conscious of the beauty within their reach. The thought of their
ignorance of the treasure, not a dozen yards distant, has often made
me question if we all are not equally unaware of other and greater
processes of life, of more perfect, sublimed, and, as it were, spiritual
crystallizations going on invisibly about us. But had these been told of
the thing clutched in the hand of a passer, how many of them would have
known where to turn? and we,--are we any better?

II.

For a few days I carried the diamond about my person, and did not
mention its recovery even to my valet, who knew that I sought it, but
communicated only with the Marquis of G., who replied, that he would be
in Paris on a certain day, when I could safely deliver it to him.

It was now generally rumored that the neighboring government was about
to send us the Baron Stahl, ambassador concerning arrangements for a
loan to maintain the sinking monarchy in supremacy at Paris, the usual
synecdoche for France.

The weather being fine, I proceeded to call on Mme. de St. Cyr. She
received me in her boudoir, and on my way thither I could not but
observe the perfect quiet and cloistered seclusion that pervaded the
whole house,--the house itself seeming only an adjunct of the still
and sunny garden, of which one caught a glimpse through the long open
hall-windows beyond. This boudoir did not differ from others to which I
have been admitted: the same delicate shades; all the dainty appliances
of Art for beauty; the lavish profusion of _bijouterie_; and the usual
statuettes of innocence, to indicate, perhaps, the presence of that
commodity which might not be guessed at otherwise; and burning in a
silver cup, a rich perfume loaded the air with voluptuous sweetness.
Through a half-open door an inner boudoir was to be seen, which must
have been Delphine's; it looked like her; the prevailing hue was a soft
purple, or gray; a _prie-dieu_, a book-shelf, and desk, of a dark West
Indian wood, were just visible. There was but one picture,--a sad-eyed,
beautiful Fate. It was the type of her nation. I think she worshipped
it--And how apt is misfortune! to degenerate into Fate!--not that the
girl had ever experienced the former, but, dissatisfied with life, and
seeing no outlet, she accepted it stoically and waited till it should be
over. She needed to be aroused;--the station of an _ambassadrice_, which
I desired for her, might kindle the spark. There were no flowers, no