timidly avowed to him that the smell of his shoes was unpleasant.  Monsieur Ballanche apologized, humbly regretting that she had not spoken before, and then went out of the room.  He returned in a few moments without his shoes, resumed his seat, and continued the conversation.  Other persons came in, and noticing him in this situation, he said, by way of explanation, ’The smell of my shoes annoyed Madame Recamier, so I left them in the antechamber.’”

After the death of his father, Monsieur Ballanche left Lyons, and passed the rest of his life in the society of her whom he worshipped with so single-minded a devotion.

Madame Recamier subsequently left Lyons for Italy, and the next new admirer whose attentions we have to chronicle is Canova.  During her stay in Rome he wrote a note to her every morning, and the heat of the city growing excessive, he invited her to share his lodgings at Albano.  Taking with her her niece and waiting-maid, she became his guest for two months.  A Roman artist painted a picture of this retreat, with Madame Recamier sitting near a window, reading.  Canova sent the picture to her in 1816.  When she left Rome for a short absence, Canova modelled two busts of her from memory, in the hope of giving her a pleasant surprise,—­one with the hair simply arranged, the other with a veil.  Madame Recamier was not pleased, and her annoyance did not escape the penetrating eye of the artist.  She tried in vain to efface the unfavorable impression he had received, but he only half forgave her.  He added a crown of olives to the one with the veil, and when she asked him about it, he replied, “It did not please you, so I made a Beatrice of it.”

Madame Recamier left Rome for Naples when Napoleon’s power was on the decline.  The sovereigns Murat and Caroline Bonaparte treated her with marked distinction, especially the Queen, who was not only gracious, but confidential.  Madame Recamier was with Caroline the day that Murat pledged himself to the allied cause.  He returned to the palace in great agitation, and, stating the case to her without telling her that he had already made his decision, asked what course he ought to pursue.  She replied, “You are a Frenchman, Sire.  It is to France that you owe allegiance.”  Murat turned pale, and, throwing open the window, showed her the English fleet entering the harbor, and exclaimed, “I am, then, a traitor!” He threw himself on a couch, burst into tears, covering his face with his hands.  Madame Recamier’s candor did not affect their friendly relations.  When the Queen acted as Regent in the absence of her husband, she signed the pardon of a condemned criminal at her request, and, upon her return to Rome, wrote, begging her to come back to Naples.  She did so, though her stay was necessarily short.  Paris was again open to her by the overthrow of Napoleon, and she hastened to rejoin her friends.  Still she was not unmindful of the princess who had shown her such marks of friendship.  She did many kind services for her in Paris, and after the execution of Murat, when Caroline lived in obscurity as the Countess of Lipona, she paid her a visit, which cheered the neglected woman whose prosperity had been of such short duration.