eyes the young lady extended her hand, but by the time she had raised her eyes again the suppliant had vanished through the doorway, his disappearance as mysterious as his first apparition, and, strange to say, was seen no more.  He had caught sight of the locket, the miniature of himself, with the bright eyes and flowing hair, the long black eyelashes and glossy moustache.  It seemed to reproach him with the fraud he was premeditating against the lovely girl to whom, if he listened to the dictates of honor, he must henceforth be as one dead—­as one, indeed, who had died many years before.

His anguish was intense.  The test of love had been deceptive, the ordeal had failed, the verdict had been given against him.  He went back to his chamber, where Dulac was still busily engaged in unpacking his valise, bade the astounded valet replace everything he had already taken out, and hurry at once to the Poste aux Chevaux to command horses for the return journey to The Hague.  As soon as he arrived at that place he wrote a long letter to the young lady’s mother releasing her daughter from all obligation toward himself, and announcing his determination never to intrude himself upon her notice again.  The Duchesse d’Angouleme, whose experience of life was of its bitterness alone, is said to have interfered to prevent the affair from becoming public, and to have assisted in finding another parti for the deserted fair one.

Meanwhile, the Restoration with its disappointments and broken vows was replaced by the government of Louis Philippe with its hopes and promises.  The Count de Cambis, whose official position was annihilated by the storm which swept over the kingdom, found himself immediately, with the whole army of officials, compelled to choose between poverty and obscurity or treachery to his former benefactors.  When this combat is allowed to take place between the heart and the stomach, the latter generally carries the day; and so it did in this case.  The Count de Cambis did but follow the majority in binding himself at once to the interests of the Orleans family.  Louis Philippe, who, like all French sovereigns, displayed undue eagerness to make use of the old servants of the preceding dynasty, was not slow to avail himself of the offer of service made by the Count de Cambis.  A place was found for him as superintendent of the royal stud, and here he really displayed that disinterestedness in his dealings which entitled him to the highest consideration.  The Duke of Orleans, whose aristocratic tastes always inclined him to favor distinction of birth, treated the Count de Cambis with especial preference; and on his side the count was careful to flatter the instincts of His Royal Highness by assuming the manners and gait of the ancient raffines of the Garde Royale.  One of the duke’s chief delights consisted in fashioning his household regulations after the model set by the Due d’Angouleme, and the count became his chief counsel and adviser in every matter concerning the etiquette to be observed in a well-ordered court.  The tradition preserved to the latest hour of the existence of the royal stables tells of the fatality which rendered the Count de Cambis the avenger of the Restoration he had denied through his share in the catastrophe which deprived the throne of July of its heir.