Poetic justice, as we call the fate least like what man deals out, decreed that the chateau of the Marchioness de Latour-lagneau should be dilapidated during the Prussian occupation of Montmorency.  On its ruins rises the manufactury of he new rifle.  On the side of the heart, too, the same justice rewarded Clemenceau, for he married Rebecca, and they were happy in having sons to bear his name worthily.  Cesarine was forgotten, since, however great a conflagration may be—­however far the flare may be cast on the sky—­whatever the extent of damage—­it must die out in time.  Such is Passion, and the brighter its blaze the blacker the ruins it leaves after it—­the deeper the misery—­the wider the loneliness.  It devours itself, with no revival like the Phoenix; but Love occupies the whole of life, however extended, and still has the strength and volumn to transport its worshipers to the realm of the happy.