Among the remarkable men who owed their destiny to the Restoration,
but whom, unfortunately, the restored monarchy kept, with Martignac,
aloof from the concerns of government, was Felix de Vandenesse,
removed, with several others, to the Chamber of peers during the last
days of Charles X. This misfortune, though, as he supposed, temporary,
made him think of marriage, towards which he was also led, as so many
men are, by a sort of disgust for the emotions of gallantry, those
fairy flowers of the soul. There comes a vital moment to most of us
when social life appears in all its soberness.

Felix de Vandenesse had been in turn happy and unhappy, oftener
unhappy than happy, like men who, at their start in life, have met
with Love in its most perfect form. Such privileged beings can never
subsequently be satisfied; but, after fully experiencing life, and
comparing characters, they attain to a certain contentment, taking
refuge in a spirit of general indulgence. No one deceives them, for
they delude themselves no longer; but their resignation, their
disillusionment is always graceful; they expect what comes, and
therefor they suffer less. Felix might still rank among the handsomest
and most agreeable men in Paris. He was originally commended to many
women by one of the noblest creatures of our epoch, Madame de
Mortsauf, who had died, it was said, out of love and grief for him;
but he was specially trained for social life by the handsome and
well-known Lady Dudley.

In the eyes of many Parisian women, Felix, a sort of hero of romance,
owed much of his success to the evil that was said of him. Madame de
Manerville had closed the list of his amorous adventures; and perhaps
her dismissal had something to do with his frame of mind. At any rate,