lutations, the queen proposed to the
ladies to take a look at her park. They seated themselves on the
cushions of the queen's large _char a banc_, which has become historic
on account of the many high and celebrated personages who have been
driven in it at different times. The Emperor Napoleon was, however, not
one of this number, as he never visited St. Leu; but, with this
exception, there are few of the great and celebrated who have not been
seated in it at one time or another.

"As they drove through the park and the forest of Montmorency, in a walk
only, the conversation was kept up as in the parlor, and the consumption
of intellectuality was continued. The beautiful neighborhood, that
reminded one of Switzerland, as it was remarked, was duly admired. Then
Italy was spoken of. The queen, who had been somewhat _distraite_, and
had good cause to be somewhat sad, and disposed to commune with herself,
addressed Madame de Stael with the question, 'You have been in
Italy, then?'

"Madame de Stael was, as it were, transfixed with dismay, and the
gentlemen exclaimed with one accord: 'And Corinne? and Corinne?'

"'Ah, that is true,' said the queen, in embarrassment, awakening, as it
were, from her dreams.

"'Is it possible,' asked M. de Canonville, 'your majesty has not read
Corinne?'

"'Yes--no,' said the queen, visibly confused, 'I shall read it again,'
and, in order to conceal an emotion that I alone could understand, she
abruptly changed the topic of conversation.

"She might have said the truth, and simply informed them that the book
had appeared just at the time her eldest son had died in Holland. The
king, disquieted at seeing her so profoundly given up to her grief,
believed, in accordance with Corvisart's advice, that it was necessary
to arouse her from this state of mental dejection at all hazards. It was
determined that I should read 'Corinne' to her. She was not in a
condition to pay much attention to it, but she had involuntarily
retained some remembrance of this romance. Since then, I had several
times asked permission of the queen to read Corinne to her, but she had
always refused. 'No, no,' said she, 'not yet; this romance has
identified itself with my sorrow. Its name alone recalls the most
fearful period of my whole life. I have not yet the courage to renew
these painful impressions.'

"I, alone, had therefore been able to divine what had embarrassed and
moved the queen so much when she replied to