In it were two ladies and two
gentlemen. One of the ladies was the young Empress of the French; the
other looked up at my window--for a moment, as in a soft flash of summer
lightning, her face seemed ablaze with friendly recognition--with a
sweet glance of kindness and interest and surprise--a glance that
pierced me like a sudden shaft of light from heaven.
It was the Duchess of Towers!
I felt as though the bagpipes had been leading up to this! In a moment
more the carriage was out of sight, the sun had quite gone down, the
pifferari had ceased to play and were walking round with the hat, and
all was over.
I dined, and made my way back to Paris on foot through the Bois de
Boulogne, and by the Mare d'Auteuil, and saw my old friend the water-rat
swim across it, trailing the gleam of his wake after him like a silver
comet's tail.
"Allons-nous-en, gens de la nous!
Allons-nous-en chacun chez nous!"
So sang a festive wedding-party as it went merrily
arm in arm through the long high street of Passy,
with a gleeful trust that would have filled the heart
with envy but for sad experience of the vanity of
human wishes.
_Chacun chez nous!_ How charming it sounds!
Was each so sure that when he reached his home
he would find his heart's desire? Was the bridegroom
himself so very sure?
[Illustration: THE OLD WATER-RAT.
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