’I am told that it is devilish bad country for cavalry—­all cut up into hedges and ditches,’ said he.  ’The roads are good, but the fields are impossible.  I hope that we are going soon, Monsieur de Caulaincourt, for our men will all settle down as gardeners if this continues.  They are learning more about watering-pots and spuds than about horses and sabres.’

‘The army, I hear, is to embark to-morrow.’

’Yes, yes, but you know very well that they will disembark again upon the wrong side of the Channel.  Unless Villeneuve scatters the English fleet, nothing can be attempted.’

’Constant tells me that the Emperor was whistling “Malbrook” all the time that he was dressing this morning, and that usually comes before a move.’

’It was very clever of Constant to tell what tune it was which the Emperor was whistling,’ said Murat, laughing.  ’For my part I do not think that he knows the difference between the “Malbrook” and the “Marseillaise.”  Ah, here is the Empress—­and how charming she is looking!’

Josephine had entered, with several of her ladies in her train, and the whole assembly rose to do her honour.  The Empress was dressed in an evening gown of rose-coloured tulle, spangled with silver stars—­an effect which might have seemed meretricious and theatrical in another woman, but which she carried off with great grace and dignity.  A little sheaf of diamond wheat-ears rose above her head, and swayed gently as she walked.  No one could entertain more charmingly than she, for she moved about among the people with her amiable smile, setting everybody at their ease by her kindly natural manner, and by the conviction which she gave them that she was thoroughly at her ease herself.  ’How amiable she is!’ I exclaimed.  ‘Who could help loving her?’

‘There is only one family which can resist her,’ said de Caulaincourt, glancing round to see that Murat was out of hearing.  ’Look at the faces of the Emperor’s sisters.’

I was shocked when I followed his direction to see the malignant glances with which these two beautiful women were following the Empress as she walked about the room.  They whispered together and tittered maliciously.  Then Madame Murat turned to her mother behind her, and the stern old lady tossed her haughty head in derision and contempt.

’They feel that Napoleon is theirs and that they ought to have everything.  They cannot bear to think that she is Her Imperial Majesty and they are only Her Highness.  They all hate her, Joseph, Lucien—­all of them.  When they had to carry her train at the coronation they tried to trip her up, and the Emperor had to interfere.  Oh yes, they have the real Corsican blood, and they are not very comfortable people to get along with.’

But in spite of the evident hatred of her husband’s family, the Empress appeared to be entirely unconcerned and at her ease as she strolled about among the groups of her guests with a kindly glance and a pleasant word for each of them.  A tall, soldierly man, brown-faced and moustached, walked beside her, and she occasionally laid her hand with a caressing motion upon his arm.