But the wind rose again, and their progress was
resumed.

Four in the afternoon found them off the heights of Leghorn. Five
leagues to leeward lay one frigate; near the shores of Corsica was
another; to windward could be seen a third, making its way towards the
flotilla. It was the Zephyr, of the French navy, commanded by Captain
Andrieux. Now had come a vital moment in the enterprise. Should the
Emperor declare himself and seek to gain over Andrieux? It was too
dangerous a venture; he bade the grenadiers on the deck to conceal
themselves; it was a situation in which strategy seemed better than
boldness. At six the two vessels were close together. Lieutenant
Taillade of the Inconstant knew and saluted Captain Andrieux. A
speaking-trumpet colloquy followed.

"Where are you bound?" asked Taillade.

"To Leghorn. And you?"

"To Genoa. Have you any commissions I can execute there?"

"Thanks, not any. How is the Emperor?"

"Very well."

"So much the better."

The two vessels moved on, and soon lost sight of each other in the
growing darkness. The other frigates had disappeared.

The next day dawned. There was visible a large frigate in the distance,
but it was not moving towards the flotilla. No danger was to be feared
from this source. But the vessel's head had been turned to the
southward, to Taillade's surprise.

"Gentlemen," he called to the officers on the bridge, "are we bound for
Spain or for Africa?"

Napoleon, who had perceived the same thing, summoned Taillade from his
conference with the officers.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"Sire, we are headed for Africa."

"I don't wish to go there. Take me to France."

"Your Majesty shall be there before noon to-morrow."

The face of Napoleon beamed on hearing these words. He turned to the
soldiers of the Old Guard who accompanied him, and said,--

"Yes, grenadiers, we are going to France, to Paris." Enthusiastic
"_vivas_" followed his announcement, which told a tale of future glory
to those war-hardened veterans. They had fought for the Emperor on many
a mighty field. They were ready to dare new dangers in the hope of new
triumphs.

On the morning of Wednesday, March 1, the shores of France were visible
from the vessel's deck. At three in the afternoon anchor was dropped in
the Bay of Juan. Cheers and salvos of artillery greeted those welcome
shores; the boats were quickly dropped, and by five o'clock the whole
expedition was on shore. The soldiers mad