The smallness of his
fortune was so well known at headquarters, that the War Minister, the
Prince de Wissembourg, begged his old comrade to accept a sum of money
for his household expenses. This sum the Marshal spent in furnishing
the ground floor, which was in every way suitable; for, as he said, he
would not accept the Marshal's baton to walk the streets with.
The house had belonged to a senator under the Empire, and the ground
floor drawing-rooms had been very magnificently fitted with carved
wood, white-and-gold, still in very good preservation. The Marshal had
found some good old furniture in the same style; in the coach-house he
had a carriage with two batons in saltire on the panels; and when he
was expected to appear in full fig, at the Minister's, at the
Tuileries, for some ceremony or high festival, he hired horses for the
job.
His servant for more than thirty years was an old soldier of sixty,
whose sister was the cook, so he had saved ten thousand francs, adding
it by degrees to a little hoard he intended for Hortense. Every day
the old man walked along the boulevard, from the Rue du Mont-Parnasse
to the Rue Plumet; and every pensioner as he passed stood at
attention, without fail, to salute him: then the Marshal rewarded the
veteran with a smile.
"Who is the man you always stand at attention to salute?" said a young
workman one day to an old captain and pensioner.
"I will tell you, boy," replied the officer.
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