at country fairs. So Napoleonder was carried
from one fair to another for a period of thirty summers and three
years--until he had grown quite old. Then, when he was an old man, they
sent him to the island of Buan to watch geese.

* * * * *

THE NAPOLEON OF THE PEOPLE[1]

[Footnote 1: A story told to a group of French peasants one evening, in
a barn, by Goguelat, the village postman, who had served under Napoleon
in a regiment of infantry.]

Napoleon, my friends, was born, you know, in Corsica. That's a French
island, but it's warmed by the sun of Italy, and everything's as hot
there as if it were a furnace. It's a place, too, where the people kill
one another, from father to son, generation after generation, for
nothing at all; that is, for no reason in particular except that it's
their way.

Well, to begin with the most wonderful part of the story, it so
happened that on the very day when Napoleon was born, his mother dreamed
that the world was on fire. She was a shrewd, clever woman, as well as
the prettiest woman of her time; and when she had this dream, she
thought she'd save her son from the dangers of life by dedicating him to
God. And, indeed, that was a prophetic dream of hers! So she asked God
to protect the boy, and promised that when he grew up he should
reestablish God's holy religion, which had then been overthrown. That
was the agreement they made; and although it seems strange, such things
have happened. It's sure and certain, anyhow, that only a man who had an
agreement with God could pass through the enemy's lines, and move about
in showers of bullets and grape-shot, as Napoleon did. They swept us
away like flies, but his head they never touched at all. I had a proof
of that--I myself, in particular--at Eylau, where the Emperor went up on
a little hill to see how things were going. I can remember, to this day,
exactly how he looked as he took out his field-glass, watched the battle
for a minute, and finally said: "It's all right! Everything is going
well." Then, just as he was coming back, an ambitious chap in a plumed
hat, who was always following him around, and who bothered him, they
said, even at his meals, thought he'd play smart by going up on the very
same hill; but he had hardly taken the Emperor's place when--batz!--away
he went, plume and all!

Now follow me closely, and tell me whether what you are going to hear
was natural.

Napoleon, you know,