These regiments were part of those of which General Montholon had just received command.
The emperor ordered him to make them return to their post, and he himself went out to them, not to excite but to calm their patriotic zeal.
One of these men called out:
"Sire, remember the 18th Brumaire."
You would think that at that word, that date, and that recollection, his heart would have leapt, his eye flashed? You would think that his horse would rear under him at the prick of his spur?
No.
"You recall the 18th Brumaire to me," he said; "but you forget that circumstances are different now. On the 18th Brumaire the nation was unanimous in desiring a change; it only needed a feeble effort to get what it wanted; to-day, it would take rivers of French blood, and I will never shed a single drop to defend my personal cause." He realised then that there were now two causes—his own, and the cause of France.
Ah! you are right this time, sire! You foresaw the first glimmerings of that great light which caused you to say at St. Helena:
"In fifty years Europe will be either Republican or Cossack."
The two regiments withdrew, murmuring, "What has come to the emperor? He no longer recognises us."