Most of the people who came back with our Princes were either friends or acquaintances of mine. It was very sweet, after all those years of exile, to meet again in the country of our birth. But, alas! This happiness endured only a few months, for, while we were rejoicing at our lot, Bonaparte was landing at Cannes. At midnight, on the 19th of March, 1815, Louis XVIII. and the whole royal family left Paris. Napoleon entered the next day, at eight of the evening, resuming possession of the Tuileries, the troops filling the courtyards, giving our Princes' palace the aspect of a castle taken by assault. Without offense to the memory of a great captain and the brave generals and soldiers who helped him to win such fine victories, one may well ask what Bonaparte's victories have led to, and whether an inch of the ground remains to us that cost us so much blood. What proves how tired the people were of those eternal wars was their lack of enthusiasm during the Hundred Days. The King returned to Paris on the 8th of July, 1815, amid almost unanimous rejoicings, since, after all our misfortunes, Louis XVIII. brought back peace. Henceforth it was seen how this Prince combined wisdom and ability with his more brilliant mental qualities. Times were critical, and Louis XVIII. was assuredly the ruler to suit the period. With much courage and coolness he united elevation of soul and great subtlety of mind; all his ways were royal. He gave readily and liberally; he was fond of patronising art and letters, which he himself cultivated; his features were by no means devoid of beauty, and so noble was their expression that, infirm though he was, the first sight of him called forth involuntary respect. His favourite recreation was talking about literature with clever people. In his youth he had written very pretty verses, and his style was that of an accomplished man of letters. Knowing Latin perfectly, he liked to converse in that language with our most learned Latinists. His memory was prodigious; he could always repeat the most striking passages of a book read rapidly, of a piece seen once. Ducis, who before the Revolution had occupied a post in Monsieur's household, came out from his retreat at Versailles to present his homage to the King. Louis at once recognised him, welcomed him warmly, and recited the best lines of his "Oedipus," scarcely remembered by the aged author.