hin the walls of the palace, in the reception room, the scene was
yet more dazzling. The draperies of the throne, at the foot of which
stood Josephine, more impressive from her native and winning
loveliness than the splendor of the priceless diamonds that decked her
brow and neck, and the emperor in the simple attire of a gentleman,
with no distinctive ornament save the grand cross of the Legion of
Honor: the draperies of the throne, we say, no longer presented the
golden lilies of the Bourbon, but the golden bees of Napoleon--symbols
of the industry and perseverance which had raised him to his rank. The
eye, as it roamed around the brilliant circle, encountered few of
those vapid faces which make the staple of the surroundings of an
hereditary throne. Every epaulet that sparkled there graced the
shoulder of a man who had won his grade by exposure, gallantry, and
intellect. There was the scarred veteran of the Sambre and the Meuse,
heroes who had crossed "that terrible bridge of Lodi" in the path of
the French tricolor and the face of the withering fire of Austrian
batteries--dim eyes that had been blighted by the burning sands of
Egypt, warriors who had braved the perils of the Alps, and the dangers
of the plains of Lombardy.

Somewhat apart from the brilliant circle, in the embrasure of one of
the deep and lofty windows, stood a young officer, in conversation
with a beautiful young woman. The latter was attired in white satin,
and the rich lace veil that half hid the orange flower in her hair,
and descended gracefully over her faultless shoulders, proclaimed her
to be a bride. And the young soldier, her companion? The radiant pride
and joy that beamed from his fine dark eye, the animation of his
manner, and the tenderness of his tone, as he addressed the lady,
emphatically proclaimed the bridegroom. Such, indeed, were the
relations of Colonel Lioncourt and Leonide Lasalle, who had that day
only lost her maiden appellation at the altar of Notre Dame.

So absorbed was the young colonel in the conversation, that it was
only after he had been twice addressed that he turned and noticed the
proximity of a third person.

"Sorry to interrupt you, colonel," said the new comer, a young man
with dark lowering brows, deep-set eyes, and a sinister expression,
heightened by a sabre cut that traversed his left cheek diagonally,
"but his majesty desires to speak to you."

"_Au revoir_, Leonide," said the young colonel to his brid