scene would end unpleasantly, when the milliner filled up the measure of his assurance by taking the unparalleled liberty of remarking to his Majesty that the sum allowed for her Majesty’s toilet was insufficient, and that there were simple citizens’ wives who spent more than that.  I must confess that at this last impertinence I trembled for the shoulders of this imprudent person, and watched the Emperor’s movements anxiously.  Nevertheless, to my great astonishment, he contented himself with crumpling in his hand the bill of the audacious milliner, and, his arms folded on his breast, made two steps towards him, pronouncing this word only, “Really!” with such an accent and such a look that the merchant rushed to the door, and took to his heels without waiting for a settlement.

The Emperor did not like me to leave the chateau, as he wished always to have me within call, even when my duties were over and he did not need me; and I think it was with this idea of detaining me that his Majesty several times gave me copying to do.  Sometimes, also, the Emperor wished notes to be taken while he was in bed or in his bath, and said to me, “Constant, take a pen and write;” but I always refused, and went to summon M. de Meneval.  I have already stated that the misfortunes of the Revolution had caused my education to be more imperfect than it should have been; but even had it been as good as it is defective, I much doubt whether I would ever have been able to write from the Emperor’s dictation.  It was no easy thing to fill this office, and required that one should be well accustomed to it; for he spoke quickly, all in one breath, made no pause, and was impatient when obliged to repeat.

In order to have me always at hand, the Emperor gave me permission to hunt in the Park of Saint-Cloud, and was kind enough to remark that since I was very fond of hunting, in granting me this privilege he was very glad to have combined my pleasure with his need of me.  I was the only person to whom permission was given to hunt in the park.  At the same time the Emperor made me a present of a handsome double-barreled gun which had been presented to him at Liege, and which I have still in my possession.  His Majesty himself did not like double-barreled guns, and used in preference the simple, small guns which had belonged to Louis XVI., and on which this monarch, who was an excellent gunsmith, had worked, it is said, with his own hands.

The sight of these guns often led the Emperor to speak of Louis XVI., which he never did except in terms of respect and pity.  “That unfortunate prince,” said the Emperor, “was good, wise, and learned.  At another period he would have been an excellent king, but he was worth nothing in a time of revolution.  He was lacking in resolution and firmness, and could resist neither the foolishness nor the insolence of the Jacobins.  The courtiers delivered him up to the Jacobins, and they led him to the scaffold.  In his place I would have mounted my horse, and, with a few concessions on one side, and a few cracks of my whip on the other, I would have reduced things to order.”