d to rest from the pains and struggles which had agitated the last years of her life. She wanted to forget that she still loved

the innocent, childish heart of Hortense to become alienated from her father, or to forget the esteem and respect which as a daughter she owed to him. Josephine therefore never allowed any one to utter a word of blame against her husband in the pres

family, to go to a foreign land which attracted her with every thing which can charm a young girl-wi

unhappy, blighted with the mildew which ever deteriorates the character of a divor

him so often-for each evening and morning she had to pray God in his behalf-and when she asked her mother where her brother Eugene was, why he had not come wi

he remain in that hateful, stony Paris, whilst he could live with us in the beautiful garden wher

nnot leave his regiment, my child," answe

d the loving child. "Come, mamma, let us go on board a ship,

writes that we must come," said Josephine, with a sad

for her mother and for herself; and whenever she saw her mother receive a letter she s

answer this question to her dau

itence, with the glow of an awakening love, prayed for pardon; he requested from her large-heartedness to be once more reunited to him w

nd Madame de la Pagerie, Josephine's mother, repelled with earnestness every thought of reconciliation and reunion. She did not wish to lose her daughter a second time, and see her go to m

e had completely and forever broken with Madame de Gisard; he did not wish to see he

flowers of her youth raised up their blossoms again in her heart; she began again to hope, to trust, to believ

his young wife, and that for the sake of a coquette! She therefore sought to inspire Josephine with mistrust; she told her that these vows of the viscount were not to be relied upon; that he had not given up his paramour to come back to Josephine, but that he was forsaken by

eart, she promised her mother no more to listen to the voice of a faithless husband; no more t

ore to take possession of a heart which beat with so burning a sorrow and so longing a love toward her. She pictured to her, besides, how necessary she was to him; how much in these troublous and stormy days which had just begun, he was in need of a quiet haven of domestic li

rance had lit a fire everywhere, in every city, in every house, in every head; and the fl

rchy had abandoned the large assembly-hall where the States-General held their sessions, and in which the nobility and the clergy still imagined they were able to maintain the balance of power against the despised Third Estate. The Tiers Etat

he 4th of August he, with burning enthusiasm, had renounced all the privileges of the nobility, all his feudal rights; and, breaking with the past, with all

auharnais more and more into its flood. It had converted the king's major into an enthusiastic speak

ssembly, in the faithful regiments of the Swiss and of the guards, and in the hearts of a large portion of the people. The passions of parties were let loose one against a

new this, there was for her but one place which belonged to he

itude and stillness of Martinique, when her husband was now in the fight, in the very struggle? She had

tain Josephine; at the side of her husband, the father of her two children, there

rdict against the demands of a divorce from the viscount, had, in declaring Josephine innocent, condemned her husband to r

er laid claims to nor received the income which Parliament had appointed. She had never assumed the rights of a divorced wife, but she retained still all the privileges of a marr

f she wished to follow this call? Who could stand between husban

ences of a long sea-voyage, the perils of the revolution, into whose open crater she was to enter, affrighted her not. All the energies of her being began to develop themselves under the

ifferent details of Josephine's return to France and to her husband, I have followed the error common to all the historians of that time, who represent Josephine returning despite her husband's will, who receives her into his house, and recognizes her as his wife, only at the instant supplicatio

woman who, once before Josephine's departure, had prophesied that she would wear a crown and be more than a Queen of France-the old Euphemia was still living, and was still considere

e exclaimed: "Go! go as fast as possible, for death and danger threaten you! Already are on the watch wicked and bloodthirs

France?" asked Josephine. "S

exclaimed the prophetess,

with any danger?"

d and recognize his services. But he has powerful enemies, and one day they

fulfilled. The wicked and bloodthirsty fiends, of whom she said they were ready with fire and swor

f the revolution had on its wings borne the wondrous story to Martinique-the wondrous story of man's sacred rights, which Lafayette had proclaimed in the National Assemb

bins, and at first they listened to it with wondrous delight. Then the delirium of joy came over them; jub

g in freedom, the slaves threw the firebrand on the roof of their former masters, rushed with war's wild cry

France; and the flames which rose from the roofs of the houses as so many way-marks of fire for the new era, were Josephine's last, sa