forgot at the moment to tell him it was Clallisthenes. He wrote
Alexander's Memoirs, as I am writing Bonaparte's; but,
notwithstanding this coincidence, I neither expect nor desire the
immortality of my name.--Bourrienne.]--

Bonaparte then turned to me and laughing, said, "Hem! that is not bad."
There was, to be sure, a little flattery conveyed in my question, but
that never displeased him, and I certainly did not in that instance
deserve the censure he often bestowed on me for not being enough of a
courtier and flatterer.

Madame Murat gave a grand fete in honour of Bonaparte at her residence at
Neuilly. At dinner Bonaparte sat opposite Madame Murat at the principal
table, which was appropriated to the ladies. He ate fast, and talked but
little. However, when the dessert was served, he put a question to each
lady. This question was to inquire their respective ages. When Madame
Bourrienne's turn came he said to her, "Oh! I know yours." This was a
great deal for his gallantry, and the other ladies were far from being
pleased at it.

Next day, while walking with me in his favourite alley at Malmaison, he
received one of those stupid reports of the police which were so
frequently addressed to him. It mentioned the observations which had
been made in Paris about a green livery he had lately adopted. Some said
that green had been chosen because it was the colour of the House of
Artois. On reading that a slight sneer was observable in his
countenance, and he said, "What are these idiots dreaming of? They must
be joking, surely. Am I no better than M. d'Artois? They shall soon see
the difference."