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 one or two portraits of Maria Louisa, but Betsy, though she made no criticism, thought then, as she had thought at other times when studying the face of Maria Louisa, that the Austrian Princess was at a disadvantage when contrasted with the members of Napoleon's family, all of whom were handsome and looked intellectual.
This conversation about Josephine and Maria Louisa was interrupted by the arrival of a visitor, Count Piontkowski, lately arrived from Europe. He was a Pole who had fought under Napoleon, and his love for his fallen leader had led him to follow into exile.
Napoleon himself had no clear remembrance of the Pole as an individual, and he was therefore the more deeply gratified by the spirit of devotion that had induced Piontkowski to make the long voyage to St. Helena for the sake of being near his old commander.
The long interview with the newcomer undoubtedly brought before Napoleon's mind many sad memories, and when he returned to them Betsy and the others noticed that he was in unusually low spirits. As he looked again at the portraits of Josephine and Maria Louisa he grew more and more dejected, and at last, excusing himself, he went to bed much earlier than usual, leaving the rest of the party under the influence of his melancholy.