k that she would keep in some secret
hiding-place the bouquet which the greatest man alive had given her.

But Napoleon was not the sort of man to forget anything that had given
him either pleasure or the reverse. He who, at the height of his cares,
could recall instantly how many cannon were in each seaport of France
and could make out an accurate list of all his military stores; he who
could call by name every soldier in his guard, with a full remembrance
of the battles each man had fought in and the honors that he had
won--he was not likely to forget so lovely a face as the one which had
gleamed with peculiar radiance through the crowd at Bronia.

On reaching Warsaw he asked one or two well-informed persons about this
beautiful stranger. Only a few hours had passed before Prince
Poniatowski, accompanied by other nobles, called upon her at her home.

"I am directed, madam," said he, "by order of the Emperor of France, to
bid you to be present at a ball that is to be given in his honor
to-morrow evening."

Mme. Walewska was startled, and her face grew hot with blushes. Did the
emperor remember her escapade at Bronia? If so, how had he discovered
her? Why should he seek her out and do her such an honor?

"That, madam, is his imperial majesty's affair," Poniatowski told her.
"I merely obey his instructions and ask your presence at the ball.
Perhaps Heaven has marked you out to be the means of saving our unhappy
country."

In this way, by playing on her patriotism, Poniatowski almost persuaded
her, and yet something held her back. She trembled, though she was
greatly fascinated; and finally she refused to go.

Scarcely had the envoy left her, however, when a great company of
nobles entered in groups and begged her to humor the emperor. Finally
her own husband joined in their entreaties and actually commanded her
to go; so at last she was compelled to yield.

It was by no means the frank and radiant girl who was now preparing
again to meet the emperor. She knew not why, and yet her heart was full
of trepidation and nervous fright, the cause of which she could not
guess, yet which made her task a severe ordeal. She dressed herself in
white satin, with no adornment save a wreath of foliage in her hair.

As she entered the ballroom she was welcomed by hundreds whom she had
never seen before, but who were of the highest nobility of Poland.
Murmurs of admiration followed her, and finally Poniatowski came to her
and co