A short while afterwards Mme. de Montesquiou took us to the apartments. When young Napoleon caught sight of the Prince de Ligne he slid off his chair, and flung himself into the arms of the old soldier. He was indeed as handsome a child as one could wish to see, and the likeness to his ancestress Maria-Theresa was positively striking. The cherub-like shape of his face, the dazzling whiteness of the skin, the eyes full of fire, and the pretty fair curls drooping on his shoulders, made up one of the most graceful models ever offered to Isabey. He was dressed in a richly embroidered uniform of hussars, and wore on his dolman the star of the Legion of Honour, ‘_Bon jour, monsieur_,’ said the little lad, ‘I like the French very much.’ Remembering the words of Rousseau to the effect that people do not like to be questioned, and least of all children, I stooped down and kissed him. The son of Napoleon is no more; pitiless Death cut short at twenty-two a life begun on a throne; and at the moment when the brilliant qualities of the prince bade fair to make that life illustrious, and when his noble sentiments had begun to win all hearts. Everything connected with this offspring of so much glory, a victim from his cradle of a fatal and unprecedented destiny, only presents itself to the memory with a deep respect mingled with a tender pity. His intellect was quick and precocious; all his words struck the listener by their justness. Both his memory and his faculty for acquiring knowledge were astounding; he learned German in a short time, and after that spoke it with the same ease as French. His character was firm, and his resolutions, only arrived at after serious reflection, were unshakable; his slightest movements were stamped with grace; his gestures, when he wished to emphasise his words, were already grave and solemn. His liking for the science of warfare showed itself both in his eyes and in his speech. ‘I want to be a soldier,’ he said, ‘I’ll lead the charge.’ They suggested that bayonets might oppose his progress. ‘But surely,’ was the answer, ‘I’ll have a sword to put aside the bayonets.’ His curiosity with regard to the history of his father was extreme; the Emperor, his grandfather, convinced that truth must constitute the basis of every education, and notably that of a prince, determined not to leave him in ignorance upon any subject.[46] The child listened eagerly to the story of a life which, in the space of twenty years, seemed to have exceeded the measure of both belief and of history. The exuberance of his joys, his impatience at being baulked of his wishes and of all opposition to his will, were those of a child, while his intense anxiety to learn, his habitual calm and reflection, attested a more advanced age. Everything in him led to the belief in the theory of hereditary genius.