certainly recognize her realistic risk

buried in an ordinary grave-yard.

Hortense, who had read this article, had hastened to Paris, in order
that she might herself superintend the removal of the body of her
beloved child from Notre-Dame, and its reinterment in the Church of
St. Leu.

While she informed the emperor of this new insult, Josephine's whole
figure trembled, and a deathly pallor overspread her countenance.
Josephine lacked the strength to conceal her sufferings to-day, for the
first time; Hortense was not present, and she might therefore, for once,
allow herself the sad consolation of showing, bereft of its smile and
its paint, the pale countenance, which death had already
lightly touched.

"Your majesty is ill!" exclaimed the emperor, in dismay.

With a smile, which brought tears to Alexander's eyes, Josephine pointed
to her breast, and whispered: "Sire, I have received the
death-wound here!"

Yes, she was right; she had received a fatal wound, and her heart was
bleeding to death.

Terrified by Josephine's condition, the emperor hurried to Paris, and
sent his own physician to inquire after her condition. When the latter



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