the height of his power, to his Minister of War. "Suppose when I was
crossing the Alps my soldiers had been of your dancing sort. How far
would I have got if every time the band played a two-step my
grenadiers had dropped their guns to pirouette over those snow-white
wastes? Let the diplomats do the dancing. For soldiers give me men
to whom the polka is a closed book and the waltz an abomination."

Holding these views, he naturally failed to win the sympathy of his
fellows at the Paris school who, young nobles for the most part,
could not understand his point of view. So, having nothing else to
do, he applied himself solely to his studies and to reflection, and
it was the happiest moment of his life up to that time when, having
passed his examinations for entrance to the regular army, he received
his commission as a second lieutenant.

"Now we're off!" he said to himself, as he surveyed himself in the
mirror, after donning his uniform.

"It does not set very well in the back," remarked one of the maids of
the pension in which he lived, glancing in at the door.

"It does not matter," returned Bonaparte, loftily. "As long as it
sets well in front I'm satisfied; for you should know, madame, that a
true soldier never shows his back, and that is the kind of a military
person I am. A false front would do for me. I am no tin soldier,
which in after-years it will interest you to remember. When you are
writing your memoirs this will make an interesting anecdote."

From this it is to be inferred that at this time he had no thought of
Moscow. Immediately after his appointment Bonaparte repaired to