In the interior of France, anarchy, with all its horrors and confusion, prevailed, and, on the frontier, its enemies were taking advantage of this anarchy to give to the republic its mortal stroke.

Turkey, Russia, the Kings of Sardinia, Naples, and Sweden, were allied with Austria, England, and Prussia, and they had begun to make immense preparations.  A Russian army, led by Suwarrow, was marching toward Italy, to the help of Austria—­to reconquer Lombardy.  The Rastadt congress, from which a universal peace had been expected, had dissolved, and the only result was an increased enmity between Germany and France, the deputies of the latter, as they were returning home, being shamefully murdered in the open street, immediately before the gates of Rastadt, at the instigation of the Austrian Count Lehrbach.

The murder of these ambassadors became the signal for the renewal of war, which was now to be prosecuted with increased bitterness.

At this important, critical moment, when all Europe was buckling on its armor against France, which so much needed the guidance of her victorious general—­at this moment, Bonaparte was not only away from Paris, but no news had been received from him for some months.  Only a vague rumor was spread through Paris:  “Bonaparte had fallen at the desperate attack on Acre,” and this sufficed to discourage entirely his friends, and to make his enemies still more audacious and overbearing.

At first Josephine was entirely cast down by the terrible news; but afterward came the reflection, the doubt, the hope, that all this might be a rumor spread by his enemies.  She hastened to Paris to obtain information from the Directory, so as to find out if there were any foundation for the report of Bonaparte’s death.  But the Directory had as uncertain news as Josephine herself, and the absence of information seemed to confirm its truth.

As she came one day to Barras to ask him if there were any news from the army, she heard him say to Rewbell, one of the five directors:  “Here comes the wife of that hypocrite Bonaparte!  If he is not dead to Europe, he is at least dead to France.”

This expression proved to her that Barras himself did not believe in his death, and gave to Josephine all her energy and presence of mind.  She busied herself in endeavoring to find a clew to this horrible rumor; and she found that Bonaparte’s enemies had spread it, and that only those to whom his death would be welcome, and his return be objectionable, had circulated this report.

Her heart again beat with hope; she now felt, in the blissful joy which penetrated her whole being, that Bonaparte was not dead; that he lived still; that he would return home, to her great delight and to the terror of his foes.  A cheerful assurance sustained her whole nature.  While all those, who in the days of her happiness had rivalled each other in assuring her of their friendship and devotedness, the Directory,