Later it took the heads of a king and queen
and the blood of a hundred thousand people.'
He sat down, and stretched his plump, white-clad legs towards the fire.
Through the blackened shreds of the English papers the red glow beat
upwards upon the beautiful, pallid, sphinx-like face--the face of a
poet, of a philosopher--of anything rather than of a ruthless and
ambitious soldier. I have heard folk remark that no two portraits of
the Emperor are alike, and the fault does not lie with the artists but
with the fact that every varying mood made him a different man. But in
his prime, before his features became heavy, I, who have seen sixty
years of mankind, can say that in repose I have never looked upon a more
beautiful face.
'You have no dreams and no illusions, Talleyrand,' said he. 'You are
always practical, cold, and cynical. But with me, when I am in the
twilight, as now, or when I hear the sound of the sea, my imagination
begins to work. It is the same when I hear some music--especially music
which repeats itself again and again like some pieces of Passaniello.
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