D'Aiglemont received a commission in the Life Guards, equivalent to
the rank of general. But amid the rejoicings over the return of the
Bourbons, fate dealt poor Julie a terrible blow. The death of the
Marquise de Listomere-Landon was an irreparable loss. The old lady
died of joy and of an accession of gout to the heart when the Duc
d'Angouleme came back to Tours, and the one living being entitled by
her age to enlighten Victor, the woman who, by discreet counsels,
might have brought about perfect unanimity of husband and wife, was
dead; and Julie felt the full extent of her loss. Henceforward she
must stand alone between herself and her husband. But she was young
and timid; there could be no doubt of the result, or that from the
first she would elect to bear her lot in silence. The very perfections
of her character forbade her to venture to swerve from her duties, or
to attempt to inquire into the cause of her sufferings, for to put an
end to them would have been to venture on delicate ground, and Julie's
girlish modesty shrank from the thought.

A word as to M. d'Aiglemont's destinies under the Restoration.

How many men are there whose utter incapacity is a secret kept from
most of their acquaintance. For such as these high rank, high office,
illustrious birth, a certain veneer of politeness, and considerable
reserve of manner, or the _prestige_ of great fortunes, are but so
many sentinels to turn back critics who would penetrate to the
presence of the real man. Such men are like kings, in that their real
figure, character, and life can never be known nor justly appreciated,
because they are always seen from too near or too far. Factitious
merit has a way of asking questions and saying little; and understands
the art of putting others forward to save the necessity of posing
before them; then, with a happy knack of its own, it draws and