hat would you do to earn your daily bread?"

The little fellow had listened earnestly to his brother's words, and
seemed to be thinking over them still. Perhaps he felt that the knapsack
and musket were too heavy for his little shoulders, and that he was, as
yet, too weak to become a soldier.

"I," said he, after a pause, "I would sell bouquets of violets, like the
little boy who stands at the gates of the Tuileries, and from whom we
buy our flowers every day."

The ladies and cavaliers, who had listened to this curious conversation
in silence, now laughed loudly at this naive reply of the little prince.

"Do not laugh, ladies," said the queen, earnestly, as she now arose; "it
was no jest, but a lesson that I gave my children, who were so dazzled
by jewelry. It is the misfortune of princes that they believe that
everything is subject to them, that they are made of another stuff than
other men, and have no duties to perform. They know nothing of human
suffering and want, and do not believe that they can ever be affected by
anything of the kind. And this is why they are so astounded, and remain
so helpless, when the hand of misfortune does strike them. I wish to
preserve my sons from this[22]."

[Footnote 22: The queen's own words.]

She then stooped and kissed her boys, who, while she and her brilliant
suite were driving to the Tuileries, busied their little heads,
considering whether it was easier to earn one's bread as a soldier, or
by selling violets at the gates of the Tuileries, like the little
beggar-boy.

CHAPTER XII.

THE DAYS OF MISFORTUNE.

The round of festivities with which the people of France endeavored to
banish the shadow of impending misfortune, was soon to be abruptly
terminated. The thunder of the cannon on the battle-fields of Hanau and
Leipsic silenced the dancing-music in the Tuileries; and in the
drawing-rooms of Queen Hortense, hitherto devoted to music and
literature, the ladies were now busily engaged in picking lint for the
wounded who were daily arriving at the hospitals of Paris from the army.
The declaration of war of Austria and Russia had aroused France from its
haughty sense of invincibility. All felt that a crisis was at hand. All
were preparing for the ominous events that were gathering like
storm-clouds over France. Each of the faithful hastened to assume the
position to which honor and duty called him. And it was in response to
such an appeal that Louis Bonaparte now re