ened, he would burst out laughing, give her some taps or kisses on
her cheek and neck, saying to her, "Have no fear, little goose; they
would not dare." On these "days of furlough," as he called them, he was
occupied more with his private affairs than with those of state; but
never could he remain idle. He would make them pull down, put up again,
build, enlarge, set out, prune, incessantly, both in the chateau and in
the park, while he examined the bills of expenses, estimated receipts,
and ordered economies. Time passed quickly in all these occupations; and
the moment soon came when it was necessary to return, and, as he
expressed it, put on again the yoke of misery.

CHAPTER IV.

Towards the end of March, 1800, five or six months after my entrance into
the service of Madame. Bonaparte, the First Consul while at dinner one
day regarded me intently; and having carefully scrutinized and measured
me from head to foot, "Young man," said he, "would you like to go with me
on the campaign?" I replied, with much emotion, that I would ask nothing
better. "Very well, then, you shall go with me!" and on rising from the
table, he ordered Pfister, the steward, to place my name on the list of
the persons of his household who would accompany him. My preparations
did not require much time; for I was delighted with the idea of being
attached to the personal service of so great a man, and in imagination
saw myself already beyond the Alps. But the First Consul set out without
me. Pfister, by a defect of memory, perhaps intentional, had forgotten
to place my name on the list. I was in despair, and went to relate, with
tears, my misfortune to my excellent mistress, who was good enough to
endeavor to console me, saying, "Well, Constant, everything is not lost;
you will stay with me. You can hunt in the park to pass the time; and
perhaps the First Consul may yet send for you." However, Madame
Bonaparte did not really believe this; for she thought, as I did,
although out of kindness she did not wish to say this to me, that the
First Consul having changed his mind, and no longer wishing my services
on the campaign, had himself given the counter orders. However, I soon
had proof to the contrary. In passing through Dijon, on his way to Mt.
St. Bernard, the First Consul asked for me, and learning that they had
forgotten me, expressed his dissatisfaction, and directed Bourrienne to
write immediately to Madame Bonaparte, requesting her to sen