most kindly bent over the old centenarian, who on his knees, his white head uncovered, and his eyes full of tears, said in trembling tones, “Ah, Sire, I was afraid I should die without seeing you.”  The Emperor assisted him to rise, and conducted him to a chair, in which he placed him with his own hands, and seated himself beside him on another, which he made signs to hand him.  “I am glad to see you, my dear Printemps, very glad.  You have heard from me lately?” (His Majesty had given this brave man a pension, which his wife was to inherit after his death.) Printemps put his hand on his heart, “Yes, I have heard from you.”  The Emperor took pleasure in making him speak of his campaigns, and bade him farewell after a long conversation, handing him at the same time a gift of fifty napoleons.

There was also presented to his Majesty a soldier born at Agen, who had lost his sight in consequence of the campaign in Egypt.  The Emperor gave him three hundred francs, and promised him a pension, which was afterwards sent him.

The day after their arrival at Saint-Cloud, the Emperor and Empress went to Paris in order to be present at the fetes of the 15th of August, which it is useless to say were magnificent.  As soon as he entered the Tuileries, the Emperor hastened through the chateau to examine the repairs and improvements which had been made during his absence, and, as was his habit, criticised more than he praised all that he saw.  Looking out of the hall of the marshals, he demanded of M. de Fleurieu, governor of the palace, why the top of the arch of triumph on the Carrousel was covered with a cloth; and his Majesty was told that it was because all the arrangements had not yet been made for placing his statue in the chariot to which were attached the Corinthian horses, and also because the two Victories who were to guide the four horses were not yet completed.  “What!” vehemently exclaimed the Emperor; “but I will not allow that!  I said nothing about it!  I did not order it!” Then turning to M. Fontaine, he continued, “Monsieur Fontaine, was my statue in the design which was presented to you?”—­“No, Sire, it was that of the god Mars.”—­“Well, why have you put me in the place of the god of war?”—­“Sire, it was not I, but M. the director-general of the museum.”

“The director-general was wrong,” interrupted the Emperor impatiently.  “I wish this statue removed; do you hear, Monsieur Fontaine?  I wish it taken away; it is most unsuitable.  What! shall I erect statues to myself!  Let the chariot and the Victories be finished; but let the chariot let the chariot remain empty.”  The order was executed; and the statue of the Emperor was taken down and placed in the orangery, and is perhaps still there.  It was made of gilded lead, was a fine piece of work, and a most excellent likeness.

The Sunday following the Emperor’s arrival, his Majesty received at the Tuileries the Persian ambassador, Asker-Khan; M. Jaubert accompanied him, and acted as interpreter.  This savant, learned in Oriental matters, had by the Emperor’s orders received his excellency on the frontiers of France, in company with M. Outrey, vice-consul of France at Bagdad.  Later his excellency had a second audience, which took place in state at the palace of Saint-Cloud.