"'Tis the Emperor come back from Elba!" says someone.
The men laugh and shrug their shoulders: that tale has been told so often in these parts during the past year: the good folk have ceased to believe in it. It has almost become a legend now, that story that the Emperor was coming back--their Emperor--the man with the battered hat and the grey redingote: the people's Emperor, he who led them from victory to victory, whose eagles soared above every capital and every tower in Europe, he who made France glorious and respected: her citizens, men, her soldiers, heroes.
And with stately majesty the dawn yields to day, the last tones of orange have faded from the sky: it is once more of a translucent green merging into sapphire overhead. And the great orb in the east rises from out the trammels of the mist, and from awakening Earth and Sea comes the great love-call, the triumphant call of Day. And far away upon the horizon to the south, the black speck becomes more distinct and more clear; it takes shape, substance, life.
It divides and multiplies, for now there are three or four specks silhouetted against the sky--not three or four, but five--no! six--no! seven! Seven black specks which detach themselves one by one, one from another and from the vagueness beyond--experienced eyes scan the horizon with enthusiasm and excitement which threaten to blur the clearness of their vision. Anyone with an eye for sea-going craft can distinguish that topsail-schooner there, well ahead of the rest of the tiny fleet, skimming the water with swift grace, and immediately behind her the three-masted polacca--hm! have we not seen her in these waters before?--and the two graceful feluccas whose lateen sails look so like the outspread wings of a bird!
But it is on the schooner that all eyes are riveted now: she skips along so fast that within an hour her pennant is easily distinguishable--red and white! the flag of Elba, of that diminutive toy-kingdom which for the past twelve months has been ruled over by the mightiest conqueror this modern world has ever known.
The flag of Elba! then it is the Emperor coming back!
A crowd had gathered on the headland now--a crowd made up of bare-footed fisher-folk, men, women, children, and of the labourers from the neighbouring fields and vineyards: they have all come to greet the Emperor--the man with the battered hat and the grey redingote, the curious, flashing eyes and mouth that always spoke genial words to the people of France!