tly good, had, in her own experience, also
endured trials, and knew how to sympathize with the sorrows of others.

She promised to interest the General in the fate of my father-in-law, who
had just lost his place in the treasury. During this time Madame Charvet
was in correspondence with a friend of her husband, who was, I think, the
courier of General Bonaparte; and the latter having opened and read these
letters addressed to his courier, inquired who was this young woman that
wrote such interesting and intelligent letters, and Madame Charvet well
deserved this double praise. My father-in-law's friend, while replying
to the question of the General-in-chief, took occasion to relate the
misfortunes of the family, and the General remarked that, on his return
to Paris, he wished to meet M. and Madame Charvet; in consequence of
which they were presented to him, and Madame Bonaparte rejoiced to learn
that her protegees had also become those of her husband. It had been
decided that M. Charvet should follow the General to Egypt; but when my
father-in-law arrived at Toulon, Madame Bonaparte requested that he
should accompany her to the waters of Plombieres. I have previously
related the accident which occurred at Plombieres, and that M. Charvet
was sent to Saint-Germain to bring Mademoiselle Hortense from the
boarding-school to her mother. On his return to Paris, M. Charvet
searched through all the suburbs to find a country-seat, as the General
had charged his wife to purchase one during his absence.

When Madame Bonaparte decided on Malmaison, M. Charvet, his wife, and
their three children were installed in this charming residence.

My father-in-law was very faithful to the interests of these benefactors
of his family, and Madame Charvet often acted as private secretary to
Madame Bonaparte.

Mademoiselle Louise, who became my wife, and Mademoiselle Zoe, her
younger sister, were favorites of Madame Bonaparte, especially the
latter, who passed more time than Louise at Malmaison. The condescension
of their noble protectress had rendered this child so familiar, that she
said thou habitually to Madame Bonaparte. One day she said to her, "Thou
art happy. Thou hast no mamma to scold thee when thou tearest thy
dresses."

During one of the campaigns that I made while in the service of the
Emperor, I wrote to my wife, inquiring about the life that her sister led
at Malmaison. In her answer, among other things, she said (I copy a
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