Nothing could be more kindly considerate than the mode of communicating this sad announcement; nor was there omitted any thing which could alleviate the bitterness of the tidings. The undying gratitude of the Imperial family; their heartfelt sorrow for my suffering; the pains they had taken to communicate the whole story of my adventure to the Emperor Napoleon himself, were all insisted on; while the personal visits of the Archdukes, and even the Emperor himself, at my sick bed, were told to me with every flattery such acts of condescension could convey. Let me not be thought ungrateful, if all these seemed but a sorry payment for the terrible sacrifice I was to suffer; and that the glittering crosses which were already sent to me in recognition, and which now sparkled on my bed, appeared a poor price for my shattered and wasted limb; and I vowed to myself that to be once more strong and in health I’d change fortunes with the humblest soldier in the grand army. After all, it is the doubtful alone can break down the mind and waste the courage. To the brave man, the inevitable is always the endurable. Some hours of solitude and reflection brought this conviction to my heart, and I recalled the rash refusal I had already given to submit to the amputation, and sent word to the doctors that I was ready. My mind once made up, a thousand ingenious suggestions poured in their consolations. Instead of incurring my misfortune as I had done, my mischance might have originated in some commonplace or inglorious accident. In lieu of the proud recognitions I had earned, I might have now the mere sympathy of some fellow-sufferer in an hospital; and instead of the “Cross of St. Stephen,” and the “valor medal” of Austria, my reward might have been the few sous per day allotted to an invalided soldier. As it was, each post from Vienna brought me nothing but flattering recognitions; and one morning a large sealed letter from Duroc conveyed the Emperor’s own approval of my conduct, with the cross of commander of the Legion of Honor. A whole life of arduous services might have failed to win such prizes, and so I struck the balance of good and evil fortune, and found I was the gainer! Among the presents which I received from the Imperial family was a miniature of the young Archduchess, whose life I saved, and which I at once dispatched by a safe messenger to Marshal Marmont, engaging him to have a copy of it made and the original returned to me. I concluded that circumstances must have rendered this impossible, for I never beheld the portrait again, although I heard of it among the articles bequeathed to the Duc de Reichstadt at St. Helena. Maria Louisa was, at that time, very handsome; the upper lip and mouth were, it is true, faulty, and the Austrian heaviness marred the expression of these features; but her brow and eyes were singularly fine, and her hair of a luxuriant richness rarely to be seen.