national strength, of political courage and foresight--a brilliant
military exploit, performed under the "drapeau blanc," which might well
have roused the enthusiasm of the nation, tightened the bond between
France and her king, and reconciled the people to their ancient flag. It
did nothing of the kind. The taking of Algiers was received like an
ordinary piece of news, and the tricolour flag was regretted as deeply
as ever. For the platform and the press--but especially the press, the
mightiest instrument of destruction of modern times--had done their
work. The days of the Government of the Restoration were numbered. Not
that it had been blameworthy. Both at home and abroad it had certainly
been the best of all the administrations that had succeeded each other
since 1789. But it had endeavoured to govern like a patriarch, for the
present good and the future greatness of France, and to withstand the
assaults of those unprincipled individuals who looked on their country
simply as a farm to make money out of. So bit by bit it had been
demolished, just as everything has been demolished these past hundred
years, in the name of laws and principles which dissolve every kind of
government, and which will soon make it absolutely impossible for
society to exist. The hour when the words, "Get out of that, and let me
take your place," the real and only object of our successive
revolutions, should resound, was on the very stroke.

On the 25th of July we had all been dining at Saint-Leu with M. le Duc
de Bourbon, an old cousin of ours, who never meddled with politics, and
led a leisured and delightful life between Chantilly and Saint-Leu,
never coming to Paris except to pass through it, although the beautiful
palace there which bears his name, the Palais Bourbon, belonged to him.
His great passion was for sport, in which he excelled; and my father had
made a friend of him by giving him the hunting in all his forests. There
was another reason too, and perhaps after all it was the chief one, for