er and Madame de Stael had dined with the
Duchess of St. Leu, at her estate a few leagues from Paris. The return
of Napoleon plunged Madame Recamier and her friend into the utmost
consternation. She was very unwilling again to leave Paris. In this
emergency, Hortense, who was then at the Tuileries, wrote to her under
date of March 23, 1815:

"I hope that you are tranquil. You may trust to me to take care of your
interests. I am convinced that I shall not have occasion to show you how
delighted I should be to be useful to you. Such would be my desire. But
under any circumstances count upon me, and believe that I shall be very
happy to prove my friendship for you.

"HORTENSE."

The "Hundred Days" passed away. The Bourbons were re-enthroned. Madame
Recamier was again a power in Paris. Hortense, deprived of the duchy of
St. Leu, was driven an exile out of France. Fifteen years had rolled
away, and these two distinguished ladies had not met until the
accidental interview to which we have alluded beneath the dome of St.
Peter's Cathedral. They were friends, though one was the representative
of aristocracy and the other of the rights of the people.

According to the arrangement which they had made, Hortense and Madame
Recamier met the next day at the Coliseum. Though it is not to be
supposed that Madame Recamier would make any false representations, it
is evident that, under the circumstances, she would not soften any of
the expressions of Hortense, or represent the conversation which ensued
in any light too favorable to Napoleon. We give the narrative, however,
of this very interesting interview in the words of Madame Recamier:

"The next day, at the Ave Maria, I was at the Coliseum, where I saw the
queen's carriage, which had arrived a few minutes before me. We entered
the amphitheatre together, complimenting each other on our punctuality,
and strolled through this immense ruin as the sun was setting, and to
the sound of distant bells.

"Finally we seated ourselves on the steps of the cross in the centre of
the amphitheatre, while Charles Napoleon Bonaparte and M. Ampere, who
had followed us, walked about at a little distance. The night came
on--an Italian night. The moon rose slowly in the heavens, behind the
open arcades of the Coliseum. The breeze of evening sighed through the
deserted galleries. Near me sat this woman, herself the living ruin of
so extraordinary a fortune. A confused and undefin