I had resolved, in fact, to follow the advice of Corvisart; my family were urgent in their entreaties that I would do so, but I always put off the decisive step.  I was loath to give up a friendship which had subsisted so long, and which had been only once disturbed:  on that occasion when Joseph thought proper to play the spy upon me at the table of Fouche.  I remembered also the reception I had met with from the conqueror of Italy; and I experienced, moreover, no slight pain at the thought of quitting one from whom I had received so many proofs of confidence, and to whom I had been attached from early boyhood.  These considerations constantly triumphed over the disgust to which I was subjected by a number of circumstances, and by the increasing vexations occasioned by the conflict between my private sentiments and the nature of the duties I had to perform.

I was thus kept in a state of perplexity, from which some unforeseen circumstance alone could extricate me.  Such a circumstance at length occurred, and the following is the history of my first rupture with Napoleon: 

On the 27th of February 1802, at ten at night, Bonaparte dictated to me a despatch of considerable importance and urgency, for M. de Talleyrand, requesting the Minister for Foreign Affairs to come to the Tuileries next morning at an appointed hour.  According to custom, I put the letter into the hands of the office messenger that it might be forwarded to its destination.

This was Saturday.  The following day, Sunday, M. de Talleyrand came as if for an audience about mid-day.  The First Consul immediately began to confer with him on the subject of the letter sent the previous evening, and was astonished to learn that the Minister had not received it until the morning.  He immediately rang for the messenger, and ordered me to be sent for.  Being in a very bad humour, he pulled the bell with so much fury that he struck his hand violently against the angle of the chimney-piece.  I hurried to his presence.  “Why,” he said, addressing me hastily, “why was not my letter delivered yesterday evening?”—­“I do not know:  I put it at once into the hands of the person whose duty it was to see that it was sent.”—­“Go and find the cause of the delay, and come back quickly.”  Having rapidly made my inquiries, I returned to the cabinet.  “Well?” said the First Consul, whose irritation seemed to have increased.  “Well, General, it is not the fault of anybody, M. de Talleyrand was not to be found, either at the office or at his own residence, or at the houses of any of his friends where he was thought likely to be.”  Not knowing with whom to be angry, restrained by the coolness of M. de Talleyrand, yet at the same time ready to burst with rage, Bonaparte rose from his seat, and proceeding to the hall, called the messenger and questioned him sharply.  The man, disconcerted by the anger of the First Consul, hesitated in his replies, and gave confused answers.  Bonaparte returned to his cabinet still more irritated than he had left it.