One morning, when my chagrin was more acute than ever, Madame Bonaparte sent for me, and said, holding Bourrienne’s letter in her hand, “Constant, since you have determined to quit us to make the campaign, you may rejoice, for you are now about to leave.  The First Consul has sent for you.  Go to the office of Maret, and ascertain if he will not soon send a courier.  You will accompany him.”  I was inexpressibly delighted at this good news, and did not try to conceal my pleasure.  “You are very well satisfied to leave us,” said Madame Bonaparte with a kind smile.  “It is not leaving Madame, but joining the First Consul, which delights me.”—­“I hope so,” replied she.  “Go, Constant; and take good care of him.”  If any incentive had been needed, this injunction of my noble mistress would have added to the zeal and fidelity with which I had determined to discharge my new duties.  I hurried without delay to the office of Maret, secretary of state, who already knew me, and had shown his good-will for me.  “Get ready at once,” said he; “a courier will set out this evening or to-morrow morning.”  I returned in all haste to Malmaison, and announced to Madame Bonaparte my immediate departure.  She immediately had a good post-chaise made ready for me, and Thibaut (for that was the name of the courier I was to accompany) was directed to obtain horses for me along the route.  Maret gave me eight hundred francs for the expenses of my trip, which sum, entirely unexpected by me, filled me with wonder, for I had never been so rich.  At four o’clock in the morning, having heard from Thibaut that everything was ready, I went to his house, where the post-chaise awaited me, and we set out.

I traveled very comfortably, sometimes in the postchaise, sometimes on horseback; I taking Thibaut’s place, and he mine.  I expected to overtake the First Consul at Martigny; but his traveling had been so rapid, that I caught up with him only at the convent of Mt.  St. Bernard.  Upon our route we constantly passed regiments on the march, composed of officers and soldiers who were hastening to rejoin their different corps.  Their enthusiasm was irrepressible,—­those who had made the campaign of Italy rejoiced at returning to so fine a country; those who had not yet done so were burning with impatience to see the battlefields immortalized by French valor, and by the genius of the hero who still marched at their head.  All went as if to a festival, and singing songs they climbed the mountains of Valais.  It was eight o’clock in the morning when I arrived at headquarters.  Pfister announced me; and I found the general-in-chief in the great hall, in the basement of the Hospice.  He was taking breakfast, standing, with his staff.  As soon as he saw me, he said, “Here you are, you queer fellow! why didn’t you come with me?” I excused myself by saying that to my great regret I had received a counter order, or, at least, they had left me behind at the moment of departure.  “Lose no time, my friend; eat quickly; we are about to start.”  From this moment I was attached to the personal service of the First Consul, in the quality of ordinary valet; that is to say, in my turn.  This duty gave me little to do; Hambard, the head valet of the First Consul, being in the habit of dressing him from head to foot.