nk about your head,
Josephine,' said he, pettishly. 'All that women have to think about is
how to dress themselves, and yet they cannot even do that with
moderation or taste. If I see you again in such a thing I will thrust
it in the fire as I did your shawl the other day.'

'You are so hard to please, Napoleon. You like one day what you cannot
abide the next. But I will certainly change it if it offends you,' said
Josephine, with admirable patience.

The Emperor took a few steps between the people, who had formed a lane
for us to pass through. Then he stopped and looked over his shoulder at
the Empress.

'How often have I told you, Josephine, that I cannot tolerate fat
women.'

'I always bear it in mind, Napoleon.'

'Then why is Madame de Chevreux present?'

'But surely, Napoleon, madame is not very fat.'

'She is fatter than she should be. I should prefer not to see her.
Who is this?' He had paused before a young lady in a blue dress, whose
knees seemed to be giving way under her as the terrible Emperor
transfixed her with his searching eyes.

'This is Mademoiselle de Bergerot.'

'How old are you?'

'Twenty-three, sire.'

'It is time that you were married. Every woman should be married at
twenty-three. How is it that you are not married?'

The poor girl appeared to be incapable of answering, so the Empress
gently remarked that it was to the young men that that question should
be addressed.

'Oh, that is the difficulty, is it?' said the Emperor. 'We must look
about and find a husband for you.' He turned, and to my horror I found
his eyes fixed with a questioning gaze upon my face.

'We have to find you a wife also, Monsieur de Laval,' said he. 'Well,
well, we shall see--we shall see. What is your name?' to a quiet
refined man in black.

'I am Gretry, the musician.'

'Yes, yes, I remember you. I have seen you a hundred times, but I can
never recall your name. Who are you?'

'I am Joseph de Chenier.'

'Of course. I have seen your tragedy. I have forgotten the name of it,
but it was not good. You have written some other poetry, have you not?'

'Yes, sire. I had your permission to dedicate my last volume to you.'

'Very likely, but I have not had time to read it. It is a pity that we
have no poets now in France, for the deeds of the last few years would
have given a subject for a Homer or a Virgil. It seems that I can
create kingdoms but not poets. Whom do you consider to be