ders us more painfully alive to their preservation, and we shrink
instinctively from any discussion of them. While such is the case, we
feel more bitterly the cruelty of him who, out of mere wantonness, can
sport with the sources of our happiness, and assail the hidden stores
of so many of our pleasures; for unhappily the mockery once listened to
lies associated with the idea forever.

Already had Duchesne stripped me of more than one delusion, and made me
feel that I was but indulging in a deceptive happiness in my dream of
life; and often did I regret that I ever knew him. It is not enough to
feel the sophistry of one's adversary, you should be able to detect and
expose it, otherwise the triumphant tone he assumes gives him an air
of victory which ends by imposing on yourself. And of this I now felt
convinced in my own case.

These thoughts rendered me silent as we wended our way towards the
Tuileries, where the various officers of the staff and the _corps
d'elite_ were assembled. Here we found several of the marshals in
waiting for the Emperor, while the Mameluke Guard, in all the splendor
of its gay equipments, stood around the great entrance to the Palace.
Many handsome equipages were also there; one, conspicuous above the
rest for its livery of white and gold, with four outriders, belonged to
Madame Murat, the Grand-Duchess of Berg, whose taste for splendor and
show extended to every department of her household.

At last there was a movement in those nearest the Palace; the drums
beat to arms, the guard within the vestibule presented, and the Emperor
appeared, followed by a brilliant staff. He stood for a few seconds on
the steps, his hands clasped behind his back, and his head a little bent
forwards as if in thought; then, drawing himself up, he looked with
a gaze of proud composure on the crowd that filled the court of the
Palace, and where now all was silent and still. Never before had I
remarked the same imperious expression of his features; but as his
eye ranged over the brilliant array, now I could read the innate
consciousness of superiority in which he excelled. Ney, Murat, Victor,
Bessieres,--how little seemed they all before that mighty genius, whose
glory they but reflected!

Oh, how lightly then did I deem the mocking jests of Duchesne, or all
that his sarcasm could invent! There stood the conqueror of Italy
and Egypt, the victor of Marengo and Austerlitz, looking every inch a
monarch and a soldier