Sometimes it is eleven o'clock at night, Monsieur de Laval, and I am writing to his dictation with my head aching for want of sleep.

It is dreadful work, for he dictates as quickly as he can talk, and he never repeats anything.

"Now, Meneval," says he suddenly, "we shall stop here and have a good night's rest." And then, just as I am congratulating myself, he adds, "and we shall continue with the dictation at three to-morrow morning." That is what he means by a good night's rest.' 'But has he no hours for his meals, Monsieur de Meneval ?' I asked, as I accompanied the unhappy secretary out of the tent.
'Oh, yes, he has hours, but he will not observe them.

You see that it is already long after dinner time, but he has gone to this review.
After the review something else will probably take up his attention, and then something else, until suddenly in the evening it will occur to him that he has had no dinner.

"My dinner, Constant, this instant!" he will cry, and poor Constant has to see that it is there.' 'But it must be unfit to eat by that time,' said I.
The secretary laughed in the discreet way of a man who has always been obliged to control his emotions.
'This is the Imperial kitchen,' said he, indicating a large tent just outside the headquarters.