Napoleon quickly fitted himself into his place in his new surroundings. So adaptable was he that the children soon ceased to regard him as a stranger, nor were they inclined to criticise his habits, although in most respects his ways were quite unlike those of the Balcombe family. For example, he did not breakfast as they did. After rising at eight o'clock, he satisfied himself with a cup of coffee and had his first hearty meal, breakfast or luncheon as they variously called it, at one. It was nine o'clock in the evening before he dined, and eleven when he withdrew to his own room.

The Pavilion, the building that chiefly formed his new abode, was a short distance from the main building of The Briars. It had one good room on the ground floor, and two garrets. Napoleon selected this Pavilion, not because it was really more convenient for him, but because by occupying it he would less disturb the Balcombe family than by taking quarters in the main house.

Las Cases and his son were in one of the garrets, and Napoleon's chief valet de chambre and others of his household were in the second. The rooms were so crowded that some of the party had to sleep on the floor of the little hall. The Pavilion had been built by Betsy's father as a ballroom, and had a certain stateliness. The large room opened on a lawn, neatly fenced around, and in the centre of the lawn was a marquee, connected with the house by a covered way. The marquee had two compartments. The inner one was Napoleon's bedroom, and in the other General Gorgaud slept. There was little but the beds in the marquee. General Gorgaud slept on a small tent bed with green silk hangings, which Napoleon had had with him in all his campaigns.

Between the two divisions of the marquee some of the servants of Napoleon had carved a huge crown in the green turf, on which the Emperor was obliged to step as he passed through.

At first Count Bertrand and Count Montholon with their families were lodged at Mr. Porteous's house in the town, where a suitable table was prepared for them in the French style. They could go to The Briars whenever they wished, accompanied by a British officer or Dr. O'Meara, who was appointed physician to Napoleon; or, followed by a soldier, they were permitted to visit any part of the island except the forts and batteries.

A captain of artillery resided at The Briars, and at first a sergeant and soldiers were also stationed there. But the presence of the soldiers was evidently needless, as well as so disagreeable to the family that, on hearing various remonstrances, Sir George Cockburn ordered them away.

But for the presence of the artillery officer, Napoleon during his stay at The Briars might almost have forgotten that he was a prisoner. He and his suite appreciated the unfailing kindness of Mr. Balcombe and his family, who from the first left nothing undone for the comfort of the exiles. During the early days of his stay the dinner for the French people at The Briars was sent out from town, but soon Mr. Balcombe fitted up a little kitchen, connected with the Pavilion, where Napoleon's accomplished cook had every opportunity to display his skill. Very often after dinner Napoleon obligingly went outside for a walk, that his attendants might finish their dinner in the room that he had left.

Soon after his arrival Napoleon was visited by Colonel Wilks, Governor of St. Helena, Mrs. Wilks, and other officials of the island, and some of the leading citizens and their families. He had not yet begun to seclude himself, and he and his companions seemed to be trying to make the best of their situation. Then and later evening parties were occasionally given by the French without much appearance of restraint. Napoleon accepted no invitations except those given by his friends at The Briars, and in one or two unusual cases, but the others went sometimes to the well-attended balls given by Sir George Cockburn.

Madames Bertrand and Montholon and the rest of Napoleon's suite, for whom there was not room at The Briars, often came to see him there, and remained during the day. To them he was still le grand empereur. His every look was watched, every wish was anticipated, and they showed him great reverence. Some have thought that in dealing with them he insisted too much on the etiquette of a court, but certainly none of the suite complained of formality.

Napoleon was always polite to guests at The Briars, and once went to a large party given by Mr. Balcombe, pleasing every one by his urbanity. When guests were introduced he always asked their profession, and then turned the conversation in that direction. People were always surprised at the extent of his information. Officers and others on the way from China sought introductions and were seldom refused.

Indeed in those first months his attitude to people was very different from what it was later. Not infrequently he himself invited people to dine with him.

Most of Napoleon's suite shared with him a feeling of friendliness for the Balcombe family. Las Cases, however, was always ready to criticise Miss Betsy, whose hoydenish ways he could never understand. One evening, when she was turning over the leaves of Estille's "Floriant," seeing that Gaston de Foix was called General, she asked Napoleon whether he was satisfied with him and whether he had escaped or was still living. This question shocked Las Cases, for it seemed to him extraordinary that a girl should imagine that the famous Gaston de Foix had been a general under Napoleon.

But this was not a very strange mistake for a little English girl to make. It is to be feared that Las Cases always took a certain pleasure in correcting the faults of the young Balcombes, or in reporting them to their parents.

From the first Napoleon claimed more of the society of Betsy than of the other members of the family, and so agreeable were his manners toward her that the little girl soon began to regard him as a companion of her own, with whom she could be perfectly at ease, rather than as one much older.

"His spirits were very good, and he was at times almost boyish in his love of mirth and glee, not unmixed sometimes with a tinge of malice," wrote Betsy years later.

"Jane," said Betsy to her sister, not long after Napoleon's arrival, "the Emperor has invited us to dine with him. What fun it will be!"

"I don't know. I am afraid it will be terribly solemn."

"Oh, no; I am not afraid of that. The Emperor isn't solemn. You ought to get acquainted with him, and you wouldn't think so."

Jane shook her head dubiously.

"I am half afraid of him. I don't see how you can dare to trifle so with him. What were you laughing at yesterday when Lucy was here? I thought the Emperor looked rather silly."

"Well, perhaps he did, if you put it that way," responded the blunt Betsy. "Only Lucy was sillier. I thought she would drag me to the ground when I told her the Emperor was coming across the lawn."

"Then why did you run and bring him up to her? I saw you do it."

"I needn't have done that. I did more harm than good. I told her he wasn't the cruel creature she thought him. But I oughtn't to have told the Emperor she was afraid of him. At least, I wouldn't have done so had I known how he would act, for he brushed up his hair so it stood out like a savage's, and when he came up to Lucy he gave a queer growl so that she screamed until mamma thought she might have hysterics and hurried her out into the house."

"It was ridiculous for a man to act like a child," responded the sedate Jane, who had not acquired Betsy's admiration for Napoleon.

"It was more ridiculous for her to scream. Napoleon laughed so at her that I had to take her part. 'I thought you a kind of an ogre, too,' I said, 'before I knew you.' 'Perhaps you think I couldn't frighten you now,' he answered, 'but see;' and then he brushed his hair up higher and made faces, and he looked so queer that I could only laugh at him. 'So I can't frighten you!' he said, and then he howled and howled, and at last seemed disappointed that I wasn't alarmed. 'It's a Cossack howl,' he explained, 'and ought to terrify you!' To tell you the truth, it was something terrible, but though I didn't like it I wouldn't flinch. Of course it was all in fun, for he is really very kind-hearted," concluded Betsy.

"All the same I don't enjoy the thought of having dinner with him," responded the practical Jane. "I've half a mind not to go."

"Oh, Jane, that would never do! What would the Emperor think? After you have been invited, too. Besides, mother wouldn't let you stay away. An invitation from royalty is a command."

"But Napoleon isn't—"

"Hush," cried Betsy, not wishing to hear her new friend belittled. She always took offence if any one called him prisoner.

In spite of her professed distaste for the dinner, Jane would have been disappointed had she been obliged to stay at home. She set out gayly enough, proud in her secret heart that she was to have the honor of being in the company of the great man.

Nine o'clock, Napoleon's dinner hour, was late for the little girls. As they entered his apartment the Emperor greeted them cordially, meeting them with extended hands, and a moment after, Cipriani, his maÎtre d'hÔtel, stood at the door.

"Le diner de votre MajestÉ est servi." Whereupon Napoleon, with a girl on each side, led the way after Cipriani, who walked backward, followed by the rest of his suite, who were dining with him.

Hardly had they taken their places when Napoleon began to quiz Betsy on the fondness of the English for "rosbif and plum pudding."

"It is better than eating frogs."

"Oh, my dear Mees, how you wrong us!"

"Ah, but see here!" cried Betsy, and she brought him a caricature of a long, lean Frenchman with his mouth open, his tongue out, and a frog on the tip of it, ready to jump down his throat. Under it was written, "A Frenchman's Dinner."

The Emperor laughed loudly at this. "You are impertinent," he cried, pinching Betsy's ear. "I must show this to the petit Las Cases. He will not love you so much for laughing at his countrymen."

Upon this Betsy turned very red. The Emperor had touched a vulnerable point. The young Las Cases, a boy of fourteen, was now at dinner with them, and Napoleon had found that he could easily tease Betsy about him.

"He will not want a wife," continued Napoleon, "who makes fun of him;" and Betsy, inwardly enraged, could only maintain a dignified silence.

The Emperor gazed intently at his young friend, and later, when they rose from the table, he called young Las Cases.

"Come, kiss her; this is your revenge."

Betsy looked about vainly for a means of escape. But the Emperor had already closed his hands over hers, holding them so that she had no chance to get away, while young Las Cases, with a mischievous smile, approached and kissed her.

As soon as her hands were at liberty, Betsy boxed the boy's ears and awaited her chance to pay Napoleon off.

There was no inside hall to go from Napoleon's apartments to the rest of the house, and it was necessary to pass outside along a steep, narrow path, wide enough for only one at a time.

An idea flashed into the mind of mischievous Betsy as Napoleon led the way, followed by Count Las Cases, his son, and last by Jane.

Betsy let the others get ahead of her, and waited when they were about ten yards distant. Then with might and main she dashed ahead, running with full force against the luckless Jane, who fell with extended hand upon young Las Cases. He in turn struck against his father, and the latter, to his dismay, against Napoleon.

The latter could hardly hold his footing, while Betsy in the rear, delighted with the success of her plan, jumped and screamed with pleasure.

The Emperor said nothing, but Las Cases, horror-struck at the insult offered his master, became furiously angry as Betsy's laughter fell on his ear.

Turning back, he caught her roughly by the shoulder and pushed her against the rocky bank. It was now Betsy's turn to be angry.

"Oh, sir, he has hurt me!"

"Never mind," replied Napoleon; "to please you, I will hold him while you punish him."

Thereupon it was young Las Cases's place to tremble. While the great man held him by the hands, Betsy gleefully boxed his ears until he begged for mercy.

"Stop, stop!" he cried.

"No, I will not. This has all been your fault. If you hadn't kissed me—"

"There, there," at last called the Emperor to the boy, "I will let you go, but you must run as fast as you can. If you cannot run faster than Betsy, you deserve to be beaten again."

The young French page did not wait for a second warning, but starting off at a run travelled as fast as he could, with Betsy in full pursuit. Napoleon, watching them, laughed heartily and clapped his hands as the two raced around the grounds. The little encounter amused him, but Las Cases the elder took the matter more seriously.

Betsy wrote, "From that moment Las Cases never liked me, after this adventure, and used to call me a little rude hoyden."

The next afternoon Betsy and Jane joined the Emperor, accompanied by General Gorgaud, in a walk in a meadow.

"Look, Betsy!" cried Jane, "there are the cows I saw the other day. I am half afraid of them."

"Nonsense! How silly!" cried the intrepid Betsy. "Afraid of a cow!" and she repeated her sister's fear to Napoleon. The latter, professing to be surprised and amused at Jane's fears, joined with Betsy in a laugh at her sister's expense. But even the dread of ridicule had little effect on Jane.

"Oh, Betsy," she cried, "I am sure one of those cows is coming at us!"

Looking up, Betsy had to admit that her sister might be right. One of the cows was rushing toward them with her head down, as if ready to attack the party. It was no time for words, and Napoleon, feeling it no disgrace to retreat in the presence of such an enemy, jumped nimbly over a wall and, standing behind it, was thus protected against the enemy.

General Gorgaud did not run, but standing with drawn sword exclaimed, "This is the second time I have saved the Emperor's life."

From behind his wall Napoleon laughed loudly at Gorgaud's boast.

"You ought to have put yourself in the position to repel cavalry," he cried.

"But really, Monsieur," said Betsy, "it was you who terrified the cows, for the moment you disappeared over the wall the animal became calm and tranquil."

"Well, well," cried Napoleon, again laughing, "it is a pity she could not carry out her good intentions. Evidently she wished to save the English Government the expense and trouble of keeping me."

"Betsy," said the sedate Jane a little later, when she had a chance to talk to her sister alone, "you ought not to speak so to the Emperor. You treat him like a child."

"Well, he seems like one of us, doesn't he, Jane? I always feel as if he were one of us, a brother of our own age, and I am sure he is much happier than if we acted as if we were afraid of him. But still, if you like, I will walk very solemnly now."

So Betsy walked along beside her sister with a slow and mincing step, her face as long as if she had lost her best friend. As she approached the Emperor he noticed the change.

"Eh, bien! qu'as tu, Mademoiselle Betsee?" he asked. "Has le petit Las Cases proved inconstant? If he have, bring him to me."

Instantly Betsy's new resolves melted away and for the rest of the walk she and Napoleon were in their usual mood of good comradeship.

The next morning, when Napoleon joined the family circle at The Briars, one of Betsy's little brothers, hardly more than a baby, sat on Napoleon's knee, and began to amuse himself as usual by playing with the glittering decorations and orders that Napoleon wore.

"Come, Mees Betsee," he cried, "there is no pleasing this child. You must come and cut off these jewels to satisfy him."

"Oh, I have something better to do now!" cried little Alexander, jumping from Napoleon's knee and picking up a pack of cards. "Look!" he continued, pointing to the figure of a Grand Mogul on the back of each card, "look, Bony, this is you."

At first the Emperor, with his imperfect knowledge of English, did not exactly understand the child's meaning. When he did, instead of taking offence, he only smiled as he turned to Betsy, saying, "But what does he mean by calling me 'Bony'?"

"Ah," replied Betsy in French, "it is short for Bonaparte." Las Cases, however, trying to improve on the little girl's definition, interpreted the word literally, "a bony person."

Napoleon laughed at this reply, adding, "Je ne suis pas osseux," and this was all. Alexander was not reproved for his familiarity.

It was true that Bonaparte was far from thin or bony, and Betsy had often admired his plump hand, which she had more than once called the prettiest in the world. Its knuckles were dimpled like a baby's, the fingers taper and beautifully formed, and the nails perfect.

"Your hand does not look large and strong enough to hold a sword," she said to him one day.

"Ah, but it is," said one of his suite, who was present. Drawing his own sabre from its scabbard, he pointed to a stain on it, saying, "This is the blood of an Englishman."

"Sheathe your sword," cried the Emperor. "It is bad taste to boast, particularly before ladies. But if you will pardon me," and he looked toward the others in the room, "I will show you a sword of mine."

Then from its embossed sheath Napoleon drew a wonderful sword with a handle in the shape of a golden fleur-de-lis. The sheath itself was hardly less remarkable, made of a single piece of tortoise shell, studded with golden bees.

The children were delighted when the Emperor permitted them to touch the wonderful weapon. It was the most beautiful sword they had ever seen.

As Betsy held the sword in her hands, unluckily she remembered a recent incident in which she had been at a great disadvantage under the Emperor's teasing. Now was her chance to get even with her tormentor.

With her usual heedlessness of consequences she drew out the sword and began to make passes at Napoleon until she had driven him into a corner.

"You must say your prayers," she said, "for I am going to kill you."

"Oh, Betsy, how can you!" remonstrated the more prudent Jane, rushing to the Emperor's assistance. "I will go and tell father."

But Betsy only laughed at her.

"I don't care," she cried. "People tease me when they like. Now it is my turn;" and she continued to thrust the sword dangerously near Napoleon's face, until her strength was exhausted, and her arm fell at her side. Count Las Cases, the dignified chamberlain, who had entered the room during the encounter, looked on indignantly. He did not quite dare to interfere, although his indignation was plainly expressed in his face. Already he had taken a deep dislike to the little girl, and to him the sword incident seemed the climax of her misbehavior. If looks could kill, she would have perished on the spot.

Although the Frenchman's expression had not the power to annihilate Betsy, something in his look warned her that she had gone far enough. Daring though she was, she decided that her wisest course was to give up the weapon. As she handed the sword back to him, Napoleon playfully pinched her ear.

It happened, unluckily, however, that Betsy's ear had been bored only the day before. The pinch consequently caused her some pain. Without venturing to resist the Emperor's touch, she gave a sharp exclamation. She knew that he had not intended to hurt her.