Elisa soon won the hearts of the people, but many of the aristocracy and the higher bourgeosie, encouraged by the clergy, held aloof. She was much annoyed at the position held by the Countess of Albany, who was treated as the widow of a royal personage, and openly professed Alfieri’s sentiments about France and encouraged seditious language at her house. So Elisa privately obtained from Fouché, then head of the police, an order of banishment against the Countess, and charged General Menou to tell her of the decree, and to express the sorrow and astonishment of the Grand Duchess at so stringent a measure. Menou suggested to the Countess to ask for an audience, which was arranged with some difficulty as she insisted on being received as the widow of the King of England. She drove up to the Palazzo Pitti in her state coach, and was conducted through a suite of rooms into a small boudoir where Elisa, under pretence of sudden indisposition, lay in bed. She only saluted the Countess, in return for her formal curtseys, by an inclination of the head, and after listening to her with assumed interest and sympathy brusquely exclaimed, “Why, dear Countess, was Alfieri so declared an enemy of France?” “You show me that he was perfectly right,” answered the Countess of Albany, rising, and turning her back on the Grand Duchess, she walked out of the room without another word. Two days later she was exiled, and all Florence took her part. A magnificent _fête_ was given at the Pitti palace to celebrate the victory of Wagram. The gardens were illuminated and a balloon, in the shape of the imperial eagle holding a thunderbolt, was sent up; but the court of the Grand Duchess was forsaken, and the common people amused themselves by making a cock drunk and hunting it through the streets.