e of the court--he fell into a
fever of impatience which gave him sleepless nights and frantic days.
He paced up and down the Tuileries, almost beside himself. He hurried
off courier after courier with orders that the postilions should lash
their horses to bring the hour of meeting nearer still. He scribbled
love letters. He gazed continually on the diamond-studded portrait of
the woman who was hurrying toward him.

At last as the time approached he entered a swift traveling-carriage
and hastened to Compiegne, about fifty miles from Paris, where it had
been arranged that he should meet his consort and whence he was to
escort her to the capital, so that they might be married in the great
gallery of the Louvre. At Compiegne the chancellerie had been set apart
for Napoleon's convenience, while the chateau had been assigned to
Marie Louise and her attendants. When Napoleon's carriage dashed into
the place, drawn by horses that had traveled at a gallop, the emperor
could not restrain himself. It was raining torrents and night was
coming on, yet, none the less, he shouted for fresh horses and pushed
on to Soissons, where the new empress was to stop and dine. When he
reached there and she had not arrived, new relays of horses were
demanded, and he hurried off once more into the dark.

At the little village of Courcelles he met the courier who was riding
in advance of the empress's cortege.

"She will be here in a few moments!" cried Napoleon; and he leaped from
his carriage into the highway.

The rain descended harder than ever, and he took refuge in the arched
doorway of the village church, his boots already bemired, his great
coat reeking with the downpour. As he crouched before the church he
heard the sound of carriages; and before long there came toiling
through the mud the one in which was seated the girl for whom he had so
long been waiting. It was stopped at an order given by an officer.
Within it, half-fainting with fatigue and fear, Marie Louise sat in the
dark, alone.

Here, if ever, was the chance for Napoleon to win his bride. Could he
have restrained himself, could he have shown the delicate consideration
which was demanded of him, could he have remembered at least that he
was an emperor and that the girl--timid and shuddering--was a princess,
her future story might have been far different. But long ago he had
ceased to think of anything except his own desires.

He approached the carriage. An obsequious cha