"'Ciel ennemi, ciel, rends-nous la lumière! Disait AJAX, et combats contre nous!' Seul contre tous, malgré le ciel jaloux, De notre Ajax void la voix guerrière: Que les cités s'unissent aux soldats; Rallions-nous pour les derniers combats! Français, la Paix est aux champs de la gloire, La douce Paix, fille de la Victoire.' II Il a parlé, le monarque, le père; Qui serait sourd à sa puissante voix? Patrie, honneur! c'est pour vos saintes lois, Nous marchons tous sous la même bannière. Rallions-nous, citoyens et soldats, Rallions-nous pour les derniers combats! Français, la Paix est au champ de la gloire, La douce Paix, fille de Victoire. III Napoleon, roi d'un peuple fidèle, Tu veux borner la course de ton char; Tu nous montras _Alexandre_ et _César;_ Oui, nous verrons _Trajan_ et _Marc-Aurèle_! Nous sommes tous _tes enfants, tes soldats_, Nous volons tous à ces derniers combats, Elle est conquise aux nobles champs de gloire, La douce Paix, fille de la Victoire." For, indeed, it is very easy to call a man His Majesty five days before his abdication and a _monarch_ and a _father_ whom one has just addresssed as _Ajax, Alexander, Cæsar, Trajan_ and _Marcus Aurelius._ Undeceive yourselves! To-day, His Majesty is the Emperor Alexander; as for that other emperor, the Emperor Napoleon, we shall see, or rather we have already seen, what has become of him since his return from the isle of Elba. After having been a _monarch,_ a _father, Ajax, Alexander, Cæsar, Trajan_ and _Marcus Aurelius_, he has become TEUTATÈS. Ah! what a villainous fall was there! Let us proceed, or we shall never finish: we have had more trouble in getting over this word _Majesty_ than Cæsar had in crossing the Rubicon. "To-day His Majesty passed in front of the colonne de la place Vendôme, and looking at the statue, he said to the noblemen who surrounded him, 'Were I placed so high, I should be afraid of being giddy.' So philosophic a remark is worthy of a Marcus Aurelius." Pardon me, Monsieur Bertin, to which Marcus Aurelius do you refer? Is it the one to whom you recently compared Napoleon, or some other Marcus Aurelius with whom we are unacquainted? Ah! Monsieur Bertin, you are like Titus: you have not wasted your day, or rather your night! We will relate what happened during the night in which Monsieur Bertin worked so energetically, and in the course of which the serpent changed his tricoloured skin for a white skin and the _Journal de l'Empire_ became the _Journal des Débats_. It has to be admitted, however, that during the night of 20-21 March 1815 you resumed your old tricoloured skin which you had sold Monsieur Bertin, but which you had not delivered up. Now let us pass on to the _Journal de Paris_. "It is a good thing to know," quoth the _Journal de Paris_, "that Bonaparte's name is not _Napoleon_, but _Nicolas_."