oor of the
traveling carriage.

"Madame," said the General, "pray accept our apologies. A mistake has
been made. You may continue your journey without fear; and here is a
passport which will spare you all further annoyance of any kind."

Trembling the Countess took the paper, and faltered out some vague words
of thanks. She saw Arthur, now wearing an English uniform, standing
beside the General, and could not doubt that this prompt deliverance
was due to him. The young Englishman himself looked half glad, half
melancholy; his face was turned away, and he only dared to steal an
occasional glance at Julie's face.

Thanks to the passport, Mme. d'Aiglemont reached Paris without further
misadventure, and there she found her husband. Victor d'Aiglemont,
released from his oath of allegiance to the Emperor, had met with a
most flattering reception from the Comte d'Artois, recently appointed
Lieutenant-General of the kingdom by his brother Louis XVIII.
D'Aiglemont received a commission in the Life Guards, equivalent to
the rank of general. But amid the rejoicings over the return of the
Bourbons, fate dealt poor Julie a terrible blow. The death of the
Marquise de Listomere-Landon was an irreparable loss. The old lady died
of joy and of an accession of gout to the heart when the Duc d'Angouleme
came back to Tours, and the one living being entitled by her age to
enlighten Victor, the woman who, by discreet counsels, might have
brought about perfect unanimity of husband and wife, was dead; and Julie
felt the full extent of her loss. Henceforward she must stand alone
between herself and her husband. But she was young and timid; there
could be no doubt of the result, or that from the first she would
elect to bear her lot in silence. The very perfections of her character
forbade her to venture to swerve from her duties, or to attempt to
inquire into the cause of her sufferings, for to put an end to them
would have been to venture on delicate ground, and Julie's girlish
modesty shrank from the thought.

A word as to M. d'Aiglemont's destinies under the Restoration.

How many men are there whose utter incapacity is a secret kept from
most of their acquaintance. For such as these high rank, high office,
illustrious birth, a certain veneer of politeness, and considerable
reserve of manner, or the _prestige_ of great fortunes, are but so many
sentinels to turn back critics who would penetrate to the presence
of the real man. Such men