“What!” cried I, aloud; “_me!_--invite me to the Palace! There must be some mistake here.” And I turned again to the envelope, where my name was legibly written, with my grade and the number of my new corps. There could be no doubt of it; and yet was it still inexplicable. I that was so perfectly alone,--a stranger, without a friend, save among the humble ranks of the school,--how came such a distinction as this to be conferred on me? I thought of Tascher; but then we had lived months together, and such a thing had never been even alluded to. The more I reflected on it, the greater became my difficulty; and in a maze of confusion and embarrassment, I passed the day in preparation for the evening,--for, as was customary at the period, the invitations for small parties were issued on the very mornings' themselves. My first care was to look after the uniform of my new corps, in which I knew I must appear. My last remaining bank note--the sole survivor of my little stock of wealth--was before me; and I sat calculating with myself the costly outlay of a hussar dress, the full uniform of which had not till now entered into my computation. Never was my ingenuity more sorely tried than in the endeavor to bring the outlay within the narrow limits of my little purse; and when at length I would think that all had been remembered, some small but costly item would rise up against me, and disconcert all my calculations. At noon I set out to wait on my new colonel, whose quarters were in the Place Vendome. The visit was a short and not over pleasant one; a crowd of officers filled the rooms, among whom I edged my way with difficulty towards the place where Colonel Marbois was standing. He was a short, thick-set, vulgar-looking man, of about fifty; his mustache and whiskers meeting above the lip, and his bushy, black beard below, gave him the air of a pioneer, which his harsh Breton accent did not derogate from. “Ah, c'est vous!” said he, as my name was announced. “You 'll have to learn in future, sir, that officers of your rank are not received at the levies of their colonel. You hear me: report yourself to the _chef d'escadron_, however, who will give you your orders. And mark me, sir, let this be the last day you are seen in that uniform.” A short and not very gracious nod concluded the audience; and I took my leave not the less abashed that I could mark a kind of half smile on most of the faces about me as I withdrew from the crowd,--scarcely in the street, however, when my heart felt light and my step elastic. I was a sous-lieutenant of hussars; and if I did my duty, what cared I for the smiles and frowns of my colonel? and had not the General Bonaparte himself told me that “no grade was too high for the brave man who did so?” [Illustration: Monsieur Crillac's Salon 239]