Some one ventured to observe, however, that Maria-Louisa had boasted that, whenever she desired any thing, no matter how difficult, she had only to weep. The Emperor laughed, and said, this was new to him. He might have suspected it of Josephine, but he had no idea of it in Maria-Louisa. And then, addressing himself to Mesdames Bertrand and Montholon: “Thus it is with you all, ladies,” said he: “in some points you all agree.” He continued for a long time to talk about the two Empresses, and repeated, as usual, that one was Innocence, and the other the Graces. He passed from them to his sisters, and dwelt particularly on the charms of the Princess Pauline. It was admitted that she was, without dispute, the handsomest woman in Paris. The Emperor said that the artists were unanimous in considering her a perfect Venus de Medicis. A little pleasantry was hazarded on the influence which the Princess Pauline had exercised, at the Island of Elba, over General Drouot, whose assiduous attentions she attracted in spite of the difference of their ages and the harshness of his countenance. The Princess, it was said, had drawn from him the secret of the intended departure, eight days before it took place. He had repeated the fault of Turenne; and upon this the Emperor said, “Such are women, and such is their dangerous power!” Here Madame Bertrand declared that the Grand Marshal, to a certainty, had not done as much. “Madame,” retorted the Emperor with a smile, “he was only your husband.” Some one having remarked that the Princess Pauline, when at Nice, had set up a post-waggon on the road, by which dresses and fashions arrived from Paris every day, the Emperor said: “If I had been aware of it, that should not have lasted long, she should have been well scolded. But thus it happens: while one is Emperor one knows nothing of these matters.”