cks had most likely devoured the sweetmeats, and the poor little
girls, who had been so highly flattered by the promise, never tasted
them."

"A second house was formed at St. Denis, on the model of that of Ecouen.
Perhaps Madame Campan might have hoped for a title to which her long
labours gave her a right; perhaps the superintendence of the two houses
would have been but the fair recompense of her services; but her fortunate
years had passed her fate was now to depend on the most important events.
Napoleon had accumulated such a mass of power as no one but himself in
Europe could overturn. France, content with thirty years of victories, in
vain asked for peace and repose. The army which had triumphed in the
sands of Egypt, on the summits of the Alps, and in the marshes of Holland,
was to perish amidst the snows of Russia. Nations combined against a
single man. The territory of France was invaded. The orphans of Ecouen,
from the windows of the mansion which served as their asylum, saw in the
distant plain the fires of the Russian bivouacs, and once more wept the
deaths of their fathers. Paris capitulated. France hailed the return of
the descendants of Henri IV.; they reascended the throne so long filled by
their ancestors, which the wisdom of an enlightened prince established on
the empire of the laws.

[A lady, connected with the establishment of St. Denis, told Madame Campan
that Napoleon visited it during the Hundred Days, and that the pupils were
so delighted to see him that they crowded round him, endeavouring to touch
his clothes, and evincing the most extravagant joy. The matron
endeavoured to silence them; but Napoleon said, 'Let them alone; let them
alone. This may weaken the head, but it strengthens the heart.'"]

This moment, which diffused joy amongst the faithful servants of the royal
family, and brought them the rewards of their devotion, proved to Madame
Campan a period of bitter vexation. The hatred of her enemies had
revived. The suppression of the school at Ecouen had deprived her of her
position; the most absurd calumnies followed her into her retreat; her
attachment to the Queen was suspected; she was accused not only of
ingratitude but of perfidy. Slander has little effect on youth, but in
the decline of life its darts are envenomed with a mortal poison. The
wounds which Madame Campan had received were deep. Her sister, Madame
Auguie, had destroyed herself; M. Rousseau, her brother-in