“‘Listen, my good fellow’ (but I spoke in a low voice, for fear of being heard), ’let your dog run about just as he likes—­perhaps he may deliver me from the others.’

“But this happiness was not in reserve for me.  Josephine, not satisfied with dogs, soon after this procured a cat, which brought me into a state of despair; for this detestable animal was the most vicious of its race. ....” [Footnote:  Memorial de Ste. Helene.]

The strifes with Fortune, with the setters, and with the cat, troubled Bonaparte less than the intrigues which his enemies in Italy, as well as in France, stirred up against him, and through them endeavored to destroy him.

In Italy it was the priests who had sworn deadly enmity to Bonaparte, and who, with all the weapons which the arsenal of the Church, fanaticism, and superstition, furnished them, fought against the general who had dared to break the power of the pope, and to restrict within narrower limits the rule of the priests.  It was these priests who continually made the most furious opposition to the ascendency which Bonaparte had won over the Italian mind, and sought constantly to rouse up, within the minds of the people, opposition to him.

One day, Marmont announced that a certain Abbe Sergi was exciting the peasants against the French, and especially against Bonaparte; that he was preaching sedition and rebellion in Christ’s name, and was showing to the ignorant laborers a letter, which he had received from Christ, in which it was declared that General Bonaparte was an atheist and a heretic, whom one ought to destroy and drive away from Italy’s sacred soil.

Bonaparte at once ordered Marmont to arrest this Abbe Sergi, who lived in Poncino, and to bring him to Montebello.  His orders were followed, and, after a few days, the captive abbe was brought before the general.  He seemed cheerful, unaffected, and assumed the appearance of being unconscious of guilt.

“Are you the man,” exclaimed Bonaparte, “to whom Christ writes letters from Paradise?”

“Ah! signor general, you are joking,” replied the abbe, smiling—­but one of Bonaparte’s angry looks fell upon his broad, well-fed face, and forced the priest into silence.

“I am not joking,” answered Bonaparte, angrily; “you, however, are joking with the peasants, since you are telling these poor, superstitious men that you are in correspondence with Christ.”

“Alas! signor general,” sighed the abbe, with contrite mien, “I wanted to do something in the defence of our cause, and what can a poor clergyman do?—­he has no weapons—­”

“Mind that in future you procure other weapons!” interrupted Bonaparte, vehemently.  “That will be better for you than to dare use the Deity for your schemes of wickedness.  I order you to receive no more letters from Paradise, not even from Christ.  Correspond with your equals, and be on your guard, or you will soon find that I can punish the disobedient!”