CHAPTER XX
BONAPARTE GIVES ENGLAND A RIVAL
"Great let me call him, for he conquered me."
The next morning was Easter, and, dressed in a new suit of puce-colored ferrandine, with fresh ruffles of finest lace, and a new plume in my hat, I walked decorously beside my aunt through the thronged streets, every one dressed in his best and every one going the same way—to the Church of the Madeleine, to see the First Consul attend service. The sun was shining, birds were singing, the air was soft and warm and filled with the mingled perfume of flowers and incense, borne out through the open doors of all the churches.
The world was happy, and so was I. I was greatly excited, too, for I was to behold, for the first time, the man who held in his hand the destinies of nations, and before whose terrible word even our own proud republic trembled.
I had been three weeks in Paris and had not seen him. It seemed to be my ill fortune never to be on the streets when he made one of his dashing progresses through them, and though there had been several levees my wardrobe had not been in condition to attend them. At least, so my aunt thought. I think I would have been willing to don once more the old plum-colored velvets for the sake of seeing the great Bonaparte, but Madame Marbois thought otherwise.
"Nobody is such a stickler for forms and ceremonies, or such a lover of magnificence, as the First Consul," said she, "and if you want to make a good impression upon him, or do credit to your family at home and to your uncle and to me, you must wait for your new costumes."
So she had me to the tailor's, and more suits were ordered than I thought I could wear in a lifetime. When they came home and my man Cæsar (my own colored boy whom I had brought with me from home) had laid them all out for me in my room, I thought them well worth waiting for. There were suits for church and suits for dinner, suits for riding and for walking, and, most resplendent of all, two court costumes. One especially of white satin with much gold lace and bullion quite took my breath away. Now I have always had a weakness for fine clothes that I secretly deprecated, for I feared it was a womanish weakness quite unbefitting a soldier of fortune, which was the career I had laid out for myself and was quite determined upon. Yet I have never found that my liking for fine clothes has made me less ready to draw my sword to help the innocent or weak, and so I hope it may not be a sign in me of any lack of true manliness.
Be this as it may, I was walking joyously beside my aunt that beautiful Easter morning, and part of the joy in my heart was for the beautiful puce-colored ferrandine that sat so well and had an air of distinction I was sure no other clothes of mine had ever had, for these were made in Paris.
I have no very distinct recollection of the services; indeed, I hardly paid enough attention to them to follow them decorously, for I was consumed with an eager desire for but one event—the entrance of the First Consul.