joke. General Corbineau a few moments after received an order from his
Majesty, and not finding some money he wished at Monsieur de Meneval's
quarters, came to me, and I gave it to him from the Emperor's private
purse; at the end of a few hours I met Monsieur de Meneval, to whom I
rendered an account of General Corbineau's request, and the sum I had
lent him. I was still speaking to Monsieur de Meneval, when an officer
passing at a gallop gave us the sad news of the general's death. I have
never forgotten the impression made on me by this sad news, and I still
find no explanation of the strange mental distress which gave warning to
this brave soldier of his approaching end.

Poland was relying upon the Emperor to re-establish her independence, and
consequently the Poles were filled with hope and enthusiasm on witnessing
the arrival of the French army. As for our soldiers, this winter
campaign was most distasteful to them; for cold and wretchedness, bad
weather and bad roads, had inspired them with an extreme aversion to this
country.

In a review at Warsaw, at which the inhabitants crowded around our
troops, a soldier began to swear roundly against the snow and mud, and,
as a consequence, against Poland and the Poles. "You are wrong, Monsieur
soldier," replied a young lady of a good bourgeois family of the town,
"not to love our country, for we love the French very much."--"You are
doubtless very lovable, mademoiselle," replied the soldier; "but if you
wish to persuade me of the truth of what you say, you will prepare us a
good dinner, my comrade and I."--"Come, then, messieurs," said the
parents of the young Pole now advancing, "and we will drink together to
the health of your Emperor." And they really carried off with them the
two soldiers, who partook of the best dinner the country afforded.