‘The sight, as you may imagine, filled her with despair, and, convinced that Théodore could no longer love her under such conditions, she ardently prayed for death. ‘In vain her father and the Comte Hadick tried to reassure her. Haunted by the horrible dread of being no longer worthy of her betrothed, she refused to be comforted, and the young girl was simply dying of despair, there being not the faintest hope left. ‘Nevertheless, one morning, when she was nestling in the arms of her father, who bade her live at least for him, the servant who had accompanied Théodore to the war suddenly rushed into the apartment, announcing the immediate coming of his master, whose voice, a moment afterwards, was heard outside. ‘“Constance, Constance, where art thou?” ‘At that voice so dear to her, the young girl, lacking the courage to fly, covered her face with her handkerchief and her hands. ‘“Do not come near me, Théodore, I have lost my beauty. I have no longer anything to offer thee but my heart.” ‘“What do I hear? But look at me, Constance!” ‘“No, no, thou wouldst only recoil at seeing me.” ‘“What does it matter, if thy love is the same, Constance. Constance, I can no longer see thee.” ‘She raises her eyes and looks. Théodore was blind. The charge of a musket had deprived him of his sight. ‘“God be praised!” exclaimed Constance, falling on her knees. “Théodore, we shall be united, for thou canst still love me. I shall be thy guide; yes, I shall be to thee as I was in the first moments of our love, and thou shalt be able to love me still.” ‘Shortly after that they were married. Never was there a couple so deserving of happiness more really happy than they. The comtesse takes her husband everywhere, never leaving his side for a moment. He is the object of her most delicate attentions; her love for him seems increased by his terrible affliction. She does not wear that veil to hide her scarred features, but because she is afraid that the remarks of the crowd on her vanished beauty may sadden the heart of the husband whom she worships. ‘The young comte’s passion for music appears to have increased since he lost his sight. He regularly attends every concert; and his faithful companion, who appears only to live for him, is always at his side.’ The concert came to an end just as the comte finished his touching story. Then the windows were opened and magnificent fireworks let off on the lake. The sheaves of fire crossing each other and being reflected in the water; the numerous craft, illuminated and streaming with bunting; the masses of light standing in relief against the sombre background of the forest; the sound of the horns mingling with the shells and fusees--all this combined produced a truly magical effect. Finally, after this well-spent day we began to think of getting back to Vienna, probably to recommence next morning the pursuit of the apparently inexhaustible round of pleasure.