-de-camp, who lavished on him every
attention which his sad condition demanded.

During this terrible ceremony the Emperor uttered not a word, made not a
gesture, but stood immovable as a statue, his gaze fixed and almost wild,
and remained silent and gloomy all day. In the evening, when he had just
retired, as I was awaiting his last orders, the door opened, and the
Empress entered, her hair in disorder, and her countenance showing great
agitation. This sight terrified me. Josephine (for she was now no more
than Josephine) advanced towards the Emperor with a trembling step, and
when she reached him, paused, and weeping in the most heartrending
manner, threw herself on the bed, placed her arms around the Emperor's
neck, and lavished on him most endearing caresses. I cannot describe my
emotions. The Emperor wept also, sat up and pressed Josephine to his
heart, saying to her, "Come, my good Josephine, be more reasonable!
Come, courage, courage; I will always be your friend." Stifled by her
sobs, the Empress could not reply; and there followed a silent scene, in
which their tears and sobs flowed together, and said more than the
tenderest expressions could have done. At last his Majesty, recovering
from this momentary forgetfulness as from a dream, perceived that I was
there, and said to me in a voice choked with tears, "Withdraw, Constant."
I obeyed, and went into the adjoining saloon; and an hour after Josephine
passed me, still sad and in tears, giving me a kind nod as she passed.
I then returned to the sleeping-room to remove the light as usual; the
Emperor was silent as death, and so covered with the bedclothes that his
face could not be seen.

The next morning when I entered the Emperor's room he did not mention
this visit of the Empress; but I found him suffering and dejected, and
sighs which he could not repress issued from his breast. He did not
speak during the whole time his toilet lasted, and as soon as it was
completed entered his cabinet. This was the day on which Josephine was
to leave the Tuileries for Malmaison, and all persons not engaged in
their duties assembled in the vestibule to see once more this dethroned
empress whom all hearts followed in her exile. They looked at her
without daring to speak, as Josephine appeared, completely veiled, one
hand resting on the shoulder of one of her ladies, and the other holding
a handkerchief to her eyes. A concert of inexpressible lamentations
arose as this adored