Fools that they had been, not to have hidden the little king of Rome as against this very dog! It was pitiful.

He never saw a shower in June that he did not hail curses upon it.

To have lost Waterloo for a bucketful of water! Thousand thunders! could he ever forget that terrible race back to Paris?
Could he ever forget the shame of it?
Grouchy for a fool and Bluecher for a blundering ass.

_Eh bien_; they would soon tumble the Bourbons into oblivion again.
A rambling desultory tale.

And there were reminiscences of such and such a great lady's _salon_; the flight from Moscow; the day of the Bastille; the poor fool of a Louis who donned a red-bonnet and wore the tricolor; some new opera dances; the flight of his cowardly cousins to Austria; Austerlitz and Jena; the mad dream in Egypt; the very day when the Great Man pulled a crown out of his saddle-bag and made himself an emperor.