separate them. The
generous fugitive wrote, imploring her not to come: "I am torn
between the desire of seeing you, and the fear of injuring you." No
dissuasion could avail; but no sooner did she arrive at Coppet than
the mean soul of Napoleon sought revenge by exiling her also. The
distress of Madame de Stael knew no bounds. On learning the fatal
news, she wrote,

"I cannot speak to you; I fling myself at your feet; I implore you
not to hate me." "What your noble generosity has cost you! If you
could read my soul, you would pity me." "The only service I can do my
friends is to make them avoid me. In all my distraction, I adore you.
Farewell, farewell! When shall I see you again? Never in this world."

Throughout the period of their banishment, the friends kept up an
incessant correspondence, and often interchanged presents.

"Dear friend," writes Madame de Stael, "how this dress has touched
me! I shall wear it on Tuesday, in taking leave of the court. I shall
tell everybody that it is a gift from you, and shall make all the men
sigh that it is not you who are wearing it."

In return, some time later, she sends a pair of bracelets, and a copy
of a new work from her pen, adding, "In your prayers, dear angel, ask
God to give peace to my soul." In another letter she says, "Adieu,
dear angel: promise to preserve that friendship which has given me
such sweet days." And again,

"Angel of goodness, would that my eternal tenderness could recompense
you a little for the penalties your generous friendship has brought
on you!" "You cannot form an idea, my angel, of the emotion your
letter has caused me. It is at the extremity of Moravia that these
celestial words have reached me. I have shed tears of sorrow and
tenderness in hearkening to the voice which comes to me in the
desert, as the angel came to Hagar."

What a rare and high compliment is contained in the following
passage! "You are the most amiable person in the world, dear
Juliette; but you do not speak enough of yourself. You put your mind,
your enchantment, in your letters, but not that which concerns
yourself. Give me all the details pertaining to yourself." "The
hundred fine things Madame de Boigne and Madame de Belle-garde say of
you and me, prove to me that I live a double life: one in you, one in
myself."

When Napoleon fell, in 1814, Madame de Stael hurried home from her
long exile. The great news found Madame Recamier at Rome. In a few
days, she embrace