‘You don’t happen to understand English?’ he asked.  ’I’ve never met one living soul in this country who did.’

’Oh yes, I understand it very well, for I have lived most of my life over yonder.  But surely you are not English, sir?  I understood that every Englishman in France was under lock and key ever since the breach of the treaty of Amiens.’

‘No, I am not English,’ he answered, ’I am an American.  My name is Robert Fulton, and I have to come to these receptions because it is the only way in which I can keep myself in the memory of the Emperor, who is examining some inventions of mine which will make great changes in naval warfare.’

Having nothing else to do I asked this curious American what his inventions might be, and his replies very soon convinced me that I had to do with a madman.  He had some idea of making a ship go against the wind and against the current by means of coal or wood which was to be burned inside of her.  There was some other nonsense about floating barrels full of gunpowder which would blow a ship to pieces if she struck against them.  I listened to him at the time with an indulgent smile, but now looking back from the point of vantage of my old age I can see that not all the warriors and statesmen in that room—­no, not even the Emperor himself—­have had as great an effect upon the history of the world as that silent American who looked so drab and so commonplace among the gold-slashed uniforms and the Oriental dresses.

But suddenly our conversation was interrupted by a hush in the room—­ such a cold, uncomfortable hush as comes over a roomful of happy, romping children when a grave-faced elder comes amongst them.  The chatting and the laughter died away.  The sound of the rustling cards and of the clicking counters had ceased in the other rooms.  Everyone, men and women, had risen to their feet with a constrained expectant expression upon their faces.  And there in the doorway were the pale face and the green coat with the red cordon across the white waistcoat.

There was no saying how he might behave upon these occasions.  Sometimes he was capable of being the merriest and most talkative of the company, but this was rather in his consular than in his imperial days.  On the other hand he might be absolutely ferocious, with an insulting observation for everyone with whom he came in contact.  As a rule he was between these two extremes, silent, morose, ill at ease, shooting out curt little remarks which made everyone uncomfortable.  There was always a sigh of relief when he would pass from one room into the next.

On this occasion he seemed to have not wholly recovered from the storm of the afternoon, and he looked about him with a brooding eye and a lowering brow.  It chanced that I was not very far from the door, and that his glance fell upon me.