There was chosen as companion for the little king (as he styled himself) a young child named Albert Froment, I think, the son of one of the ladies of honor.  One morning as they were playing together in the garden on which the apartments of the king opened at Saint-Cloud, Mademoiselle Fanny was watching them without interfering with their games, Albert tried to take the king’s wheelbarrow; and, when the latter resisted, Albert struck him, whereupon the king exclaimed, “Oh, suppose some one had seen you!  But I will not tell!” I consider this a fine evidence of character.

One day he was at the windows of the chateau with his governess, amusing himself by looking at the passers-by, and pointing out with his finger those who attracted his attention.  While standing there he saw below a woman in deep mourning, holding by the hand a little boy also dressed in mourning.  The little child carried a petition, which he waved from a distance to the prince, and seemed to be entreating him to receive.  Their black clothing made a deep impression on the prince, and he asked why the poor child was dressed all in black.  “Doubtless because his papa is dead,” replied the governess, whereupon the child expressed an earnest desire to speak to the little petitioner.  Madame de Montesquiou, who especially desired to cultivate in her young pupil this disposition to mercy, gave orders that the mother and child should be brought up.  She proved to be the widow of a brave man who had lost his life in the last campaign; and by his death she had been reduced to poverty, and compelled to solicit a pension from the Emperor.  The young prince took the petition, and promised to present it to his papa.  And next day when he went as usual to pay his respects to his father, and handed him all the petitions presented to him the evening before, one alone was kept apart; it was that of his little protege.  “Papa,” said he, “here is a petition from a little boy whose father was killed on your account; give him a pension.”  Napoleon was deeply moved, and embraced his son, and orders for the pension were given that day.  This conduct in so young a child gives undeniable evidence of an excellent heart.

His early training was excellent; as Madame de Montesquiou had an unbounded influence over him, owing to the manner at once gentle and grave in which she corrected his faults.  The child was generally docile, but, nevertheless, sometimes had violent fits of anger, which his governess had adopted an excellent means of correcting, which was to remain perfectly unmoved until he himself controlled his fury.  When the child returned to himself, a few severe and pertinent remarks transformed him into a little Cato for the remainder of the day.  One day as he was rolling on the floor refusing to listen to the remonstrances of his governess, she closed tie windows and shutters; and the child, astonished by this performance, forgot what had enraged him, and asked her why she did this.  “I did it because I was afraid you would be heard; do you suppose the French people would want you as their prince, if they knew that you gave way to such fits of anger?”—­“Do you think they heard me?” he inquired; “I would be very sorry if they had.  Pardon, Mamma Quiou [this was his name for her], I will not do it again.”