There, you see, he has said something which would have
passed very well with a vivandiere, but it has made her fly to her
mamma, and he is scratching his head, for he cannot imagine how he has
offended her.'
'Who is the beautiful woman with the white dress and the tiara of
diamonds?' I asked.
'That is Madame Murat, who is the sister of the Emperor. Caroline is
beautiful, but she is not as pretty as her sister Marie, whom you see
over yonder in the corner. Do you see the tall stately dark-eyed old
lady with whom she is talking? That is Napoleon's mother--a wonderful
woman, the source of all their strength, shrewd, brave, vigorous,
forcing respect from everyone who knows her. She is as careful and as
saving as when she was the wife of a small country gentleman in Corsica,
and it is no secret that she has little confidence in the permanence of
the present state of things, and that she is always laying by for an
evil day. The Emperor does not know whether to be amused or exasperated
by her precautions. Well, Murat, I suppose we shall see you riding
across the Kentish hop-fields before long.
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