light step passed over in safety.
Madame Broc followed. A piercing shriek was heard, followed by a crash.
As Hortense turned round she saw that the bridge had given way, and her
companion was falling, torn and mangled, from rock to rock, till the
rushing torrent seized her and whirled her lifeless body down the gulf
in its wild waters. There was no possibility of rescue. For a moment the
fluttering robes of the unfortunate lady were seen in the midst of the
surging flood, and then the body was swept away far down the dismal
gorge.

The shock which this frightful accident gave to the nerves of Hortense
was like that which she experienced at the death of her son. For a time
she seemed stunned by the blow, and reason tottered on its throne.
Instead of flying from Aix, she lingered there. As soon as she partially
recovered tranquillity, she sought to divert her grief by entering the
abodes of sickness, sorrow, and suffering in the neighborhood,
administering relief with her own hands. She established a hospital at
Aix from her own private funds for the indigent, and, like an angel of
mercy, clothed the naked and fed the hungry, and, while her own heart
was breaking, spoke words of consolation to the world-weary.

In reference to this event Josephine wrote from Malmaison to Hortense at
Aix, under date of June 16, 1813:

"What a horrible accident, my dear Hortense! What a friend you have
lost, and by what a frightful calamity! Since yesterday, when I heard of
it, I have been so horror-struck as not to be able to write to you.
Every moment I have before my eyes the fate of that poor Adele. Every
body is in tears for her. She was so beloved, so worthy of being
beloved, by her excellent qualities and by her attachment for you. I can
think of nothing but what condition you are in. I am so anxious, that I
send my chamberlain, M. Turpin, to you, that he may give me more certain
intelligence respecting your health. I shall make haste to leave myself
for a short time, that my presence and my care may be useful to you. I
feel keenly your grief. It is too well founded. But, my dear daughter,
think of your children, who are so worthy of your love. Preserve
yourself for them! Think also of your mother, who loves you tenderly.

"JOSEPHINE."

Thus blow after blow fell upon the heart of poor Hortense. Two days
after the above date Josephine wrote again, in reply to a letter from
her daughter:

"Your letter has re