When we arrived in the open air we passed through the court of the Invalids, where thousands of people had been assembled, but where the benches were now quite bare.  Then we came on to the terrace before the place:  the old soldiers were firing off the great guns, which made a dreadful stunning noise, and frightened some of us, who did not care to pass before the cannon and be knocked down even by the wadding.  The guns were fired in honor of the King, who was going home by a back door.  All the forty thousand people who covered the great stands before the Hotel had gone away too.  The Imperial Barge had been dragged up the river, and was lying lonely along the Quay, examined by some few shivering people on the shore.

It was five o’clock when we reached home:  the stars were shining keenly out of the frosty sky, and Francois told me that dinner was just ready.

In this manner, my dear Miss Smith, the great Napoleon was buried.

Farewell.