the hour, in order to hasten forward to meet
their mother.

[Footnote 59: La Reine Hortense, p. 63.]

Upon reading this, Hortense cried aloud with terror--she, who knew and
desired no other happiness on earth than the happiness of her children,
she whose only prayer to God had ever been, that her children might
prosper and that she might die before them, now felt that a fearful
danger threatened her sons, and that they were now about to be swept
into the vortex of the revolution.

They had left Florence, and their father, and were now on the way to
Rome, that is, on the way to the revolution that would welcome them with
joy, and inscribe the name Napoleon on its standards!

But it was perhaps still time to save them; with her prayers and
entreaties she might still succeed in arresting them on the verge of the
abyss into which they were hastening in the intoxication of their
enthusiasm. As this thought occurred to her, Hortense felt herself
strong, determined, and courageous; and, on the same day on which she
had received the letters, she left Rome, and hurried forward to meet
her sons. She still hoped to be in time to save them; she fancied she
saw her sons in every approaching carriage--but in vain!

They had written that they would meet her on the road, but they were not
there!

Perhaps they had listened to the representations of their father;
perhaps they had remained in Florence and were awaiting their mother's
arrival there.

Tormented by fear and hope, Hortense arrived in Florence and drove to
the dwelling in which her son Louis Napoleon had resided. Her feet could
scarcely bear her up; she hardly found strength to inquire after her
son--he was not there!

But he might be with his father, and Hortense now sent there for
intelligence of her sons. The messenger returned, alone and dejected:
her sons had left the city!

The exultant hymn of liberty had struck on their delighted ear, and they
had responded to the call of the revolution.

General Menotti had appealed to them, in the name of Italy, to assist
the cause of freedom with their name and with their swords, and they had
neither the will nor the courage to disregard this appeal.

A servant, left behind by her younger son, delivered to the duchess a
letter from her son Louis Napoleon, a last word of adieu to his
beloved mother.

"Your love will understand us," wrote Louis Napoleon. "We cannot
withdraw ourselves from duties that devolve upon us; t