Would you wish to see happiness realized on earth? It reigned in the palace of Simonetti at Rome, in the family of the ambassador of France, in the month of May, 1830. The ambassador was the Count de la Ferronaya. He had been for a long time ambassador in Russia, where his character, his natural gifts, his integrity, had triumphed over the reserve and _hauteur_ of the Emperor Nicholas, who treated him as a friend. He was also the friend of the King of France, who, in 1828, appointed him minister of foreign affairs. Handsome, brilliant, brave, intelligent, he bore in his heart and in his appearance the qualities which constitute the true French gentleman. He had married the niece of the devoted, faithful Duchess of Tourzel, who accompanied the king and queen to Varennes as governess to their children. Three boys and four girls were the result of this happy marriage. This family, endowed with birth, rank, and so many gifts of this world, were united at Rome, under the most beautiful sky, in the most beautiful month of the year, in the sunny brightness of an unclouded existence. The revolution of July, 1830, having wrested the monarchy from the Bourbons, the Ferronays were not unhappy. God had not yet taken everything from them, he had only taken their riches. The father, by his fidelity, had grown in public respect; his sons and daughters had been prepared by a solid education for industry and self-sacrifice. For fifteen years the parents had enjoyed uninterrupted prosperity, but they had not forgotten their days of exile; and when poverty overtook them they met her as an old friend, meekly bowing to the hand from whom all changes come. They went to live in retirement at Castellamare, where their house was the image of their life, a small chamber and a magnificent view, a radiant horizon seen from a narrow dwelling. Soon after we find them at Chiaja, gay, happy, the brothers quitting home for an active life, the sisters loving each other devotedly, gathering flowers in Lady Acton's garden to wear them at the next ball, presented at court, deprived of their fortune, but still happy; tasting the pleasure that we find in traveling, and that we ought to find in the journey of life--the pleasure which consists in admiring ardently what we do process without the vanity of personal possession. However, this delightful life was not exempt from danger: a stranger has too much liberty; he is not subject to the supervision of relatives, friends, neighbors, or rivals, who exercise a control which, though often trying, is more often useful. Diplomatic families, above all, accustomed to be treated with consideration, to form transient acquaintances, passing from court to court, from St. Petersburg to London, from London to Rome, live in a cosmopolitan world, the most delightful, the most amusing, but by far the most dangerous. The family of M. de la Ferronays had not long escaped this danger, which was rendered still more seductive under the charming sky and