“You think, then, that the republic gladly keeps what it has?” asked he.

“I see that it gladly takes what belongs not to it,” exclaimed Eugene, eagerly.  “It has taken away my father’s sword, which belonged to me, his son, and my mother has made me swear on that sword to hold my father’s memory sacred, and to strive to be like him.”

“Your mother is, it seems, a very virtuous old lady,” said Bonaparte, in a friendly tone.

“My mother is a virtuous, young, and beautiful lady,” said Eugene, sturdily; “and I am certain, general, that if you knew her, you would not in your heart have caused her so much pain.”

“She has, then, suffered much on account of this sword being taken away?” asked Bonaparte, interested.

“Yes, general, she has wept bitterly over this our loss, as I have.  I cannot bear to see my mother weep; it breaks my heart.  I therefore implore you to give me back my father’s sword; and I swear to you that when I am a man, I will carry that sword only for the defence of my country, as my father had done.”

General Bonaparte nodded kindly to the boy.  “You are a brave defender of your cause,” said he, “and I cannot refuse you—­I must do as you wish.”

He gave orders to an ordnance officer present in the room to bring General de Beauharnais’s sword; and when the officer had gone to fetch it, Bonaparte, in a friendly and sympathizing manner, conversed with the boy.  At last the ordnance officer returned, and handed the sword to the general.

With solemn gravity Bonaparte gave it to Eugene.  “Take it, young man,” said he, “but never forget that you have sworn to carry it only for the honor and defence of your country.”

Eugene could not answer:  tears started from his eyes, and with deep affection he pressed to his lips the recovered sword of his father.

This manifestation of true childish emotion moved Bonaparte to tender sympathy, and an expression of affectionate interest passed over his features as he offered his hand to Eugene.

“By Heaven, you are a good son,” exclaimed he from his heart, “and you will be one day a good son to your country!  Go, my boy, take to your mother your father’s sword.  Tell her that I salute her, though unknown to her—­that I congratulate her in being the mother of so good and brave a son.”

Such was the beginning of an acquaintance to which Josephine was indebted for an imperial crown, and, for what is still greater, an undying fame and an undying love.

Beaming with joy, Eugene returned to Josephine with his father’s sword, and with all the glowing sentiments of thankfulness he related to her how kindly and obligingly General Bonaparte had received him, what friendly and affectionate words he had spoken to him, and how much forbearance and patience he had manifested to his impassioned request.

Josephine’s maternal heart was sensitive and grateful for every expression of sympathy toward her son, and the goodness and forbearance of the general affected her the more, that she knew how bold and wild the boy, smarting under pain, must have been.  She therefore hastened to perform a duty of politeness by calling the next day on General Bonaparte, to thank him for the kindness he had shown Eugene.