s, of the Grand-duchess
de Guastalla, of all the dukes of the empire, and of the Queen
of Holland.

Hortense was ill and in pain; a nervous headache, that she had been
suffering from for some time, betrayed the secret of the pain and grief
she had so long concealed from observation. Her cheeks had grown pale,
and her eyes had lost their lustre. Her mother wept over her lost
happiness in Malmaison, and, when Hortense had wept with and consoled
her mother, she was compelled to dry her eyes and hasten to the
Tuileries, and appear, with a smiling countenance, before her who was
now her empress and her mother's happy rival.

But Hortense had accepted her destiny, and was determined to demean
herself as became her own and her mother's dignity. She endeavored to be
a true and sincere friend to the young empress, and fulfil the emperor's
wishes, and to give brilliant entertainments in honor of the King of
Rome, in spite of the pain it must cost her. "The emperor wills it, the
emperor requires it;" that was sufficient for all who were about him,
and it was sufficient for her. Her mother had gone because it was his
will, she had remained because it was his will, and she now gave these
entertainments for the same reason. But there was an element of sadness
and gloom even in these festivities of the carnival of 1813; the
presence of so many cripples and invalids recalled the memory of the
reverses of the past year. At the balls there was a great scarcity of
young men who could dance; incessant wars had made the youth of France
old before their time, and had converted vigorous men into cripples.

Her heart filled with dark forebodings, Hortense silently prepared
herself against the days of misfortune which she knew must inevitably
come. When these days should come, she wished to be ready to meet them
with a brave heart and a resolute soul, and she also endeavored to
impress on the minds of her two beloved sons the inconstancy of fortune,
in order that they might look misfortune boldly in the face. She had no
compassion with the tender youth of these boys, who were now eight and
six years old; no compassion, because she loved them too well not to
strive to prepare them for adversity.

One day the Duchess of Bassano gave a ball in honor of the queen, and
Hortense, although low-spirited and indisposed, summoned her resolution
to her aid, and arrayed herself for the occasion. Her blond hair, that
reached to her feet when unbound, wa