I do not know what happened behind me. I was completely taken up with watching the stag, which was escaping down the avenue from both hounds and hunters. That scene interested me far more than did the princess. I remember no more of her beyond the waving of her white hand and her white handkerchief. I have never seen her since, but she left so vivid an impression upon me that day that I can see her now. I do not recollect in the least whether we remained on at Montgobert or returned the same day to Villers-Cotterets. But I remember that my father soon after became weaker; he went out less often, he more rarely rode on horseback, he kept to his room for longer periods and he took me on his knees in a sadder mood. But these reminiscences only return to me in flashes, like objects seen by lightning on a dark night. Some days before his death my father received permission to hunt. It came from Alexandre Berthier, marshal of the Empire, master of hounds to the Crown. Alexandre Berthier was an old enemy of my father. I quite believe it was he who had reported him as standing looking on at the siege of Mantua. Moreover, he had been a precious time in granting this permission, which was available from Vendémiaire the 1st to the 15th of Ventôse--in other words, from the 23rd of September to the 6th March. My father received it on the 24th February, and he died on the 26th. This is a copy of the letter of leave from M. Deviolaine, Inspector of Forests:-- "Just as I am starting for the forest I have received an order from M. Collard to permit General Dumas to hunt and shoot. I hasten to send it to him with all good wishes, and my sincere hopes that his state of health will permit him to make use of it. "Our sincere regards to Madame Dumas. DEVIOLAINE. "_Feb 24, 1806._" Even supposing my father had been well, the matter had been so arranged that he only received on February 24th a leave which expired on the 6th March. Thus, a dozen days of hunting were granted him. My father flung both letter and order down on the table. My mother put them into her portfolio, where, forty-four years later, I came across them, enclosed one within the other. The same evening my father tried to forget his sufferings by a ride on horseback; but the conqueror was vanquished at last, and he was obliged to return in half an hour's time. He went at once to bed, never again to rise from it. My mother went for the doctor, leaving my father alone under a neighbour's care--a most excellent woman--Madame Darcourt, of whom I shall have occasion to speak. My father fell into a short access of delirium and despair. "Oh!" he exclaimed, "Oh, my God, my God, must a general, who at thirty-five years of age was at the head of three armies, die in his bed, like a coward, at forty! What have I done that Thou shouldst condemn one so young to leave wife and children?" Then, after a few minutes of quietness, he began: