‘Permit me to observe,’ said I, ’that your shawl is not thrown on with your usual elegance.’  She good-humouredly begged that I would fold it after the fashion of the Egyptian ladies.  While I was engaged in this operation we heard Napoleon depart.  ‘Come sister,’ said Madame Murat, who was impatient to get to the theatre:  ‘Bonaparte is going:’  We stopped into the carriage:  the First Consul’s equipage had already reached the middle of the Place du Carrousel.  We drove after it, but we had scarcely entered the place when the machine exploded.  Napoleon escaped by a singular chance, St. Regent, or his servant Francois, had stationed himself in the middle of tho Rue Nicaise.  A grenadier of the escort, supposing he was really what he appeared to be, a water-carrier, gave him a few blows with the flat of his sabre and drove him off.  The cart was turned round, and the machine exploded between the carriages of Napoleon and Josephine.  The ladies shrieked on hearing the report; the carriage windows were broken, and Mademoiselle Beauharnais received a slight hurt on her hand.  I alighted and crossed the Rue Nicaise which was strewed with the bodies of those who had been thrown down, and the fragments of the walls that had been shattered with the explosion.  Neither the consul nor any individual of his, suite sustained any serious injury.  When I entered the theatre Napoleon was seated in his box; calm and composed, and looking at the audience through his opera-glass.  Fouche was beside him.  ‘Josephine’ said he as soon as he observed me.  She entered at that instant and he did not finish his question ‘The rascals’ said he very cooly, wanted to blow me up:  Bring me a book of the oratorio’” (Memoirs of General Count Rape.  P. 19)]—­

On hearing this I left the theatre and returned to the Palace, under the expectation that I should speedily be wanted.  Bonaparte soon returned home; and as intelligence of the affair had spread through Paris the grand salon on the ground-floor was filled with a crowd of functionaries, eager to read in the eye of their master what they were to think and say on the occasion.  He did not keep them long in suspense.  “This,” exclaimed he vehemently, “is the work of the Jacobins:  they have attempted my life....  There are neither nobles, priests, nor Chouans in this affair!....  I know what I am about, and they need not think to impose on me.  These are the Septembrizers who have been in open revolt and conspiracy, and arrayed against every succeeding Government.  It is scarce three months since my life was attempted by Uracchi, Arena; Topino-Lebrun, and Demerville.  They all belong to one gang!  The cutthroats of September, the assassins of Versailles, the brigands of the 81st of May, the conspirators of Prairial are the authors of all the crimes committed against established Governments!  If they cannot be checked they must be crashed!  France must be purged of these ruffians!” It is impossible