." This sentiment was received with
the most deafening peals of applause.

But how like the phantasmagoria of magic has this change burst upon the
bewildered Josephine. But a few months before, her husband, wan and
wasted with imprisonment and woe, had been led from the subterranean
dungeons of this very palace, with the execrations of the populace
torturing his ear, to bleed upon the scaffold. She, also, was then
herself a prisoner, without even a pillow for her weary head, awaiting
the dawn of the morning which was to conduct her steps to a frightful
death. Her children, Hortense and Eugene, had been rescued from
homelessness, friendlessness, and beggary only by the hand of charity,
and were dependent upon that charity for shelter and for daily bread.
Now the weeds of widowhood have given place to the robes of the
rejoicing bride, and that palace is gorgeously decorated in honor of the
world-renowned companion upon whose arm she proudly leans. The
acclamations resounding to his praise reverberate over mountain and
valley, through every city and village of France. Princes, embassadors,
and courtiers obsequiously crowd the saloons of Josephine. Eugene, an
officer in the army, high in rank and honor, is lured along life's
perilous pathway by the most brilliant prospects. Hortense in dazzling
beauty, and surrounded by admirers, is intoxicated with the splendor,
which, like Oriental enchantment, has burst upon her view.

Josephine, so beautifully called "the Star of Napoleon," was more than
the harbinger of his rising. She gave additional luster to his
brilliance, and was as the gentle zephyr, which sweeps away the mists
and vapors, and presents a transparent sky through which the undimmed
luminary may shine. Her persuasive influence was unweariedly and most
successfully exerted in winning friends and in disarming adversaries.
The admiration which was excited for the stern warrior in his solitary,
silent, unapproachable grandeur, whose garments had been dyed in blood,
whose fearful path had been signalized by conflagrations, and shrieks,
and the wailings of the dying, was humanized and softened by the gentle
loveliness of his companion, who was ever a ministering angel, breathing
words of kindness, and diffusing around her the spirit of harmony and
love. Napoleon ever freely acknowledged his indebtedness to Josephine
for her aid in these morning hours of his greatness.

But unalloyed happiness is never allotted to mortal