But all her attempts in this direction were in vain.  The viscount had felt her flight to Martinique to be too grave an injury, too great an insult, to be now willing to consent to a reconciliation with his wife.  Sympathizing friends arranged a meeting between them, without, however, previously informing the viscount of their design.  His anger was therefore great when, on entering the parlor of Count Montmorin, in response to that gentleman’s invitation, he found there the wife he had so obstinately and wrathfully avoided.  He was about to retire hastily, when a charming child rushed forward, greeted him tenderly in silvery tones, and threw herself into his arms.  The viscount was now powerless to fly; he pressed his child, his Hortense, to his heart, and when the child, with a winning smile, entreated him to kiss her mamma as he had kissed her; when he saw the beautiful countenance of Josephine wet with tears; when he heard his father’s voice saying, “My son, reconcile yourself with my daughter!  Josephine is my daughter, and I would not call her so if she were unworthy,” and when he saw his handsome son, Eugene, gazing at him wistfully, his head resting on his mother’s shoulder, his heart relented.  Leading little Hortense by the hand, he stepped forward to his wife, and, with a loud cry of joy and a blissful greeting of love, Josephine sank on his bosom.

Peace was re-established, and husband and wife were now united in a closer bond of love than ever before.  The storms seemed to have spent their rage, and the heaven of their happiness was clear and cloudless.  But this heaven was soon to be overcast with the black shadow of the revolution.

Viscount Beauharnais, returned by the nobility of Blois to the new legislative body, the Estates-General, resigned this position, in order to serve his country with his sword instead of his tongue.  With the rank of adjutant-general, he repaired to the Army of the North, accompanied by Josephine’s blessings and tears.  A dread premonition told her that she would never see the general again, and this premonition did not deceive her.  The spirit of anarchy and insurrection not only raged among the people of Paris, but also in the army.  The aristocrats, who were given over to the guillotine in Paris, were also regarded with distrust and hatred in the army, and Viscount Beauharnais, who, for his gallantry on the battle-field of Soissons, had been promoted to the position of commanding general, was accused by his own officers of being an enemy of France and of the new order of things.  He was arrested, taken back to Paris, and thrown into the prison of the Luxembourg, where so many other victims of the revolution lay in confinement.

The sad intelligence of her husband’s misfortune soon reached Josephine, and aroused her love to energetic action in his behalf.  She mentally vowed to liberate her husband, the father of her children, or to die with him.  She courageously confronted all dangers, all suspicions, and was happy when she found him in his prison, where she visited him, whispering words of consolation and hope in his ear.