rom her has brought misfortune
upon my head.'

"It is said that the Duchess of Montebello will leave the Empress Marie
Louise."

But all these entreaties and flatteries, and these appeals to a mother's
heart, were, as yet, powerless to break the queen's pride. She still
considered it more worthy and becoming to remain away from the city in
which the ladies of the Faubourg St. Germain were celebrating the orgies
of their victorious royalism with the soldiers of the allied armies.
Instead of yielding to Louise de Cochelet's entreaties, the queen wrote
her the following letter:

"My dear Louise,--My resolution gives you pain! You all accuse me of
childish waywardness. You are unjust! My mother can follow the Duke de
Vicenza's counsel; she will go to Malmaison, but _I remain here,_ and I
have good reasons for doing so. I cannot separate my interests from
those of my children. It is they, it is their nearest relatives, who are
being sacrificed by all that is taking place, and I am, therefore,
determined not to approach those who are working our ruin. I must be
saddened by our great misfortune, and I will appear so, and abstain from
approaching those who would still consider me a supplicant, even though
I should demand nothing of them.

"I can readily believe that the Emperor Alexander is kindly disposed
toward me; I have heard much good of him, even from the Emperor
Napoleon. Although I was once anxious to make his acquaintance, I at
this moment have no desire to see him. Is he not our vanquisher? In
their hearts, your friends must all approve of my determination,
whatever they may say. I find retirement congenial. When you have seen
enough of your friends, you will return to me. I am suffering in my
breast, and shall perhaps go to some watering-place. I do not know
whether it is due to the air of Novara, but since I have been here I
cannot breathe. My friends maintain that it is due to the mental shocks
resulting from the great events that have transpired; but they are in
error; death has spared us all, and the loss of a glittering position is
not the greatest loss one can sustain. What personal happiness do I
lose? My brother will, I trust, be well and suitably provided for, and
he will be no longer exposed to danger. He must be very uneasy on our
account, and yet I dare not write to him, as my letters would probably
never reach him; if an opportunity should present itself, please let him
know that we are no longer su