Suddenly, into the middle of this general _bouleversement_, a rumour gained credence that the Emperor himself was at the Tuileries. Young Stanhope hastened to the palace to learn the accuracy of this report, and was soon convinced of its truth. Throughout the building were tokens of unwonted activity; lights were visible in all the windows, and a small crowd was stationed outside. From a French soldier standing near him he learnt that the carriage in which Napoleon had travelled had broken down at Meaux, "and the Emperor had then got into one of the little cabriolets vulgarly called a _pot de chambre_; they are little cars which ply between Paris and the neighbouring towns, and carry four inside, and one, generally called a _lapin_, on the same seat as the driver." Upon his arrival in Paris his Imperial Majesty got out of this vehicle and walked to the Tuileries, where he was stopped by the guard at the door, who, in the dusk, failed to recognise him. "_Je suis de la maison!_" explained Napoleon briefly, and he was permitted to enter. Thus Bonaparte returned to Paris, not as the triumphant victor, the indomitable conqueror of Europe, but as a defeated general, bent on retrieving some singularly grievous errors by tact and perseverance. Yet something never to be regained was lost to the Man of Destiny. The spell which had deified him was broken. Napoleon the Invincible, the Infallible, had blundered. "This supernatural man, this god--or devil--had sunk below the level of ordinary men. '_Le prestige est passé_' was in everybody's mouth." Paris soon rang with stories of the disastrous campaign--tales, in the most trivial of which the Parisians recognised the complex personality of that god or devil of their mingled idolatry or detestation. A French officer told John Stanhope two anecdotes, which, although in themselves slight, are strikingly illustrative both of Napoleon's shrewdness and of his brutality. On one occasion the Emperor heard some men murmuring and declaring that rather than suffer the torments which they were then enduring, they had better give up the struggle and make up their minds to go to Siberia. Napoleon turned to them, and, fixing them with his glance, merely observed, "En Sibérie ou _en France_!" Well did he understand the emotional temperament of the men with whom he had to deal! The tone in which he uttered _en France_ recalled vividly to their thoughts their own, their beautiful France; and the men, who a moment before were abandoned to despair, roused themselves and advanced on their march with all the enthusiasm and the renewed vivacity of Frenchmen.