I have not spared my vanity and self-conceit when
either betrayed me into any excess of folly. I have neither blinked my
humble beginnings, nor have I sought to attribute to my own merits those
happy accidents which made me what I am. I claim nothing but the humble
character--a Soldier of Fortune. It was my intention to have told the
reader somewhat more than these twenty odd years of my life embrace.
Probably, too, my subsequent career, if less marked by adventure,
was more pregnant with true views of the world and sounder lessons of
conduct; but I have discovered to my surprise that these revelations
have extended over a wider surface than I ever destined them to occupy,
and already I tremble for the loss of that gracious attention that has
been vouchsafed me hitherto. I will not trust myself to say how much
regret this abstinence has cost me--enough if I avow that in jotting
down the past I have lived my youth over again, and in tracing old
memories, old scenes, and old impressions, the smouldering fire of my
heart has shot up a transient flame so bright as to throw a glow even
over the chill of my old age.

It is, after all, no small privilege to have lived and borne one's part
in stirring times; to have breasted the ocean of life when the winds
were up and the waves ran high; to have mingled, however humbly, in
eventful scenes, and had one's share in the mighty deeds that were to
become history afterwards. It is assuredly in such trials that humanity
comes out best, and that the character of man displays all its worthiest
and noblest attributes. Amid such scenes I began my life, and, in the
midst of similar ones, if my prophetic foresight deceive me not, I am
like to end it.

Having said this much of and for myself, I am sure the reader will
pardon me if I am not equally communicative with respect to another, and
if I pass over the remainder of that interval which I spent at Komorn.
Even were love-making--which assuredly it is not--as interesting to the
spectator as to those engaged--I should scruple to recount events which
delicacy should throw a veil over; nor am I induced, even by the example
of the wittiest periodical writer of the age, to make a _feuilleton_ of
my own marriage. Enough that I say, despite my shattered form, my want
of fortune, my unattested pretension to rank or station, Mademoiselle
d'Estelles accepted me, and the Emperor most graciously confirmed
her claims to wealth, thus making me one of