In the wake of the victorious army skulked the hungry civilian, the adventurer seeking gain, the vultures grouping to the carcass. It was feast-day for the contractor, the speculator, the swindler, the robber, the thief. It threw Napoleon into rage to see himself surrounded by a horde of imitators, puny plunderers doing on a small scale, without risking battle, what he did in grand style, after a fair fight. Soldiers who brought scandal on the army by too notorious pillage he could shoot, and did shoot; he resented the limitations of power which kept the civilian buccaneers from being shot. An indirect result of Napoleon’s victories in Italy was the loss of Corsica to England. The rule of Britannia had not pleased the Corsicans, nor been of any special benefit to England. Toward the close of 1796 the islanders revolted, and the English withdrew. Corsica became again a province of France. CHAPTER XVI On December 5, 1797, Napoleon returned to Paris. With studious eye for effect, he adopted that line of conduct most calculated, as he thought, to preserve his reputation and to inflame public curiosity. He was determined not to stale his presence. Making no display, and avoiding commonplace demonstrations, he doffed his uniform, put on the sober dress of a member of the Institute, to which he was elected in place of Carnot, screened himself within the privacy of his home, and cultivated the society of scholars, authors, scientists, and non-combatants generally. When he went out, it was as a private citizen, his two-horse carriage unattended by aides or escort. He demurely attended the meetings of the Institute, and on public occasions was to be found in his place, in his class, among the savants, just as though he had set his mind now on literary matters and was going to write a book. His brother Joseph gave it out that Napoleon’s ambition was to settle down and be quiet, to enjoy literature, friends, and, possibly, the luxuries of the office of Justice of the Peace. It must have been a queer sight to have seen the little Corsican dress-parading as a guileless man of letters; it is very doubtful whether many were deceived by his exaggerated modesty. Those who were in place and power, the men whom he would have to combat and overcome, were not for a moment duped. They suspected, dreaded, and watched him. Prepare for him they could not, for they had not the means. He had said nothing and done nothing which they had not indorsed; with hearts full of repugnance, with faces more or less wry, they had sanctioned even when their instructions had been disobeyed. They could not seize him by brute force, or put him out of the way. They were too weak; he too strong. He was the idol of soldiers and civilians alike; the Directors were not the idols of anybody. They could not even have him poisoned, or stabbed, for he was on his guard against that very thing. Soon after his return to Paris he had