tolerated.  He was escorted by the Horse Grenadiers of the Guard.  His four brothers preceded him in one carriage, while he sat alone in a state coach, all glass and gold, to which pages clung wherever they could find footing.  He was splendidly attired, and wore a Spanish hat with drooping feathers.  As he moved slowly through the crowd, he bowed to the right and left, not in the hasty, abrupt way which is generally attributed to him, but in a calm, dignified, though absent manner.  His face was one not to be forgotten.  I saw it repeatedly; but whenever I bring it up, it comes before me, not as it appeared from the window of the Tuileries, or when riding among his troops, or when standing, with folded arms or his hands behind him, as they defiled before him; but it rises on my vision as it looked that morning, under the nodding plumes,—­smooth, massive, and so tranquil, that it seemed impossible a storm of passion could ever ruffle it.  The complexion was clear olive, without a particle of color, and no trace was on it to indicate what agitated the man within.  The repose of that marble countenance told nothing of the past, nor of anxiety for the deadly struggle that awaited him.  The cheering sounds around him did not change it; they fell on an ear that heard them not.  His eye glanced on the multitudes; but it saw them not.  There was more machinery than soul in the recognition, as his head instinctively swayed towards them.  The idol of stone was there, joyless and impassive amidst its worshippers, taking its lifeless part in this last pageant.  But the thinking, active man was elsewhere, and returned only when he found himself in the presence of delegated France, and in the more congenial occupation which succeeded.

Immediately after this event, all the available troops remaining in Paris were sent toward the Belgian frontier, and in a few days were followed by the Emperor.  Then came an interval of anxious suspense, which Rumor, with her thousand tongues, occupied to the best of her ability.  I was in the country when news of the first collision arrived, and a printed sheet was sent to the chateau where I was visiting, with an account of the defeat of the Prussians at Ligny and the retreat of the British at Quatre Bras.  Madame Ney was staying in the vicinity; and, as the Marshal had taken an active part in the engagement, I was sent to communicate to her the victory.  She was ill, and I gave the message to a lady, her connection, much pleased to be the bearer of such welcome intelligence.  I returned that day to Paris, and found my schoolmates in the highest exhilaration.  Every hour brought confirmation of a decisive victory.  It was thought that the great battle of the campaign had been fought, and that the French had only to follow up their advantage.  Letters from officers were published, representing that the Allies were thoroughly routed, and describing the conflict so minutely, that there could be no doubt of the result.  All was now joy and congratulation; and conjectures were freely made as to the terms to be vouchsafed to the conquered, and the boundary limits which should be assigned to the territory of France.