me your star." To do justice to the emperor,
it must be confessed that he treated her in other respects with royal
liberality. The title of countess of Beauregard and a fortune of a
million of dollars were allotted to her. She withdrew to England,
where she afterward married. In 1865 a great longing to behold
Paris once more came upon her. Her youth and beauty gone, a worn,
disappointed and unhappy woman (for her marriage had turned out
most wretchedly), she returned to Paris only to die. Her eldest son
succeeded to the title of count de Beauregard, and was made consul
at Zanzibar. Since the downfall of the Empire he has lived a sort of
Bohemian existence in Paris, where his striking resemblance to Louis
Napoleon has won for him the nickname of "the ghost" (_le revenant_).

Meanwhile, the preparations for the marriage were proceeding
vigorously. The future empress and her mother had been installed in
apartments at the Elysee. The household of the royal bride was already
formed, including the princess of Essling as chief lady-in-waiting,
and the Count (afterward Duke) Tascher de la Pagerie as
head-chamberlain. The nuptial ceremony took place on the 30th of
January. The bride's dress was composed of white velvet, with a veil
of point d'Angleterre, the time being too short to have one of point
d'Alencon manufactured. The details of the ceremony were closely
copied from those of the wedding of Napoleon I. and Marie Louise, and
the state-coach was the same that had been used at the coronation of
the great emperor. It was a magnificent vehicle, covered with gilding
and ornaments, and so heavy that the eight fine horses that drew it
were less for show than for actual service. The ceremony took place in
the cathedral of Notre Dame, which was illuminated for the occasion
with fifteen thousand wax-lights. The bride was visibly agitated.
She was as pale as death, and her voice in making the responses was
scarcely audible. No wonder if in that hour a premonition of
evil weighed upon her soul. The civil register of the imperial
family--which, preserved by the devotion of some of the adherents
of the Bonapartes, had been brought forth to be used at the civil
ceremony which had taken place the day before--might well have
thrilled her with forebodings. The last record inscribed on those
pages had been the birth of the king of Rome. How had it fared with
that scion of a mighty father? how might it fare with her own possible
offspring?