Royalist as was Harden-Hickey by birth and tradition, and Royalist
as he always remained, it was the court at the Tuileries that filled
his imagination. The Bourbons, whom he served, hoped some day
for a court; at the Tuileries there was a court, glittering before his
physical eyes. The Bourbons were pleasant old gentlemen, who
later willingly supported him, and for whom always he was equally
willing to fight, either with his sword or his pen. But to the last, in
his mind, he carried pictures of the Second Empire as he, as a boy,
had known it.

Can you not imagine the future James the First, barelegged, in a
black-belted smock, halting with his nurse, or his priest, to gaze up
in awestruck delight at the great, red-breeched Zouaves lounging
on guard at the Tuileries?

"When I grow up," said little James to himself, not knowing that
he never would grow up, "I shall have Zouaves for _my_ palace
guard."

And twenty years later, when he laid down the laws for his little
kingdom, you find that the officers of his court must wear the
mustache, "_a la_ Louis Napoleon," and that the Zouave uniform
will be worn by the Palace Guards.

In 1883, while he still was at the War College, his father died, and
when he graduated, which he did with honors, he found himself his
own master. His assets were a small income, a perfect knowledge
of the French language, and the reputation of being one of the most
expert swordsman in Paris. He chose not to enter the army, and