of those who had thus an opportunity of
calling him comrade. One of the young
officers, who might "be relished more in the
soldier than the scholar," remarked on this
occasion to a friend—

"Well, since our general has taken a fancy
to place aristocratic names amongst ours, let
him always give us comrades with names
like that of our new Turenne. Not a
colonel amongst us who will not be proud
of calling a grandson of the great Turenne
his comrade. With such a name
who wouldn't fight! These sort of folks are
far better than those dandies of emigrants
who are coming back on all sides, waiting to
be asked to recommence their old fooleries."

It was useless to tell the officer that
Turenne had left no lineage; and to hint
that others of the old school had, in spite of
their birth, fought as well as he had for their
country: the name of Turenne was all the
soldier retained, and those of Montmorency
or Montemart carried with them no such
charm to his mind.

This little weakness on the part of a fine
young man was all that could be found
laughable in his character; he was a type of
his class, and possessed all their good qualities;
a republican annoyed at the Empire, but
adoring Bonaparte, and obeying him implicitly
even though disapproving of his
measures; brave, generous, and inflexible in
duty. He was put to a cruel proof, for it was
to this officer that Napoleon entrusted the
command of the picket of men condemned to
fire on the unfortunate Duke d'Enghien.

He performed the terrible duty without
knowing who was the victim condemned until
the deed was done; but, while he deplored
with agony the event, he persisted that the
order did not emanate from his Emperor,
"who," he said, "never commanded the
death of any one hi cold blood, and only in
the heat of battle and when himself exposed
to danger.—Don't you know," he would say,
that poor Josephine rushed into his chamber,
wringing her hands and crying bitterly,
calling out, 'The Duke d'Enghien is dead;
ah, my God! what have you done?' and
didn't the Emperor fall back in his chair, and
in a stifled voice exclaim, 'The wretches!
they have been too sudden.'  I know that for
several days after he remained half distracted,
and for nights he never slept. No, no; the
order came from the Emperor's enemies, not
from himself."

Just before the Empress quitted Paris, she
had assisted at the distribution of the decorations
of the Legion of Honour, which
took place with infinite pomp at the Church
of the Invalides. Whole volumes might
have been made of the epigrams, full of
disdainful allusions and witty scorn, which
flew about on this occasion in reference to an
order which has since been the object of
ambition to every man in France, "so much
the great and little are the same." Nothing
could equal the indignation of the old régime
at the impertinence of what they called the
parvenu Emperor; but so unpopular amongst
a large proportion of Napoleon's republican
friends was this aping of royalty, that it did
not seem too much for many a royalist to
say, with a hope, "Never mind; this cross
gives me a certainty of recovering my cross of
St. Louis."

Every department was to have its share in
these distributions, and it was decided that
Josephine should present those allotted to
the department of Roër. The ceremony was
a sort of rehearsal of what should take place
when the projected coronation was carried
out; and the charming and graceful Empress
went through it all; her robes covered with
gold embroidery, and her head a blaze of
diamonds, with great satisfaction to her
vanity, and to the admiration of all who were
present.

The farce was well played by this graceful
actress, and the imperial insignia of
Charlemagne's power being placed on the Cathedral
altar—as if ready for the hand that should
be daring enough to grasp them—added
solemnity to the scene; while Josephine's fair
hand bestowed the decoration on the
Emperor's friends; who received it with as
much pleasure as Roland, Roger, or Rinaldo
of Montalban could have done from that
of the Imperial Charles in times gone by.
The only incident which occurred to give
occasion for the laughter-loving Court to indulge
their caustic humour, was the speech
made by a certain general, which concluded by
the remark that " he rejoiced to behold virtue
seated on the throne with beauty beside her."
This piece of eloquence pleased no one it
was intended to compliment; for it seemed to
imply the absence of beauty in the virtuous,
and the absence of virtue in the beautiful.
Josephine herself was very much entertained
at the speech, and tried to find out what
would be said on the subject by her witty
friends; for she enjoyed repeating to the Emperor
all the bons mots that were in vogue;
who would listen .to them, and join her good
humoured laugh, even at his own expense.

Josephine was very frank with her intimates,
and with those whom she thought she
might trust. She liked to dwell on the prediction
at Martinique, which had promised
her great fortune in her second marriage, and
a title beyond that of Queen. She said Bonaparte
believed in it as much as she did; and
the fulfilment of the first part of the prediction
had had some influence in his resolution
to make himself Emperor.

"He is persuaded," she said, "that I bring
him good luck, and he would not for the
world set out to join the army at any time
without having embraced me. It is true he
often scolds when his abominable police betrays
to him that I have visited Mademoiselle
Lenormand; but while he abuses her, he
always asks me what she said, and is gratified