day.

At ten o'clock in the morning, the youngest two captains of the 23d came
to conduct him in proper style to the residence of the Colonel. M.
Rollon occupied a little palace of the imperial epoch. A marble tablet,
inserted over the porte-cochere, still bore the words, _Ministere des
Finances_--a souvenir of the glorious time when Napoleon's court
followed its master to Fontainebleau.

Colonel Rollon, the lieutenant-colonel, the major-in-chief, the three
majors of battalions, the surgeon-major, and ten or a dozen officers
were outside, awaiting the arrival of the illustrious guest from the
other world. The flag was placed in the middle of the court, under guard
of the ensign and a squad of non-commissioned officers selected for the
honor. The band of the regiment, at the entrance of the garden, filled
up the background of the picture. Eight panoplies of arms, which had
been improvised the same morning by the armorers of the corps,
embellished the walls and railings. A company of grenadiers, with their
arms at rest, were in attendance.

At the entrance of Fougas, the band played the famous "_Partant pour la
Syrie;_" the grenadiers presented arms; the drums beat a salute; the
non-commissioned officers and soldiers cried, "_Vive le Colonel
Fougas!_" the officers, in a body, approached the patriarch of their
regiment. All this was neither regular nor according to discipline, but
we can well allow a little latitude to these brave soldiers on finding
their ancestor. For them it seemed a little debauch in glory.

The hero of the _fete_ grasped the hands of the colonel and officers
with as much emotion as if he had found his old comrades again. He
cordially saluted the non-commissioned officers and soldiers, approached
the flag, bent one knee to the earth, raised himself loftily, grasped
the staff, turned toward the attentive crowd, and said,

"My friends, under the shadow of the flag, a soldier of France, after
forty-six years of exile, finds his family again to-day. All honor to
thee, symbol of our fatherland, old partner in our victories, and heroic
support in our misfortunes! Thy radiant eagle has hovered over prostrate
and trembling Europe. Thy bruised eagle has again dashed obstinately
against misfortune, and terrified the sons of Power. Honor to thee, thou
who hast led us to glory, and fortified us against the clamor of
despair! I have seen thee ever foremost in the fiercest dangers, proud
flag of my native land