When everything had returned to its usual order, without any one in the palace except those I have named suspecting what had occurred, I learned that M. Yvan had left Fontainebleau.  Overwhelmed by the question the Emperor had addressed to him in the presence of the Duke of Vicenza, and fearing that he might suspect that he had given his Majesty the means of attempting his life, this skillful physician, so long and so faithfully attached to the Emperor’s person, had, so to speak, lost his head in thinking of the responsibility resting on him.  Hastily descending the stairs from the Emperor’s apartments, and finding a horse ready saddled and bridled in one of the courts of the palace, he threw himself upon it, and hastily took the road to Paris.  This was the morning of the same day that Roustan left Fontainebleau.

On the 12th of April, the Emperor also received the last adieux of Marshal Macdonald.  When he was introduced, the Emperor was still feeling the effects of the events of the preceding night; and I am sure the Duke of Tarentum perceived, without divining the cause, that his Majesty was not in his usual condition.  He was accompanied by the Duke of Vicenza; and at this moment the Emperor was still so much depressed, and seemed so entirely absorbed in thought, that he did not at first perceive these gentlemen, although he was perfectly wide awake.  The Duke of Tarentum brought to the Emperor the treaty with the allies, and I left the room as he was preparing to sign it.  A few moments after the Duke of Vicenza summoned me; and his Majesty said, “Constant, bring me the saber which Mourad-Bey presented to me in Egypt.  You know which it is?”—­“Yes, Sire.”  I went out, and immediately returned with this magnificent sword, which the Emperor had worn at the battle of Mount Tabor, as I have heard many times.  I handed it to the Duke of Vicenza, from whose hands the Emperor took it, and presented it to Marshal Macdonald; and as I retired heard the Emperor speaking to him most affectionately, and calling him his worthy friend.

These gentlemen, according to my recollection, were present at the Emperor’s breakfast, where he appeared calmer and more cheerful than for a long time past; and we were all surprised to see him converse familiarly and in the most amiable manner with persons to whom for some time past he had usually addressed very brief and distant remarks.  However, this gayety was only momentary; and, indeed, the manner in which the Emperor’s mood varied from one moment to another during the whole time of our stay at Fontainebleau was perfectly indescribable.  I have seen him on the same day plunged for several hours into the most terrible depression; then, a moment after, walking with great strides up and down his room, whistling or humming La Monaco; after which he suddenly fell into a kind of stupor, seeing nothing around him, and forgetting even the orders he had given.  A fact which impressed me forcibly was the remarkable effect produced on him by letters addressed to him from Paris.  As soon as he perceived them his agitation became extreme,—­I might say convulsive, without fear of being taxed with exaggeration.