But it was now too late.  On that Sunday night at 9 p.m., the Emperor, with 1,050 officers and men, embarked at Porto Ferrajo on the “Inconstant” and six smaller craft.  Favoured by the light airs that detained the British vessel, his flotilla glided away northwards; and not before the 28th did Adye and Campbell find that the imperial eagle had flown.  Meanwhile Napoleon had eluded the French guard-ship, “Fleur-de-Lys,” and ordered his vessels to scatter.  On doubling the north of Corsica, he fell in with another French cruiser, the “Zephyr,” which hailed his brig and inquired how the great man was.  “Marvellously well,” came the reply, suggested by Napoleon himself to his captain.  The royalist cruiser passed on contented.  And thus, thanks to the imbecility of the old Governments and of their servants, Napoleon was able to land his little force safely in the Golfe de Jouan on the afternoon of March 1st.[464] Is it surprising that foreigners, who had not yet fathomed the eccentricities of British officialdom, should have believed that we connived at Napoleon’s escape?  It needed the blood shed at Waterloo to wipe out the misconception.

“I shall reach Paris without firing a shot.”  Such was the prophecy of Napoleon to his rather questioning followers as they neared the coast of Provence.  It seemed the wildest of dreams.  Could the man, who had been wellnigh murdered by the rabble of Avignon and Orgon, hope to march in peace through that royalist province?  And, if he ever reached the central districts where men loved him better, would the soldiery dare to disobey the commands of Soult, the new Minister of War, of Ney, Berthier, Macdonald, St. Cyr, Suchet, Augereau, and of many more who were now honestly serving the Bourbons?  The King and his brothers had no fears.  They laughed at the folly of this rash intruder.

At first their confidence seemed justified.  Napoleon’s overtures to the officer and garrison of Antibes were repulsed, and the small detachment which he sent there was captured.  Undaunted by this check, he decided to hurry on by way of Grasse towards Grenoble, thus forestalling the news of his first failure, and avoiding the royalist districts of the lower Rhone.

Napoleon was visibly perturbed as he drew near to Grenoble.  There the officer in command, General Marchand, had threatened to exterminate this “band of brigands”; and his soldiers as yet showed no signs of defection.  But, by some bad management, only one battalion held the defile of Laffray on the south.  As the bear-skins of the Guard came in sight, the royalist ranks swerved and drew back.  Then the Emperor came forward, and ordered his men to lower their arms.  “There he is:  fire on him,” cried a royalist officer.  Not a shot rang out.—­“Soldiers,” said the well-known voice, “if there is one among you who wishes to kill his Emperor, he can do so.  Here I am.”  At once a great shout of “Vive l’Empereur” burst forth:  and the battalion broke into an enthusiastic rush towards the idol of the soldiery.