se persons could remember a word she had uttered.
I have heard her steward say that in three years she spoke to him only
once.

The ladies of the household agreed in saying that in private she was kind
and agreeable. She did not like Madame de Montesquieu. This was wrong;
since there were no cares, endearments, attentions of all sorts, which
Madame de Montesquieu did not lavish on the King of Rome.

The Emperor, however, appreciated highly this excellent lady who was so
perfect in every respect. As a man he admired the dignity, perfect
propriety, and extreme discretion of Madame de Montesquieu; and as a
father he felt an infinite gratitude for the cares she lavished on his
son. Each one explained in his own way the coolness which the young
Empress showed to this lady; and there were several reasons assigned for
this, all more or less untrue, though the leisure moments of the ladies
of the palace were much occupied with it. What appeared to me the most
likely solution, and most in accordance with the artless simplicity of
Marie Louise, was this: The Empress had as lady of honor Madame de
Montebello, a charming woman of perfect manners. Now, there was little
friendship between Madame de Montesquieu and Madame de Montebello, as the
latter feared it is said to have a rival in the heart of her august
friend; and, in fact, Madame de Montesquieu would have proved a most
dangerous rival for this lady, as she combined all those qualities which
please and make one beloved. Born of an illustrious family, she had
received a distinguished education, and united the tone and manners of
the best society with a solid and enlightened piety. Never had calumny
dared to attack her conduct, which was as noble as discreet. I must
admit that she was somewhat haughty; but this haughtiness was tempered by
such elegant politeness, and such gracious consideration, that it might
be considered simple dignity. She was attentive and assiduous in her
devotion to the King of Rome, and was entitled to the deep gratitude of
the Empress; for she afterwards, actuated by the most generous devotion,
tore herself from her country, her friends, her family, to follow the
fate of a child whose every hope was blasted.

Madame de Montebello was accustomed to rise late. In the morning when
the Emperor was absent, Marie Louise went to converse with her in her
room; and in order not to go through the saloon where the ladies of the
palace were assembled, she entered