ntly when I awoke him he would turn
himself, and say, "Ah, Bourrienne! let me lie a little longer." When
there was no very pressing business I did not disturb him again till
eight o'clock. He in general slept seven hours out of the twenty-four,
besides taking a short nap in the afternoon.

Among the private instructions which Bonaparte gave me, one was very
curious. "During the night," said he, "enter my chamber as seldom as
possible. Do not awake me when you have any good news to communicate:
with that there is no hurry. But when you bring bad news, rouse me
instantly; for then there is not a moment to be lost."

This was a wise regulation, and Bonaparte found his advantage in it.

As soon as he rose his 'valet de chambre' shaved him and dressed his
hair. While he was being shaved I read to him the newspapers, beginning
always with the 'Moniteur.' He paid little attention to any but the
German and English papers. "Pass over all that," he would say, while I
was perusing the French papers; "I know it already. They say only what
they think will please me." I was often surprised that his valet did not
cut him while I was reading; for whenever ha heard anything interesting
he turned quickly round towards me.

When Bonaparte had finished: his toilet, which he did with great
attention, for he was scrupulously neat in his person, we went down to
his cabinet. There he signed the orders on important petitions which had
been analysed by me on the preceding evening. On reception and parade
days he was particularly exact in signing these orders, because I used to
remind him that he would be, likely to see most of the petitioners, and
that they would ask him for answers. To spare him this annoyance I used
often to acquaint them beforehand of what had been granted or refused,
and what had been the decision of the First Consul. He next perused the
letters which I had opened and laid on his table, ranging them according
to their importance. He directed me to answer them in his name; he
occasionally wrote the answers himself, but not often.

At ten o'clock the 'maitre d'hotel' entered, and announced breakfast,
saying, "The General is served." We went to breakfast, and the repast
was exceedingly simple. He ate almost every morning some chicken,
dressed with oil and onions. This dish was then, I believe, called
'poulet a la Provencale'; but our restaurateurs have since conferred upon
it the more ambitious name of 'poulet a la Marengo.