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The
sun
had
by
now
risen
and
shone
gaily
on
the
bright
verdure
.
They
had
hardly
ridden
up
a
hill
,
past
a
tavern
,
before
they
saw
a
group
of
horsemen
coming
toward
them
.
In
front
of
the
group
,
on
a
black
horse
with
trappings
that
glittered
in
the
sun
,
rode
a
tall
man
with
plumes
in
his
hat
and
black
hair
curling
down
to
his
shoulders
.
He
wore
a
red
mantle
,
and
stretched
his
long
legs
forward
in
French
fashion
.
This
man
rode
toward
Balashëv
at
a
gallop
,
his
plumes
flowing
and
his
gems
and
gold
lace
glittering
in
the
bright
June
sunshine
.
Balashëv
was
only
two
horses
'
length
from
the
equestrian
with
the
bracelets
,
plumes
,
necklaces
,
and
gold
embroidery
,
who
was
galloping
toward
him
with
a
theatrically
solemn
countenance
,
when
Julner
,
the
French
colonel
,
whispered
respectfully
:
"
The
King
of
Naples
!
"
It
was
,
in
fact
,
Murat
,
now
called
"
King
of
Naples
.
"
Though
it
was
quite
incomprehensible
why
he
should
be
King
of
Naples
,
he
was
called
so
,
and
was
himself
convinced
that
he
was
so
,
and
therefore
assumed
a
more
solemn
and
important
air
than
formerly
.
He
was
so
sure
that
he
really
was
the
King
of
Naples
that
when
,
on
the
eve
of
his
departure
from
that
city
,
while
walking
through
the
streets
with
his
wife
,
some
Italians
called
out
to
him
:
"
Viva
il
re
!
"
*
he
turned
to
his
wife
with
a
pensive
smile
and
said
:
"
Poor
fellows
,
they
do
n't
know
that
I
am
leaving
them
tomorrow
!
"
*
"
Long
live
the
king
.
"
But
though
he
firmly
believed
himself
to
be
King
of
Naples
and
pitied
the
grief
felt
by
the
subjects
he
was
abandoning
,
latterly
,
after
he
had
been
ordered
to
return
to
military
service
--
and
especially
since
his
last
interview
with
Napoleon
in
Danzig
,
when
his
august
brother-in-law
had
told
him
:
"
I
made
you
King
that
you
should
reign
in
my
way
,
but
not
in
yours
!
"
--
he
had
cheerfully
taken
up
his
familiar
business
,
and
--
like
a
well-fed
but
not
overfat
horse
that
feels
himself
in
harness
and
grows
skittish
between
the
shafts
--
he
dressed
up
in
clothes
as
variegated
and
expensive
as
possible
,
and
gaily
and
contentedly
galloped
along
the
roads
of
Poland
,
without
himself
knowing
why
or
whither
.
On
seeing
the
Russian
general
he
threw
back
his
head
,
with
its
long
hair
curling
to
his
shoulders
,
in
a
majestically
royal
manner
,
and
looked
inquiringly
at
the
French
colonel
.
The
colonel
respectfully
informed
His
Majesty
of
Balashëv
's
mission
,
whose
name
he
could
not
pronounce
.
"
De
Bal-machève
!
"
said
the
King
(
overcoming
by
his
assurance
the
difficulty
that
had
presented
itself
to
the
colonel
)
.
"
Charmed
to
make
your
acquaintance
,
General
!
"
he
added
,
with
a
gesture
of
kingly
condescension
.
As
soon
as
the
King
began
to
speak
loud
and
fast
his
royal
dignity
instantly
forsook
him
,
and
without
noticing
it
he
passed
into
his
natural
tone
of
good-natured
familiarity
.
He
laid
his
hand
on
the
withers
of
Balashëv
's
horse
and
said
:
"
Well
,
General
,
it
all
looks
like
war
,
"
as
if
regretting
a
circumstance
of
which
he
was
unable
to
judge
.
