"Indeed I am, mamma," he replied. "But it does not surprise me, for grandmamma is always so good that I am used to it."
"Then you are not amused with all these pretty playthings, my son?"
"Oh yes, mamma, but—but then I want something else."
"What is it, my darling? You know how much I love you. You may be sure that I will give it to you."
"No, mamma, I am afraid you won't. I want you to let me run about barefooted in that puddle in the avenue."
His mother of course could not grant this request, and the little fellow mourned very justly over the misfortune of being a prince, which prevented him from enjoying himself like other boys in playing in the mud.
Hortense, absorbed in her new cares, wrote almost daily to her mother, giving interesting recitals of the child. She did not, however, write as frequently to her father. Josephine wrote to her from Aix-la-Chapelle, under date of September 8th, 1804:
Letter from Josephine.
"The news which you give me of Napoleon affords me great pleasure, my dear Hortense; for in addition to the very tender interest I feel for him, I appreciate all the anxieties from which you are relieved; and you know, my dear child, that your happiness will ever constitute a part of mine. The Emperor has read your letter. He has at times appeared to me wounded, in not hearing from you. He would not accuse your heart if he knew you as well as I do. But appearances are against you. Since he may suppose that you neglect him, do not lose a moment to repair the wrongs which are not intentional. Say to him that it is through discretion that you have not written to him; that your heart suffers from that law which even respect dictates; that having always manifested towards you the goodness and tenderness of a father, it will ever be your happiness to offer to him the homage of gratitude.
"Speak to him also of the hope you cherish of seeing me at the period of your confinement. I can not endure the thought of being absent from you at that time. Be sure, my Hortense, that nothing can prevent me from going to take care of you for your sake, and still more for my own. Do you speak of this also to Bonaparte, who loves you as if you were his own child. And this greatly increases my attachment for him. Adieu, my good Hortense. I embrace you with the warmest affections of my heart."