“The Emperor? He is generosity, mercy, justice, order, genius⁠—that’s what the Emperor is! It is I, Ramballe, who tell you so.⁠ ⁠… I assure you I was his enemy eight years ago. My father was an emigrant count.⁠ ⁠… But that man has vanquished me. He has taken hold of me. I could not resist the sight of the grandeur and glory with which he has covered France. When I understood what he wanted⁠—when I saw that he was preparing a bed of laurels for us, you know, I said to myself: ‘That is a monarch,’ and I devoted myself to him! So there! Oh yes, mon cher , he is the greatest man of the ages past or future.”

“Is he in Moscow?” Pierre stammered with a guilty look.

The Frenchman looked at his guilty face and smiled.

“No, he will make his entry tomorrow,” he replied, and continued his talk.