A CHEQUERED LIFE:

BEING MEMOIRS OF THE

VICOMTESSE DE LÉOVILLE-MEILHAN.

IF

FIRST PART.

F not the happiest, certainly the quietest years of my life, were spent at the Imperial House of Ecouen, of which the excellent and gifted Madame Campan was the "Surintendante." A large number of ladies shared with her the care of about six hundred of the daughters of the Emperor's officers. Several of these ladies were called "Dames Dignitaires," and were next in power to Madame Campan; the others ranked according to their different duties; but all of them were entirely devoted to us, and they were all called "Maman.”

majority of the inmates) the though but imperfectly, the gone to their eternal rest.

To the orphans (the title recalled to mind, dear ones who were

Although kept rather strictly, we led a very contented life in the Château d'Ecouen, which had lost a little of its pristine splendour in being converted into a school; nevertheless, those who were endowed with romantic imaginations created fanciful pictures of the past, which brightened the “causeries” during the recreations, and while roaming under the old trees, which afforded so delightful a shade in the bright warm days of summer. They lent also an exquisite charm to our waking dreams, when we were shut up in the long dormitories, before sleep came to close our eyelids; and carried us away into unknown regions, till we fell into happy slumbers, from which we were only disturbed by the morning bell calling us to the usual routine of the day.

Our grandest and liveliest days were when the Emperor came to visit us, accompanied by a brilliant staff. He delighted in finding himself surrounded by us, and would not allow us to be checked in our somewhat loud demonstrations of delight, and even in our attempts at taking liberties with his Majesty; such as kissing his hands, stealing his pocket-handkerchief, and cutting it into infinitesimal portions, which were distributed among the merry crowd; even his coat often suffered in a similar way. He would laugh and applaud us, almost scolding the "Dames Dignitaires" if they attempted to interfere.

Murat (the exquisite, but unfortunate King of Naples, so treacherously sold by the man who was conveying him into exile) had a share of the ad

miration of some of us, only it was silent and reserved; for it would have been quite against "les convenances" to behave otherwise.

To the elder girls those visits were a source of much happiness, as there was always the possibility of some of the officers of the suite falling in love with one of them; in fact, his Majesty's wish was to marry his adopted daughters to his favourites, giving to each girl in every instance a small dowry; for many among us being orphans, were often without fortune.

I was just seventeen when, for the third time since I was at Ecouen, I had the honour of speaking to Bonaparte. It was during the working hour, and his Majesty as he passed me stopped and asked in rather a brusque manner, how many needlefuls of thread would be necessary to complete the work in my hands. One, sire," I replied immediately, “if it were long nough."

The Emperor smiled, and turning significantly to one of the officers near him, passed on.

"Your words will not be forgotten," whispered my great friend, Mademoiselle Anaïs de Champigny ; "his Majesty's look means-first, a present; second, a dowry; and third, a husband.”

I did not care for the two last-named, but secretly I hoped that Anaïs' words would come true, as to the first. A week afterwards, I was summoned to the presence of Madame Campan, who, opening a small box, presented me with a watch and chain, sent to me from the Emperor. I could scarcely