Napoleon's faithful servant—that she consented to go; and then, says a contemporary observer, "Poor woman, she burst into tears, and sobbed as though she were going to execution." At last she reaches Milan. "General Bonaparte," says Marmont, "was very happy, for then he lived only for her. This lasted for a long time. Never had a purer, truer, more exclusive love possession of the heart of man." But he has to rush from her arms to continue his fights with the enemy; and his letters, instead of cooling, grow warmer:
"I turn over and over in my mind your kisses, your tears, your charming jealousy, and the charms of the incomparable Josephine light unceasingly in my heart a warm and bright flame. When shall I be free from all worry, from all business, and at liberty to pass my time near you, and nothing to think of but the happiness of saying and proving it. . . . I thought I loved you a few days ago, but since I have left you I feel that my love has increased a thousandfold. . . . I implore you to show me your defects sometimes; be less beautiful, less gracious, less tender, less loving especially; above all, never be jealous, never cry—your tears distract me, burn my blood. . . . Come and join me, so that before we die we may be able to say: 'We were happy so many days.'"
And the next day he writes in a similar strain:
"I have been to Virgil's village, on the edge
