He was very fond of strawberries; but they caused him such long and frequent attacks of vomiting that his mother became alarmed, and positively forbade his eating them, expressing a wish that every precaution should be taken to keep out of the young prince’s sight a fruit which was so injurious to him.  The little Napoleon, whom the injurious effects of the strawberries had not disgusted with them, was surprised to no more see his favorite dish; but bore the deprivation patiently, until one day he questioned his nurse, and very seriously demanded an explanation on this subject, which the good woman was unable to give, for she indulged him even to the point of spoiling him.  He knew her weakness, and often took advantage of it, as in this instance for example.  He became angry, and said to his nurse in a tone which had as much and even more effect on her than the Emperor or the King of Holland could have had, “I will have the strawberries.  Give them to me at once.”  The poor nurse begged him to be quiet, and said that she would give them to him, but she was afraid that if anything happened he would tell the queen who had done this.  “Is that all?” replied Napoleon eagerly.  “Have no fear; I promise not to tell.”

The nurse yielded, and the strawberries had their usual effect.  The queen entered while he was undergoing the punishment for his self-indulgence; and he could not deny that he had eaten the forbidden fruit, as the proofs were too evident.  The queen was much incensed, and wished to know who had disobeyed her; she alternately entreated and threatened the child, who still continued to reply with the greatest composure, “I promised not to tell.”  And in spite of the great influence she had over him, she could not force him to tell her the name of the guilty person.

Young Napoleon was devoted to his uncle, and manifested in his presence a patience and self-control very foreign to his usual character.  The Emperor often took him on his knee during breakfast, and amused himself making him eat lentils one by one.  The pretty face of the child became crimson, his whole countenance manifested disgust and impatience; but his Majesty could prolong this sport without fearing that his nephew would become angry, which he would have infallibly done with any one else.

At such a tender age could he have been conscious of his uncle’s superiority to all those who surrounded him?  King Louis, his father, gave him each day a new plaything, chosen exactly to suit his fancy:  but the child preferred those he received from his uncle; and when his father said to him, “But, see here, Napoleon, those are ugly things; mine are prettier.”—­“No,” said the young prince, “they are very nice; my uncle gave them to me.”

One morning when he visited his Majesty, he crossed a saloon where amid many great personages was Prince Murat, at that time, I think, Grand Duke of Berg.  The child passed through without saluting any one, when the prince stopped him and said, “Will you not tell me goodmorning?”—­“No,” replied Napoleon, disengaging himself from the arms of the Grand Duke; “not before my uncle the Emperor.”