r, whom he accompanied to Italy in the capacity of
aide-de-camp. He was chief of squadron in the chasseurs of the Consular
Guard, and at the immortal battle of Marengo shared all the dangers of
the one who took so much pleasure in calling him his son. A few years
later the chief of squadron had become Vice-King of Italy, the
presumptive heir of the imperial crown (a title which, in truth, he did
not long preserve), and husband of the daughter of a king.

The vice-queen (Augusta Amelia of Bavaria) was handsome and good as an
angel. I happened to be at Malmaison on the day the Empress received the
portrait of her daughter-in-law, surrounded by three or four children,
one upon her shoulder, another at her feet, and a third in her arms, all
of whom had most lovely faces. The Empress, seeing me, deigned to call
me to admire with her this collection of charming heads; and I perceived
that, while speaking, her eyes were full of tears. The portraits were
well painted, and I had occasion later to find that they were perfect
likenesses. From this time the only question was playthings and rare
articles of all sorts to be bought for these dear children, the Empress
going in person to select the presents she desired for them, and having
them packed under her own eyes.

The prince's valet has assured me that, at the time of the divorce,
Prince Eugene wrote his wife a very desponding letter, and perhaps
expressed in it some regret at not being an adopted son of the Emperor,
to which the Princess replied most tenderly, saying, among other things,
"It is not the heir of the Emperor whom I married and whom I love, but it
is Eugene de Beauharnais." The Prince read this sentence and some others
in the presence of the person from whom I have these facts, and who was
touched even to tears. Such a woman deserved more than a throne.

After that event, so grievous to the heart of the Empress, and for which
she never found consolation, she left Malmaison no more, except to make a
few visits to Navarre.

Each time that I returned to Paris with the Emperor, I had no sooner
arrived than my first duty was to go to Malmaison, though I was rarely
the bearer of a letter from the Emperor, as he wrote to Josephine only on
extraordinary occasions. "Tell the Empress I am well, and that I wish
her to be happy," were almost invariably the parting words of the Emperor
as I set out. The moment I arrived the Empress quitted everything to
speak to me; and I f