ually his
partizans found means to approach his person, and to procure for him
extraordinary indulgences, which were at first denied to him; but when
intelligence of this new demonstration in his favour reached the ears
of the First Consul, he at once gave orders that he should be placed
in solitary confinement, and that the ex-bishop of Viviers, who was at
large under the surveillance of the police, should be arrested and
shut up in Charenton as hopelessly mad. His instructions were fully
carried out, and the unfortunate bishop shortly afterwards ended his
days in the madhouse.

The last commands of Bonaparte had been so precise that no one dared
to disobey them, and the sham dauphin for a time disappeared from
public view. When the period of his imprisonment was at an end, he was
turned out of the Bicetre, with an order forbidding him to remain more
than one day in Paris--a miserable vagabond dressed in the prison
garb! During his incarceration he had gained the friendship of a Jew
named Emanuel, who had given him a letter to his wife, in which he
entreated her to treat his comrade hospitably for the solitary night
which he was permitted to spend in the capital. When Hervagault
arrived at the Rue des Ecrivains, where the Jewess lodged, she was not
at home; but a pastry-cook and his wife, who had a shop close by,
invited the dejected caller to rest in their parlour until his friend
returned. The couple were simple; Hervagault's plausibility was as
great as ever, and, little by little, he told the story of his
persecution, and passed himself off as a distressed royalist. The
sympathies of the honest pastry-cook were stirred, and he not only
invited the rogue to make his house his home, but clothed him, filled
his purse, and took him to various places of public entertainment.

In return for this generous treatment, Hervagault in confidence
informed his new protector that he was none other than the prisoner of
the Temple; and that, when his throne was set up, the kindness he had
received would be remembered and recompensed a thousandfold. One
favour he did ask--money sufficient to carry him to Normandy. The
needful francs were forthcoming, and the deluded pastry-cook bade his
future sovereign a respectful adieu at the door of the diligence,
never again to behold him, or his money, or his reward.

Hervagault's next appearance was in an entirely new character. He
entered on board a man-of-war at Brest, under the name of