f the noblest of men and
the best of brothers. As soon as possible, he took up his residence near
his sister. He also was in the enjoyment of an ample fortune. Thus
there seemed to be for a short time a lull in those angry storms which
for so long had risen dark over the way of Hortense.

In this distant and secluded home, upon the borders of the lake,
Hortense and her small harmonious household passed the winter of 1815.
Though she mourned over the absence of her elder child, little Louis
Napoleon cheered her by his bright intelligence and his intense
affectionateness. Prince Eugene often visited his sister; and many of
the illustrious generals and civilians, who during the glories of the
Empire had filled Europe with their renown, were allured as occasional
guests to the home of this lovely woman, who had shared with them in the
favors and the rebuffs of fortune.

Hortense devoted herself assiduously to the education of her son. She
understood thoroughly the political position of France. Foreigners, with
immense armies, had invaded the kingdom, and forced upon the reluctant
people a detested dynasty. Napoleon was Emperor by popular election. The
people still, with almost entire unanimity, desired the Empire. And
Hortense knew full well that, so soon as the French people could get
strength to break the chains with which foreign armies had bound them,
they would again drive out the Bourbons and re-establish the Empire.

Hortense consequently never allowed her son to forget the name he bore,
or the political principles which his uncle, the Emperor, had borne upon
his banners throughout Europe. The subsequent life of this child has
proved how deep was the impression produced upon his mind, as pensively,
silently he listened to the conversation of the statesmen and the
generals who often visited his mother's parlor. Lady Blessington about
this time visited Hortense, and she gives the following account of the
impression which the visit produced upon her mind:

"Though prepared to meet in Hortense Bonaparte, ex-Queen of Holland, a
woman possessed of no ordinary powers of captivation, she has, I
confess, far exceeded my expectations. I have seen her frequently, and
spent two hours yesterday in her society. Never did time fly away with
greater rapidity than while listening to her conversation, and hearing
her sing those charming little French _romances_, written and composed
by herself, which, though I had often admired the