Fougas,
with his head at the window, was continuing the composition of his
impromptu speech, when an open carriage drawn by a pair of superb
chestnuts passed, so to speak, under his very nose. A portly man with a
gray moustache turned his head, and cried, "Fougas!"

Robinson Crusoe, discovering the human footprint on his island, was not
more astonished and delighted than our hero on hearing that cry of
"Fougas!" To open the door, jump out into the road, run to the carriage,
which had been stopped, fling himself into it at a single bound, without
the help of the step, and fall into the arms of the portly gentleman
with the gray moustache, was all the work of a second. The barouche had
long disappeared, when the detective at a gallop, followed by his hack
at a trot, traversed the line of the _Boulevards_, asking all the
policemen if they had not seen a crazy man pass that way.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE MEMORABLE INTERVIEW BETWEEN COLONEL FOUGAS AND HIS MAJESTY THE
EMPEROR OF THE FRENCH.

In falling upon the neck of the big man with the gray moustache, Fougas
supposed he was embracing Massena. He naturally intimated as much to
him, whereupon the owner of the barouche burst into a great peal of
laughter.

"Ah, my poor old boy," said he, "it's a long time since we buried the
'Child of Victory!' Look me square in the face: I am Leblanc, of the
Russian campaign."

"Impossible! You little Leblanc?"

"Lieutenant in the 3d Artillery, who shared with you a million of
dangers and that famous piece of roast horse which you salted with your
tears."

"Well, upon my soul! It _is_ you! You cut me out a pair of boots from
the skin of the unfortunate Zephyr! And we needn't speak of the number
of times you saved my life! Oh, my brave and faithful friend, thank God
that I embrace you once more! Yes, I recognize you now; but I needn't
say that you are changed!"

"Gad! _I_ haven't been preserved in a jug of spirits of wine. I've
_lived_, for my part!"

"You know my history, then?"

"I heard it told last night at the Minister's of Public Instruction. He
had there the savant who set you on your legs again. I even wrote to
you, on getting back home, to offer you a bunk and a place at mess; but
my letter is on the way to Fontainebleau."

"Thanks! You're a sound one! Ah, my poor old boy, what things have
happened since Beresina! You know all the misfortunes that have come?"

"I've seen them, and that's sadder still. I was a maj