Although quick-tempered, my father did not say a word when the
hotelier, who had been compelled to obey the orders of the
municipality, came with some embarrassment to make his excuses. The
inn-keeper having added that he had arranged for our accommodation at
another hotel....very good, though of second grade....and run by one
of his relatives, my father simply asked Capt. Gault to tell the
postilion to take us there.

When we arrived, we were met by our courier, a lively fellow, who,
heated by the long journey he had just made and the numerous drinks
he had downed at each post-house had complained most loudly when he
found that the rooms booked for his master had been given to General
Bonaparte. The latter's aides-de-camp hearing this uproar and
learning the cause, went to warn their master that General Marbot had
been displaced to make room for him, and, at the same time, General
Bonaparte saw through his open window my father's two coaches pull up
at the door.

He had not been aware, until then, of the shabby way in which my
father had been treated; and as General Marbot, recently commandant
of Paris, and now a divisional commander in Italy was too important a
man to be treated unceremoniously, and also as General Bonaparte had
good reason to make himself popular with everybody, he ordered one of
his officers to go down straight away and ask General Marbot to come,
as a fellow soldier, and share his accommodation. Then, seeing the
coaches leave before his aide-de-camp could speak to my father,
Bonaparte went immediately, on foot, to offer his regrets in person.

The crowd which followed him set up a great noise of cheering,