to inquire of M. Eible, then concierge of the palace, “Well, what is Constant doing?  How is he succeeding?  Where is he?”—­“Sire, he is at his country-place, which he has not left.”—­“Ah, very good.  He is happy raising his cabbages.”  I learned also that, during the first days of the Emperor’s return, his Majesty had been investigating the list of pensions, and had been good enough to make a note that mine should be increased.  Finally, I experienced an intense satisfaction of another kind, no doubt, but none the less sincere in the certainty of not being considered an ingrate.  I have stated that I had been fortunate enough to procure a position for M. Marchand with the Emperor; and this is what was related to me by an eye-witness.  M. Marchand, in the beginning of the Hundred Days, happened to be in one of the saloons of the palace of the Tuileries, where several persons were assembled, and some of them were expressing themselves most unkindly in regard to me.  My successor with the Emperor interrupted them brusquely, saying that there was not a word of truth in the calumnies which were asserted of me; and added that, while I held the position, I had uniformly been most obliging to all persons of the household who had addressed themselves to me, and had done no injury to any one.  In this respect I can affirm that M. Marchand told only the truth; but I was none the less deeply grateful to him for so honorably defending me, especially in my absence.

Not being in Paris on the 20th of March, 1815, as we have just seen, I could have nothing to say of the circumstances of this memorable epoch, had I not collected from some of my friends particulars of what occurred on the night following the re-entrance of the Emperor into the palace, once again become Imperial; and it may be imagined how eager I was to know everything relating to the great man whom we regarded at this moment as the savior of France.

I will begin by repeating exactly the account which was given me by one of my friends, a brave and excellent man, at that time sergeant in the National Guard of Paris, who happened to be on duty at the Tuileries exactly on the 20th of March.  “At noon,” he said, “three companies of National Guards entered the court of the Tuileries, to occupy all the interior and exterior posts of the palace.  I belonged to one of these companies, which formed a part of the fourth legion.  My comrades and I were struck with the inexpressible sadness produced by the sight of an abandoned palace.  Everything, in fact, was deserted.  Only a few men were seen here and there in the livery of the king, occupied in taking down and removing portraits of the various members of the Bourbon family.  Outside could be heard the clamorous shouts of a frantic mob, who climbed on the gates, tried to scale them, and pressed against them with such force that at last they bent in several places so far that it was feared they would be thrown down.  This multitude of people presented a frightful spectacle, and seemed as if determined to pillage the palace.