his rear; I cut off his communications with Austria. I meet him
here in the valley of the Bormida." So saying, he stuck a red pin
into the plain of Marengo.

Bourrienne regarded this maneuvering of pins as mere pastime. His
countenance expressed his perfect incredulity. Napoleon, perceiving
this, addressed to him some of his usual apostrophes, in which he
was accustomed playfully to indulge in moments of relaxation, such
as, You ninny, You goose; and rolled up the map. Ten weeks passed
away, and Bourrienne found himself upon the banks of the Bormida,
writing, at Napoleon's dictation, an account of the battle of
Marengo. Astonished to find Napoleon's anticipations thus minutely
fulfilled, he frankly avowed his admiration of the military
sagacity thus displayed. Napoleon himself smiled at the justice of
his foresight.

Two days before the news of the battle of Marengo arrived in Vienna,
England effected a new treaty with Austria, for the more vigorous
prosecution of the war. By this convention it was provided that
England should loan Austria ten millions of dollars, to bear no
interest during the continuance of the conflict. And the Austrian
cabinet bound itself not to make peace with France, without
the consent of the Court of St. James. The Emperor of Austria was
now sadly embarrassed. His sense of honor would not allow him to
violate his pledge to the King of England, and to make peace. On
the other hand, he trembled at the thought of seeing the armies
of the invincible Napoleon again marching upon his capital. He,
therefore, resolved to temporize, and, in order to gain time, sent
an embassador to Paris. The plenipotentiary presented to Napoleon
a letter, in which the Emperor stated, "You will give credit to