housand times more beautiful than ever--all save in
one thing, Amelie."

"And that is--"

"You are married."

"How you jest. But let us look back. Do you ever think on any of our
old compacts?" Here she pulled a leaf from a rose bud in her bouquet,
and kissed it. "I wager you have forgotten that."

How I should have replied to this masonic sign, God knows; but the
manager fortunately entered, to assure us that the audience had kindly
consented not to pull down the house, but to listen to a five act tragedy
instead, in which he had to perform the principal character. "So, then,
don't wait supper, Amelie; but take care of Monsieur Meerberger till my
return."

Thus, once more were we left to our souvenirs, in which, whenever hard
pushed myself, I regularly carried the war into the enemy's camp, by
allusions to incidents, which I need not observe had never occurred.
After a thousand stories of our early loves, mingled with an occasional
sigh over their fleeting character--now indulging a soft retrospect of
the once happy past--now moralising on the future--Amelie and I chatted
away the hours till the conclusion of the tragedy.

By this time, the hour was approaching for my departure; so, after a very
tender leave-taking with my new friend and my old love, I left the
theatre, and walked slowly along to the river.

"So much for early associations," thought I; "and how much better pleased
are we ever to paint the past according to our own fancy, than to
remember it as it really was. Hence all the insufferable cant about
happy infancy, and 'the glorious schoolboy days,' which have generally no
more foundation in fact than have the 'Chateaux en Espagne' we build up
for the future. I wager that the real Amant d'enfance, when he arrives,
is not half so great a friend with the fair Amelie as his unworthy
shadow. At the same time, I had just as soon that Lady Jane should have
no 'premiers amours' to look back upon, except such as I have performed a
character in."

The plash of oars near me broke up my reflections, and the next moment
found me skimming the rapid Rhine, as I thought for the last time. What
will they say in Strasbourg to-morrow? How will they account for the
mysterious disappearance of Monsieur Meerberger? Poor Amelie Grandet!
For so completely had the late incidents engrossed my attention, that I
had for the moment lost sight of the most singular event of all--how I
came to be mistaken for the ill