oleon had selected this child as his heir; that
consequently the terrible divorce was no longer to be thought of. In
addition to the loss of one she so tenderly loved, rose the fear that
his death would prove to her the greatest of earthly calamities. For
three days she could not leave her apartment, and did nothing but weep.

The sad intelligence were conveyed to Napoleon in his cheerless
encampment upon the Vistula. As he received the tidings he uttered not a
word. Sitting down in silence, he buried his face in his hand, and for a
long time seemed lost in painful musings. No one ventured to disturb his
grief with attempted consolation.

As soon as Josephine was able to move, she left Paris to visit her
bereaved, heart-broken daughter. But her strength failed her by the way,
and when she reached Luchen, a palace near Brussels, she was able to
proceed no farther. She wrote as follows to Hortense:

"Luchen, May 14th, 1807--10 o'clock P.M.

"I have arrived this moment at the chateau of Luchen, my dear daughter.
It is there I write to you, and there I await you. Come to restore me to
life. Your presence is necessary to me, and you must also feel the need
of seeing me, that you may weep with your mother. I earnestly wish to
proceed farther, but my strength has failed me, and moreover I have not
had time to apprise the Emperor. I have found strength to come thus far.
I hope you also will find strength to come and see your mother."

Hortense immediately repaired to Luchen to seek a mother's sympathy.
With Josephine she returned to Paris, and soon after, by the entreaties
of her physician, continued her journey to take the waters of a mineral
spring in the south of France, seeking a change of climate and of scene.
Josephine remained in the depths of sorrow at St. Cloud. On the same day
in which Josephine arrived at Luchen, the Emperor wrote to her from the
Vistula as follows:

"Finckenstein, May 14th, 1807.

"I can appreciate the grief which the death of poor Napoleon has caused.
You can understand the anguish which I experience. I could wish that I
were with you, that you might become moderate and discreet in your
grief. You have had the happiness of never losing any children. But it
is one of the conditions and sorrows attached to suffering humanity. Let
me hear that you have become reasonable and tranquil. Would you magnify
my anguish?"

Two days after Napoleon wrote the Empres