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I think I can see him now, holding up one of his exquisitely taper fingers, and counting how many bottles my father usually drank before he joined the ladies. "If I were you, Mrs. Balcombe," he said, addressing my mother, "I should be very angry at being turned out to wait for two or three hours, whilst your husband and his friends were making themselves drunk. How different are Frenchmen, who think society cannot be agreeable without the presence of ladies!"

After drinking some of La Page's delectable coffee, and being helped to the sugar by Napoleon's fingers, instead of silver tongs, we proceeded to the carriage, which was in waiting. Madame Bertrand led the way, carrying her baby, little Arthur, followed by my mother, my sister and myself, and General Gourgaud. On being seated, the signal was given, the whip applied to the spirited Cape steeds, and away they tore, first on one side of the track (for road there was none) and then on the other, Madame