However, the fact remains that Josephine married the man to get rid of him; but that’s a thing women are constantly doing.

The ceremony was performed by a Justice of the Peace, March Ninth, Seventeen Hundred Ninety-six.  It was just five months since the bride had called to thank the groom for giving back her husband’s sword, and fifteen months after this husband’s death.  Napoleon was twenty-seven; Josephine was thirty-three, but the bridegroom swore he was twenty-eight and the lady twenty-nine.  As a fabricator he wins our admiration.

Twelve days after the marriage, Napoleon set out for Italy as Commander-in-Chief of the army.  To trace the brilliant campaign of that year, when the tricolor of France was carried from the Bay of Biscay to the Adriatic Sea, is not my business.  Suffice it to say that it placed the name of Bonaparte among the foremost names of military leaders of all time.  But amid the restless movement of grim war and the glamour of success he never for a day forgot his Josephine.  His letters breathe a youthful lover’s affection, and all the fond desires of his heart were hers.  Through her he also knew the pulse and temperature of Paris—­its form and pressure.

It was a year before they saw each other.  She came on to Milan and met him there.  They settled in Montebello, at a beautiful country seat, six miles from the city.  From there he conducted negotiations for peace—­and she presided over the gay social circles of the ancient capital.  “I gain provinces; you win hearts,” said Napoleon.  It was a very Napoleonic remark.

Napoleon had already had Eugene with him, and together they had seen the glory of battle.  Now Hortense was sent for, and they were made Napoleon’s children by adoption.  These were days of glowing sunshine and success and warm affection.

And so Napoleon with his family returned to France amid bursts of applause, proclaimed everywhere the Savior of the State, its Protector, and all that.  Civil troubles had all vanished in the smoke of war with foreign enemies.  Prosperity was everywhere, the fruits of conquest had satisfied all, and the discontented class had been drawn off into the army and killed or else was now cheerfully boozy with success.

Napoleon made allies of all powers he could not easily undo, and proffered his support—­biding his time.  Across the English Channel he looked and stared with envious eyes.  Josephine had tasted success and known defeat.  Napoleon had only tasted success.  She begged that he would rest content and hold secure that which he had gained.  Success in its very nature must be limited, she said.  He laughed and would not hear of it.  For the first time she felt her influence over him was waning.  She had given her all; he greedily absorbed, and now had come to believe in his own omniscience.  He told her that on a pinch he could get along without her—­within himself he held all power.  Then he kissed her hand in mock gallantry and led her to the door, as he would be alone.