l,
and who was playing with rouleaux of louis d'or, supposed to contain
fifty each, at Rouge et Noir. As long as he lost, which he did several
times, he took up the rouleau on the table, and gave another from his
pocket. At last he won, when he asked the bankers to look at their loss,
and count the money in his rouleau before they paid him. On opening it,
they found it contained one hundred bank-notes of one thousand livres
each--folded in a manner to resemble the form and size of louis d'or. The
bankers refused to pay, and applied to the company whether they were not
in the right to do so, after so many rouleaux had been changed by the
person who now required such an unusual sum in such an unusual manner.
Before any answer could be given, Junot interfered, asking the bankers
whether they knew who he was. Upon their answering in the negative, he
said: "I am General Junot, the commander of Paris, and this officer who
has won the money is my aide-de-camp; and I insist upon your paying him
this instant, if you do not wish to have your bank confiscated and your
persons arrested." They refused to part with money which they protested
was not their own, and most of the individuals present joined them in
their resistance. "You are altogether a set of scoundrels and sharpers,"
interrupted Junot; "your business shall soon be done."

So saying, he seized all the money on the table, and a kind of
boxing-match ensued between him and the bankers, in which he, being a
tall and strong man, got the better of them. The tumult, however,
brought in the guard, whom he ordered, as their chief, to carry to prison
sixteen persons he pointed out. Fortunately, I was not of the number--I
say fortunately, for I have heard that most of them remained in prison
six months before this delicate affair was cleared up and settled. In
the meantime, Junot not only pocketed all the money he pretended was due
to his aide-de-camp, but the whole sum contained in the bank, which was
double that amount. It was believed by every one present that this was
an affair arranged between him and his aide-de-camp beforehand to pillage
the bank. What a commander, what a general, and what an Ambassador!

Fitte, the secretary of our Embassy to Portugal, was formerly an Abbe,
and must be well remembered in your country, where he passed some years
as an emigrant, but was, in fact, a spy of Talleyrand. I am told that,
by his intrigues, he even succeeded in swindlin