It was at night,
he narrated vaguely, without animation, at a spot between Frejus and
Antibes, in the open country. A big fire had been lit at the side of the
cross-roads. The population from several villages had collected there,
old and young--down to the very children in arms, because the women had
refused to stay at home. Tall soldiers wearing high, hairy caps stood
in a circle, facing the people silently, and their stern eyes and big
mustaches were enough to make everybody keep at a distance. He, "being
an impudent little shaver," wriggled out of the crowd, creeping on his
hands and knees as near as he dared to the grenadiers' legs, and peeping
through discovered, standing perfectly still in the light of the fire,
"a little fat fellow in a three-cornered hat, buttoned up in a long
straight coat, with a big, pale face inclined on one shoulder, looking
something like a priest. His hands were clasped behind his back. . . .
It appears that this was the Emperor," the ancient commented, with a
faint sigh. He was staring from the ground with all his might, when
"my poor father," who had been searching for his boy frantically every
where, pounced upon him and hauled him away by the ear.
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