ere the fearful guillotine was reared that
made her an orphan?

The very plaudits that now rend the skies for her uncle must remind her
of the shouts that followed her father to the scaffold: no wonder,
then, that she grows pale as she hears them; and that the memory of the
terrible past, written in characters of blood, gives a sombre hue to
the present and to the future.

The sight of her, too, must awaken disagreeable recollections in those
over whom her husband may be soon called to reign, for the history of
the crimes of the Revolution is stamped on her face, whose pallid lint
and rigid muscles tell of the horror and affliction imprinted on her
youth; the reminiscence of which cannot be pleasant to them.

The French not only love their country passionately, but are
inordinately proud of it; hence, aught that reminds them of its
sins--and cruelty is one of a deep dye--must be humiliating to them; so
that the presence of the Duchesse d'Angouleme cannot be flattering to
their _amor patriae_ or _amour propre_. I thought of all this to-day, as
I looked on the face of Madame la Dauphine; and breathed a hope that
the peace of her life's evening may console her for the misfortunes of
its morning and its noon.

The Duchesse de Berri has an animated and peculiarly good-natured
expression of countenance. Her restored gaiety makes the French forget
why it was long and cruelly overclouded, and aids the many good
qualities which she possesses, in securing the popularity she has so
generally acquired in the country of her adoption.

House-hunting again, and still unsuited. Dined yesterday at the
Duchesse de Guiche's; a very pleasant party, increased by some
agreeable people in the evening. Our old acquaintance, William Lock,
was among the guests at dinner, and is as good-looking and
light-hearted as ever.

The Marquis l'Esperance de l'Aigle was also present, and is a perfect
specimen of the fine gentleman of _la Vieille Cour_--a race now nearly
extinct. Possessing all the gaiety and vivacity of youth, with that
attention to the feelings of others peculiar only to maturity and
high-breeding, the Count l'Esperance de l'Aigle is universally beloved.

He can talk over old times with the grand-mother with all the wit that
we read of, oftener than we meet with; give his opinion of _la derniere
mode_ to the youthful mother, with rare tact and good taste; dance with
the young daughter as actively and gracefully as any _garcon de