A proof of sorrow and regret, Tho’ she did not appear to fret. And ’twas the opinion of the sage That it proceeded from old age. When thus divorc’d--a parting kiss Was confirmation of their bliss.’ How Josephine herself felt on this subject is pathetically told by Madame Junot, with an excessively womanly grace:-- ‘I had an interview with the Empress at Malmaison: I went thither to breakfast by invitation, accompanied by my eldest daughter Josephine, to whom she was much attached.... “And Madame Mère, have you seen her since your return?” “Certainly, Madame, I have already been in waiting.” Upon this, the Empress drew closer to me--she was already very near--and, taking both my hands, said, in a tone of grief which is still present to my mind after an interval of four-and-twenty years: “Madame Junot, I entreat you to tell me all you have heard relating to me. I ask it as an especial favour--you know they all desire to ruin me, my Hortense, and my Eugène. Madame Junot, I again entreat, as a favour, that you will tell me all you know!” ‘She spoke with the greatest anxiety; her lips trembled, and her hands were damp and cold. In point of fact she was right, for there could be no more direct means of knowing what was passing, relative to her, than by learning what was said in the house of Madame Mère. But it was indiscreet, perhaps, to ask these questions of me. In the first place, I should not have repeated the most insignificant sentence which I had heard in Madame’s drawing-room; in the second, I was quite at ease upon the subject; for, since my return, I had not heard the word _divorce_ uttered by Madame, or the princesses. The strength of mind of the unfortunate wife failed totally on hearing the dreadful word pronounced; she leant upon my arm and wept bitterly. “Madame Junot,” she said, “remember what I say to you this day, here, in this hothouse--this place which is now a paradise, but which may soon become a desert to me--remember that this separation will be my death, and it is they who have killed me?”