"For books, Madame la Maréchale."

"For books, did you say? Ah bien, mon mari n'est pas liseur, moi je ne suis pas lisarde, donc j'en ferai mon fruitier."

The anecdotes about her were most laughable, but often too vulgar to be repeated.

The Prince Eugène danced with me, and then led me to the Empress, who was most affable, and expressed her wish to see me soon again.

In the throng, and to my infinite surprise, I perceived my old acquaintance from Beaupré; he came to me and begged to be allowed to call upon me, which I immediately granted, and after dancing once more I left the Tuileries.

From that day I became very intimate with Mme. d'Abrantès, and went often to Court, where I learnt to love more and more the charming Joséphine, who was so soon to disappear from the gay scenes of the Palace of the Tuileries, to be replaced by one who could never come up to her either in grace or kindness; for Marie Louise was the antipodes to Joséphine.

A few days after my presentation, M. de Belfonds. paid me a visit, accompanied by his cousin, the Baron de Meilhan. I laughed much at the former for being at the Tuileries; and he confessed that a young Court beauty had led him to this unseemly conduct. had obtained an entry at Court, notwithstanding his delinquencies against Bonaparte, who was only too glad to have ever so small a sprinkling from the noble Faubourg.

He

M. de Meilhan made a most favourable impression upon me; he was not strikingly handsome, but appeared to me to unite all the qualities that could make one happy; and for the first time in my life I loved.

His visits became very frequent; I found him such as I had pictured him to my mind in our first interview; and at the expiration of the two years of my widowhood, I became the happy Madame de Meilhan.

SECOND PART.

OON after our marriage, M. de Meilhan proposed we should go to Beaupré. He feared to annoy and displease his mother by allowing me to go to the Tuileries; and, although I regretted leaving Paris without seeing the Emperor and Empress, I made no objection to his plans,-I was far too happy not to accede to his wishes, which were law to me.

On the eve of our departure, I received news of Doctor Joinville's death it was unexpected, and the sudden blow struck me with an indescribable feeling of sorrowful pity, for I knew how much he had loved

me.

It was a summer evening when we arrived at Beaupré; one of those warm, balmy, still evenings, that invite one to a sense of delightful peace, and wake loving hearts to the purest and sweetest communion with each other. We are, I believe, created for love, and we feel our real existence only from the day we are conscious of it. The most supreme and most complete happiness to which the soul of a living being may aspire, is to feel that there is one other

heart beating in unison with one's own, to read in the eyes of the loved one that his thoughts are yours, and to listen with thrills of delight to the sound of his voice. Such was my state of feelings when M. de Meilhan and I, arm-in-arm, passed the long lime avenue which led to the Castle.

My love for my husband was too deep, too intense to be displayed in demonstrations and meaningless words. Besides, I almost felt bashful with him; he knew it, and therefore expected little from me in a conversational way. I fully believe that our sensations were the same; we did not talk, so that we might lose nothing of the felicity which overflowed from our hearts. Had this earth been created for ourselves alone, I am sure it would have sufficed for our happiness; for who has felt thus, who has lived with an adored husband, face to face with nature, alone and under the eyes of the myriads of stars which adorn the blue canopy of heaven, and will deny that love is the great priest of the world?

During the few days that had preceded my marriage, and the still fewer that had elapsed since, I had found how nobly gifted was M. de Meilhan, and, although he showed no outward feelings of religion, I discovered he had strong and deep convictions on that point. He was also tolerant with all, indulgent and charitable with others, but severe to himself. He had great moral courage, and yet at times he was very impressionable. His generosity and liberality were unbounded; and in his wish to oblige others he often

suffered from being imposed upon.

He dreaded to

give pain; in one word, all his good and noble qualities were depicted in his large, dreamy, soft grey orbs, and on his amiable countenance. None saw him without saying at once, "This is a good man."

It was well that I had such a husband; as Beaupré was by no means a delectable place. It had partly fallen into ruins, after the depredations of the revolutionary mobs who had pillaged and burnt part of it; and, as it never had been repaired, there was a look of utter desolation, which we should have felt had we not been so fond of one another. Disregarding the want of comforts-which so strongly struck us after the luxurious life of the Hotel de la Fère-we quickly fell into the new routine which began for us, under such gloomy walls, as well as with the complete loneliness and ugliness of that part of the country where Beaupré was situated.

A week after our arrival I paid a visit to old Fanchette, the curé, and to all my old pensioners. They were glad to see me, especially as I dispensed many bounties in honour of my marriage.

M. de Meilhan had first thought of rebuilding that side of the castle which was so much in ruins, but I persuaded him not to do so, and he readily yielded to my wish. As I have already said, the country about was most uninteresting. Moreover, the place was haunted; and however childish and foolish this may appear, I felt so sure that this was no delusion of mine that I soon, notwithstanding the fear I had of