about three o'clock in the afternoon
My faith , it whistled just over my cap like an east wind . Of course , it came from this accursed Cossack uniform which , in my excitement , I had forgotten all about , and this young dragoon had imagined that I was some Russian champion who was challenging the French cavalry . My word , he was a frightened man when he understood how near he had been to killing the celebrated Brigadier Gerard . Well , the road was clear , and about three o'clock in the afternoon I was at St Denis , though it took me a long two hours to get from there to Paris , for the road was blocked with commissariat waggons and guns of the artillery reserve , which was going north to Marmont and Mortier . You can not conceive the excitement which my appearance in such a costume made in Paris , and when I came to the Rue de Rivoli I should think I had a quarter of a mile of folk riding or running behind me . Word had got about from the dragoons -LRB- two of whom had come with me -RRB- , and everybody knew about my adventures and how I had come by my uniform . It was a triumph -- men shouting and women waving their handkerchiefs and blowing kisses from the windows .