Napoleon also
heard the arrival, but he remained sternly in his chamber. He had
ever been accustomed to greet Josephine at the door of her carriage,
even when she returned from an ordinary morning ride. No matter what
employments engrossed his mind, no matter what guest were present,
he would immediately leave every thing, and hasten to the door to
assist Josephine to alight and to accompany her into the house. But
now, after an absence of eighteen months, the faithful Josephine,
half-dead with exhaustion, was at the door, and Napoleon, with
pallid check and compressed lip, and jealousy rankling in his bosom,
remained sternly in his room, preparing to overwhelm her with his
indignation.
Josephine was in a state of terrible agitation. Her limbs tottered
and her heart throbbed most violently. Assisted by Eugene, and
accompanied by Hortense, she tremblingly ascended the stairs to the
little parlor where she had so often received the caresses of her
most affectionate spouse. She opened the door. There stood Napoleon,
as immovable as a statue, leaning against the mantle, with his arms
folded across his breast.
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