e often went to visit.
He nearly always returned by the last train to Dyon, where he had his
quarters at the Hotel de la Cloche; and although often in the midst of a
pleasant family party, insisted upon leaving long before it was
necessary. As a matter of course, the station was in semi-darkness--for
Nuits is not a large place--and the booking-office was not open. One
night, it being very warm, he stretched himself leisurely on a grass
plot, instead of on the hard seat, and there he was found at six in the
morning; several trains had come and gone, but no one had dared to wake
him. "Mais, monsieur le marechal, on aurait cru vous manquer de respect
en vous eveillant. Apres tout, vous n'etes pas tout le monde, il y des
distinctions," said the stationmaster apologetically. "La mort et le
sommeil, monsieur," was the answer, "font table rase de toute
distinction." It was a French version of our "Death levels all:" the
marshal was fond of paraphrasing quotations, especially from the
English, of which he had a very fair knowledge, having translated some
military works many years before. However, from that day forth,
instructions were given to take no heed of his rank, and to awaken him
like any other mortal, rather than have him miss his train.

In fact, the marshal did not like to be constantly reminded of his rank;
if anything, he was rather proud of his very humble origin, and, instead
of hiding his pedigree like a good many parvenus, he took delight in
publishing it. I have seen a letter of his to some one who inquired on
the subject, not from sheer curiosity. "My grandfather was a silkmercer
in a small way on the place St. Vincent, at Dyon. His father had been a
coppersmith. I am unable to trace back further than that; my quarters of
nobility stop there. Let me add, at the same time, that there is no more
silly proverb than the one 'Like father like son.' My father died poor,
and respected by every one. I do not believe that he had a single enemy.
His friends called him Christ, he was so good and kind to everybody. I
am not the least like him. He was short and slim, I am rather tall and
stout; he was gentle, and people say that I am abrupt and harsh. In
short, he had as many virtues as I am supposed to have faults, and I am
afraid the world is not at all mistaken in that respect."

I, who knew him as well as most people, am afraid that the world was
very much mistaken. As a matter of course, the old soldier had many
faul