I was not clever at school.
I was only the forty-second out of fifty-eight. At mathematics I had
perhaps some ability, but at nothing else. The truth is that I was
always dreaming when the others were working. There was nothing to
encourage my ambition, for the only thing which I inherited from my
father was a weak stomach. Once, when I was very young, I went up to
Paris with my father and my sister Caroline. We were in the Rue
Richelieu, and we saw the king pass in his carriage. Who would have
thought that the little boy from Corsica, who took his hat off and
stared, was destined to be the next monarch of France? And yet even then
I felt as if that carriage ought to belong to me. What is it, Constant?'
The discreet valet bent down and whispered something to the Emperor.
'Ah, of course,' said he. 'It was an appointment. I had forgotten it.
Is she there?'
'Yes, Sire.'
'In the side room?'
'Yes, Sire.'
Talleyrand and Berthier exchanged glances, and the minister began to
move towards the door.
'No, no, you can remain here,' said the Emperor.
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