rdent affection, and wrote to her child the following admirable letter:

"I should be entirely satisfied with the good heart of my
Hortense were I not displeased with her bad head. How is it,
my daughter, that, without permission from your aunt, you
have come to Paris? This was very wrong! But it was to see
me, you will say. You ought to be aware that no one can see
me without an order, to obtain which requires both means and
precautions. And, besides, you got upon M. Dorcet's cart, at
the risk of incommoding him and retarding the conveyance
of his merchandise. In all this you have been very
inconsiderate. My child! observe, it is not sufficient to do
good; you must also do good properly. At your age, the first
of all virtues is confidence and docility toward your
relations. I am therefore obliged to tell you that I prefer
your tranquil attachment to your misplaced warmth. This,
however, does not prevent me from embracing you, but less
tenderly than I shall do when I learn that you have returned
to your aunt."

There was at this time, for some unknown reason, a little mitigation in
the severity with which the prisoners were treated, and Josephine was
very sanguine in the belief that the hour of their release was at hand.
Emboldened by this hope, she wrote a very earnest appeal to the
Committee of Public Safety, before whom the accusations against M.
Beauharnais would be brought. The sincerity and frankness of the
eloquent address so touched the feelings of the president of the
committee, that he resolved to secure for Josephine and her husband the
indulgence of an interview. The greatest caution was necessary in doing
this, for he periled his own life by the manifestation of any sympathy
for the accused.

The only way in which he could accomplish his benevolent project was to
have them both brought together for trial. Neither of them knew of this
design. One morning Josephine, while dreaming of liberty and of her
children, was startled by the unexpected summons to appear before the
Revolutionary tribunal. She knew that justice had no voice which could
be heard before that merciless and sanguinary court. She knew that the
mockery of a trial was but the precursor of the sentence, which was
immediately followed by the execution. From her high hopes this summons
caused a fearful fall. Thoughts of her husband and her children rushed
in u