“It was given me by Prince Eugene,” said one of the officers, Commandant Margarot, a hussar.

“It is worth more than 1,000 francs,” said M. Goulden, “and I cannot afford to buy it.  But I will advance you 200 francs, and the watch shall remain here if you like, and shall be yours whenever you come to reclaim it.”

The old hussar broke down at this, and though his comrade, Colonel Falconette, tried to restrain him, he poured forth thanks and bitter words against the government.

From that time it always seemed to me that things would end badly, and that the nobles had gone too far.  The old commandant had said that the government behaved like Cossacks to the army, and this was horrible.

M. Goulden read the “Gazette” aloud to us every day, and both Catherine and I were pleased to find there were men in Paris maintaining the very things we thought ourselves.

All this time the clergy were going on with their processions, and sermons were being preached about the rebellion of 1790, the restitution of property to the landowners, and the re-establishment of convents, and the need for missionaries for the conversion of France.  From such ideas what good could come?

It is no wonder that when a report came early in March that Napoleon had landed at Cannes and was marching on Paris we were all very agitated at Phalsbourg.

“It is plain,” said M. Goulden, “that the emperor will reach Paris.  The soldiers are for him; so are the peasantry, whose property is threatened; and so are the middle classes, provided he will make treaties of peace.”

II.—­“Vive l’Empereur!"

For some days, though all knew Napoleon had set foot in France, no one dared talk of it aloud.  Only the looks of the half-pay officers betrayed their anxiety.  If they had possessed horses and arms I am sure they would have set out to meet their emperor.

On March 8, Zebede entered our house and said abruptly, “The two first batallions are starting.”

“They are going to stop him?” said M. Goulden.

“Yes, they’ll stop him, that is very likely,” Zebede answered, winking.  At the foot of the stairs he drew me aside and whispered, “Look inside my cap, Joseph; all the soldiers have got it, too.”

Sure enough it was the old tricolour cockade, which had been removed on the return of Louis XVIII.

At last the papers had to admit that Buonaparte had escaped from Elba.  What a scene it was in the cafe the night the papers arrived!  M. Goulden and I were hardly seated before the place was filled with people, and it was so close the windows had to be opened.

Commandant Margarot mounted on a table with other officers all around him, and began to read the “Gazette” aloud.  It took a long time, the reading, and the people laughed and jeered at the passages that said the troops were faithful to the king, that Buonaparte was surrounded and would soon be taken, and that the illustrious Ney and the other marshals had hastened to place their swords at the service of the king.  The commandant read on firmly in that distinct voice of his until he came to the order calling upon the French to seize Buonaparte and give him up dead or alive.