Chamberss Edinburgh Journal, No. 427 | Page 8

trembling, and with happy tears upon her face, wearing her simple holiday dress of white muslin, ornamented, in charming style, with wreaths of roses, the cries of 'Vive la rosi��re!' might have been heard a long way off.
A little while, and sounds of music and of many voices filled the Grande All��e. The long rows of booths and marqu��es, dancing-rooms, gymnasiums, toy-tables, bonbon tables, fruit-stalls, &c. &c. were surrounded by busy crowds: all was activity and cheerfulness. In a large open space in the midst, a short distance from the front of the chateau, the flowery throne, gorgeous in variety and vividness of colours, was set up on a dais on the greensward. The band of celebrants, with Julia and her train in their midst, advanced. Little Cecilia walked by her sister's side, hand in hand, in proud surprise. Before them, an aged peasant marched solemnly, bareheaded save for his silver hair, carrying the crown destined for Julia; and with him, also bareheaded, the cur��. A benediction, accompanied by a prayer that the metaphorical ceremony might have some influence in attracting the youthful people present to the practice and pursuit of virtue, having been uttered by the priest, Julia was handed to the throne, and the crown of roses was placed upon her head by the white-haired veteran. A sweet chorus was then chanted--_Vive, vive la rosi��re_!--in the melodious verses of which the signification of the ceremonial and the praises of the f��te-queen were recited.
Thus far matters had proceeded happily, when the attention of the gay party was attracted by the apparition of a commissaire of police, who, marching up with the aspect of a man having important and disagreeable business to perform, exclaimed: '_Eh, bien!_ we are merry to-day! Accept my best wishes for your enjoyment. Can you tell me, friends, where I am likely to find a fair _demoiselle_--one Julia, daughter of Mme Veuve Gostillon?'
'Voila, monsieur!' cried several, much surprised. 'Our _rosi��re_ is she!'
'Ah, what a fate is mine!' muttered the worthy commissaire, much affected, as he looked at the beautiful and rose-wreathed Julia. 'If I had ten thousand francs, I would give them all to be spared this work: but duty is duty. Courage! all may yet be well. Friends,' continued he, raising his voice, 'excuse me if I interrupt you some few minutes. I would not do it were I not bound to. It will be necessary for Mlle Julia to accompany me to her home. I trust we shall not be absent long.' He raised his cap, offered his arm; and Julia, amazed and frightened, descended from her throne, and conducted him to the cottage.
'Pardon, mademoiselle,' said he, when they stood inside; 'I am instructed to search this house.' Julia, puzzled, confounded, bowed assent.
The commissaire proceeded, with a hasty hand, as if he wished to get the work quickly over, to ransack drawers and boxes. Whenever one or the other had been searched in vain, he clapped his hand to his breast and muttered: 'God be thanked!' and appeared as if his mind were in some measure relieved of a burden which oppressed it. At length he arrived at Julia's chamber--here, as elsewhere, drawers and boxes seemed to present no signs of the object sought for: the thanksgivings of the commissaire were frequent; his cheerfulness appeared to be returning. Presently, however, he proceeded to turn out the contents of Julia's little reticule-basket: first came a pocket-handkerchief, on the corners of which flowers had been wrought by Julia's needle. 'Very pretty!' remarked the commissaire. Then appeared a number of slips of rare plants, recently collected. 'Ah! you are a botanist?' said the commissaire.
'They are from the conservatory of the Comte Meurien, at the chateau: I meant to have planted them to-day,' said Julia.
'Who gave them to you?'
'Mme Lavine, the femme de chambre.'
'Ah, diable! I hope you have nothing else from that chateau?'
'I have nothing else,' replied Julia, blushing, and somewhat discomposed, as she remembered Victor.
'What is the matter?--why are you agitated?' demanded the commissaire, regarding her fixedly.
'It is nothing,' said poor Julia, much distressed by his stern and scrutinising look.
'Nothing? I fear it is something! Alas! I begin to lose hope.'
'Hope of what?' asked Julia wonderingly.
'Of your innocence!' replied the commissaire sternly.
'Mon Dieu! What do you mean?'
'Ah, restez tranquille, pauvre demoiselle; nous verrons toute-suite.' And with a shrug, he continued his investigation of the contents of the reticule-basket. It contained a great variety of little knick-knacks, which, with much patience, the commissaire turned out and examined, one by one. At length he came to a little parcel, the paper-envelope of which appeared to be part of an old letter, and was thickly covered with writing. It was one of Victor's letters. Julia blushed again.
'What have we here?' demanded the constable.
'I forget what there is inside,' said