“Monsieur, you deserve to be dismissed from my service, but I have
   thought of your family, and I pardon you on their account; and since
   it is they who would suffer from your misconduct, I consequently
   send you with my pardon ten thousand francs in bank-notes.  Pay with
   this sum all the English who torment you, and, above all, do not
   again fall into their clutches; for in that case I shall abandon
   you. 
                         Napoleon.”

An enormous “Vive l’Empereur!” sprang spontaneously to the lips of the young man, who darted out like lightning to announce to his family this new proof of imperial tyranny.

This was not the end, however; for his companion, having been informed of what had taken place, and also desiring some bank-notes to pacify his English, redoubled his zeal and activity in work, and for several days in succession repaired to the cabinet at four in the morning, and also whistled La Linotte; but it was all in vain, the Emperor did not seem to hear him.

Much was said at Paris and in the Court in ridicule of the ludicrous sayings of the wife of Marshal Lefebvre, and a collection could be made of her queer speeches, many of which are pure fabrications; but a volume would also be necessary to record all the acts by which she manifested her kindness of heart.

One day, at Malmaison (I think a short time after the Empire was founded), the Empress Josephine had given explicit orders that no one should be admitted.  The Marechale Lefebvre presented herself; but the usher, compelled by his orders, refused to allow her to enter.  She insisted, and he still refused.  During this discussion, the Empress, passing from one apartment to the other, was seen through a glass door which separated this apartment from that in which the duchess then was.  The Empress, having also seen her, hastily advanced to meet her, and insisted on her entering.  Before passing in, Madame Lefebvre turned to the usher, and said to him in a mocking tone, “Well, my good fellow, you see I got in!” The poor usher blushed up to his ears, and withdrew in confusion.

Marshal Lefebvre was not less good, less excellent, than his wife; and it might well be said of them that high honors had made no change in their manners.  The good they both did could not be told.  It might have been said that this was their only pleasure, the only compensation for a great domestic misfortune.  They had only one son, who was one of the worst men in the whole Empire.  Each day there were complaints against him; the Emperor himself frequently admonished him on account of the high esteem he had for his brave father.  But there resulted no improvement, and his natural viciousness only manifested itself the more.  He was killed in some battle, I forget which; and as little worthy of regret as he was, his death was a deep affliction to his excellent mother, although he even forgot himself so far as to speak disrespectfully of her in his coarse speeches.  She usually made M. de Fontanes the confidant of her sorrows; for the grand master of the university, notwithstanding his exquisite politeness and his admirable literary style, was very intimately associated with the household of Marshal Lefebvre.