e made a bad beginning. However,
you wish to hear of my disgrace at court. _Allans donc_. But had we not
better wait for a halt?"

"Agreed," said I; "and so let us now press forward."

CHAPTER LII.

THE PAGE.

Under the deep shade of some tall trees, sheltered from the noonday sun, we
lay down to rest ourselves and enjoy a most patriarchal dinner,--some dry
biscuits, a few bunches of grapes, and a little weak wine, savoring more of
the borachio-skin than the vine-juice, were all we boasted; yet they were
not ungrateful at such a time and place.

"Whose health did you pledge then?" inquired St. Croix, with a
half-malicious smile, as I raised the glass silently to my lips.

I blushed deeply, and looked confused.

"_A ses beux yeux!_ whoever she be," said he, gayly tossing off his wine;
"and now, if you feel disposed, I'll tell you my story. In good truth, it
is not worth relating, but it may serve to set you asleep, at all events.

"I have already told you I was a page. Alas, the impressions you may feel
of that functionary, from having seen Cherubino, give but a faint notion of
him when pertaining to the household of the Emperor Napoleon.

"The _farfallone amoroso_ basked in the soft smiles and sunny looks of the
Countess Almaviva; we met but the cold, impassive look of Talleyrand, the
piercing and penetrating stare of Savary, or the ambiguous smile, half
menace, half mockery, of Monsieur Fouche. While on service, our days were
passed in the antechamber, beside the _salle d'audience_ of the Emperor,
reclining against the closed door, watching attentively for the gentle
tinkle of the little bell which summoned us to open for the exit of some
haughty diplomate, or the _entree_ of some redoubted general. Thus passed
we the weary hours; the illustrious visitors by whom we were surrounded
had no novelty, consequently no attraction for us, and the names already
historical were but household words with us.

"We often remarked, too, the proud and distant bearing the Emperor assumed
towards those of his generals who had been his former companions-in-arms.
Whatever familiarity or freedom may have existed in the campaign or in the
battle-field, the air of the Tuileries certainly chilled it. I have often
heard that the ceremonious observances and rigid etiquette of the old
Bourbon court were far preferable to the stern reserve and unbending
stiffness of the imperial one.

"The antechamber is but the reflection of