his kind
companionship, not less than by his skill, did I recover from an illness
where sorrow had made an iron inroad not less deep than disease.

In my little chamber, which looked out upon the courtyard of the Palace,
I passed my days, thinking over the past and all its vicissitudes. Each
day we learned some intelligence either from the seat of war or from
Paris: defeat in one, treason and disaffection in the other, were
rapidly hastening the downfall of the mightiest Empire the genius of
man had ever constructed. Champ-Aubert, Montmirail, and Montereau, great
victories as they were, retarded not the current of events. "The week of
glory" brought not hope to a cause predestined to ruin.

It was the latter end of March. For some days previous the surgeon had
left me to visit an outpost ambulance near Melun, and I was alone. My
strength, however, enabled me to sit up at my window; and even in this
slight pleasure my wearied senses found enjoyment, after the tedious
hours of a sickbed. The evening was calm, and for the season mild and
summerlike. The shrubs were putting forth their first leaves, and around
the marble fountains the spring flowers were already showing signs
of blossom. The setting sun made the tall shadows of the ancient
beech-trees stretch across the wide court, where all was still as at
midnight. No inhabitant of the Palace was about; not a servant moved,
not a footstep was heard.

It was a moment of such perfect stillness as leads the mind to reverie;
and my thoughts wandered away to that distant time when gay cavaliers
and stately dames trod those spacious terraces,--when tales of chivalry
and love mingled with the plashing sounds of those bright fountains, and
the fair moon looked down on more lovely forms than even those graceful
marbles around. I fancied the time when the horn of the chasseur was
heard-echoing through those vast courts, its last notes lost in the
merry voices of the cortege round the monarch. And then I called up
the brilliant group, with caracoling steeds and gay housings, proudly
advancing up that great avenue to the royal entrance, and pictured the
ancient ceremonial that awaited his coming,--the descendant of a long
line of kings. The frank and kingly Francis, the valiant Henry the
Fourth, the "Grand Monarch" himself,--all passed in review before my
mind as once they lived, and moved, and spoke in that stately pile.

The sun had set: the mingled shadows threw their gloom ove