630 THE FETE OF ST. LAMBERT. 



had been lovers in their teens. She had, through life, been the admi- 

 ration of all those who had been happy enough to have an opportunity 

 of mingling in her society, and had more than once been distinguished 

 by the honour of being publicly celebrated by men of the first literary 

 fame, all of whom seemed to gather around her with pleasure and en- 

 thusiasm. Even previously to their second meeting, when they were 

 separated from each other by circumstances and distance, they had 

 never, on the day of each other's fete, failed to offer their mutual con- 

 gratulations. Every year inspired them with some new device. Ima- 

 gination, when seconded by the feelings of the heart, always found 

 some new means of varying their offerings, and of adding fresh interest 

 to the oft-repeated compliment. 



The fete of the Countess, who was named Julia, fell at the end of the 

 month of May, in the most brilliant season of the year. Every thing 

 concurred, on this happy day, to surround her with the budding gifts 

 of the spring j meet emblems of the freshness of her mind, and of the 

 beauties of her person. 



The patron of St. Lambert was Charles ; and therefore his fete fell in 

 November, when the earth has long since been disrobed of her beau- 

 ties, and has begun to shed her last honours; yet the approach of 

 winter never threw a shade over the couplets, which the Countess never 

 failed to compose on this occasion. But when her friend had gained 

 his sixtieth year, she no longer dared to recal the pleasures of their 

 youth, fearful that she might, by reviving the most amiable remem- 

 brances, only be the cause of awaking useless regret. 



At length arrived the day of the seventieth year, on which they both 

 had first seen the light. The date was engraven in the hearts of both. 

 This happy anniversary fell precisely on St. Charles's Day, and the 

 author of the seasons doubted not but that the Countess, at whose house 

 he was invited to dine upon that day, would present him with the cus- 

 tomary compliment. Wishing, on his part, to celebrate an attachment 

 so constant and so rare, he resolved to give a little surprise to his friend, 

 when she, as was her custom, brought him, in the evening, home in her 

 carriage. He, in consequence, gave orders to his gardener, and his 

 other domestics, to prepare garlands of leaves and flowers, such as the 

 lateness of the season would allow of, and roof over the whole of the 

 court-yard, from the outer ^gate up to the vestibule of the house. He 

 then,, from his garden and out-houses, had all the plants, which could 

 be moved, brought in and placed on each side of the stairs leading to his 

 study. Therein, over the chimney-piece, he had the portrait of his 

 old friend hung up and adorned with every flower which could be 

 gathered from the season. Underneath were a few verses that breathed, 

 instead of the chill of age, all the glow of the most youthful imagination. 

 While he was making these preparations, and just as he had finished 

 the arcade of mingling leaves and flowers which lead from the gate to 

 the house, he perceived, in the plain which separates Eaubonne from 

 Saunois, the carriage of the Countess, who was coming to make him a 

 visit. 



He immediately ordered the two large folding doors, which opened 

 into the court, to be closed, and commanded the gardener, when the 

 Countess arrived, only to open the little grating, and say that his master 

 had gone out, and would not return before dinner-time. 



These orders were faithfully executed, and the Countess good-na- 



