and that the government was reconstituted such as it was before 1830.  One evening, when he had come very near committing suicide (a folly he had so often laughed at), while his mind travelled back over his miserable existence calumniated and worn down with toil far more than with the dissipations charged against him, the noble and beautiful face of a woman rose before his eyes, like a statue rising pure and unbroken amid the saddest ruins.  Just then the porter brought him a letter sealed with black from the Comtesse de Montcornet, telling him of the death of her husband, who had again taken service in the army and commanded a division.  The count had left her his property, and she had no children.  The letter, though dignified, showed Blondet very plainly that the woman of forty whom he had loved in his youth offered him a friendly hand and a large fortune.

A few days ago the marriage of the Comtesse de Montcornet with Monsieur Blondet, appointed prefect in one of the departments, was celebrated in Paris.  On their way to take possession of the prefecture, they followed the road which led past what had formerly been Les Aigues.  They stopped the carriage near the spot where the two pavilions had once stood, wishing to see the places so full of tender memories for each.  The country was no longer recognizable.  The mysterious woods, the park avenues, all were cleared away; the landscape looked like a tailor’s pattern-card.  The sons of the soil had taken possession of the earth as victors and conquerors.  It was cut up into a thousand little lots, and the population had tripled between Conches and Blangy.  The levelling and cultivation of the noble park, once so carefully tended, so delightful in its beauty, threw into isolated relief the pavilion of the Rendezvous, now the Villa Buen-Retiro of Madame Isaure Gaubertin; it was the only building left standing, and it commanded the whole landscape, or as we might better call it, the stretch of cornfields which now constituted the landscape.  The building seemed magnified into a chateau, so miserable were the little houses which the peasants had built around it.

“This is progress!” cried Emile.  “It is a page out of Jean-Jacques’ ‘Social Compact’! and I—­I am harnessed to the social machine that works it!  Good God! what will the kings be soon?  More than that, what will the nations themselves be fifty years hence under this state of things?”

“But you love me; you are beside me.  I think the present delightful.  What do I care for such a distant future?” said his wife.

“Oh yes! by your side, hurrah for the present!” cried the lover, gayly, “and the devil take the future.”

Then he signed to the coachman, and as the horses sprang forward along the road, the wedded pair returned to the enjoyment of their honeymoon.

1845.

ADDENDUM

The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy.