burden, the obligation of dissembling towards them. He spoke to me in
terms of horror of those whole he celled the assassins of Louis XVI, and
he was annoyed at the necessity of employing them and treating them with
apparent respect. How many times has he not said to Cambaceres, pinching
him by the ear, to soften, by that habitual familiarity, the bitterness
of the remark, "My dear fellow, your case is clear; if ever the Bourbons
come back you will be hanged!" A forced smile would then relax the livid
countenance of Cambaceres, and was usually the only reply of the Second
Consul, who, however, on one occasion said in my hearing, "Come, come,
have done with this joking."

One thing which gave Bonaparte great pleasure when in the country was to
see a tall, slender woman, dressed in white, walking beneath an alley of
shaded trees. He detested coloured dresses, and especially dark ones.
To fat women he had an invincible antipathy, and he could not endure the
sight of a pregnant woman; it therefore rarely happened that a female in
that situation was invited to his parties. He possessed every requisite
for being what is called in society an agreeable man, except the will to
be so. His manner was imposing rather than pleasing, and those who did
not know him well experienced in his presence an involuntary feeling of
awe. In the drawing-room, where Josephine did the honours with so much
grace and affability, all was gaiety and ease, and no one felt the
presence of a superior; but on Bonaparte's entrance all was changed, and
every eye was directed towards him, to read his humour in his
countenance, whether he intended to be silent or talkative, dull or
cheerful.

He often talked a great deal, and sometimes a little too much; but no one
could tell a story in a more agreeable and interesting way. His
conversation rarely turned on gay or humorous subjects, and never on