Читать книгу The Life, Exile and Conversations with Napoleon - Emmanuel-Auguste-Dieudonné Las Cases - Страница 84

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10th.—About four o’clock the Emperor desired me to be called into his room: he was dressed, and had his boots on; his intention was either to get on horseback, or to take a walk in the garden; but a gentle shower of rain was falling. We walked about in conversation, waiting for the weather to clear up. He opened the door of his room leading to the topographical cabinet, in order that we might extend our walk the whole length of this cabinet. As we approached the bed, he asked me if I always slept in it. I answered that I had ceased to do so from the moment that I became acquainted with his wish of going out early in the morning. “What has that to do with it?” said he: “return to it; I shall go out when I please, by the back-door.” The drawing-room door stood half open, and he entered it; Montholon and Gourgaud were there. They were endeavouring to fix a very pretty lustre, and a small glass over the chimney-piece: the Emperor desired the latter might be set straight, as it inclined a little on one side. He was much pleased at this improvement in the drawing-room furniture; a proof that every thing is relative! What could these objects have been in the eyes of a man who, some years ago, had furniture to the value of forty millions in his palaces?

We returned to the topographical cabinet: the rain continued to fall, he gave up his promenade; but he regretted that the Grand Marshal had not arrived; he felt himself this day inclined for work, which he had discontinued for a fortnight. He endeavoured to kill time, whilst waiting for Bertrand. “Let us go and see Madame de Montholon,” said he to me. I announced him; he sat down, made me do the same; and we talked about furniture and housekeeping. He then began to form an inventory of the articles in the apartment, piece by piece; and we all agreed that the furniture was not worth more than thirty Napoleons. Leaving Madame de Montholon’s, he ran from room to room, and stopped in front of the staircase in the corridor which leads to the servants’ room above; it is a kind of very steep ladder. “Let us look at Marchand’s apartment,” said he; “they say that he keeps it like that of a petite maîtresse.” We climbed up; Marchand was there; his little room is clean; he has pasted paper upon it, which he has painted himself. His bed was without curtains: Marchand does not sleep so far from his master’s door; at Briars, he and the two other valets-de-chambre constantly slept upon the ground, across the Emperor’s doorway, so close that, whenever I came away late, I was obliged to step over them. The Emperor ordered the presses to be opened; they contained nothing but his linen and his clothes; the whole was not considerable, yet he was astonished to find himself still so rich. “How many pair of spurs have I?” said he, taking up a pair. “Four pair,” answered Marchand. “Are any of them more remarkable than the rest?”—“No, Sire.”—“Well, I will give a pair of them to Las Cases. Are these old?” “Yes, Sire, they are almost worn out; your Majesty wore them in the campaign of Dresden, and in that of Paris.”—“Here,” said he, giving them to me; “these are for you.” I could have wished that he would have permitted me to receive them on my knees. I felt that I was really receiving something connected with the glorious days of Champaubert, Montmirail, Nangis, Montereau! Was there ever a more appropriate memorial of chivalry, in the times of Amadis? “Your Majesty is making me a knight,” said I; “but how am I to win these spurs? I cannot pretend to achieve any feat of arms; and as to love and devotion, Sire, all I have to bestow has long since been disposed of.”

Still the Grand Marshal did not arrive, and the Emperor wished to set to work. “You cannot write any longer then?” he said to me. “Your eyesight is quite gone.” Ever since we had been here I had given up work entirely; my eyesight failed me, which made me extremely melancholy. “Yes, sire,” I replied, “it is entirely gone; and I am grieved that I lost it in the Campaign of Italy, without enjoying the happiness and glory of having served in it.”—He endeavoured to console me, by telling me that I should recover my eyesight, beyond a doubt, by repose, adding, “Oh why did they not leave us Planat! that good young man would now be of great service to me.” And he desired General Gourgaud to come, that he might dictate to him.