21st—22nd. The Emperor continued to rise early and ride out on
horseback, in the park and among the gum-trees. He rode only at a
walking pace, but this light exercise was of advantage to him, as it
enabled him to enjoy the fresh air. He returned with a better
appetite, and pursued the occupations of the day with greater spirit.
He breakfasted in the garden, under some trees which had been twined
together to afford him a shade. One morning, as he was sitting down to
breakfast, he perceived at a distance the Pole Piontkowski, and sent
for him to breakfast with him. He always takes pleasure in conversing
with him whenever he meets him.
Piontkowski, with whose origin we are not very well acquainted, came
to the Island of Elba, and obtained permission to serve as a private
in the Guards. On the Emperor’s return from Elba, he had gained the
rank of lieutenant. When we departed from Paris, he received
permission to follow us; and we left him at Plymouth, among those who
were separated from us by order of the English ministers. Piontkowski,
having more fidelity, or more address, than his comrades, obtained
leave to come to St. Helena. The Emperor had never known, and never
spoken to him, till he came here.
Piontkowski was, indeed, equally unknown to us all. The English were
surprised that we did not give him a warmer greeting on his arrival.
Some individuals, who seized all opportunities of saying any thing to
our disadvantage, wrote to England that we had received Piontkowski
very ill. This story was totally false: but it furnished the English
ministerial prints with a subject on which to exercise their usual
courtesy and wit. It was asserted that the Emperor had beaten
Piontkowski; and I heard of a caricature in which Napoleon was seizing
the Polish officer in his talons, while I had leaped upon him to
devour him; and it was only by a stick being thrust between my teeth,
by the keeper of the beasts, that I was prevented from biting a
mouthful out of his shoulder. Such were the elegant accounts that were
given of us.