repaired with the emperor to Malmaison, and the
faithful, who were not willing to leave him in his misfortune, gathered
around him, watched over his life, and gave to his residence a fleeting
reflection of the old grandeur and magnificence. For they who now stood
around Napoleon, guarding his person from any immediate danger that
threatened him at the hands of fanatic enemies or hired assassins, were
marshals, generals, dukes, and princes.

But Napoleon's fate was already decided--it was an inevitable one, and
when the intelligence reached Malmaison that the enemy was approaching
nearer and nearer, and that resistance was no longer made anywhere, and
when Napoleon saw that all was lost, his throne, his crown, and even the
love which he imagined he had for ever built up for himself in the
hearts of the French people by his great deeds and victories--when he
saw this he determined to fly, no matter whither, but away from the
France that would no longer rally to his call, the France that had
abandoned him.

The emperor resolved to fly to Rochefort, and to embark there in order
to return to Elba. The provisional government that had established
itself in Paris, and had sent an ambassador to Napoleon at Malmaison
with the demand that he should depart at once, now instructed this
ambassador to accompany the emperor on his journey, and not to leave him
until he should have embarked.

Napoleon was ready to comply with this demand. He determined to depart
on the afternoon of the 30th of June. He had nothing more to do but to
take leave of his friends and family. He did this with cold, tearless
composure, with an immovable, iron countenance; no muscle of his face
quivered, and his glance was severe and imperious.

But, when Hortense brought in her two sons, when he had clasped them in
his arms for the last time, then a shadow passed over his countenance;
then his pale compressed lips quivered, and he turned away to conceal
the tears that stood in his eyes.

But Hortense had seen them, and in her heart she preserved the
remembrance of these tears as the most precious gem of her departed
fortune. As the emperor then turned to her to bid her adieu in his
former cold and immovable manner, Hortense, who well knew that a volcano
of torments must be glowing under this cold lava, entreated him to grant
her a last favor.

A painful smile illumined the emperor's countenance for a moment. There
was, it seemed, still something that he