one man alone to perform it; and from the year 1805 two young men, proteges of m. maret, secretary of state, were admitted to the honor of working in the emperor's cabinet; and though initiated by the nature of their duties into the most important state secrets, there was never the slightest reason to suspect their perfect discretion. they were, besides, very diligent, and endowed with much talent, so that his majesty formed an excellent opinion of them. their position was most enviable. lodged in the palace, and consequently supplied with fuel and lights, they were also fed, and received each a salary of eight thousand francs. it might well have been thought that this sum would be sufficient for these gentlemen to live most comfortably; but this was not the case. for if they were assiduous during the hours of labor, they were not less so during those devoted to pleasure; whence it arose that the second quarter had hardly passed before the whole year's salary was spent, part of it in gambling, and the rest among low companions. among the two secretaries added to the emperor's service, there was one especially who had contracted so many debts, and whose creditors were so pitiless, that, had there been no other reason, he would infallibly have been dismissed from the private cabinet if the report of this had reached his majesty's ears. after passing an entire night reflecting on his embarrassing position, searching his imagination to secure some means of obtaining the sum necessary to satisfy those creditors who were most importunate, the new spendthrift sought distraction in work, and went to his desk at five o'clock in the morning in order to drive away his painful thoughts; not thinking that at this hour any one would hear him, and while working began to whistle la linotte with all his might. now, this morning, as often before, the emperor had already been working a whole hour in his cabinet, and had just gone out as the young man entered, and, hearing this whistling, immediately returned. "already here, monsieur," said his majesty. "zounds! why, that is remarkable! maret should be well satisfied with you. what is your salary?"--"sire, i have eight thousand francs a year, and besides am boarded and lodged in the palace."--"that is well, monsieur, and you ought to be very happy." the young man, seeing that his majesty was in a very good humor, thought that fortune had sent him a favorable opportunity of being relieved of his embarrassment, and resolved to inform the emperor of his trying situation. "alas, sire!" said he, "no doubt i ought to be happy, but i am not."--"why is that?"--"sire, i must confess to your majesty that i have so many english to carry, and besides i have to support an old father, two sisters, and a brother."--"you are only doing your duty. but what do you mean by your english? are you supporting them also?"-"no, sire; but it is they who have fed my pleasures, with the money they have lent me, and all who have creditors now call them the english."-"stop! stop, monsieur! what! you have creditors, and in spite of your large salary you have made debts! that is enough, monsieur. i do not wish to have any longer near me a man who has recourse to the gold of the english, when on what i give him he can live honorably. in an hour you will receive your discharge." the emperor, having expressed himself as we have just heard, picked up some papers from the desk, threw a severe glance at the young secretary, and left him in such a state of despair that, when some one else fortunately entered the cabinet, he was on the point of committing suicide with a long paper-cutter he held in his hand. this person was the aide-de-camp on duty, who brought him a letter from the emperor, couched in the following terms: "monsieur, you deserve to be dismissed from my service, but i have thought of your family, and i pardon you on their account; and since it is they who would suffer from your misconduct, i consequently send you with my pardon ten thousand francs in bank-notes. pay with this sum all the english who torment you, and, above all, do not again fall into their clutches; for in that case i shall abandon you. napoleon." an enormous "vive l'empereur!" sprang spontaneously to the lips of the young man, who darted out like lightning to announce to his family this new proof of imperial tyranny. this was not the end, however; for his companion, having been informed of what had taken place, and also desiring some bank-notes to pacify his english, redoubled his zeal and activity in work, and for several days in succession repaired to the cabinet at four in the morning, and also whistled la linotte; but it was all in vain, the emperor did not seem to hear him. much was said at paris and in the court in ridicule of the ludicrous sayings of the wife of marshal lefebvre, and a collection could be made of her queer speeches, many of which are pure fabrications; but a volume would also be necessary to record all the acts by which she manifested her kindness of heart. one day, at malmaison (i think a short time after the empire was founded), the empress josephine had given explicit orders that no one should be admitted. the marechale lefebvre presented herself; but the usher, compelled by his orders, refused to allow her to enter. she insisted, and he still refused. during this discussion, the empress, passing from one apartment to the other, was seen through a glass door which separated this apartment from that in which the duchess then was. the empress, having also seen her, hastily advanced to meet her, and insisted on her entering. before passing in, madame lefebvre turned to the usher, and said to him in a mocking tone, "well, my good fellow, you see i got in!" the poor usher blushed up to his ears, and withdrew in confusion. marshal lefebvre was not less good, less excellent, than his wife; and it might well be said of them that high honors had made no change in their manners. the good they both did could not be told. it might have been said that this was their only pleasure, the only compensation for a great domestic misfortune. they had only one son, who was one of the worst men in the whole empire. each day there were complaints against him; the emperor himself frequently admonished him on account of the high esteem he had for his brave father. but there resulted no improvement, and his natural viciousness only manifested itself the more. he was killed in some battle, i forget which; and as little worthy of regret as he was, his death was a deep affliction to his excellent mother, although he even forgot himself so far as to speak disrespectfully of her in his coarse speeches. she usually made m. de fontanes the confidant of her sorrows; for the grand master of the university, notwithstanding his exquisite politeness and his admirable literary style, was very intimately associated with the household of marshal lefebvre. in this connection i recall an anecdote which proves better than anything that could be said the kindness and perfect simplicity of the marshal. one day it was announced to him that some one whose name was not given wished to speak to him. the marshal left his cabinet, and recognized his old captain in the french guards, in which, as we have said, the marshal had been a sergeant. the marshal begged permission to embrace him, offered his services, his purse, his house; treated him almost exactly as if he had been under his orders. the old captain was an emigre, and had returned undecided what he would do. through the efforts of the marshal his name was promptly struck out of the list of emigres; but he did not wish to re-enter the army, and yet was in much need of a position. having supported himself during his emigration by giving lessons in french and latin, he expressed a desire to obtain a position in the university. "well, my colonel," said the marshal with his german accent, "i will take you at once to my friend m. de fontanes." the marshal's carriage is soon at the door, and the respectful protector and his protege enter the apartments of the grand master of the university. m. de fontanes hastens to meet the marshal, who, i have been informed, made his presentation speech in this style: "my dear friend, i present to you the marquis of ----. "he was my former captain, my good captain. he would like to obtain a place in the university. ah! he is not a man of nothing, a man of the revolution like you and me. he is my old captain, the marquis of ---." finally the marshal closed by saying, "ah, the good, excellent man! i shall never forget that when i went for orders to my good captain, he never failed to say: 'lefebvre, my child, pass on to the kitchen; go and get something to eat.' ah, my good, my excellent captain!" all the members of the imperial family had a great fondness for music, and especially the italian; but they were not musicians, and most of them sang as badly as his majesty himself, with the exception of the princess pauline, who had profited by the lessons of blangini, and sang tolerably well. in respect of his voice, prince eugene showed himself worthy to be the adopted son of the emperor; for, though he was a musician and sang with fervor, it was not in such a manner as to satisfy his auditors. in compensation, however, prince eugene's voice was magnificent for commanding military evolutions, an advantage which count lobau and general dorsenne also possessed; and it was consequently always one of these whom his majesty appointed to command under his orders on great reviews. notwithstanding the severe etiquette of the emperor's court, there were always a few privileged persons who had the right to enter his apartment, even when he was in bed, though the number was small. they consisted of the following persons:-m. de talleyrand, vice grand elector; de montesquiou, grand chamberlain; de remusat, first chamberlain; maret, corvisart, denon, murat, yvan; duroc, grand marshal; and de caulaincourt, grand equerry. for a long time all these personages came to the emperor's apartment almost every morning, and their visits were the origin of what was afterwards called 'le petit lever'. m. de lavalette also came frequently, and also m. real and messieurs fouche and savary while each of them was minister of police. the princes of the imperial family also enjoyed the right to enter the emperor's apartment in the morning. i often saw the emperor's mother. the emperor kissed her hand with much respect and tenderness, but i have many times heard him reproach her for her excessive economy. madame mere listened, and then gave as excuse for not changing her style of living reasons which often vexed his majesty, but which events have unfortunately justified. madame mere had been a great beauty, and was still very pretty, especially when i saw her for the first time. it was impossible to find a better mother; devoted to her children; she lavished on them the sagest counsels, and always intervened in family quarrels to sustain those whom she thought in the right; for a long time she took lucien's part, and i have often heard her warmly defend jerome when the first consul was most severe towards his young brother. the only fault in madame mere's character was her excessive economy, and on this point astonishing things could be said without fear of exaggeration, but she was beloved by every one in the palace for her kindness and affability. i recall in reference to madame mere an incident which greatly amused the empress josephine. madame was spending several days at malmaison, when one day one of her ladies, whom she had caused to be sent for, found, on entering the room, to her great astonishment, cardinal fesch discharging the duty of a lady's maid by lacing up his sister, who had on only her underclothing and her corset. one of the subjects on which the emperor would listen to no raillery was that of custom-house duties, and towards all contraband proceeding he showed inflexible severity; and this reached such a point, that one day m. soiris, director of the custom-house at verceil, having seized a package of sixty cashmere shawls, sent from constantinople to the empress, the emperor approved his action, and the cashmeres were sold for the benefit of the state. in such cases the emperor always said, "how can a sovereign have the laws respected if he does not respect them himself?" i recall another occasion, and i think the only instance in which he permitted an infraction of the custom-house regulations; but we shall see the question was not that of ordinary smuggling. the grenadiers of the old guard, under the orders of general soules, returned to france after the peace of tilsit. on their arrival at mayence, the custom-house officers endeavored to perform their duty, and consequently inspected the chests of the guard and those of the general. meanwhile, the director of the custom-house, in doubt what proceedings to take, sought the general to inform him of the necessity he was under of executing the laws, and of carrying out the direct orders of the emperor. the general's reply to this courteous overture was plain and energetic: "if a single officer dares to place his hand on the boxes of my old mustaches, i'll throw him into the rhine!" the officer insisted. the custom-house employees were quite numerous, and were preparing to proceed with the inspection, when general soules had the boxes put in the middle of the square, and a regiment detailed to guard them. the director of the custom-house, not daring to proceed further, sent to the director-general a report to be submitted to the emperor. under any other circumstances the case would have been serious; but the emperor had just returned to paris, where he had been welcomed more heartily than ever before by the acclamations of the people on the occasion of the fetes celebrated in honor of peace, and this old guard was returning home resplendent with glory, and after most admirable behavior at eylau. all these things combined to quell the emperor's anger; and having decided not to punish, he wished to reward them, and not to take seriously their infraction of his custom-house regulations. general soules, on reaching paris, presented himself before the emperor, who received him cordially, and, after some remarks relative to the guard, added: "by the by, what is this you have been doing? i heard of you. what! you really threatened to throw my custom-house officers into the rhine! would you have done it?"--"yes, sire," replied the general, with his german accent, "yes; i would have done it. it was an insult to my old grenadiers to attempt to inspect their boxes."--"come, now," said the emperor very affably, "i see just how it is. you have been smuggling."--"i, sire?"--"yes, i say. you have been smuggling. you bought linen in hanover. you wanted to furnish your house handsomely, as you imagined i would appoint you senator. you were not mistaken. go and have your senator's coat made, but do not repeat this performance, for next time i will have you shot." during our stay at bayonne, in 1808, every one was struck with the awkward manners of the king and queen of spain, and the poor taste displayed in their toilets, the disgraceful appearance of their equipages, and a certain air of constraint and embarrassment which was general among all the persons of their suite. the elegant manners of the french and the magnificence of the imperial equipages furnished such a contrast to all this that it rendered them indescribably ridiculous. the emperor, who had such exquisite tact in all matters, was not one of the last to perceive this, but, nevertheless, was not pleased that an opportunity should be found to ridicule crowned heads. one morning at his toilet he said to me, "i say, then, monsieur le drole, you, who are so well versed in these matters, give a few hints to the valet de chambre of the king and queen of spain. they appear so awkward they really excite my pity." i eagerly did what his majesty suggested; but he did not content himself with this, but also communicated to the empress josephine his observations on the queen and her ladies. the empress josephine, who was the embodiment of taste, gave orders accordingly; and for two days her hairdressers and women were occupied exclusively in giving lessons in taste and elegance to their spanish brethren. this is a striking evidence of how the emperor found time for everything, and could descend from his elevated duties to the most insignificant affairs. the grand marshal of the palace (duroc) was almost the same height as the emperor. he walked badly and ungracefully, but had a tolerably good head and features. he was quick tempered, impulsive, and swore like a soldier; but he had much administrative ability, of which he gave more than one proof in the organization of the imperial household, which was ably and wisely regulated. when the enemy's cannon deprived his majesty of this devoted servitor and sincere friend, the empress josephine said that she knew only two men capable of filling his place; these were general drouot and m. de flahaut, and the whole household hoped that one of these two gentlemen would be nominated; this, however, was not the case. m. de caulaincourt, duke of vicenza, was extremely severe towards the household; but he was just and of a chivalrous loyalty, and his word was as good as a contract: he was feared and yet beloved. he had a piercing eye, spoke quickly and with great ease. the emperor's regard for him was well known, and certainly no one was more worthy of it than he. the count de remusat was of medium height, with a smooth, white face, obliging, amiable, and with natural politeness and good taste; but he was extravagant, lacked order in managing his own affairs and consequently those of the emperor. this lavish expenditure, which is admirable from one point of view, might have suited any other sovereign; but the emperor was economical, and though, much attached to m. de remusat, dismissed him from the head of the wardrobe bureau, and put in his place monsieur de turenne, who exercised the strictest economy. m. de turenne possessed perhaps a little too much of what his predecessor lacked, but it was exactly this that pleased the emperor. m. de turenne was quite a pretty man, thinking perhaps a little too much of himself, a great talker and anglo-maniac, which led the emperor to give him the name of my lord kinsester (who cannot be silent); but he told a story well, and sometimes his majesty took pleasure in making him relate the chronicles of paris. when the count of turenne replaced the count of remusat in the office of grand master of the wardrobe, in order not to exceed the sum of twenty thousand francs which his majesty allowed for his toilet, he exercised the greatest possible economy in the quantity, price, and quality of things indispensable to the household. i have been told, but i do not know whether it is true, that, in order to ascertain exactly what were the profits of the emperor's furnishers, he went to the various factories of paris with samples of gloves, silk stockings, aloes wood, etc.; but, even if this is true, it only does honor to the zeal and probity of m. de turenne. i knew very little of count segur, grand master of ceremonies. it was said in the household that he was haughty and somewhat abrupt, but perfectly polite and intelligent, with a delicate and refined face. it would be necessary to have witnessed the perfect order which reigned in the emperor's household to comprehend it fully. from the time of the consulate, general duroc had brought into the administration of the interior affairs of the palace that spirit of order and economy which especially characterized him. but, great as was the emperor's confidence in general duroc, he did not disdain to throw the glance of a master over things which seemed insignificant, and with which, in general, sovereigns rarely occupy themselves. thus, for example, in the beginning of the empire there was some little extravagance in certain parts of the palace, notably at saint-cloud, where the aides-de-camp kept open table; but this was, nevertheless, far from equaling the excessive prodigality of the ancient regime. champagne and other wines especially were used in great quantities, and it was very necessary that the emperor should establish regulations as to his cellar. he summoned the chief of the household service, soupe pierrugues, and said to him, "monsieur, i commit to you the keys of my imperial cellars; you will there have charge of the wines of all kinds; some are needed in my palaces of the tuileries, saint-cloud, compiegne, fontainebleau, marrac, lacken, and turin. establish a moderate price at all these residences, and you alone will furnish wines to my household." this arrangement was made, and all kinds of fraud were impossible, as the deputy of m. soupe pierrugues delivered wines only on a note signed by the controller of the kitchen; all the bottles not opened were returned, and each evening an account was given of what had been used for that day. the service had the same regulations while we were on campaigns. during the second campaign of vienna, i recollect that the house deputy of soupe pierrugues was m. eugene pierrugues, frank, gay, witty, and much beloved by us all. an imprudence cost him dear, for in consequence of a heedlessness natural at his age he had his arm broken. we were then at schoenbrunn. those who have seen this imperial residence know that splendid avenues extend in front of the palace, leading to the road to vienna. as i often took horseback rides through the town, m. eugene pierrugues wished to accompany me one day, and borrowed a horse from one of the quartermasters of the palace. he was forewarned that the horse was very fiery; but he paid no attention to that, and immediately put him into a gallop. i reined mine in, in order not to excite my companion's; but in spite of this precaution the horse ran away, dashed into the woods, and broke the arm of his unfortunate and imprudent rider. m. eugene pierrugues was, however, not unhorsed by the blow, and kept his seat a short while after the injury; but it was very serious, and it was necessary to carry him back to the palace. i, more than any one else, was distressed by this frightful accident; and we established a regular attendance on him, so that one at least could always be with him when our duties allowed. i have never seen suffering borne with more fortitude; and it was carried to such a remarkable degree, that, finding his arm badly set, at the end of a few days he had it again fractured, an operation which caused him horrible suffering. my uncle, who was usher of the emperor's cabinet, related to me an anecdote which is probably entirely unknown; since everything, as we shall see, occurred under cover of the most profound mystery. "one evening," he said to me, "marshal duroc gave me in person orders to extinguish the lights in the saloon in front of his majesty's cabinet, and to leave only a few candles lighted. i was surprised at such a novel order, especially as the grand marshal was not accustomed to give them thus directly, but, nevertheless, executed it precisely, and waited at my post. at ten o'clock marshal duroc returned, accompanied by a personage whose features it was impossible to distinguish, as he was entirely wrapped in a large cloak, his head covered, and his hat pulled down over his eyes. i withdrew, leaving the two alone, but had hardly left the saloon when the emperor entered, and marshal duroc also retired, leaving the stranger alone with his majesty. from the tone in which the emperor spoke it was easy to see that he was greatly irritated. he spoke very loud; and i heard him say, 'well, monsieur, you will never change then. it is gold you want, always gold. you draw on all foreign banks, and have no confidence in that of paris. you have ruined the bank of hamburg; you have caused m. drouet (or drouaut, for the name was pronounced very quickly) to lose two millions: "the emperor," my uncle continued, "conversed in this strain for a long while, though the stranger did not reply, or replied in so low a tone that it was impossible to hear a word; and the scene, which must have been most trying to the mysterious personage, lasted about twenty minutes. at last he was permitted to leave, which he did with the same precautions as on his arrival, and retired from the palace as secretly as he had come." nothing of this scene was known in paris; and, moreover, neither my uncle nor i have ever sought to ascertain the name of the person whom the emperor overwhelmed with such numerous and severe reproaches. whenever circumstances allowed, the emperor's habits of life were very regular, his time being almost uniformly divided as follows. every morning, at nine o'clock precisely, the emperor left the imperial apartments; his exactness in observing hours was carried to an extreme, and i have sometimes seen him wait two or three moments in order that no one might be taken by surprise. at nine o'clock his toilet was made for the whole day. when he had reached the reception-room, the officers on duty were first admitted, and received his majesty's orders for their time of service. immediately after this, what was called the grandes entrees took place. that is to say, personages of high rank were admitted, who had this right on account of their duties, or by the special favor of the emperor; and i can assert that this favor was much envied. it was granted generally to all the officers of the imperial household, even if they were not on duty; and every one remained standing, as did the emperor also. he made the tour of all the persons present, nearly always addressed a remark or a question to each one; and it was amusing to see afterwards, during the whole day, the proud and haughty bearing of those to whom the emperor had spoken a little longer than to others. this ceremony usually lasted a half-hour, and as soon as it was finished the emperor bowed and each retired. at half-past nine the emperor's breakfast was served, usually on a small mahogany stand; and this first repast commonly lasted only seven or eight minutes, though sometimes it was prolonged, and even lasted quite a long while. this, however, was only on rare occasions, when the emperor was in unusually good-humor, and wished to indulge in the pleasure of a conversation with men of great merit, whom he had known a long while, and who happened to be present at his breakfast. there he was no longer the formal emperor of the levee; he was in a manner the hero of italy, the conqueror of egypt, and above all the member of the institute. those who came most habitually were messieurs monge, berthollet, costaz (superintendent of crown buildings), denon, corvisart, david, gerard, isabey, talma, and fontaine (his first architect). how many noble thoughts, how many elevated sentiments, found vent in these conversations which the emperor was accustomed to open by saying, "come, messieurs, i close the door of my cabinet." this was the signal, and it was truly miraculous to see his majesty's aptitude in putting his genius in communication with these great intellects with such diversities of talent. i recall that, during the days preceding the emperor's coronation, m. isabey attended regularly at the emperor's breakfast, and was present almost every morning; and strange, too, it did not seem an absurd thing to see children's toys used to represent the imposing ceremony which was to exert such a great influence over the destinies of the world. the intelligent painter of his majesty's cabinet portraits caused to be placed on a large table a number of small figures representing all the personages who were to take part in the ceremony of the coronation; each had his designated place; and no one was omitted, from the emperor to the pope, and even to the choristers, each being dressed in the costume he was expected to wear. these rehearsals took place frequently, and all were eager to consult the model in order to make no mistake as to the place each was to occupy. on those days, as may be imagined, the door of the cabinet was closed, and in consequence the ministers sometimes, waited awhile. immediately after the breakfast the emperor admitted his ministers and director generals; and these audiences, devoted to the special work of each minister and of each director, lasted until six o'clock in the evening, with the exception of those days on which his majesty occupied himself exclusively with governmental affairs, and presided over the council of state, or the ministerial councils. at the tuileries and at saint-cloud dinner was served at six o'clock; and the emperor dined each day alone with the empress, except on sunday, when all the family were admitted to dinner. the emperor, empress, and madame mere only were seated in armchairs; all others, whether kings or queens, having only ordinary chairs. there was only one course before the dessert. his majesty usually drank chambertin wine, but rarely without water, and hardly more than one bottle. to dine with the emperor was rather an honor than a pleasure to those who were admitted; for it was necessary, to use the common expression, to swallow in post haste, as his majesty never remained at table more than fifteen or eighteen minutes. after his dinner, as after breakfast, the emperor habitually took a cup of coffee, which the empress poured out. under the consulate madame bonaparte began this custom, because the general often forgot to take his coffee; she continued it after she became empress, and the empress marie louise retained the same custom. after dinner the empress descended to her apartments, where she found assembled her ladies and the officers on duty; and the emperor sometimes accompanied her, but remained only a short while. such was the customary routine of life in the palace at the tuileries on those days when there was neither the chase in the morning, nor concert nor theater in the evening; and the life at saint-cloud differed little from that at the tuileries. sometimes rides were taken in coaches when the weather permitted; and on wednesday, the day set for the council of ministers, these officials were invariably honored by an invitation to dine with their majesties. when there was a hunt at fontainebleau, rambouillet, or compiegne, the usual routine was omitted; the ladies followed in coaches, and the whole household dined with the emperor and empress under a tent erected in the forest. it sometimes happened, though rarely, that the emperor invited unexpectedly some members of his family to remain to dine with him; and this recalls an anecdote which should have a place in this connection. the king of naples came one day to visit the emperor, and being invited to dine, accepted, forgetting that he was in morning dress, and there was barely time for him to change his costume, and consequently none to return to the elysee, which he then inhabited. the king ran quickly up to my room, and informed me of his embarrassment, which i instantly relieved, to his great delight. i had at that time a very handsome wardrobe, almost all the articles of which were then entirely new; so i gave him a shirt, vest, breeches, stockings, and shoes, and assisted him to dress, and fortunately everything fitted as if it had been made especially for him. he showed towards me the same kindness and affability he always manifested, and thanked me in the most charming manner. in the evening the king of naples, after taking leave of the emperor, returned to my room to resume his morning dress, and begged me to come to him next day at the laysee, which i did punctually after relating to the emperor all that had occurred, much to his amusement. on my arrival at the elysee i was immediately introduced into the king's apartments, who repeated his thanks in the most gracious manner, and gave me a pretty breguet watch. [abraham louis breguet, the celebrated watchmaker, was born at neuchatel, 1747; died 1823. he made numerous improvements in watches and in nautical and astronomical instruments.] during our campaigns i sometimes had occasion to render little services of the same nature to the king of naples; but the question was not then, as at saint-cloud, one of silk stockings, for more than once on the bivouac i shared with him a bundle of straw, which i had been fortunate enough to procure. in such cases i must avow the sacrifice was much greater on my part than when i had shared my wardrobe with him. the king was not backward in expressing his gratitude; and i thought it a most remarkable thing to see a sovereign, whose palace was filled with all that luxury can invent to add to comfort, and all that art can create which is splendid and magnificent, only too happy in procuring half of a bundle of straw on which to rest his head. i will now give some fresh souvenirs which have just recurred to my mind concerning the court theater. at saint-cloud, in order to reach the theater hall, it was necessary to cross the whole length of the orangery; and nothing could be more elegant than the manner in which it was decorated on these occasions. rows of rare plants were arranged in tiers, and the whole lighted by lamps; and during the winter the boxes were hidden by covering them with moss and flowers, which produced a charming effect under the lights. the parterre of the theater was usually filled with generals, senators, and councilors of state; the first boxes were reserved for the princes and princesses of the imperial family, for foreign princes, marshals, their wives, and ladies of honor. in the second tier were placed all persons attached to the court. between the acts, ices and refreshments were served; but the ancient etiquette had been re-established in one particular, which greatly displeased the actors,--no applause was allowed; and talma often told me that the kind of coldness produced by this silence was very detrimental at certain parts where the actor felt the need of being enthused. nevertheless, it sometimes happened that the emperor, in testimony of his satisfaction, made a slight signal with his hand; and then and also at the grandest periods we heard, if not applause, at least a flattering murmur which the spectators were not always able to repress. the chief charm of these brilliant assemblies was the presence of the emperor; and consequently an invitation to the theater of saint-cloud was an honor much desired. in the time of the empress josephine there were no representations at the palace in the absence of the emperor; but when marie louise was alone at saint-cloud during the campaign of dresden, two representations a week were given, and the whole repertoire of gretry was played in succession before her majesty. at the end of each piece there was always a little ballet. the theater of saint-cloud was, so to speak, on more than one occasion the theater of first attempts. for instance, m. raynouard played there for the first time the 'etats de blois', a work which the emperor would not allow to be played in public, and which was not done, in fact, until after the return of louis xviii. 'the venetians' by m. amand also made its first appearance on the theater of saint-cloud, or rather of malmaison. this was not highly considered at the time; but the infallible judgment the emperor displayed in his choice of plays and actors was most remarkable. he generally gave m. corvisart the preference in deciding these matters, on which he descanted with much complacence when his more weighty occupations allowed. he was usually less severe and more just than geoffroy; and it is much to be desired that the criticisms and opinions of the emperor concerning authors and actors could have been preserved. they would have been of much benefit to the progress of art. in speaking of the retreat from moscow, i related previously in my memoirs that i had the good fortune to offer a place in my carriage to the young prince of aremborg, and assisted him in continuing his journey. i recall another occasion in the life of this prince, when one of my friends was very useful to him, some particulars of which may not be without interest. the prince of aremberg, an ordnance officer of the emperor, had, as we know, married mademoiselle tascher, niece of the empress josephine. having been sent into spain, he was there taken by the english, and afterwards carried a prisoner to england. his captivity was at first very disagreeable; and he told me himself that he was very unhappy, until he made the acquaintance of one of my friends, m. herz, commissary of war, who possessed a fine mind, was very intelligent, spoke several languages, and was, like the prince, a prisoner in england. the acquaintance formed at once between the prince and m. herz soon became so intimate that they were constantly together; and thus passed the time as happily as it can with one far from his native land and deprived of his liberty. they were living thus, ameliorating for each other the ennui of captivity, when m. herz was exchanged, which was, perhaps, a great misfortune for him, as we shall afterwards see. at all events, the prince was deeply distressed at being left alone; but, nevertheless, gave m. herz several letters to his family, and at the same time sent his mother his mustache, which he had mounted in a medallion with a chain. one day the princess of aremberg arrived at saint-cloud and demanded a private audience of the emperor. "my son," said she, "demands your majesty's permission to attempt his escape from england."--"madame," said the emperor, "your request is most embarrassing! i do not forbid your son, but i can by no means authorize him." it was at the time i had the honor of saving the prince of aremberg's life that i learned from him these particulars. as for my poor friend herz, his liberty became fatal to him, owing to an inexplicable succession of events. having been sent by marshal augereau to stralsund to perform a secret mission, he died there, suffocated by the fire of a brass stove in the room in which he slept. his secretary and his servant nearly fell victims to the same accident; but, more fortunate than he, their lives were saved. the prince of aremberg spoke to me of the death of m. herz with real feeling; and it was easy to see that, prince as he was and allied to the emperor, he entertained a most sincere friendship for his companion in captivity. chapter, xxxi. military anecdotes. i have collected under the title of military anecdotes some facts which came to my knowledge while i accompanied the emperor on his campaigns, and the authenticity of which i guarantee. i might have scattered them through my memoirs, and placed them in their proper periods; my not having done so is not owing to forgetfulness on my part, but because i thought that these incidents would have an added interest by being collected together, since in them we see the direct influence of the emperor upon his soldiers, and thus can more easily form an exact idea of the manner in which his majesty treated them, his consideration for them, and their attachment to his person. during the autumn of 1804, between the time of the creation of the empire and the coronation of the emperor, his majesty made several journeys to the camp of boulogne; and from this fact rumors arose that the expedition against england would soon set sail. in one of his frequent tours of inspection, the emperor, stopping one day near the end of the camp on the left, spoke to a cannoneer from a guard ship, and while conversing with him, asked him several questions, among others, the following, "what is thought here of the emperor?"--"that 'sacre tondu' puts us out of breath as soon as he arrives. each time he comes we have not a moment's repose while he is here. it might be thought he was enraged against those dogs of english who are always beating us, not much to our own credit." "you believe in glory, then?" said the emperor. the cannoneer then looked at him fixedly: "somewhat, i think. do you doubt it?"--"no, i do not doubt it, but money, do you believe in that also?"--"ah! what--i see --do you mean to insult me, you questioner? i know no other interest than that of the state."--"no, no, my brave soldier; i do not intend to insult you, but i bet that a twenty-franc piece would not be disagreeable to you in drinking a cup to my health." while speaking thus the emperor had drawn a napoleon from his pocket, which he presented to the cannoneer, whereupon the latter uttered a shout loud enough to be heard by the sentinel at the west post some distance off; and even threw himself on the emperor, whom he took for a spy, and was about to seize him by the throat when the emperor suddenly opened his gray overcoat and revealed his identity. the soldier's astonishment may be imagined! he prostrated himself at the feet of the emperor, overcome with confusion at his mistake; but the latter, extending his hand, said, "rise, my brave fellow, you have done your duty; but you will not keep your word, i am very sure; you will accept this piece, and drink to the health of the 'sacre tondo', will you not?" the emperor then continued his rounds as if nothing had occurred. every one admits to-day that never, perhaps, has any man been gifted to the same degree as the emperor with the art of addressing soldiers. he appreciated this talent highly in others; but it was not fine phrases which pleased him, and accordingly he held that a master-piece of this kind was the very short harangue of general vandamme to the soldiers he commanded the day of the battle of austerlitz. when day began to break general vandamme said to the troops, "my brave fellows! there are the russians! load your pieces, pick your flints, put powder in the pan, fix bayonets, ready and--forward!" i remember one day the emperor spoke of this oration before marshal berthier, who laughed at it. "that is like you," he said. "well, all the advocates of paris would not have said it so well; the soldier understands this, and that is the way battles are won." when after the first campaign of vienna, so happily terminated by the peace of presburg, the emperor was returning to paris, many complaints reached him against the exactions of certain generals, notably general vandamme. complaint was made, amongst other grievances, that in the little village of lantza this general had allowed himself five hundred florins per day, that is to say, eleven hundred and twenty-five francs, simply for the daily expenses of his table. it was on this occasion the emperor said of him: "pillages like a madman, but brave as caesar." nevertheless, the emperor, indignant at such exactions, and determined to put an end to them, summoned the general to paris to reprimand him; but the latter, as soon as he entered the emperor's presence, began to speak before his majesty had time to address him, saying, "sire, i know why you have summoned me; but as you know my devotion and my bravery i trust you will excuse some slight altercations as to the furnishing of my table, matters too petty, at any rate, to occupy your majesty." the emperor smiled at the oratorical skillfulness of general vandamme, and contented himself with saying, "well, well! say no more, but be more circumspect in future." general vandamme, happy to have escaped with so gentle an admonition, returned to lantza to resume his command. he was indeed more circumspect than in the past; but he found and seized the occasion to revenge himself on the town for the compulsory self-denial the emperor had imposed on him. on his arrival he found in the suburbs a large number of recruits who had come from paris in his absence; and it occurred to him to make them all enter the town, alleging that it was indispensable they should be drilled under his own eyes. this was an enormous expense to the town, which would have been very willing to recall its complaints, and continue his expenses at the rate of five hundred florins per day. the emperor does not figure in the following anecdote. i will relate it, however, as a good instance of the manners and the astuteness of our soldiers on the campaign. during the year 1806, a part of our troops having their quarters in bavaria, a soldier of the fourth regiment of the line, named varengo, was lodged at indersdorff with a joiner. varengo wished to compel his host to pay him two florins, or four livres ten sous, per day for his pleasures. he had no right to exact this. to succeed in making it to his interest to comply he set himself to make a continual racket in the house. the poor carpenter, not being able to endure it longer, resolved to complain, but thought it prudent not to carry his complaints to the officers of the company in which varengo served. he knew by his own experience, at least by that of his neighbors, that these gentlemen were by no means accessible to complaints of this kind. he decided to address himself to the general commanding, and set out on the road to augsburg, the chief place of the arrondissement. on his arrival at the bureau of the town, he was met by the general, and began to submit to him an account of his misfortunes; but unfortunately the general did not know the german language, so he sent for his interpreter, told the carpenter to explain himself, and inquired of what he complained. now, the general's interpreting secretary was a quartermaster who had been attached to the general's staff since the peace of presburg, and happened to be, as luck would have it, the first cousin of this varengo against whom the complaint was made. without hesitation the quartermaster, as soon as he heard his cousin's name, gave an entirely incorrect translation of the report, assuring the general that this peasant, although in very comfortable circumstances, disobeyed the order of the day, in refusing to furnish fresh meat for the brave soldier who lodged with him; and this was the origin of the disagreement on which the complaint was based, no other motive being alleged for demanding a change. the general was much irritated, and gave orders to his secretary to require the peasant, under severe penalties, to furnish fresh meat for his guest. the order was written; but instead of submitting it to the supervision of the general, the interpreting secretary wrote out at length that the carpenter should pay two florins per day to varengo. the poor fellow, having read this in german, could not restrain a movement of anger, seeing which, the general, thinking he had resisted the order, ordered him out, threatening him with his riding-whip. thus, thanks to his cousin, the interpreter, varengo regularly received two florins per day, which enabled him to be one of the jolliest soldiers in his company. the emperor did not like duelling. he often pretended to be ignorant of duels; but when he had to admit his knowledge of one, loudly expressed his dissatisfaction. i recall in this connection two or three circumstances which i shall attempt to relate. a short time after the foundation of the empire, a duel occurred, which created much stir in paris, on account of the rank of the two adversaries. the emperor had just authorized the formation of the first foreign regiment which he wished to admit into the service of france,--the regiment of aremberg. notwithstanding the title of this corps, most of the officers who were admitted were french; and this was a good opening, discreetly made, for rich and titled young men, who, in purchasing companies by the authority of the minister of war, could thus pass more rapidly through the first grades. among the officers of the aremberg regiment, were m. charles de sainte-croix, who had recently served in the ministry of foreign affairs, and a charming young man whom i saw often at malmaison, m. de mariolles, who was nearly related to the empress josephine. it seems that the same position had been promised both, and they resolved to settle the dispute by private combat. m. de mariolles fell, and died on the spot, and his death created consternation among the ladies of the salon at malmaison. his family and relations united in making complaint to the emperor, who was very indignant, and spoke of sending m. de sainte-croix to the temple prison and having him tried for murder. he prudently concealed himself during the first outburst over this affair; and the police, who were put on his track, would have had much difficulty in finding him, as he was especially protected by m. fouche, who had recently re-entered the ministry, and was intimately connected with his mother, madame de sainte-croix. everything ended with the threats of his majesty; since m. fouche had remarked to him that by such unaccustomed severity the malevolent would not fail to say that he was performing less an act of sovereignty than one of personal vengeance, as the victim had the honor of being connected with himself. the affair was thus suffered to drop; and i am here struck with the manner in which one recollection leads on to another, for i remember that in process of time the emperor became much attached to m. de sainte-croix, whose advancement in the army was both brilliant and rapid; since, although he entered the service when twenty-two years of age, he was only twenty-eight when he was killed in spain, being already then general of division. i often saw m. de sainte-croix at the emperor's headquarters. i think i see him still, small, delicate, with an attractive countenance, and very little beard. he might have been taken for a young woman, rather than the brave young soldier he was; and, in fact, his features were so delicate, his cheeks so rosy, his blond hair curled in such natural ringlets, that when the emperor was in a good humor he called him nothing but mademoiselle de sainte-croix! another circumstance which i should not omit is a duel which took place at burgos, in 1808, between general franceschi, aide-de-camp to king joseph, and colonel filangieri, colonel of his guard, both of whom were equerries of his majesty. the subject of the quarrel was almost the same as that between m. de mariolles and de sainte-croix; since both disputed for the position of first equerry to king joseph, both maintaining that it had been promised them. we had hardly been in the palace of burgos five minutes when the emperor was informed of this duel, which had taken place almost under the walls of the palace itself, and only a few hours before. the emperor learned at the same time that general franceschi had been killed, and on account of the difference in their rank, in order not to compromise military etiquette, they had fought in their uniforms of equerry. the emperor was struck with the fact that the first news he received was bad news; and with his ideas of fatality, this really excited a great influence over him. he gave orders to have colonel filangieri found and brought to him, and he came in a few moments. i did not see him, as i was in another apartment; but the emperor spoke to him in so loud and sharp a tone that i heard distinctly all he said. "duels! duels! always duels!" cried the emperor. "i will not allow it. i will punish it! you know how i abhor them!"--"sire, have me tried if you will, but hear me."--"what can you have to say to me, you crater of vesuvius? i have already pardoned your affair with saint simon; i will not do the like again. moreover, i cannot, at the very beginning of the campaign, when all should be thoroughly united! it produces a most unfortunate effect!" here the emperor kept silence a moment; then he resumed, although in a somewhat sharper tone: "yes! you have a head of vesuvius. see what a fine condition of affairs i arrive and find blood in my palace!" after another pause, and in a somewhat calmer tone: "see what you have done! joseph needs good officers; and here you have deprived him of two by a single blow,--franceschi, whom you have killed, and yourself, who can no longer remain in his service." here the emperor was silent for some moments, and then added: "now retire, leave! give yourself up as a prisoner at the citadel of turin. there await my orders, or rather place yourself in murat's hands; he will know what to do with you; he also has vesuvius in his head, and he will give you a warm welcome. now take yourself off at once." colonel filangieri needed no urging, i think, to hasten the execution of the emperor's orders. i do not know the conclusion of thus adventure; but i do know that the affair affected his majesty deeply, for that evening when i was undressing him he repeated several times, "duels! what a disgraceful thing! it is the kind of courage cannibals have!" if, moreover; the emperor's anger was softened on this occasion, it was on account of his affection for young filangieri; at first on account of his father, whom the emperor highly esteemed, and also, because the young man having been educated at his expense, at the french prytanee, he regarded him as one of his children by adoption, especially since he knew that m. filangieri, godson of the queen of naples, had refused a regiment, which the latter had offered him while he was still only a simple lieutenant in the consular guard, and further, because he had not consented to become a neapolitan again until a french prince had been called to the throne of naples. what remains to be said on the subject of duels under the empire, and the emperor's conduct regarding them which came to my knowledge, somewhat resembles the little piece which is played on the theater after a tragedy. i will now relate how it happened that the emperor himself played the role of peacemaker between two sub-officers who were enamored of the same beauty. when the french army occupied vienna, some time after the battle of austerlitz, two sub-officers belonging to the forty-sixth and fiftieth regiments of the line, having had a dispute, determined to fight a duel, and chose for the place of combat a spot situated at the extremity of a plain which adjoined the palace of schoenbrunn, the emperor's place of residence. our two champions had already unsheathed and exchanged blows with their short swords, which happily each had warded off, when the emperor happened to pass near them, accompanied by several generals. their stupefaction at the sight of the emperor may be imagined. their arms fell, so to speak; from their hands. the emperor inquired the cause of their quarrel, and learned that a woman who granted her favors to both was the real motive, each of them desiring to have no rival. these two champions found by chance that they were known to one of the generals who accompanied his majesty, and informed him that they were two brave soldiers of marengo and austerlitz, belonging to such and such regiments, whose names had already been put on the list for the cross of honor; whereupon the emperor addressed them after this style: "my children, woman is capricious, as fortune is also; and since you are soldiers of marengo and austerlitz, you need to give no new proofs of your courage. return to your corps, and be friends henceforth, like good knights." these two soldiers lost all desire to fight, and soon perceived that their august peacemaker had not forgotten them, as they promptly received the cross of the legion of honor. in the beginning of the campaign of tilsit, the emperor, being at berlin, one day took a fancy to make an excursion on foot to the quarter where our soldiers in the public houses indulged in the pleasures of the dance. he saw a quartermaster of the cavalry of his guard walking with a coarse, rotund german woman, and amused himself listening to the gallant remarks made by this quartermaster to his beautiful companion. "let us enjoy ourselves, my dear," said he; "it is the 'tondu' who pays the musicians with the 'kriches' of your sovereign. let us take our own gait; long live joy! and forward"--"not so fast," said the emperor, approaching him. "certainly it must always be forward, but wait till i sound the charge." the quartermaster turned and recognized the emperor, and, without being at all disconcerted, put his hand to his shako, and said, "that is useless trouble. your majesty does not need to beat a drum to make us move." this repartee made the emperor smile, and soon after gained epaulets for the sub-officer, who perhaps might have waited a long while except for this fancy of his majesty. but, at all events, if chance sometimes contributed thus to the giving of rewards, they were never given until after he had ascertained that those on whom he bestowed them were worthy. at eylau provisions failed; for a week, the bread supply being exhausted, the soldiers fed themselves as they could. the evening before the first attack, the emperor, who wished to examine everything himself, made a tour of the bivouacs, and reaching one where all the men were asleep, saw some potatoes cooking, took a fancy to eat them, and undertook to draw them out of the fire with the point of his sword. instantly a soldier awoke, and seeing some one usurping part of his supper, "i say, you are not very ceremonious, eating our potatoes!"--"my comrade, i am so hungry that you must excuse me."--"well, take one or two then, if that is the case; but get off." but as the emperor made no haste in getting off, the soldier insisted more strongly, and soon a heated discussion arose between him and the emperor. from words they were about to come to blows, when the emperor thought it was time to make himself known. the soldier's confusion was indescribable. he had almost struck the emperor. he threw himself at his majesty's feet, begging his pardon, which was most readily granted. "it was i who was in the wrong," said the emperor; "i was obstinate. i bear you no illwill; rise and let your mind be at rest, both now and in the future." the emperor, having made inquiries concerning this soldier, learned that he was a good fellow, and not unintelligent. on the next promotion he was made sub-lieutenant. it is impossible to give an idea of the effect of such occurrences on the army. they were a constant subject of conversation with the soldiers, and stimulated them inexpressibly. the one who enjoyed the greatest distinction in his company was he of whom it could be said: "the emperor has spoken to him." at the battle of essling the brave general daleim, commanding a division of the fourth corps, found himself during the hottest part of the action at a spot swept by the enemy's artillery. the emperor, passing near him, said: "it is warm in your locality!"--"yes, sire; permit me to extinguish the fire."--"go." this one word sufficed; in the twinkling of an eye the terrible battery was taken. in the evening the emperor, seeing general daleim, approached him, and said, "it seems you only had to blow on it." his majesty alluded general daleim's habit of incessant whistling. among the brave general officers around the emperor, a few were not highly educated, though their other fine qualities recommended them; some were celebrated for other reasons than their military merit. thus general junot and general fournier were known as the best pistol shots; general lasellette was famous for his love of music, which he indulged to such an extent as to have a piano always in one of his baggage wagons. this general drank only water; but, on the contrary, it was very different with general bisson. who has not heard of the hardest drinker in all the army? one day the emperor, meeting him at berlin, said to him, "well, bisson, do you still drink much?"--"moderately, sire; not more than twenty-five bottles." this was, in fact, a great improvement, for he had more than once reached the number of forty without being made tipsy. moreover, with general bisson it was not a vice, but an imperious need. the emperor knowing this, and being much attached to him, allowed him a pension of twelve thousand francs out of his privy purse, and gave him besides frequent presents. among the officers who were not very well educated, we may be permitted to mention general gros; and the manner in which he was promoted to the grade of general proves this fact. but his bravery was equal to every proof, and he was a superb specimen of masculine beauty. the pen alone was an unaccustomed weapon to him, and he could hardly use it to sign his name; and it was said that he was not much more proficient in reading. being colonel of the guard, he found himself one day alone at the tuileries in an apartment where he waited until the emperor could be seen. there he delighted himself with observing his image reflected in the glass, and readjusting his cravat; and the admiration he felt at his own image led him to converse aloud with himself or rather with his reflection. "ah!" said he, "if you only knew 'bachebachiques' (mathematics), such a man as you, with a soldier's heart like yours, ah! the emperor would make you a general!"--"you are one," said the emperor, striking him on the shoulder. his majesty had entered the saloon without being heard, and had amused himself with listening to the conversation colonel gros had carried on with himself. such were the circumstances of his promotion to the rank of general, and what is more to be a general in the guard. i have now arrived at the end of my list of military anecdotes. i have just spoken of a general's promotion, and will close with the story of a simple drummer, but a drummer renowned throughout the army as a perfect buffoon, in fact, the famous rata, to whom general gros, as we shall see; was deeply attached. the army marched on lintz during the campaign of 1809. rata, drummer of the grenadiers of the fourth regiment of the line, and famous as a buffoon, having learned that the guard was to pass, and that it was commanded by general gros; desired to see this officer who had been his chief of battalion, and with whom he had formerly taken all sorts of liberties. rata thereupon waged his mustache, and went to salute the general, addressing him thus: "ah, here you are, general. how are you?" --"very well, indeed, rata; and you?"--"always well, but not so well as you, it seems to me. since you are doing so very well, you no longer think of poor rata; for if he did not come to see you, you would not even think of sending him a few sous to buy tobacco." while saying, "you do so well," rata had quickly seized general gross hat, and put it on his head in place of his own. at this moment the emperor passed, and seeing a drummer wearing the hat of a general of his guard, he could hardly believe his eyes. he spurred up his horse, and inquired the cause. general gros then said, laughing, and in the frank speech he so often used even to the emperor, "it is a brave soldier from my old battalion, accustomed to play pranks to amuse his comrades. he is a brave fellow, sire, and every inch a man, and i recommend him to your majesty. moreover, sire, he can himself do more than a whole park of artillery. come, rata, give us a broad side, and no quarter." the emperor listened, and observed almost stupefied what was passing under his very eyes, when rata, in no wise intimidated by the presence of the emperor, prepared to execute the general's order; then, sticking his finger in his mouth, he made a noise like first the whistling and then the bursting of a shell. the imitation was so perfect that the emperor was compelled to laugh, and turning to general gros, said, "come, take this man this very evening into the guard, and remind me of him on the next occasion." in a short while rata had the cross, which those who threw real shells at the enemy often had not; so largely does caprice enter into the destiny of men! l'envoi. (by the editor of the french edition of 1830.) the life of any one who has played a distinguished part offers many points of view, the number of which increases in proportion to the influence he has wielded upon the movement of events. this has been greater in the case of napoleon than of any other personage in history. the product of an era of convulsions, in all of whose changes he took part, and which he at last closed by subjecting all ideas under a rule, which at one time promised to be lasting, he, like catiline, requires a sallust; like charlemagne, an eginhard; and like alexander, a quintus curtius. m. de bourrienne has, indeed, after the manner of commines, shown him to us undisguised in his political manipulations and in the private life of his court. this is a great step towards a knowledge of his individuality, but it is not enough. it is in a thorough acquaintance with his private life that this disillusioned age will find the secret springs of the drama of his marvelous career. the great men of former ages were veiled from us by a cloud of prejudice which even the good sense of plutarch scarcely penetrated. our age, more analytical and freer from illusions, in the great man seeks to find the individual. it is by this searching test that the present puts aside all illusions, and that the future will seek to justify its judgments. in the council of state, the statesman is in his robe, on the battlefield the warrior is beneath his armor, but in his bedchamber, in his undress, we find the man. it has been said that no man is, a hero to his valet. it would give wide latitude to a witty remark, which has become proverbial, to make it the epigraph of these memoirs. the valet of a hero by that very fact is something more than a valet. amber is only earth, and bologna stone only a piece of rock; but the first gives out the perfume of the rose, and the other flashes the rays of the sun. the character of a witness is dignified by the solemnity of the scene and the greatness of the actor. even before reading the manuscript of m. constant, we were strongly persuaded that impressions so unusual and so striking would raise him to the level of the occasion. the reader can now judge of this for himself. these are the memoirs of m. constant,--autographic memoirs of one still living, who has written them to preserve his recollections. it is the private history, the familiar life, the leisure moments, passed in undress, of napoleon, which we now present to the public. it is napoleon taken without a mask, deprived of his general's sword, the consular purple, the imperial crown,--napoleon resting from council and from battle, forgetful of power and of conquest, napoleon unbending himself, going to bed, sleeping the slumber of a common man, as if the world did not hang upon his dreams. these are striking facts, so natural and of such simplicity, that though a biased judgment may, perhaps, exaggerate their character, and amplify their importance, they will furnish to an impartial and reflective mind a wealth of evidence far superior to the vain speculations of the imagination or the prejudiced judgments of political parties. in this light the author of these memoirs is not an author, but simply a narrator, who has seen more closely and intimately than any one else the master of the west, who was for fifteen years his master also; and what he has written he has seen with his own eyes. etext editor's bookmarks: death is only asleep without dreams excessive desire to oblige rubbings with eau de cologne, his favorite remedy there are saber strokes enough for every one his majesty did not converse: he spoke little gifts preserve friendship she feared to be distracted from her grief act with our allies as if they were afterwards to be our enemies as was his habit, criticised more than he praised the friendship of a great man is a gift from the gods you have given me your long price, now give me your short one fear of being suspected of cowardice was beneath them like all great amateurs was hard to please self-appointed connoisseurs trying to alleviate her sorrow by sharing it you were made to give lessons, not to take them age in which one breathes well only after resting all orders given by his majesty were short, precise living ever in the future necessity is ever ready with inventions power of thus isolating one's self completely from all the world a sad sort of consolation that is drawn from reprisals borrowing, which uses up the resources of the future for a retreating enemy it is necessary to make a bridge of gold make a bridge of gold, or oppose a wall of brass paper money, which is the greatest enemy of social order rise and decline of stocks was with him the real thermometer the more i concede the more they demand most charming mistresses and the worst wives no man is, a hero to his valet the pear was ripe; but who was to gather it? 