ime, his money, his advice, it was
immediately at his service; but let that same friend be taken away by
death, he would scarcely give two days to regret: '_Encore un tiroir
ferme'_, he would say, and there would end his sensibility. Always ready
to give and willing to serve, he was a good companion, and benevolent
and gay in his temper. He carried his optimism to excess, and was always
content with everybody and everything. He had fine natural abilities,
and the gift of expression, being a good story-teller." He was married
in 1793, the most gloomy period of the Reign of Terror, and went every
day to see the executions, wishing, he said, to familiarize himself with
the fate he had every reason to fear would be his own.

The first four years of her marriage were passed by Madame Recamier in
retirement, but when the government was settled under the Consulate she
mingled freely and gayly in society. This was probably the happiest
period of her life. Her husband was at the height of financial
prosperity, and lavished every luxury upon his beautiful wife. Both
their country-seat at Clichy and their town-house in the Rue Mont Blanc
were models of elegant taste. Large dinner-parties and balls were given
at the latter, but all the intimate friends went to Clichy, where Madame
Recamier chiefly resided with her mother. Her husband only dined there,
driving in to Paris every night. She was very fond of flowers, and
filled her rooms with them. At that time floral decorations were a
novelty, and another attraction was added to the charms of Clichy. Not
only there, but in society, Madame Recamier reigned a queen. She had
been pronounced by acclamation "the most beautiful," and she enjoyed her
triumphs with all the gayety and freshness of youth. Madame Lenormant
asserts that she was unconscious of her beauty, and yet, with an amusing
inconsistency, she adds that Madame Recamier always dressed in white and
wore pearls in preference to other jewels, that the dazzling whiteness
of her skin might eclipse their softness and purity. It was, in fact,
impossible to be unconscious of a beauty so ravishing that it
intoxicated all beholders. At the theatre, at the promenade, at public
assemblies, she was followed by admiring throngs.

"She was sensible," writes one who knew her well, "of every look, every
word of admiration,--the exclamation of a child or a woman of the
people, equally with the declaration of a prince. In crowds from the
side