Napoleon entered a magnificent carriage, seated between his two colleagues, who appeared but as his attendants or body-guard. The carriage was drawn by six beautiful white horses, a present to Napoleon from the Emperor of Austria, immediately after the treaty of Campo Formio. A gorgeous train of officers, accompanied by six thousand picked troops, in the richest splendor of military display, composed the cortège. Twenty thousand soldiers, with all the concomitants of martial pomp, in double files, lined the streets through which the procession was to pass. A throng which could not be numbered, from the city and from the country, filled the garden, the streets, the avenues, the balconies, the house-tops, and ebbed and flowed in surging billows far back into the Elysian Fields. They had collected to exult in introducing the idol of the army and of the nation--the people's king--into the palace from which they had expelled the ancient monarchs of France. The moment the state carriage appeared, the heavens seemed rent with the unanimous shout, "Long live the First Consul." As soon as Napoleon arrived at the foot of the great stair, ascending to the palace, he left the other Consuls, and, mounting his horse, passed in review the magnificent array of troops drawn up before him. Murat was on his right; Lannes on his left. He was surrounded by a brilliant staff of war-worn veterans, whose scarred and sun-burnt visages told of many a toilsome and bloody campaign. There were three brigades, which appeared with the banners which had passed through the terrific conflicts of Lodi, Rivoli, and Arcola. They were black with powder, and torn into shreds by shot. Napoleon instantly uncovered his head, and, with profound reverence, saluted these monuments of military valor. An universal burst of enthusiasm greeted the well-timed and graceful act. Napoleon then returned to the Tuileries, ascended to the audience-chamber, and took his station in the centre of the room. All eyes were fixed upon him. The two associate Consuls were entirely forgotten, or, rather, they were reduced to the rank of pages, following in his train, and gracing his triumph. [Illustration: NAPOLEON'S ENTRANCE INTO THE TUILERIES.]