This he did, going to the same tradesmen that he had patronized in his days of poverty. To his hatter, whom he owed for his last five hats, he said:
"They call me haughty here; they say I am cold. Well, I am cold. I've shivered on the Alps several times since I was here last, and it has chilled my nature. It has given me the grip, so to speak, and when I lose my grip the weather will be even colder. Give me a hat, my friend."
"What size?" asked the hatter.
"The same," said Bonaparte, with a frown. "Why do you ask?"
"I was told your head had swelled," returned the hatter, meekly.
"They shall pay for this," murmured Napoleon, angrily.
"I am glad," said the hatter, with a sigh. "I was wondering who'd pay for it."
"Oh, you were, eh?" said Napoleon. "Well, wonder no more. Get out your books."
The hatter did so.
"Now charge it," said Napoleon.