among those who had the barbarous courage to
witness their conveyance to the scaffold can mention them to-day without
a shudder. Religion had won for them a repentance for their crime,
but could not induce them to abjure their love. The scaffold was their
nuptial bed, and there they slept together in the long night of death.

MEDITATION XXI. THE ART OF RETURNING HOME.

Finding himself incapable of controlling the boiling transports of his
anxiety, many a husband makes the mistake of coming home and rushing
into the presence of his wife, with the object of triumphing over
her weakness, like those bulls of Spain, which, stung by the red
_banderillo_, disembowel with furious horns horses, matadors, picadors,
toreadors and their attendants.

But oh! to enter with a tender gentle mien, like Mascarillo, who expects
a beating and becomes merry as a lark when he finds his master in a good
humor! Well--that is the mark of a wise man--!

"Yes, my darling, I know that in my absence you could have behaved
badly! Another in your place would have turned the house topsy-turvy,
but you have only broken a pane of glass! God bless you for your
considerateness. Go on in the same way and you will earn my eternal
gratitude."

Such are the ideas which ought to be expressed by your face and bearing,
but perhaps all the while you say to yourself:

"Probably he has been here!"

Always to bring home a pleasant face, is a rule which admits of no
exception.

But the art of never leaving your house without returning when the
police have revealed to you a conspiracy--to know how to return at the
right time--this is the lesson which is hard to learn. In this matter
everything depends upon tact and penetration. The actual events of life
always transcend anything that is imaginable.

The manner of coming home is to be regulated in accordance with a number
of circumstances. For example:

Lord Catesby was a man of remarkable strength. It happened one day that
he was returning from a fox hunt, to which he had doubtless promised to
go, with some ulterior view, for he rode towards the fence of his park
at a point where, he said, he saw an extremely fine horse. As he had
a passion for horses, he drew near to examine this one close at hand,
There he caught sight of Lady Catesby, to whose rescue it was certainly
time to go, if he were in the slightest degree jealous for his own
honor. He rushed upon the gentleman he saw there, and seizing him