But there were also cloudy moments in Montebello, oftentimes overshadowing the serene sunshine.  They came from France—­from Rome--and there were even some which had their origin in Montebello.  These clouds which were formed in Montebello, and which caused slight showers of tears with Josephine, and little tempests of anger with Bonaparte, were certainly not of a very serious nature; they owed their origin to a lapdog, and this pet dog was Fortune, the same which in days gone by had been the letter-carrier between Josephine and her children when she was in the Carmelite prison.  Notwithstanding Fortune had become old and peevish, Josephine and her children loved him for the sake of past reminiscences, while Bonaparte simply hated and detested him.  Bonaparte had, however, perhaps without wishing it, erected for him an abiding monument in the “Memorial de Ste. Helene,” where he gave a report of his hostilities with the lapdog Fortune, along with those of his wars with the European powers.

“I was then,” says Bonaparte, in his “Memorial,” “the ruler of Italy, but in my own house I had nothing to say; there Josephine’s will was supreme.  There was an ugly, growling personage, at war with everybody, whose bad qualities made him intolerable to me and to others, yet he was an important individual, who was by Josephine and her children flattered from morning till evening, and who was the object of their most delicate attentions.  Fortune, to me a hateful beast, was a horrible lapdog, with crooked legs and deformed body, without the slightest beauty or kindness, but of a most malicious disposition.  I would gladly have killed him, and often prayed Heaven to deliver me from him.  This happiness was, however, reserved for me in Montebello.  A bull-dog which belonged to my cook became tired of his churlish incivilities, and not having the same considerateness as the rest of the inmates of the palace of Montebello, he attacked the detestable animal so violently as to kill him on the spot.  Then began tears and sighs in the house.  Josephine could not be comforted; Eugene wept, and I myself against my will put on a sorrowful countenance.  But I gained nothing by this fortunate accident.  After Fortune had been stuffed, sung in sonnets, and made immortal by funeral discourses, he was replaced by two setters, male and female.  Then came the amiable displays and the bickerings of this love-couple, and afterward their progeny.  So that I knew not what to do.

“Soon after this, as I was walking in the park, I noticed my cook, who, as soon as he saw me, disappeared on a side-path.

“‘Are you afraid of me?’ said I.

“’ Ah, general,’ replied he, timidly, ’you have good reason to be angry with me.’

“‘I?  What have you done?’

“‘My unfortunate dog has indeed killed poor little Fortune.’

“‘Where is your dog?’

“‘He is in the city.  God have mercy on us! he dares not come here.’