The Empress Josephine | Page 8

attended in the evening the "barraboula" of the
negroes, dancing their African dances in the glare of torches and to the
monotonous sound of the tam-tam.
On festivals, she assisted her mother to put all things in order, and to
preside at the great banquets given to relatives and friends, who
afterward were visited in their turn, and then the slaves carried their
masters in hammocks, or else, what was far more acceptable, the young
maidens mounted small Spanish horses, full of courage and daring, and
whose firm, quick step made a ride to Porto Rico simply a rushing
gallop.
Amidst this dreamy, sunny, joyous existence of the young maiden
gleamed one day, as a lightning-flash, a prophetic ray of Josephine's
future greatness.
This happened one afternoon as she was walking alone and thoughtful
through the plantation. A group of negresses, in the centre of which
was an old and unknown woman, attracted her attention. Josephine
approached. It was an old negro woman from a neighboring plantation,
and she was telling the fortune of the young negro women of M.
Tascher de la Pagerie. No sooner did the old woman cast her eyes on
Josephine than she seemed to shrink into one mass, whilst an
expression of horror and wonder stole over her face. She vehemently
seized the hand of the young maiden, examined it carefully, and then
lifted up her large, astonished eyes with a searching expression to the
face of Josephine.
"You must see something very wonderful in my face and in my hand?"
inquired Josephine, laughing.
"Yes, something very wonderful," repeated the negro woman, still
intently staring at her.
"Is it a good or a bad fortune which awaits me?"
The old prophetess slowly shook her head.
"Who can tell," said she, gravely, "what is a good or a bad fortune for
human beings? In your hand I see evil, but in your face
happiness--great, lofty happiness."
"Well," cried out Josephine, laughing, "you are cautious, and your
oracle is not very clear."
The old woman lifted up her eyes to heaven with a strange expression.
"I dare not," said she, "express myself more clearly."

"Speak on, whatever the result!" exclaimed Josephine, whose curiosity
was excited by the very diffidence of the fortune-teller. "Say what you
see in my future life. I wish it, I order you to do so."
"Well, if you order it, I must obey," said she, with solemnity. "Listen,
then. I read in your countenance that you are called to high destinies.
You will soon be married. But your marriage will not be a happy one.
You will soon be a young widow, and then--"
"Well, and then?" asked Josephine, passionately, as the old woman
hesitated and remained silent.
"Well, and then you will be Queen of France--more than a queen!"
shouted the prophetess, with a loud voice. "You will live glorious,
brilliant days, but at the last misfortune will come and carry you to your
grave in a day of rebellion."
Afraid of the pictures which her prophetic vision had contemplated in
the future, the old hag forced her way through the circle of negro
women around, and rushed away through the field as fast as her feet
could bear her on.
Josephine, laughing, turned to her astonished women, who had
followed with their eyes the flight of the prophetess, but who now
directed their dark eyes with an expression of awe and bewilderment to
their young mistress, of whom the fortune-teller had said she would one
day be Queen of France. Josephine endeavored to overthrow the faith
of her swarthy servants in the fortune-teller, and, by pointing to the
ridiculous prophecy in reference to herself, and which predicted an
impossible future, she tried to prove to them what a folly it was to rely
on the words of those who made a profession of foretelling the future.
But against her will the prophetic words of the old woman echoed in
the heart of the young maiden. She could not return home to her family
and talk, laugh, and dance, as she had been accustomed to do with her
sisters. Followed by her slaves, she went into her garden and sank in a
hammock, hung amid the gigantic leaves of a palm-tree, and, while the
negro girls danced and sang round her, the young maid was dreaming
about the future, and her beating heart asked if it were not possible that
the prophecy of the negro woman might one day be realized.
She, the daughter of M. Tascher de la Pagerie--she a future "Queen of
France! More than a queen!" Oh, it was mere folly to think on such
things, and to busy herself with the ludicrous prophecies of the old

woman.
And Josephine laughed at her own credulity, and the slaves sang and
danced,