The mighty Emperor
has snubbed me. He is not a gentleman. He has not even invited me to
Paris, to share in the festivities and honours he proclaims. I would
risk it, for I believe it is the safer game, except for two obstacles,
and both of those are women. Matters are growing very ticklish now. That
old bat of a Stubbard has got scent of a rat, and is hunting about the
farm-houses. It would be bad for him if he came prowling here; that step
for inspectors is well contrived. Twenty feet fall on his head for my
friend; even his bull-neck would get the worst of that. And then, again,
there is that wretch of a Cheeseman, who could not even hang himself
effectually. If it were not for Polly, we would pretty soon enable
him, as the Emperor enabled poor Pichegru. And after his own bona fide
effort, who would be surprised to find him sus. per coll.? But Polly is
a nice girl, though becoming too affectionate. And jealous--good lack!
a grocer's daughter jealous, and a Carne compelled to humour her! What
idiots women are in the hands of a strong man! Only my mother--my mother
was not; or else my father was a weak one; which I can well believe from
my own remembrance of him. Well, one point at least shall be settled
to-morrow."
It was early in May, 1804, and Napoleon having made away to the best of
his ability--which in that way was pre-eminent--with all possible rivals
and probable foes, was receiving addresses, and appointing dummies, and
establishing foolscap guarantees against his poor fallible and flexible
self--as he had the effrontery to call it--with all the gravity, grand
benevolence, confidence in mankind (as fools), immensity of yearning
for universal good, and intensity of planning for his own, which have
hoodwinked the zanies in every age, and never more than in the present
age and country.
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