deep emotion, and tears prevented her from continuing.  She threw herself on the ottoman on the left of the fireplace, and beckoned me to sit down beside her.  Hortense stood by the fireplace, endeavouring to conceal her tears.  Josephine took my hand, which she pressed in both her own; and, after a struggle to overcome her feelings, she said, “My dear Bourrienne, I have drained my cup of misery.  He has cast me off! forsaken me!  He conferred upon me the vain title of Empress only to render my fall the more marked.  Ah! we judged him rightly!  I knew the destiny that awaited me; for what would he not sacrifice to his ambition!” As she finished these words one of Queen Hortense’s ladies entered with a message to her; Hortense stayed a few moments, apparently to recover from the emotion under which she was labouring, and then withdrew, so that I was left alone with Josephine.  She seemed to wish for the relief of disclosing her sorrows, which I was curious to hear from her own lips; women have such a striking way of telling their distresses.  Josephine confirmed what Duroc had told me respecting the two apartments at Fontainebleau; then, coming to the period when Bonaparte had declared to her the necessity of a separation, she said, “My dear Bourrienne; during all the years you were with us you know I made you the confidant of my thoughts, and kept you acquainted with my sad forebodings.  They are now cruelly fulfilled.  I acted the part of a good wife to the very last.  I have suffered all, and I am resigned! . . .  What fortitude did it require latterly to endure my situation, when, though no longer his wife, I was obliged to seem so in the eyes of the world!  With what eyes do courtiers look upon a repudiated wife!  I was in a state of vague uncertainty worse than death until the fatal day when he at length avowed to me what I had long before read in his looks!  On the 30th of November 1809 we were dining together as usual, I had not uttered a word during that sad dinner, and he had broken silence only to ask one of the servants what o’clock it was.  As soon as Bonaparte had taken his coffee he dismissed all the attendants, and I remained alone with him.  I saw in the expression of his countenance what was passing in his mind, and I knew that my hour was come.  He stepped up to me—­he was trembling, and I shuddered; he took my hand, pressed it to his heart, and after gazing at me for a few moments in silence he uttered these fatal words:  ’Josephine! my dear Josephine!  You know how I have loved you! . . .  To you, to you alone, I owe the only moments of happiness I have tasted in this world.  But, Josephine, my destiny is not to be controlled by my will.  My dearest affections must yield to the interests of France.’—­’Say no more,’ I exclaimed, ’I understand you; I expected this, but the blow is not the less mortal.’  I could not say another word,” continued Josephine; “I know not what happened after I seemed to lose my reason; I became insensible, and when I recovered I found myself in my chamber.  Your friend Corvisart and my poor daughter were with me.  Bonaparte came to see me in the evening; and oh!  Bourrienne, how can I describe to you what I felt at the sight of him; even the interest he evinced for me seemed an additional cruelty.  Alas!  I had good reason to fear ever becoming an Empress!”