when the Royalists were
flying in terror from the kingdom, had protected and warmly befriended
distinguished members of the family. Under these circumstances,
distracted by the fear that her only surviving child would be arrested
and shot, and knowing not which way to turn for safety, the mother and
the son decided, notwithstanding the menace of death suspended over
them, to seek a momentary refuge, incognito, in France.

Embarking in a small vessel, still under assumed names, they safely
reached Cannes. At this port Napoleon had landed sixteen years ago, in
his marvellous return from Elba. The mother and son proceeded
immediately to Paris, resolved to cast themselves upon the generosity of
Louis Philippe. Louis Napoleon was still very sick, and needed his bed
rather than the fatigues of travel. It was the intention of his mother,
so soon as the health of her son was sufficiently restored, to continue
their journey and cross over to England.

Hortense, in her "Memoires," speaking of these hours of adversity's
deepest gloom, writes:

"At length I arrived at the barrier of Paris. I experienced a sort of
self-love in exhibiting to my son, by its most beautiful entrance, that
capital, of which he could probably retain but a feeble recollection. I
ordered the postillion to take us through the Boulevards to the Rue de
la Paix, and to stop at the first hotel. Chance conducted us to the
Hotel D'Hollande. I occupied a small apartment on the third floor, _du
premier_, first above the entresol. From my room I could see the
Boulevard and the column in the Place Vendome. I experienced a sort of
saddened pleasure, in my isolation, in once more beholding that city
which I was about to leave, perhaps forever, without speaking to a
person, and without being distracted by the impression which that view
made upon me."

Twenty-two years before, Hortense, in this city, had given birth to the
child who was now sick and a fugitive. Austria was thirsting for his
blood, and the Government of his own native land had laid upon him the
ban of exile, and it was at the peril of their lives that either mother
or son placed their feet upon the soil of France. And yet the birth of
this prince was welcomed by salvos of artillery, and by every
enthusiastic demonstration of public rejoicing, from Hamburg to Rome,
and from the Pyrenees to the Danube.

Louis Napoleon was still suffering from a burning fever. A few days of
repose seemed essential to t