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his garment； kissed his feet！
Oh！
Why had his father died so early； before his time； before the justice； the love of his son had e to him？
Marius had a continual sob in his heart； which said to him every moment：
〃Alas！〃
At the same time； he became more truly serious； more truly grave； more sure of his thought and his faith。
At each instant； gleams of the true came to plete his reason。
An inward growth seemed to be in progress within him。
He was conscious of a sort of natural enlargement； which gave him two things that were new to himhis father and his country。
As everything opens when one has a key； so he explained to himself that which he had hated； he penetrated that which he had abhorred； henceforth he plainly perceived the providential； divine and human sense of the great things which he had been taught to detest； and of the great men whom he had been instructed to curse。
When he reflected on his former opinions； which were but those of yesterday； and which； nevertheless； seemed to him already so very ancient； he grew indignant； yet he smiled。
From the rehabilitation of his father； he naturally passed to the rehabilitation of Napoleon。
But the latter； we will confess； was not effected without labor。
From his infancy； he had been imbued with the judgments of the party of 1814； on Bonaparte。
Now； all the prejudices of the Restoration； all its interests； all its instincts tended to disfigure Napoleon。 It execrated him even more than it did Robespierre。
It had very cleverly turned to sufficiently good account the fatigue of the nation； and the hatred of mothers。
Bonaparte had bee an almost fabulous monster； and in order to paint him to the imagination of the people； which； as we lately pointed out； resembles the imagination of children； the party of 1814 made him appear under all sorts of terrifying masks in succession； from that which is terrible though it remains grandiose to that which is terrible and bees grotesque； from Tiberius to the bugaboo。
Thus； in speaking of Bonaparte； one was free to sob or to puff up with laughter； provided that hatred lay at the bottom。
Marius had never entertained about that man； as he was calledany other ideas in his mind。 They had bined with the tenacity which existed in his nature。 There was in him a headstrong little man who hated Napoleon。
On reading history； on studying him； especially in the documents and materials for history； the veil which concealed Napoleon from the eyes of Marius was gradually rent。
He caught a glimpse of something immense； and he suspected that he had been deceived up to that moment； on the score of Bonaparte as about all the rest； each day he saw more distinctly； and he set about mounting； slowly； step by step； almost regretfully in the beginning； then with intoxication and as though attracted by an irresistible fascination； first the sombre steps； then the vaguely illuminated steps； at last the luminous and splendid steps of enthusiasm。
One night； he was alone in his little chamber near the roof。 His candle was burning； he was reading； with his elbows resting on his table close to the open window。
All sorts of reveries reached him from space； and mingled with his thoughts。
What a spectacle is the night！
One hears dull sounds； without knowing whence they proceed； one beholds Jupiter； which is twelve hundred times larger than the earth； glowing like a firebrand； the azure is black； the stars shine； it is formidable。
He was perusing the bulletins of the grand army； those heroic strophes penned on the field of battle； there； at intervals； he beheld his father's name； always the name of the Emperor； the whole of that great Empire presented itself to him； he felt a flood swelling and rising within him； it seemed to him at moments that his father passed close to him like a breath； and whispered in his ear； he gradually got into a singular state； he thought that he heard drums； cannon； trumpets； the measured tread of battalions； the dull and distant gallop of the cavalry； from time to time； his eyes were raised heavenward； and gazed upon the colossal constellations as they gleamed in the measureless depths of space； then they fell upon his book once more； and there they beheld other colossal things moving confusedly。
His heart contracted within him。 He was in a transport； trembling； panting。
All at once； without himself knowing what was in him； and what impulse he was obeying； he sprang to his feet； stretched both arms out of the window； gazed intently into the gloom； the silence； the infinite darkness； the eternal immensity； and exclaimed：
〃Long live the Emperor！〃
From that moment forth； all was over； the Ogre of Corsica； the usurper；the tyrant；the monster who was the lover of his own sisters；the actor who took lessons of Talma；the poisoner of Jaffa；the tiger；Buonaparte；all this vanished； and gave place in his mind to a vague and brilliant radiance in which shone； at an inaccessible height； the pale marble phantom of Caesar。 The Emperor had been for his father only the well…beloved captain whom one admires； for whom one sacrifices one's self； he was something more to Marius。
He was the predestined constructor of the French group； succeeding the Roman group in the domination of the universe。 He was a prodigious architect； of a destruction； the continuer of Charlemagne； of Louis XI。； of Henry IV。； of Richelieu； of Louis XIV。； and of the mittee of Public Safety； having his spots； no doubt； his faults； his crimes even； being a man； that is to say； but august in his faults； brilliant in his spots； powerful in his crime。
He was the predestined man； who had forced all nations to say： 〃The great nation！〃
He was better than that； he was the very incarnation of France； conquering Europe by the sword which he grasped； and the world by the light which he shed。
Marius saw in Bonaparte the dazzling spectre which will always rise upon the frontier； and which will guard the future。
Despot but dictator； a despot resulting from a republic and summing up a revolution。 Napoleon became for him the man…people as Jesus Chris