amations proving ineffectual, he resolved,
to despatch an officer of the crown to Vienna, to negotiate, or demand
publicly, in the name of nature and the law of nations, the
deliverance of the Empress and her son. This mission was entrusted to
the Count de Flahaut, one of his aides-de-camp. No person was more
capable of fulfilling it worthily than this officer. He was a true
Frenchman, spirited, amiable, and brave. He shone equally in the field
of battle, in a diplomatic conference, and in the drawing-room
pleasing every where by the agreeableness and firmness of his
character.

M. de Flahaut set out, but could not advance beyond Stutgard. This
disgrace converted into painful regret the joy, to which the hope of
seeing again the young prince and his august mother had already given
birth.

The people who resided near the road they would pass had already made
preparations for testifying their love and their respect.

The return of Napoleon had been celebrated by enthusiastic shouts,
that resembled the intoxication of victory: that of the Empress would
have inspired only tender emotions. Acclamations tempered by tears of
joy, the roads strewed with flowers, the village maidens adorned in
their best attire and happy looks, would have given this sight the
appearance of a family festival; and Marie Louise would have seemed,
not the daughter of the Caesars returning to her territories, but a
beloved mother, who, after a long and painful absence, is at length
restored to the wishes of her children.

Her son, over whose head such high destinies were then depending,
would have excited transports not less vivid, or less affecting. Torn
from a throne, and from his country, while yet in his cradle, he had
not ceased to turn his eyes and his remembrances toward the land that
had given him birth: a number of bold and ingenious expressions had
disclosed his regrets and his hopes; and these expressions, repeated
and learned by heart, had rendered this august infant the object of
the dearest thoughts and affections.

With strange inconsistency, the French had deplored the imperious
temper and warlike disposition of Napoleon; yet they loved the son,
precisely because he gave promise of possessing the genius and
audacity of his father; and because they hoped, that he would at some
future day restore to France "the lustre of victories, and the
language of a master[11]."

[Footnote 11: The following anecdote of the youn