He took another step backward, raised his lean brown hand, waved it like a flag, and cried in a choked-up voice: “Long live the Emperor!” He stepped back into the ranks of his comrades from which the Emperor had summoned him and said softly to all those who gathered around him: “Just think, he recognized me instantly! ‘You were,’ he said, ‘at Jena, Austerlitz, Eylau, and Moscow, my dear Lavernoile! You have no decorations. You will. I promote you to lieutenant.’”

“He knows us all,” said one of the non-commissioned officers.

“He hasn’t forgotten any of us!” said another.

“He recognized him,” whispered dozens. “He knew his name. He even knew both his first and middle names. ‘Pierre Antoine Lavernoile,’ he said, ‘I know you.’”

Meanwhile, the Emperor mounted his horse again. Lavernoile, he thought, poor gangly Lavernoile! Happy Lavernoile! He raised his hat, stood erect in his stirrups, visible to all, and called out with a voice accustomed to being heard and understood over the noise of cannon: “People of Paris!” he shouted “Long live France!”

He turned his horse. Everyone swarmed him, separating him, his radiant animal and his gray cloak from his retinue. There were hundreds of people around him, men in uniform and civilian clothes and women whose red scarves glinted in the youthful sunshine.

 

X

He headed home, weary, sad, and ashamed. He was always embracing unknown poor people, giving them titles and orders, buying their support and winning them over. They loved him. Yet he was indifferent to them. He was ashamed. If he had to embrace one more Lavernoile . . . ! Was that the name? Lavernoile? There were thousands of non-commissioned officers in the Emperor’s great army, hundreds of thousands of soldiers. He was ashamed, the great Emperor of the little Lavernoiles . . .

 

XI

The Emperor ordered that in each city in the land one hundred cannon rounds be fired. This was his language. This was how he proclaimed to the people that he had beaten his rebellious enemies, the friends of the King.

The cannon resounded throughout the land, sending their mighty echoes far and wide. The people had not heard the thunder of cannon for some time. They were startled when the sound came to them again. They recognized once more the mighty voice of the returning Emperor. Even peace was proclaimed with artillery.

The Emperor’s brother said: “Why did you fire cannon? It would have been better to ring bells.”

“Yes,” replied the Emperor. “I love the bells, you know that! I would have liked to hear them. But the bells can wait. I’ll let them ring once I’ve defeated my powerful enemies, my true enemies.”

“To whom are you referring?” asked his brother.

The Emperor said slowly and solemnly: “The whole world!”

His brother stood.