How joyous, beautiful, happy had her Josephine nearly ten years ago left her home, her country, her family, to go to a foreign land which attracted her with every thing which can charm a young girl—­ with the love of a young and beautiful husband—­with the luxury, the pleasures and festivities of Paris!

And now after ten years Josephine returned to her father’s home, lonely, abandoned, unhappy, blighted with the mildew which ever deteriorates the character of a divorced woman; yet so young, with so many ruined hopes, with so many wounds in the heart!

Josephine’s mother could not pardon him all this, and her countenance became clouded whenever the little Hortense spoke of her father.  And the child spoke of him so often—­for each evening and morning she had to pray God in his behalf—­and when she asked her mother where her brother Eugene was, why he had not come with them to Martinique; Josephine answered her, he had remained with his father, who loved him so much, and who must have at least one of his children with him.

“Why then can he not, with Eugene, be with us?” asked the little Hortense, thoughtfully.  “Why does he remain in that hateful, stony Paris, whilst he could live with us in the beautiful garden where so many charming flowers and so many large trees are to be found?  Why is papa not with us, mamma?”

“Because he has occupations—­because he cannot leave his regiment, my child,” answered Josephine, carefully hiding her tears.

“If he cannot come to us, mamma, then let us go to him,” cried the loving child.  “Come, mamma, let us go on board a ship, and let us go to our dear papa, and to my dear brother Eugene.”

“We must wait until your father sends for us, until he writes that we must come,” said Josephine, with a sad smile.  “Pray to God, my child, that he may soon do it!”

And from this time the child prayed God every evening that her father would soon send for her mother and for herself; and whenever she saw her mother receive a letter she said:  “Is it a letter from my papa?  Does he write for us to travel and to come to him?”

One day Josephine was enabled to answer this question to her daughter with a proud and joyous yes.

Yes, the Viscount de Beauharnais had begged his wife to forget the past, and to come back to him.  He had, with all the contrition of penitence, with the glow of an awakening love, prayed for pardon; he requested from her large-heartedness to be once more reunited to him who had despised, calumniated, and rejected her; he swore with sacred oaths to love her alone, and to keep to her in unbroken faithfulness.

At first Josephine received these vows with a suspicious, sorrowful smile; the wounds of her heart were not yet healed, the bitter experiences of the past were yet too fresh in her mind; and Madame de la Pagerie, Josephine’s mother, repelled with earnestness every thought of reconciliation and reunion.  She did not wish to lose her daughter a second time, and see her go to meet a dubious and dangerous happiness; she did not wish that Josephine, barely returned to the haven of rest and peace, should once more risk herself on the open, tempestuous ocean of life.