And yet there was one: a young, pale, sickly-looking Italian, who lived in a third-rate inn, wore a shabby uniform, and frequented the parties of Barras and the rest. He was not a conspicuous figure nor a particularly honoured guest; his military career had been apparently ruined by the spite of his enemies; he seemed to have no money, no connections, and no prospects. But in a few years all of themall France and nearly all Europewere at his feet, for it was Napoleon Buonaparte.

In an agony of terror Pauline sprang out of the carriage and implored him to tell her the worst, for she could bear it.

Mme. de Grammont wished him bon voyage, and then drew her sister back to the fire for a few last words. She was therefore very badly off, though her [456] writings were always quite successful enough to provide for her, but she could not be happy without perpetually adopting children: even now she had not only Casimir, who was always like a son to her, but an adopted daughter called Stphanie Alyon, and another whom she sent back to Germany.

Que deviendront les courtisans? But that of her daughter, who still lived in Paris, and who in 1819 was seized with a sudden illness which terminated fatally, was a terrible grief to her at the time; though in fact that selfish, heartless woman had for many years caused her nothing but vexation and sorrow, and it seems probable that after the first grief had subsided her life was happier without her, for the place she ought to have occupied had long been filled by the two nieces who were looked upon by her and by themselves as her daughtersher brothers only child, Mme. de Rivire, and Eugnie Le Brun, afterwards Mme. Tripier Le Franc.