n my new friend made his appearance.

"No parade to-day, thank Heaven," said he, throwing down his cap and
sabre, and lolling at full length on the little camp sofa. "Now, mon
cher camarade, let us make acquaintance at once, for our time is likely
to be of the shortest. My name is Tascher, a humble sous-lieutenant of
the Twenty-first Regiment of Foot. As much a stranger in this land as
yourself, I fancy," continued he, after a slight pause, "but very well
contented to be adopted by it."

After this opening, he proceeded to inform me that he was the nephew of
Madame Bonaparte,--her sister's only son,--who, at his mother's death,
left Guadaloupe, and came over to France, and became an eleve of the
Polytechnique. There he had remained five years, and after a severe
examination, obtained his brevet in an infantry corps; his uncle
Bonaparte having shown him no other favor nor affection than a severe
reprimand on one occasion for some boyish freak, when all the other
delinquents escaped scot-free.

"I am now under orders for service," said he; "but where for, and when,
I can't tell. But this I know, that whatever good fortune may be going
a-begging, I, Lieutenant Tascher, am very likely to get only the hem of
the garment."

There was a tone of easy and frank good-nature in all he said, which
at once disposed me to like the young Creole; and we spent the whole
afternoon recounting our various adventures and fortunes, and before
night came on were sworn friends for life.

CHAPTER XXII. THE TUILERIES IN 1803

The life of the cadet differed little from that of the schoolboy. The
same routine of study, the same daily round of occupation and duty,
were his. Until drafted to the particular corps to which he might be
appointed, he only could absent himself from the college by special
leave; and the most rigid of all military discipline prevailed during
the brief interval which was to fit him for the arduous life of a
soldier. The evenings, however, were at our disposal; and what a
pleasure it was, the fatigue of the day over, to wander forth into the
city,--that brilliant Paris, near which I had lived so long, and yet
had seen so little of!

At first the splendor of the shops, the unceasing flow of population,
the might and grandeur of the public buildings, attracted all my
attention; and when these wore off in novelty, I could still wander
with delight through the gay gardens of the Tuileries, and watch the
sparkling fo