Napoleon began to complain of thefts, but when the various black servants were questioned they all said that the thief must be a ghostly white figure that they saw skipping around the valley from rock to rock. That they believed what they said was shown by the alarm they showed, for none of them would go out alone by night.

"I believe that it really and truly is old Huff's ghost," insisted Betsy.

"You can't believe such a foolish thing; indeed, I should think you would know better after what happened the other evening, when you allowed yourself to be terrified by a little black girl," said her mother reprovingly. She added, "You look pale, Betsy. What is the trouble?"

"I can't help it. I may be foolish," responded poor Betsy, "but for nights and nights I have been afraid to close my eyes."

"All on account of the ghost," thought Mrs. Balcombe, wishing that Betsy were less ner

vous.

Mr. Balcombe and some friends now undertook to catch the thief, feeling sure that he would prove to be a substantial individual.

After long watching, one night they saw a figure move stealthily across the valley toward the house. They called upon it to stop, but when it neither obeyed nor answered, they felt obliged to shoot. A loud scream followed the report of the gun, and when they came upon the fallen figure they discovered the runaway slave Alley. He was badly hurt, although not fatally, and they did what they could for him. The next morning the whole party went to the cave to which Alley directed them. Napoleon accompanied them and was much interested in what he saw.

It reminded him of the catacombs of Paris, he exclaimed, as he looked about at the heaps of bones which the slave had placed in neatly arranged piles after he had gorged himself with food.

CHAPTER X

A

THE SERIOUS SIDE

S Betsy grew to know Napoleon bet

ter, she sometimes observed in his con

versation and manner a sadness that she had not noticed earlier. This slight melancholy was especially evident when the conversation touched on Josephine or the little King of Rome. Often Napoleon gazed intently at Mrs. Balcombe, explaining as he did so that it was because she reminded him strongly of Josephine. He loved to talk of Josephine, especially with Madame Bertrand, who was a native of Martinique and was said also to be a distant relative of the Empress.

One day, for example, Madame Bertrand, in Betsy's presence, brought out a miniature of Josephine. The Emperor seemed deeply moved as he gazed at it.

"It is the most perfect likeness of her that I have ever seen."

"It is for you, sir," said Madame Bertrand simply.

Thanking her warmly, Napoleon added, “I will keep it until my death."

On this occasion the Emperor was especially inclined to talk about his first wife, and Betsy, hearing him, wondered that he had been willing to separate himself from her.

"Josephine," he said, "was the most feminine woman I have ever known all charm and sweetness and grace. Era la dama la piu graziosa in Francia." Then he continued: "Josephine was the goddess of the toilet. All fashions came from her. Besides this she was humane and always thoughtful of others. She was the best of women. Although the English and the Bourbons allow that I did some good, yet they generally qualify it by saying that it was chiefly through the instrumentality of Josephine. But the fact is that she never interfered in politics. Great as my veneration was for her, I could not bear to have it thought that she in any way ruled my public actions." Napoleon's praises of Josephine continued to flow on.

"She was the greatest patroness of the arts

known in France for years; but though I loved to attend to her whims, yet I always acted to please the nation, and whenever I obtained a fine statue or valuable picture I sent it to the Museum for the people's benefit. Josephine was grace personified. She never acted inelegantly during the whole time we lived together. Her toilet was perfection, and she resisted the inroads of time, to all appearances, by exquisite taste.”

Napoleon spoke with deep emotion, "She was the best of women!"

Then, as if in answer to Betsy's unspoken question, he said:

"It was only political motives that led me to give her up. Nothing else would have separated me from a wife so tenderly loved. Thank God, she died without witnessing my last misfortune!"

From Josephine Napoleon turned to Maria Louisa, his second wife, the mother of his son, of whom he spoke tenderly and affectionately:

"She was an amiable and good wife. She would have followed me here, but they would not let her."

Napoleon next called Betsy's attention to