the eyes of this Madame Henri seem to me
blind by the side of yours." "Dear and beautiful Juliette, they give
me the hope of seeing you when I return from Italy; then only shall I
no longer feel myself an exile. I will receive you in the chateau
where I lost what of all the world I most loved; and you will bring
the feeling of happiness which no more exists there. I love you more
than any other woman in France. Alas! when shall I see you again?"

The friends passed the autumn of 1807 together at Coppet, with
Matthieu de Montmorency, Benjamin Constant, and a brilliant group of
associates, amidst all the romance in which the scenery and
atmosphere of that enchanted spot are steeped. One day they made a
party for an excursion on Mont Blanc. Weary, scorched by the sun, De
Stael and Recamier protested that they would go no farther. In vain
the guide boasted, both in French and German, of the spectacle
presented by the Mer de Glace. "Should you persuade me in all the
languages of Europe," replied Madame de Stael, "I would not go
another step." During the long and cruel banishment inflicted by
Napoleon on this eloquent woman, the bold champion of liberty, her
friend often paid her visits, and constantly wrote her letters:

"Dear Juliette, your letters are at present the only interest of my
life." "How much, dear friend, I am touched by your precious letter,
in which you so kindly send me all the news! My household rush from
one room to another, crying, A letter from Madame Recamier!' and then
all assemble to hear her" "Every one speaks of my beautiful friend
with admiration.. You have an ethereal reputation which nothing
vulgar can approach." "Adieu, dear angel. My God, how I envy all
those who are near you!"

When an envious slanderer had greatly vexed and grieved Madame
Recamier, Madame de Stael wrote to her, "You are as famous in your
kind as I am in mine, and are not banished from France. I tell you
there is nothing to be feared but truth and material persecution.
Beyond these two things, enemies can do absolutely nothing; and your
enemy is but a contemptible woman, jealous of your beauty and
purity." "Write to me. I know you address me by your deeds; but I
still need your words."

In 1811, Madame de Stael resolved to flee to Sweden. Montmorency,
paying her a parting visit, received from Napoleon a decree of
instant exile. Madame Recamier determined, at any risk, to embrace
her friend before this great distance should