They made excursions into the _banlieue_, and farther afield yet, like a couple of the _Pays Latin_ in their first loves. The cabinets of Bercy and St. Cloud knew them; so did the arbors of Asnieres, where, in oilskin and _vareuse_, muster for their Sabbat the ancient mariners of the Seine. Nay, it has been whispered that more than once--close veiled and clinging tightly to her husband's arm--Isabel witnessed at _Mabille_ and the _Chaumiere_ the choregraphic triumphs of _Frisette_, _Pomare_, and _Mogador_. My hand trembles while I record such enormities and backslidings. O Brougham-girls of Belgravia, who "never gave your mothers a moment's uneasiness"--stars of the Western hemisphere, who can be trusted any where without fear of your wandering from your orbits--think on this lost Pleiad, once your companion, and be warned. Men are deceivers ever, even when they mean matrimony; and the tender mercies of the Light Dragoon are cruel. Isabel was dreadfully startled at the sudden appearance of her cousin. Her notions of his power were quite unlimited and irrational, and I believe her first thought was that he had changed his mind about the propriety of her marriage, and was come to carry her back into the house of her bondage with the strong hand. When his curt sentences told her the facts, sorry as she was, it certainly was rather a relief to her. Charley was full of compassion too, but he only confided this to his wife. He knew better than to try condolence with Guy, and felt instantly that the case was far beyond his simple powers of healing. They did not see much of him. The contrast of their happiness with his own state must have grated on his feelings. His grim presence chilled and clouded their little banquets at the Trois Freres or the Cafe de Paris. He sat there among the bright lamps and flowers like a statue of dark marble that it is impossible to light up, drinking all the while, moodily, of the strongest wines to that portentous extent that it made Isabel nervous and her husband grave. Perhaps Guy was conscious of the effect he produced; at all events, he rather avoided the Forresters, finding in Mohun more congenial society. The latter probably regretted what had happened; perhaps he felt an approach to sympathy, after his rough fashion, but with this mingled a dreary sort of satisfaction at the sight of a strong mind and hardy nature rapidly descending to his own misanthropical level. Such an exultation was breathed in that ghastly chorus of the dead kings and chief ones of the earth when they rose, each on his awful throne, and Hell beneath was moved at the advent of the Son of the Morning. These two did not stay long in Paris before they took their departure for Vienna.