I nothing but my cloak and sword?" The
Empress and the notary both stood amazed at this first intimation that
the warning had been overheard.

The following year, the magnificent coronation at Milan took place,
surpassing, if possible, in grandeur that at Paris. Amidst the
gorgeousness of that spectacle, however, there were few by whom it was
not forgotten in the far deeper interest which the principal actors in
the scene inspired. Amidst the blaze of beauty and of jewels, and the
strains of music, by which he was surrounded, what were the feelings of
Napoleon, as he held within his grasp the iron crown of Charlemagne,
which had reposed in the treasury of Monza for a thousand years, and for
which he had so ardently longed. Even at that moment when he placed it
on his own head, were the aspirings of the ambitious spirit
satisfied?--or were not his thoughts taking a wider range of conquest
than he had yet achieved? And for her, who knelt at his feet, about to
receive the highest honor that mortal hands can confer--did the pomp and
circumstance of that scene, and the glory of the crown, satisfy her
loving heart? Ah, surely no! It was away in the sweet retirement of
Malmaison--amidst the scenes hallowed by Napoleon's early affection. And
how few years were to elapse ere the crown just placed on the head of
Josephine was to be transferred to another?--when the place which
she--the loving and beloved--occupied by her husband's side was to be
filled by another? Though doubts had arisen in her mind--though she knew
the influence of those who feared the sceptre might pass into the hands
of another dynasty--still, the hope never forsook her, that affection
would triumph over ambition, till Napoleon himself communicated the
cruel determination. With what abandonment of self she was wont to cast
her whole dependence on Napoleon, may be seen in a letter addressed to
Pope Pius VII. In it she says: "My first sentiment--one to which all
others are subservient--is a conviction of my own weakness and
incapacity. Of myself I am but little; or, to speak more correctly, my
only value is derived from the extraordinary man to whom I am united.
This inward conviction, which occasionally humbles my pride, eventually
affords me some encouragement, when I calmly reflect. I whisper to
myself, that the arm under which the whole earth is made to tremble, may
well support my weakness."

Hortense's promising child was dead; Napoleon and Josephine ha