nd deeds were for his country. There was
one thing that was dear to him personally, and that was his wife! But
the welfare of his people requiring it, he sacrificed this beloved wife
to their interests.'"

"Words!" exclaimed Josephine. "You are vainly trying to conceal your
innermost thoughts from me. I know you, Bonaparte, and can read your
soul! You wish to connect yourself with the foremost sovereign houses of
Europe, because such a union will flatter your pride and your insatiable
ambition. When you are the son-in-law of an emperor or a king, you will
believe that you are at liberty to do every thing with impunity. You
will deem yourself a demi-god, and, accompanied by your victorious
legions, you will march to the conquest of the whole world. But that
will not be your destiny. You believe you can enslave the nations.
Beware lest they one day awake, break their chains, and take a terrible
revenge on the tyrant whom they allowed so long to oppress them!
Seduced by your illusive ambition, you will disown Josephine? Infatuated
man! you will perceive too late that you walk near a volcano. Oh,
Bonaparte, I tremble and weep for you! Remember that you have often
called me your guardian angel. Believe me, when you disown me, you
disown your good fortune. It will forsake the faithless man, and your
star will sink in an eternal night! That is what wounds my heart, and
drives me to despair. You will be alone in the midst of traitors and
false friends. When Josephine is with you no more, no one will have good
intentions toward you. No one will dare tell you the truth, when you
lose your best friend. Falsehood will flatter you, but only to lead you
to the verge of the precipice!" The empress, with quivering limbs and
pale features, sank on a chair, and covered her face.

A long pause ensued. Napoleon gloomily continued walking the room. At
last he approached Josephine, and gently laid his hand on her shoulder.
"Do not weep," he said, imploringly. "We have once more allowed phantoms
to frighten us, and quarrelled about things that belong to the future.
You are still my wife, and who knows whether you will not always remain
mine? Who knows whether you will not soon be my widow? I am about to
enter into another war, and it will be a desperate, obstinate struggle,
in which old Austria will try to wrest the palm of victory from young
France. Victory will perch on my banners. I have no doubt of that, but
who knows whether I shall not