I always met one or two
distinguished guests; and sometimes I had the pleasure of having them at
my house in a quiet way. They both rose more and more in my esteem the
more I observed their inner life and character. As years rolled on, my
visits were enlivened by the sight of small drums, trumpets, horses with
their tails pulled out, and dolls with their noses knocked off.
Sometimes very pretty little cherubs peeped in at the door, or were
invited for half an hour to the dinner table.

The world went on with its ways. More than one throne was vacated and
filled anew. Great knotty questions of diplomacy rose and disappeared.
Mehemet Ali, M. Thiers, the King of Hanover, Metternich, the Chartist,
the anti-corn law league, Sir Robert and Mr. Cobden filled the
newspapers. Nations growled at each other like bulldogs, and we had wars
and rumors of wars a plenty.

One day who should come in but Monsieur and Madame Delille, the very
picture of a perfectly happy man and wife. They came to bid me good-by.
He had made his fortune, wound up his affairs with the theatre, and
abandoned his profession for ever. Madame was at the summit of earthly
felicity. She spoke with inexpressible delight of the change in her
life. She had longed so often to quit the theatre, and now at last her
dream was realized. M. Delille was going to buy a cottage in the south
of France, and to be perfectly happy with his dear wife and four
children. Amid oranges, lemons, and grapes, beneath the blue summer sky,
surrounded by flowers, the waves of the beautiful Mediterranean breaking
at his feet, he intended to pass the rest of his days in unclouded
peace and joy. He had worked all his life, and now he was going to take
his reward.

"But," said I, "did you say _four_ children?"

"_Mais oui!_ I have four.

"Why, it seems but yesterday that----"

"_Comptez donc!_ Six years and six months."

His picture of future felicity was very bright. I thought in my heart
that such plans of retirement were--but I suppressed my sermon and
congratulated him upon his prospects. Why should I disturb his happiness
even though it might be a dream? What but a dream would have been even
the realization of all his hopes?

We parted after embracing like old friends. I had more respect for those
two than I had for a great many whose sonorous titles did not cover
qualities half so estimable, manners half so agreeable, characters half
so pure, or a sense of religion half so tr