Throughout the afternoon and evening Marmont's house was the rendezvous of the negotiators and of the few political personages left in the city. There was the freest talk: "Bonaparte" was conquered; the Bourbons would be restored; what a splendid man was this Marmont! Some weeks earlier the marshal had been significantly informed by his brother-in-law Perregaux, a chamberlain of Napoleon's, that in case of a restoration he and Macdonald would be spared, whatever happened to the other great imperial leaders. Talleyrand had ostensibly taken flight with his colleagues, but by an interesting coincidence his coachman had sought the wrong exit from the city, and had been turned back. That night he appeared in Marmont's presence with direct overtures from the Bourbons. His interview was short, and he seemed to have gained nothing; but he had an air of victory as he withdrew. He saw that Marmont was consumed with vanity, feeling that the destinies of France, of Napoleon, of all Europe, perhaps, were in his hands alone. This was much. Passing through the corridors, the sly diplomatist respectfully greeted Prince Orloff, and begged to lay his profound respects at the feet of the Czar. "I shall not forget to lay this blank check before his majesty," was the stinging retort. Talleyrand smiled almost imperceptibly with his lips, and went his way. But Alexander said on hearing the facts: "As yet this is but anecdote; it may become history."
The triumphal entry of the allies into Paris began next morning, March thirty-first, 1814, at seven o'clock. It was headed by Alexander and Frederick William, now universally regarded as the Czar's satellite king. Francis was in Dijon; he was represented by Schwarzenberg. The three leaders, with their respective staff officers, were solemnly received by a deputation of the municipal authorities. Their soldiers were orderly, and there was no pillage or license. Crowds of royalists thronged the streets acclaiming the conquerors and shouting for Louis XVIII. Throughout the afternoon Talleyrand and Nesselrode were closeted in the former's palace; and when, toward evening, they were joined by the Czar and the King, both of whom had devoted the day to ceremony, the diplomats had already agreed that France must have the Bourbons. The sovereigns had actually been deceived by the noisy royalist manifestations into believing that France welcomed her invaders, and they assented to the conclusion of the ministers. A formal meeting was instantly arranged; there were present, besides the monarchs and their ministers, Schwarzenberg, Lichtenstein, Dalberg, and Pozzo di Borgo. Alexander assumed the presidency, but Talleyrand, with consummate skill, monopolized the deliberations. The Czar suggested, as various bases for peace, Napoleon under all guaranties, Maria Louisa as regent for the King of Rome, the Bourbons, and, it is believed, hinted at Bernadotte or the republic as possibilities. Of all these courses there was but one which represented the notion of legitimacy with which Alexander had in the coalition identified himself, and by which alone he, with his shady title, could hope to assert authority in western Europe. This was expounded and emphasized by the wily Talleyrand with tremendous effect. The idea of the republic was of course relegated to oblivion; of Bernadotte there could not well be a serious question. If France wanted a mere soldier, she already had the foremost in the world. Napoleon still alive, the regency would be only another name for his continued rule; the Bourbons, and they alone, represented a principle. There was little difficulty, therefore, in reaching the decision not to treat with Napoleon Bonaparte or with any member of his family.