st of his days.

"For my own part," interrupted Lieutenant Thezard, "I shall never
forget a little water-melon seller on the steps of the Duomo, who...."

The General rose from his chair with a gesture of impatience. A bare
three hours was left them for sleep, as they were to start at dawn.

"Never trouble, kinsman, about our sleeping accommodation," he said,
addressing the Canon. "We are soldiers; a bundle of hay is good enough
for us."

But their excellent host had had beds prepared. His house was bare and
unornamented, but of vast proportions. He conducted the French officers,
one after the other, to the rooms assigned them, and wished them a good
night.

Left alone in his chamber, Bonaparte threw off his coat and sword, and
proceeded to scrawl a pencil note to Josephine--twenty illegible lines,
in which his violent, yet calculating, spirit spoke loudly. Then,
folding the letter, he abruptly drove the woman's image from his mind,
as you push-to a drawer. He unrolled a plan of Mantua, and selected the
point on which he should concentrate his fire.

He was still absorbed in his calculations when he heard a knock at the
door. He thought it was Berthier; but it proved to be the Canon, who
came to ask him for a few minutes' conversation. Under his arm he
carried two or three parchment-covered portfolios. The General looked
at these documents with something of a quizzical air. He felt certain
they contained the genealogy of the Buonapartes, and anticipated their
leading to a never-ending talk. However, he suffered no trace of his
impatience to appear.

He was never morose or angry but when he deliberately made up his mind
to be so. Now he had no sort of wish to offend his worthy kinsman; on
the contrary, he was anxious to make himself agreeable to him. Moreover,
he was not really sorry to learn the nobility of his race, now his
Jacobin officers were no longer there to laugh or take umbrage at the
matter. He begged the Canon to take a seat, who did so, and, laying his
registers on the table, said:

"I made a beginning during supper, nephew, of telling you about the
Buonapartes of Florence; but I gathered by the look you gave me, it was
not then the place or time to enlarge on such a subject. I broke off
therefore, reserving the essential part of what I have to say for the
present moment. I beg of you, kinsman, to hear me with great attention.

"The Tuscan branch of our family produced some excellent
representativ