An amusing story is told of the mortification of this proud beauty upon one grand occasion, when she had resolved for once to outshine her hated sister-in-law.
Pauline, Madame Le Clerc, after wearing her widow’s weeds for as short a time as possible after the death of her first husband, General Le Clerc, had wedded a real prince, and was accordingly to make her début at court as Princess Borghèse.
NAPOLÉON.
Pauline has kept her own counsel about her grande toilette for that momentous occasion; but the rumor is afloat that she intends to make a grand coup with her gorgeous appearance, and quite extinguish her august sister-in-law.
Josephine, having heard that she was to be crushed into utter insignificance by the vain beauty, quietly determined a little stratagem of her own. Confident of being mistress in the art of dress, she accordingly resolved to assume a costume which should delight by its very simplicity. But a simplicity so artistically arranged that the very splendor of her rival should but heighten the effect of her own toilet. Her dress was of the finest Indian muslin, bordered with gold and embroidery, and gracefully draped to show the perfect elegance of her figure. Her hair was dressed à la grecque, and banded with pearls, while antique gems and pearls formed her sole ornaments.
“Ravissante!” exclaimed her ladies, as she entered the salon; and even Napoleon’s usual gravity relents, as he cries:—
“Josephine, je suis jaloux! Tu es divine!” and he kisses her on the forehead, pinching her ear laughingly, which was his favorite manner of bestowing a gracious caress.
The time passes, but no princess. Napoleon impatiently retires from the salon; his time is too precious to wait longer the “official visit,” as he calls it, of the prince and princess.
At length the clatter of horses’ hoofs is heard. A carriage grand enough, with its gilding and emblazonry, to have borne the Grand Monarque himself, dashes into the Cour d’Honneur of St. Cloud.