ened to Malmaison, to communicate
this good news to the Empress Josephine.

She did not reward him with words, but with gushing tears, as she
extended to the emperor both hands. She then begged him, with touching
earnestness, to accept from her a remembrance of this hour.

The emperor pointed to a cup, on which a portrait of Josephine was
painted, and begged her to give him that.

"_No_, sire," said she; "such a cup can be bought anywhere. But I wish
to give you something that cannot be had anywhere else in the world,
and that will sometimes remind you of me. It is a present that I
received from Pope Pius VII., on the day of my coronation. I present you
with this token in commemoration of the day on which you bring my
daughter the ducal crown, in order that it may remind you of mother and
daughter alike--of the dethroned empress and of the dethroned queen."

This present, which she now extended to the emperor with a charming
smile, was an antique cameo, of immense size, and so wondrously-well
executed that the empress could well say its equal was nowhere to be
found in the world. On this cameo the heads of Alexander the Great and
of his father, Philip of Macedonia, were portrayed, side by side; and
the beauty of the workmanship, as well as the size of the stone, made
this cameo a gem of inestimable value. And for this reason the emperor
at first refused to accept this truly imperial present, and he yielded
only when he perceived that his refusal would offend the empress, who
seemed to be more pale and irritable than usual.

Josephine was, in reality, sadder than usual, for the royal family of
the Bourbons had on this day caused her heart to bleed anew. Josephine
had read an article in the journals, in which, in the most contemptuous
and cruel terms, attention was called to the fact that the eldest son of
the Queen of Holland had been interred in the Cathedral of Notre-Dame,
and that the Minister Blacas had now issued an order to have the coffin
removed from its resting-place, and buried in an ordinary grave-yard.

Hortense, who had read this article, had hastened to Paris, in order
that she might herself superintend the removal of the body of her
beloved child from Notre-Dame, and its reinterment in the Church of
St. Leu.

While she informed the emperor of this new insult, Josephine's whole
figure trembled, and a deathly pallor overspread her countenance.
Josephine lacked the strength to conceal her sufferings to