On the afternoon of April first the Emperor rode from Fontainebleau to Marmont's headquarters. While he was in the very act of congratulating Marmont on his gallantry, the commissioners who had signed the capitulation arrived and opened their budget of news. They told of the formal entry by the allies, of their resolution not to treat with Napoleon, and declared that the white cockade of the Bourbons was everywhere visible. Napoleon grew pensive and somber as he listened, and then, almost without speaking, rode sadly back to Fontainebleau. Next morning he was cheerful again, and as he stepped into the White Horse court of the palace at the hour of guard-mounting two battalions cheered him enthusiastically. His step was elastic, his countenance lighted with the old fire; the onlookers said, "It is the Napoleon of Potsdam and Schoenbrunn." But in the afternoon Caulaincourt returned, and the sky seemed darkened; the Czar had listened to the envoy's eloquence only so far as to take into consideration once again the question of peace with the Empire under a regency; as a condition antecedent, Napoleon must abdicate. The stricken man could not hear his faithful servant's report with equanimity. He restrained his violent impulses, but used harsh words. Soon it seemed as if ideas of a strange and awful form were mastering him, the gloomy interview was ended, and the Emperor dismissed his minister. For such a disease as his there was no remedy but action; next morning two divisions, one each of the old and young guard, arrived, and they were drawn up for review. Napoleon, in splendid garb and with a brilliant suite, in which were two marshals, Ney and Moncey, went through the ceremony. At its close he gathered the officers present into a group, and explained the situation in his old incisive phrase and vibrating tones, closing with the words: "In a few days I am going to attack Paris; can I count on you?" There was dead silence. "Am I right?" rang out, in a final exhausting effort, the moving call of the great actor. Then at last came the hearty, ringing response so breathlessly expected. "They were silent," said General Petit in gentle tones, "because it seemed needless to reply." Napoleon continued: "We will show them if the French nation be master in their own house, that if we have long been masters in the dwellings of others we will always be so in our own." As the officers scattered to their posts and repeated the "little corporal's" words, the old "growlers," as men had come to call the veterans of the Empire, gave another cheer. The bands played the two great hymns of victory, the "Marseillaise" and the "Chant du Depart," as the ranks moved away.