But if the night appeared too long, the morning seemed short in proportion. The idea of meeting the new master of the empire face to face, inspired and chilled him in turn. For an instant he hoped that something would be lacking in his toilet--that some shopkeeper would furnish him an honorable pretext for postponing his visit until the next day. But everybody displayed the most desperate punctuality. Precisely at noon, the trousers _a la Cosaque_ and the frogged surtout were on the foot of the bed opposite the famous Bolivar hat. "I may as well be dressing," said Fougas. "Possibly this young man may not be at home. In that case I'll leave my name, and wait until he sends for me." He got himself up gorgeously in his own way, and, although it may appear impossible to my readers, Fougas, in a black satin scarf and frogged surtout, was not homely nor even ridiculous. His tall figure, lithe build, lofty and impressive carriage, and brusque movements, were all in a certain harmony with the costume of the olden time. He appeared strange, and that was all. To keep his courage up, he dropped into a restaurant, ate four cutlets, a loaf of bread, a slice of cheese, and washed it all down with two bottles of wine. The coffee and supplements brought him up to two o'clock, and that was the time he had set for himself. He tipped his hat slightly over one ear, buttoned his buckskin gloves, coughed energetically two or three times before the sentinel at the _Rue de Rivoli_, and marched bravely into the gate. "Monsieur," cried the porter, "what do you want?" "The Emperor!" "Have you an audience letter?" "Colonel Fougas does not need one. Go and ask references of him who towers over the _Place Vendome_. He'll tell you that the name of Fougas has always been a synonym for bravery and fidelity." "You knew the first Emperor?" "Yes, my little joker; and I have talked with him just as I am talking with you." "Indeed! But how old are you then?" "Seventy years on the dial-plate of time; twenty-four years on the tablets of History!" The porter raised his eyes to Heaven, and murmured: "Still another! This makes the fourth for this week!" He made a sign to a little gentleman in black, who was smoking his pipe in the court of the Tuilleries. Then he said to Fougas, putting his hand on his arm: "So, my good friend, you want to see the Emperor?" "I've already told you so, familiar individual!" "Very well; you shall see him to-day. That gentleman going along there with the pipe in his mouth, is the one who introduces visitors; he will take care of you. But the Emperor is not in the Palace; he is in the country. It's all the same to you, isn't it, if you do have to go into the country?" "What the devil do you suppose I care?" "Only I don't suppose you care to go on foot. A carriage has already been ordered for you. Come, my good fellow, get in, and be reasonable!" Two minutes later, Fougas, accompanied by a detective, was riding to a police station.