his proffered affection. She
explained that she was betrothed to another, a neighboring youth of about
her own age, whose thoughts and feelings matched hers.

Beauharnais said that was nothing to him, and appealed to the old folks,
displaying his title, submitting an inventory of his estate; and the old
folks agreed to look into the matter. They did so and explained to
Josephine that she should not longer hold out against the wishes of those
who had done so much for her.

And so Josephine relented and they were married, although it can not
truthfully be said that they lived happily ever afterward. They started
for France, on their wedding-tour. In six weeks they arrived in Paris.
Returned soldiers and famed travelers are eagerly welcomed by society;
especially is this so when the traveler brings a Creole wife from the
Equator. The couple supplied a new thrill, and society in Paris is always
eager for a new thrill.

Vicomte Beauharnais and his wife became quite the rage. It was expected
that the Creole lady would be beautiful but dull; instead, she was not so
very beautiful, but very clever. She dropped into all the graceful ways of
polite society intuitively.

In a year, domestic life slightly interfered with society's claims--a son
was born. They called his name Eugene.

Two more years and a daughter was born. They called her name Hortense.

Josephine was only twenty, but the tropics and social experience and
maternity had given ripeness to her life. She became thoughtful and
inclined rather to stay at home with her babies than chase fashion's
butterflies.

Beauharnais chased fashion's butterflies, and caught them, too, for he
came home late and quarreled with his wife--a sure sign.

He drank a little, gamed more, sought excitement, and talked politics
needlessly loud in underground cafes.

Men who are woefully lax in their marriage relations are very apt to
regard their wives with suspicion. If Beauharnais had been weighed in the
balances he would have been found wanton. He instituted proceedings
against Josephine for divorce.

And Josephine packed up a few scanty effects and taking her two children
started for her old home in the West Indies. It took all the money she had
to pay passage.

It was the old, old story--a few years of gay life in the great city, then
cruelty too great for endurance, tears, shut white lips, a firm
resolve--and back to the old farm where homely, loyal hearts await, and
outstre