I did not even kiss that beautiful hand; I withdrew quite confused. The next day I left for Cambrai. Who was this Dame de Chastenay? I have no idea: she passed like a charming shade across my life. * The mail-coach brought me to my quarters. One of my brothers-in-law, the Vicomte de Chateaubourg (he had married my sister Bénigne, widow of the Comte de Québriac[193]) had given me letters of recommendation to some of the officers of my regiment. The Chevalier de Guénan, a man of very good company, introduced me to a mess at which dined officers distinguished for their talents, Messieurs Achard, des Mahis, La Martinière. The Marquis de Mortemart[194] was colonel of the regiment; the Comte d'Andrezel[195] major: I was placed under the special protection of the latter. I met both of them in after years: one of them became my colleague in the House of Peers; the other applied to me for some services which I was happy to show him. There is a melancholy pleasure in meeting persons whom we have known at different periods of our life, and in contemplating the changes that have taken place in their mode of existence and our own. Like landmarks left behind us, they trace for us the road which we have followed in the desert of the past. I joined my regiment in mufti; within twenty-four hours I had assumed the military dress, and I felt as though I had worn it always. My uniform was blue and white, like my vowing-clothes of years before: I marched under the same colours as a young man and as a child. I was submitted to none of the trials which the sub-lieutenants were in the habit of inflicting upon a newcomer; for some reason not known to me, they did not venture to indulge in this military child's-play with me. Before I had been a fortnight with the regiment, I was treated like an "ancient." I learnt the manual exercise and theory with ease; I passed my steps of corporal and sergeant to the applause of my instructors. My room became the meeting-place of the old captains as well as of the young sub-lieutenants; the former went over their campaigns with me, the latter confided to me their love-affairs. La Martinière would come to fetch me to hang about the door of a belle of Cambrai whom he adored; this happened five or six times a day. He was very ugly, and his face was pitted with the small-pox. He told me of his passion while quaffing large glasses of gooseberry-syrup, which I sometimes paid for. [Sidenote: Regimental life.]