Bonaparte, as is well known, was in the habit of walking with his arms crossed upon his chest, and his head slightly bent forward. Isabey was at Malmaison, and he and some of the First Consul’s aides-de-camp were having a game of leap-frog on the lawn. Isabey had already jumped over the heads of most of them, when, at the turning of a path, he espied the last player who, in the requisite position, seemed to be waiting for the ordeal. Isabey pursued his course without looking, but took his flight so badly as only to reach the other’s shoulders, and both rolled over and over in the sand, and to Isabey’s consternation, his supposed fellow-player turned out to be Bonaparte. At that period, Bonaparte had probably not pondered the possibility of a ‘fall’; hence, it was said, refractory at this first lesson, he got up, foaming at the mouth with anger, and drawing his sword, pounced upon the unfortunate leaper. Isabey, luckily for himself better at running than at leaping, took to his heels, and jumping the ditches dividing the property from the high road, got over the wall and never stopped until, breathless, he reached the gates of the Tuileries. Isabey, it was added, went immediately to Mme. Bonaparte’s apartments, and she, after having laughed at the mishap, advised him to lie low for a little while. It was still further reported that it wanted all Josephine’s angelic goodness of heart and cleverness, besides her usual influence over Bonaparte, to appease the latter’s anger and to obtain the painter’s pardon. Bonaparte at that moment was only ‘Consul for Life,’ but people already foresaw the Empire, and the section of Paris society which was not too well pleased at the prospect of a possible return to former ideas naturally made the most of the anecdote of Malmaison. The denials of Isabey, who took good care to make short work of all the detailed rumours, found little or no belief; the adventure was considered extremely diverting, and Isabey’s contradiction of it had no effect.
In the course of our conversation with Isabey, the Prince de Ligne pressed him very closely on the subject, as if the _definitive_ fall of Napoleon sufficed to restore to Isabey all his freedom of speech and all his frankness on the matter. Isabey, on the other hand, kept on defending himself with no less energy.