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The Only Young Ladies’ Library of First-Class Copyright Novels Published!

Price, but 5 cehts each.

 

 

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NO. 87. VOL. IV.

 

Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., at Second Class Mall Rates.

PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, 98 WILLIAM ST., N. Y.

. _ _,  . . -
Copyrighted in 1881 by BEADLE AND ADAMS. July 12, 1881.

PRICE, 5 CENTS

 

 

 

The Romance of a. Poor Young Man.

BY OOTA VE FEUILLET.

SURSUM CORDA—LIFT UP YOUR HEARTS.

PARIS, April 20, 185—.

THIS is the second night I have passed in this wretched chamber,
gazing with vacant eyes into the empty fireplace, listening unconscious-
ly to the noises in the street, a feeling more lonely in this great city,
more desolate and despairing than the shipwrecked mariner on his
piece of plank in mid-ocean. Away with this weaknessl I will look
my destiny in the face, and thus deprive it of its spectral air!

I will also open my heart to

the only confidant whose pity
will not offendine, to this last
friend whom I see in my look- .
ing-glass. I will write my
thoughts, and my life, not with
a. puerile minuteuess, but with-
out any serious omission, and
especially without falsehood.
I will love this journal; it shall
be like a. fraternal echo which
shall delude my solitude, and it
shall be at the same time a.
second conscience, warning me
to do nothing. of ' which I can—
not write with a firm hand.

I now recall With a sad ea—
gerness a thousand incidents in
my life, the 1meaning of which
I should have understood long
ago, had not my eyes been shut
by filial respect, and the indif-
ference of a. happy idleness.
The constant and profound
melancholy of my mother is
explained to me; I also under-
stand her distaste of the world
and her simple dress, the object '
of so much raillery and even
anger on my father’s part:

“ You look, like a. servant,” he
once said to‘her. '

Our domestic life was often
disturbed by' serimis disputes
between my father and mother,
though I was naval} an actual
witness of them. ’ His irritated
and imperious tones, and my
mother’s supplicating voice in
reply, and her stifled sobs,
were all 1 could hear.

I attributed these quarrels to
my father’s violent and fruit- ‘
less efforts to reawaken in my
mother a taste for scenes of
gayety and display which she - .
had once layed as much as one .\ ' s --

of her gentle nature could love u i Y— "U n E I h
them, but into which she ac- IT IS 0 ' XCLMWD mm‘

 

4a.,

 

 

museum. wrrn VEHEMENCE, “YOU WHO
HAVE BRIBED THIS Man—on. CHILD~To IMPRISON us m rms rowan.”

companied my father with more and more repugnance. After
each of these disputes my father seldom failed to buy some beautiful
article of jewelry, which my mother would find placed under her
napkin at table, but which she never wore. One day in the middle of
winter she received from Paris a arge box of jewels; she thanked my
father for the gift with great warmth, but when he had left the room,
I saw her clasp her hands with a look of utter despair.
During my childhood and early growth I had great respect but
little affection for my father. I knew only the gloomy side of his
character; it was that only which be exhibited in private life, for which
he was so little fitted. But when I was old enough to go with him into
society, I was surprised and delighted to find him a totally different
being, whose existence I had not suspected. It seemed as if he were
under some spell when at home; once outside the walls of our old, cha-
teau, his face would light up,his chest would expand, and be was young
again. “Come, Maximilian,” he, would say, “now for a gallop!”
And he would dash gayly
forward, with joyous shouts.

His boyish enthusiasm, his
witty fancies, charmed my
young heart, and I often
wished to be able to carry
a portion of our happiness
to my poor mother, forgot—
ten in her chamber corner.

The love I began to feel for
my father became most enthu—
siastic admiration, when I saw
him in the gay world, wheth‘
er hunting, (driving, at balls,
or dinner parties, his finished
elegance and polished wit
made him shine on. all oc-
casions. _ , '

An admirable horseman, a
skillful. player, a. brilliant talk— -
er, courageous and, open-handa
ed, I looked upon him as a
perfect type of manly. grace
and chivalry. He called him-
self with a bitter smile, “ the
last gentleman.” Suchnwas my
father in society; at_,our.' own
fireside, my mother and I his
sole companions, he ,,was 'a,
restless, stern, and passionate,
old man. . .

The transports of anger that
my father .displ .ed towards;
one so gentle an delicate as
my mother, would haVe shock~
ed me, had they not been fol~
lowed by redoubled tendern
and the affectionate attentio
of. which I. ave already spo-
ken. Justified in my eyes by

' these tokens of repentanCe, my
father seemed to me a man
whose natural good-temper was
exasperated by an obstinate
and systematic Opposition to
his tastes and prejudices. I
believed my mother at-
flicted with some nervous
disease; my tethch had 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

~L,

 

din-n

 

a ma 'ROIIANC'E or .4 POOR more mizv.
, unmask to me, though .n a reserve the day 1 was met, as I g ‘  which he orthree wax maimp'anpfiugnteu.
 ' forward on the turf to watc the race, by one" he recommenced thalwalk  ’

I  so clearly, define to myself the;

sentiment  my mother weed my
father. Shame! gaze on him 11 an era
prescicn of severity and reproach, but an in-
stant afterward her beautiful eyes would mois-
ten, her‘éfweetfece would wear a lbs]: of the
tendereé epoiion.

y no
inmy twenty-second year when my sister, my

i Helen, was born. One morning a short
time after herbirth, my father came to the
from my mother’s sick room with an anxious
countenance and beckoned me to follow him,
into the garden. After. taking two or three
turns up and down in silence, he stopped sud—
, den] and addressed me : ’

“ aximilian ! your’motber grows more and
more peculiar!"

" She isia great sufferer, dear father.”

“ Yes, doubtless, but she has now taken a
strange whim ; she wishes you to commence
the stud of law. ”

' “Stu y law 1 How’ can my mother wish me,
with my birth and position, to go to school
again! That wouldbe ridiculous.”

“ Iagree with you,” said my father, coldly;
but your mother is ill, that is all.”

- I was a cOxcomb, proud of my name, of my
importance, and my success in society, but I
 my mother, between whom and myself
there existed the warmest sympathy, and I went
stones to assure her of my compliance with her
wishes. r' She thanked me with a sad smile, and
made me kiss my sister who was sleeping in her

In . '
gl'e lived only half a league from Grenoble;
Ioonld therefore attend the Law School there
without leaving home. My mother questioned
me daily about my progress in my studies with
such vering and intense interest, that I was
fair: to ask myself if there was not something
at the bottom of this extraordinary proposition
more than the fancy of a sick, nervous woman;
if possibly my father’s aversion to all business
matters had not caused some loss of fortune,
or at least some confusion in our aflairs, which
mymother hoped {might re" ’  my
legal knowledge and business bits.” ‘ snail
picion daily grew stronger; I now
hearing my father lament bitterly the losses he
 at v the time of the devolution, but
such item ts had ceased long ago; I'thOught
Quite’unjuetlfiable at the tune, for em
fortune’scemed to me most am 16.  Old
chateau inwhich we lived, near obie, had
descended from father toson, and was the boast
ottth '_ . My father and I often hunted
the whole ~ fly, without quitting our own
 our stables were very extendve and
 with line horses, of‘which m
 was as proud as he waspassionately fon'
wanes ” ‘an'elegant hotelinPsris oaths
' Oapucins, in which a. suite or
7  solely. for our own on.
it? «blew  retried with every p
and nothing in  establishment gave the!“
‘ expediency even, much leased

   

 

, after this my mother’s health
» . cat in rceptibly to. decline;
Webmaster-c strangelyyinstead of;
, he! W Angelic sweetness, she became bitter '
 3' I coddnot leave. the chateau
- -. with» ‘ my absence beta? made the subject of
~  comment. My father,

W  as fittlc d ,asmysclf, b'orc these at.
W but they had the efiect of
 L ‘0' ' less time at home thanfor.
- merit ' 33*“ _ 'tly felt the need of constant
and he'alws . assess me to mouth.
1”“?   We 0 leasu‘re, the order of
my  We: ' theiweakness of my

' ” One  in September,  my «messed
I'wentf‘to seems may ,1; were were
.  {short distance from the chateau} m
‘ several horses entered to run on that day,
and we went early in the morning and break-
fastedcn the course. Towards the middle or

was married at fifteen, andI was I

delicacy, °

been  mc'home with feverish

heart,   to   ready    

occurservants, who said he had been seeking
me "for he}: an hour; that my father had at
ready gone home, whither he, desired, me to

follow him without, delay. ~ “What-has 

pened? tell me in heaven’s name i” said I. ~

“ I believe madame is much worse,” replied
the man. 7 r ' ' ,  ‘

On .hearing this, I rode homeward like one
distracted. I

When I reached the chateau I saw my sister
playing by herself on. the turf in the large
court.‘ She ran up to me as I dismounted from
my horse, and as she kissed me, said with a
mysterious but merry air:

“ The Cure has come. ”

I hastened into the house, where, however, I'
could not perceive any unusual bustle or con—
fusion, and ascended the staircase with all
speed. As I entered the dressing-room com-
municating with my mother’s chamber, the
door opened softly and my father came out.
His face was very pale and his lips trembled.

“ Maximilian," said he, without raising his
eyes, “ your mother asks for you.” I~wished
to question him, but he motioned me away,
and approached a window as if to look out.

I entered my mother’s room, and found her
reclining on the sofa with her eyes .closed,
while one arm hung motionless by her side.
Herlface was very pale, but it had suddenly re-
gained all the exquisite sweetness and delicate
beauty of which her extreme sufiering had
lately deprived it. The Angel of Death al-
ready overshadowed her with his wings.

I fell on my knees beside her. She Opened
her eyes, and raising her head with great diffi-
culty, fixed upon me along, tender look. Then
in a scarcely audible voice she breathed these
broken words: “Poor child~I am. leaving
thee—but do not weep. Thou hast left me
alone all this time ;' but I have been so unkind!
We shall meet again, in son—we shall then
understand each other. emindgthy father of
what he roim’sed me. Be thou strong in the.
battle of ' , but rdcn those who are week?
She sank back «guided for a moment, then
rousing herself with an   her 131$):
and locking earnestly at me, said: “ y

sister!” ,

Her blue eyes closed. suddenly 0pm 3
them, she threw her  upward. Iuttere .
spicrcing , and my father rushed into the,
rooms - but  to clasp with choking robs, her

Several weeks later my father desired me,
in obedience to the last wishes of her whom
we “so bitterly mourned, to set, out 
travels. I mtted commencedthc
“Wandering ife I have led" to this‘fdayn
During a year-fa absence I other: longed
than home, but my father had fixed 
time of my travels, and Ihedrbeen Wilt to

' his wishes. 'r * ' -

1 letters were afiectionate. but  _ 
Master eipresseg the least  for
 wast armament ‘ ,to'
find. on disembarking at W 
’ ‘ ago, several lettersme my father;

 a co ni hZFebrnary‘, ,th I
 this? mgye walked our-631d

 K 7 an . , _- . r . e
. "i fthe‘v’é" 'undwithasadhcble eoun
  «mum. as entering

  

the , , awashsdowagmtoneo
the r ' on or theglsrge' saloon. which had
 and 101“ m months previous to

mm  'fi dean.  p Z quickly; on

 
 

   
  
 

     

.r .

'_  , .Wg

’“Warm thy

add _ .

toihis usual custom. I I p, 7

room is? eold,’7bnt {prefer itpt‘o all

one can ut‘lcest breathe'heref’ ‘
“How is our health, dear‘father?”

‘ “ Tolerab ‘, as thou sees ." And leaving

 . '  "99
contrary

9231f. This
lb? Pike’s; r

pare tl into pted. M ap.
' n y rm _ ‘ ‘ , -  .

f This strange reoe , ion filled  with alarm,
and Irgzednnxio _ y at my family.

‘fliaht thou- seen homes ? 9?  he sud—
denly-without c , his  ' v

‘Ah! true, thoughast butz'nst'nrrived."
After a pause he rammed, "fiduiximilian. I
wish to speak to you." ' »

“ I am listening to; you, father.” .
>' He seemed. not to «hear me, but paced up
and downthe room, repeating at intervals, ” I ‘
wish to speak to you, my son.” . 

At length, passing his hand over his head,
he sighed heavily, and, seating himself ab-
ruptly, motioned me to a chair Opposite.
Then as if he wished to speak, but lacked the
courage. *to do so, his eyes sought mine with
an expression of anguish, humility, and sup-
plication, which, in a man as proud as my
father, touched me deeply. I could not but
feel that whatever faults he had committed,
the confession of which was so painful, he had
fully expiated them. Suddenly his eyes
lost all expression, he grasped my arm, rose
from his seat, and then fell heavily forward on
the carpet. He was dead.

The heart does not reason nor calculate; it.
divines. I now understood the whole: one
moment had sufficed to reveal to me without a
word of explanation, by an irresistible ray of
light, this fatal truth, which a. thousand in.
cidents repeated under my eyes every day for
twenty years, had not made me suspect-

I knew that we were ruined, that the storm
would soon burst over my head. Well! I am
certain that my father could not have been
more bitterly wept had he left line, loaded
with fortune’s favors. To my deep sorrow
was added a feeling of prOfound pity; I saw
constantly before me that look of supplicaticn
and humiliation; I was in despair at not hav- ‘
ing been. able to speak one word f consolation ”
to that broken heart, and I cried wildly ‘to him
who could no longer hear, “I forgive you! I
waive you I” ' ‘ ~
’ As'vwell as I‘ couldconjecture, my father
promised my mother in their last, sad inter.
view to sell the greater part of his party,
and to pa the enormous load of de' t he had
 having spent much more than his
income, for many years past, and to live on
the Inhainder whatever it might be. , M
rather kid he t his romise so far astose
 an aporton of his landedest'ste;
but any on inconsiderable debt was paid with
 ;o.ncethe possessorotaclargea
mm of ready money he could ,not,reeist'the
twytationsof tiresome-(hammoc-
Mmeddisastrous, auditing}:an
complete.

I‘harenot yet sounded thcadepthcotmilcry
into whichweare, unged. Hell mthe next
 after myfa 3 death, and recovered
biwely'in'fime to leave our old hereditary
 . berm-cashew, wealthier-editors
 Fortunately for me an old
We! my mother. 8 notary firingstraris,
and who'formerly had charge of uni-stairs,
 and ofered to undertake the
“cinnamon. I placed the. matter in
 swing  mto
sound): squpose his laborsare ends?“ 3‘-
As  reached I’m-is yesterdanlwent
'témhnn, but he hadgone intctha country
isfiardtobcar; thesetwodayshavebeenlmg
andiweary. It would have astonished me to
bci-‘t'Old ten years ago that this old-notary
Wrormalandprecis’elan r emusedmy’
 and me so, greatly, w be, one day,
a, ' ,rtof oracle from whom Iwas talcum my

I hgve tried to cherish nobles ho ; I
haveflcalculatedthatfiwhcn all. tirade 
paid there will woman a hundred and twenty, .
or a hundred and fifty thousand francs.‘ It is
impossible that out of a fortune of five millions
of francs there will not be at least this small

 

 

me near the fireplace of this immense room,

sum left. ' I will take ten thousand francs for

 

 

 

rm: comm or '4 mos» romvo 112v.

 

“my porfion and will go'toseehmyfortune
intheUnited States, leaving the rest for my
little ‘
I will write, no longer tonight. But my
and occupation has restored my calmness
somewhat. depressin as may have been the
incidents I have recs ed. - ‘
To labor is certainly a divine law, since la-
bor brings contentment with it; yet man
loves it notand while each day he enjo s the
good it brings, each day he goos to it With the
. same repugnance. There is some strange and
mysterious contradiction in this, as if we felt
stance that it is a penalty imposed on us-
while we acknowledged the divine and pater,
. 219.1 character or the Judge.

m.—

Thursday.

, 0:: smoking this morning the servant handed

Vine a letter from the old notary, M. Laubepin.
It contained an invitation to dinner, when he
would inform me of his progress in settling
my afi'airs, and ended by begging my pardon
for the liberty he took. This circumspection
' au rs ill for me.

n order to pass away the time till the hour
fixed for dinner, I went to the convent where
my sister is, and took her out for a walk. The
child knows nothing of our misfortunes, our
ruin. She has been indulging various costly
whims in the course of the day. She has
bought a large supply of gloves, of rose-col-
ored paper, hon-bone for her friends, essences,
and wonderful soaps, all ve useful thin s,
doubtless, but less essential t a. good din-
. ner! ,

At six o‘clock I reached M. Laubepin’s house
in the Rue Cassette. I do not know our old
friend’s age, but I do not remember him ,look-
ing otherwise than he did today; tall, but
slightly bent, his white ha carelessly
brushed, a clear, piercin eye, looking out
from under their biac eyebrows. and
e. ph sique both vigorous and refined.
His dress is always the same ; a black
coat of some antique fashion, a professional
white cravat, with an old family diamond pm
in his bosom, are the external signs of a method-
ical, grave mind, and a. lover of traditions. The
oldgentleman was awaiting me at the Open
door of his little parlor; witha low bow he
took my hand lightly between two fingers and
led me‘up to such! lady who was standing in
innate! the-fireplace, and said gravely and em-
phatically: “ The Marquis de Ohampcey d’Hau.
retire!” then  toward me, in a humbler
voice,  .“ Madame Laubepin." There was
amcment’s embarrassed silence after we were
seated. Ihadsupposedhewouldatonoeopen
our business matters; seeing he debit? the
communiocu'on, I concluded it must still
expected.   m med 1:1 11$

, , 4 . was y
 glances of Madame Laubepin,
WM . inthekecnlookswith which the notary
  I thought I could detect a spice
101'  now remembered hearing my

me?  polite, respectful . a Jaco-
bmathccrgandlinw him or
summarise. y ” “WW3
3P”  - ' cfsuspense cue
. tutwfidfn. u‘hnthougmmusedmypfide
'  tohide my entering
anaerhshtnwofvpeeog, Iaddressed M Lau-
pin. , .,

“Why did youlefle Yourhouss inxthe Place
des Pants Peres? I am surprised, Monsieur
hubsptu. I could never have believed you
, mrmakethedearplacel”. .

“Risen act of disloyal unworth a: my
age, Monsieur le Marquis, t'when 3." up
mg  I thought it  to give up my
, _ also,” replied M. Lsubepm.

.‘ time you retired from active life e"

   

  
 

 

'  es." its Marquis-  all nubile and
oficial s ’- butrhei'eare several honorable
undone! " i,}mflies..whoseloonildence I

todhtaind’ a notice
of forty—five years, whowill seek my vice in

“A”

 

all delicsteand ‘vste matters, and, I mayadd,
they seldom‘regret following it."

As M. Laubepin finished rendering himself
this just  an old servant announced the
dinner. had the honor of conducting Mad-
ame Laubepin to the table. The cenversation

- durin dinner was upon the most trivial topics,

but . Laubepin frequently looked at me with
the same equivocal expression, and whenever
Madame Laubepin addressed me, it was in the
sorrowful, pitying tone so often used in a sick-
room. '

At length we rose from table, and the old no-
tary led the we. into his study, where coffee
was soon serve .

He begged me to be seated, and leaning
against the mantle-piece, addressad me thus:

“You have done me the honor, M. 1e Mar-
quis, to charge me with the labor of liquidating
the estate of your father, the late Marquis de
Champcey d’Hauterive. I was about to write
to you yesterday, when I heard of your arrival
in Paris. Permit me now to state to you the
result of my investigations.”

“I perceive, sir, you have bad news to tell
me.”

“Yes, Monsieur le Marquis, and you will

need to summon all your courage to hear it, but
I must proceed methodically. In the year 1820.
Mlle. Louise Helen Dugald Delatouche d'Eron-
ville was sought in marriage by Charles Chris-
tian Odiot, Marquis de Champcey d’I-Iauterive.
Intrusted as I had been for years with the
management of the afiairs of the Dugald Dela.-
touche family, and long since admitted to the
confidence of the young heiress on a footing of
respectful familiarity, I used every argument in
my power to oppose her infection for the Mar-
quis, and to prevent the sad alliance. Isay sad
alliance, not because the fortune of M. de
Champcey V was not equal to that of Mlle.
Delatouche in spite of several mort ages with
which it was already burdened; but Iknew the
character,-the hereditary temperament, so to
speak, of M. de Champcey. Beneath the
chivalrous and attractive hearing which dis-
tinguished him as well as all others of his
house, I clearly perceived his unreflecting ob-
stinacy, his incurable frivolity, his passionate
love of pleasure, and finally his, supreme
egotism ”-——-—
- “Sir!” said I, suddenly interrupting him,
“the memory of » my father is sacred to me,
and must be respected by those who speak of
him in my presence.” V

“I ct this sentiment in you, Monsieur
1e Marquis,” replied the notary with sudden
emotion, “butm ' g of your father, I
cannot forget that speak of the man who
killed your mother, that heroic woman, that
saint, that angel 1”

I rose from my seat in great agitation. M.
Laubepin, whohad taken several steps across
the room, caught my arms “Pardon me,
yOung man," ‘ he, “I loved your mother, I
have we t for her! I pray outopardon me."
And nplacing . ‘ fore the fire, he
resumed, in his ordinary solemn tone, “I had
thehonorand thechagrin to draw up your
mother'smarrlage contract. Contrary to my
eamestpra mthemwasno.m _ ‘ e settle-
ment, and was with great diflculty hatI was
permitted to introduce into the instrument a
protecting clause declaring one-third of your
mother’s real estate inalienable, without her
figully expressed cause. at. Vain precautio

onsieur e Marquis, and  might say, crue
precaution of a badly inspired friendship,
which, insteador prcvm a means of protec-
tion, only prepared far or the keenest tor-
ments! I mean those struggles, those violent
disputes, the, sounds of which must have
reached your cars more than ' once, and in
which your unfortunate mother lost, piece by
pi _, the loot of her patrimony and her
chfldren’sbrendl” ' ' ' r ‘

> H   I
. 51$?  a
o t 'e present. I

"z’l‘o take such a step,
rage my father‘s memory, and! ‘ ‘ , . v

M. Ioubepin, after givmg me once! his in.-

~the first at 
sir,  hardest. sen.

 

quisitive glances, resumed: '(“Yau/"ar‘e mm
thatindefaultof ' 
right, you will remain liable fer the dehh of
the estate, even when these exceed the value of
property. Now I have the duty of
telling you, Monsieur 1e Marquis, that this is
precisely the case in the present instance. As
you will see on examining this bundle of pa-
pers, it is perfectly certain, that after the sale
of your hotel, on better terms than we can
reasonablyhope for, you and your sister‘will
remain indebted to yourfat‘lier’s 
the sum of forty-five thousand francs.” ~ '

I was literally thunderstruck by this state;
ment, which exceeded my worst rehea-
‘sions. For a moment, I neither saw e clock
on which my vacant eyes were fixed, nor‘heard
its ticking. ' '  ' ‘

“Now,” said M. Laubepin, after a‘ short
silence, “ I must inform. you that your mother,
foreseeing the possibility of that which has
now taken place, deposited with me some
jewels, the value of which is estimated at about
fifty thousand francs. In order to prevent
this small sum, our only resource in the
future, from falling into the hands of the
creditors, you must employ the legal tub.
terfuge of which I have already spoken."

“But that is out of the question, sir. I am '
only too happy to be able, with this unlocked.
for means, to pay my father’s debts in full, and
I beg you to use it for that ]purpose.” .

M. Laubepin bOWed s 'ghtly. “As you
please,” said be, “but I cannot refrain from
observing to you that when the trust now in
my hands has been thus applied, there will only
remain, as the whole fortune of Mlle. Helen
and yourself, the sum of between four and five
thousand livres, which, at the usual rate of
interest, will give you a yearly income of two
hundred and twenty-five francs.» 
settled, will you permit me, Monsieur in Mar.
quis, as a ectful and confidential friend, to
ask if you ve any means of gaining a live-
lihood for your sister and yourself, and what
are your plans i” r ' ‘ ‘

“,I have no plans, 'sir. Those whichfit’had
formed are irreconcilable with the mints
poverty to which I am reduced. It {were
alone in the world, I should enlist in the any;
but I cannot forsake my sister, not 
to want. She is now very happy in the 
vent, and is young enough to tennis there
some years longer; I would , 
m mm" in “my °§°§§°§mh ""a

ow me, y p ' ' 
topay mysister’sex ’ 
and tonlay up something each ym

MJnubepinloo‘kedat mesteadily. “Inertia?
to attain this desirable and honorable and,” “id
be, “you must not think, Monsieur lo 
of entering the slow ,th of political area'-

 s; oflice on or gm: 
on t ve em loyment‘ ' _ re. j ,3
from the first an igcome of fire ctr-fix  

francsa year.‘ I need not tell 
presentsocial‘ state something" ' , ' ' j
togainthaaesiamhumtammersym
outone’s hand! Hap ‘ ,Ihavescmopropm
sitionstolaybefcreymv imamatmemnd
without 333? great area ,  
yourposi'on. Then axing"  eye‘sonm’e
with a more ting look  swaying.

contingzd:  the first ' Monogr-
Marq a speculate! teams: I 
ideaofa enterprise. the mime of which
shall be to you nanny, omen
cannot succeed without the W

ofthearistoasey. Hethinhs that's. amen
understand-illustrious“me figuring. '

those of the ‘tersofvvthe 
gain it a favorable reception was 
of the pubh'etowhich the  in
specially addressed Aszaipremium mild!
use-0f yournsme, he ofiem you min of
the stock, the value of which is estimated 11m
probably be tripled-by-thc‘  
“Enough, sis such WIN” ‘ v
not worth the usable of'wm;M’§ "  a,

 

 

 

‘ - ‘ ¢:.W‘ ‘é.:.‘~..-?.s.

as m in:

 

‘ 

is

"A-F‘WD‘E ‘1 shot from theeYe of theold
 a». ism: smile was visible on his grim,

and’wfinltléd face. .

\ “Ethopropomtion displeases you, Monsieur
.11;  it ' leases me no less; atthe same
finm it my , uty to submit it to you. I
have“ another which will perhaps make you
smile, but which is much more suitable. One
of  oldest clients is a. merchant who retired
frombnsiness a short time ago, and who lives in
great comfort withan only and beloved daugh-
ter. His annual income cannot be less than
twenty-five thousand livres. . This young lady
chanced to hear of your misfortunes three days
330; she is pretty, and is, besides, a most
estimable person; I believe, nay, I have been
assured, that she would not hesitate one mo-
mentto accept your hand and the title of the
 of Champcey. The father con-
cents, and I wait only one word from you,
Monsieurle Marquis, to tell you the name and
residence of this interesting family.”

“Sir, this decides me; from to—morrow I will
lay aside a title which in my situation is only a
mockery, and which, moreover, seems to ex—
poseune to the most miserable intrigues. My
fluidly, name is 0diot {henceforth I will bear
no other. Now, sir, while I recognize and
 you for the warm interest in me which
could. alone have induced you to listen to such
proposals as you haVe laid before me, I beg
you to spare me all others of a like character.”

' ‘5 In that case, Monsieur 1e Marquis,” replied
Laubepin, “ I have no other proposals to make

‘ to you.”

I -,Then, as if seized with a sudden fit of merri-
ment, he rubbed his hands together, making a
sound like tearing parchment, and laughed, ashe
said: 5‘ You will be a difficult man to deal with,
Monsieur Maximilian! Ah l-—ahl very diffi-
pult indeed! It is very extraordinary, mon-
Sioux, that I did not observe sooner the strik-
ingrresemblance you bear to your mother.
The eyes and the smile. in particular—but we
must  from our subject. Since you
choose 'to gain your livelihood by honorable
  me, to askvsvhat, your abilities are,
what on are fitted for ?’ r
in “My. motion hasmaturally been that of a
 towealth and  , I have studied
Inwfihogever, and have even been admitted to
 9:1 :ibwyer ? The devil! You ‘a law-
Wig.,3ut being admittedto the bar is not
 ’ -, inalegal career, more than in any
other-pit. is necessary. to prove one’s self a man.
" _ , you a fluent speaker, Monsieur
ms ’ ' ' ‘

   
 

 I‘fidfa‘r it, Ibelieve myself whdlly'in-
   twogsentencesdn
'   m: was no'tirpreeisély
' ’ ’  but the subject demands re-

        
 

 ere are your, papal-9i

. which ammo examine “your leisure.

..  thevhonm to, 
7" 'mmtfiight youtothe

' , 1" .  orderszfitomyou

3 7  the jewelsmmy possessio and ope

,_ W33”. :- V, ‘

  coastal-y

can geodesic.
1%. . -_Butr~par-

themoney t0 the payment-'0. :yéfir

, not; I expect, 1 : moreover,
jawevyanmfiill take out of the sum fthus rea-
"lhedaéjunt'romuneration for your valuable
W”, . ,, , I . ,

; Womaxwhed the staircase-landing. . M.
Lani»  figure is slightly bent when
he ,vstraightened himself uickly: “In.
 ryonr creditors, onsieur lo
respectfullyobey you, but for
your mother’s; friend, and I
bégizhumbly, but. earnestly, that her son’ will
Webs ass-MMSNM.” ~ I‘ gave the old

‘ heaps-eased humanly, and we

Elghareretmedto the  room I occupy
at  this hotel, whtnhno 
incestuous. Inordertoprove‘to  that
 or ell-my 
not plungedme intoestate of despair un-

 "I Limitless.  you are-fatigued, Y

, good, suggested

rm: ROMANCE or a more YOUNG IAN.

of the day, carefully preserving the exact
mg . my grief at the situation in which I
find myself, the mingling of :bluntness and
gourtesy, of mistrust and tenderness, dis layed
1n his language, has often made me sm' 6 as I
wrote. . .

Here is poverty, not that secret, proud, po-
etic poverty that led me, in imagination,
across forests, deserts and prairies, but posi-
tive misery, want, dependence, humiliation,
and what is worse yet, the bitter poverty of
decayed wealth—poverty in a black dress,
whose wearer hides his bare hands from his
old friends, who pass by without seeing him I
But I will take courage l -

Monday, April 27.

I have waited in vain for five days for news
from M. Laubepin. v I confess that I placed
great reliance on the interest he seemed to
manifest in me. His experience, his practical
knowledge, and hisextensive business ac—
quaintance, gave him the power of being very

‘useful to me, and I was ready to take any

steps he might advise ; but left to m self, I
know not which way to turn. I thong 1: him
one of those who perform much more than
they promise, but I fear I was mistaken. I
went to his house this morning under the pre-
text of returning the papers he had given me,
having verified their unfortunate correctness.
The servant told me M. Laubepin had gone to
recruit his health at some country place in the
lower part of Brittany, and would be absent
two or three days longer. I was deeply on.
noyed by this intelligence. I not only felt
wounded by meeting indifference and ne lect,
where I looked for warmth and devoted friend.
ship, but I had the 'ef of returning with m
purse as empty as ’went. I- had intended
to “ask M. 'Laubepin to advance me a small
sum out 'of the few. thOusand francs? that
would remaing after the payment of my
father’s debts;" for thoughI hadlivedlike a
hermit since coming to Paris, I‘had exhausted
the trifling sum remaining after mygtravels,
and so entirely was it spent, that after break-
fasting this morning liken shepherd, casteneoe
miles at press? copies was, I had “recourse to “a
sort of sp’onging in order to dine, the melan-
choly remembrance of which I ’will, preserve
here in my journal. , '

The less, one has ,breakfasted, the more one
wants. his. dinner! This is an’laxiomof iwhich
I felt‘the full force  longjbefore the sun
had set. Among those w o weredrawn ,bythe
beauty of the...day into. the  of the
Tuilleries this ,afternoon,', there might have
been remarked a man, still young and perfectly
‘ all dressed, who seemed to observe thefirst
Matisse: spring. the reewakemn of nature,
,Wi ."-extraordinary  solicitu‘de. ’  o’t content
with observing with the eye alone, this Person-
ini'ght fro uently. have been seenitogbreak ofl"
stealthilyt e tender youn' I shoots, the half-
, ned leaves, and'carry, em to his mouth
with'thecuri’osity of a botanist. ._ This sort of
by‘readi’ng the history of ship-
was of very little value, how;
ever, "as. a. resource against hu I er. but my
839901: or knowledge was enrich by several
interesting‘facts’; I shall know in future.that
the foliage . of the chestnut is excessively
bitter; that of the rose-bush is net bad; that
of the lindenis oily and quite-agreeable, and
£11312, f the lilac is, I beheye, positively un-
wholeSome.’ / . '
v I meditatedzon these discoveries as I walked
to*the convent to see my sister. entenagg
the parlanl found, it as fellas a beehive,
felt more deafened than usual 1: the confused
buzzing of the young bees. . , soon coma
in, but'with. barbell-in Wyn! e es red

Wrecked. persons,

 

fit‘wfii first”? has as“
an i '3: , Q , y 33 
her arm. Asshekissedmewithanebsnucted

  

air, Isaid

worthy of a man, I have written this account .
:Phl‘flfieology of the old notary _; notwithstand. -

“What is the matter, my dear ? You have

beenweeping!”  ., , ,

"‘ Oh I no, Maximilian, it is nothing,”

‘ ‘ But what has happened? Tell me.”

i ’ She lowered hervoice, sayirfi: ' V _

“ I am very unhappy,.dear aximilian.” ' .

“ Indeed! Tell me all about it while eating
your brea ’_’.

“Oh! ‘I shall not eat my bread; I am too
unhappy to eat. You know Lucy—Lucy Camp—
bell, my best friend? Well, we, have quarreled
terribly. ‘ '

“Ah I that is sadl—But do not grieve, my
darling, you will make friends again.”

“‘ That is impossible, Maximilian. Our
quarrel was too serious to allow us to do
that. It began with a trifl , but we got into
a passion, and said very ill-natured things.
You see, we were playing battledoor and shut—
tlecock, and Lucy made a mistake in count-
ing the strokes. I had made six hundred and
eighty, and Lucy only six hundred and fifteen,
and she pretended she had made six hundred
and seventy-five. That was a little toobad,
you must allow. Well, I said my count was
right, and she said hers was right. ‘Very
well, miss,’ said 1, ‘let us ask the young
ladies who were looking at us.’ ‘No,’ she
answered, ‘ I know I am. right, and you. are
a bad player.’ ‘ Well,’ said I, ‘you are a story-~
teller.’ ‘As to you, miss,’ answered Lucy, ‘I.
despise you too much to answer you.’ Sister
Sainte-Felix came up to us at that moment,
luckily, or I thinkIshould have beaten Lucy.
Now, you see, after such a quarrel, we can
never make friends; it would be disgraceful-
But I cannot tell you how sorry I am; I do not
believe there is anybody in the world who is so I
unhappy as I am.” '

“Certainly, my child, it would be hard to-
imagine a worse grief than yours, but Icannot;
help thinking you brought it upon yourself ;4
the offensive words came from your mouth. Is.

y your friend Lucy in the parlor ?”

“Yes, there she is, in, that further corner.”
And by a dignified motion of her head, Helen,
directed me to a. little fair-haired "l, with.
cheeks as red and eyes as swollen as or own, ,
who was evidently 'ving an old lady a‘history
of the quarrel whic Sister Benito-Felix had so
fortunatelyinterrupted, and occasionally cast;
ing a stealthy glance at Helen and me as she

spoke. ,
"‘ Well! my dear child,” said I,

confidence in me???’ » V-

‘ “‘ Oh yes Maximilian, '1?~ have great

1n you.” I x n 
, “Then Iw‘illtellyou what you mustfi‘ao r
you mustggo very softly behind Miss were
chair. and sheltered betweenyour . j i v-
and kiss her tenderly‘o‘n both cheekso ‘ .thfin;
you will see what shewill doin   '
 Helen, hesitatedjalitfle thee watercourses
room quicklxand threw her. massacre
neck,‘. ,, ‘ 3 her Quite by  e; the: em-‘
brace was warmly returner} the two obi}.-
dren’, we t togetheg,  by a flaws
sympath 2mg gametes, while the ' y. ' a
locking  1 ampbell (blew her nose with a.
Helen returne to me with effects radiant with,
happiness. ““ Well,_.my_darling," said I to her,
“ Inope you can eat your bread new." , _
, 9011,1110, Maximi ' n, I have criedtoomueh ;
and besides, I must ellyou that a- newpupif
came today, and she gave us a treat or marina
gues and chocolate, so that I am not at all:
hun . But I do not know.th to do with,
the read; I was so fullof troubiethat 1101' 
to put it back into the basket, aswe were, to
do if we are nothungry, and I am afraid I shall.
be punished. I think that as we through,
the yard I shall throw it mto the celfi: window
when no oneis  at 1:16..”

‘“ What! my dear enter.” and I blushed as 1,.
spoke .“ you wonldgthrpw. away your  i”

"‘ have yeti

    

 

 

“1 0w it is 2:5:  If?  3 the? .
ere-.90“.  w 0 r9“ .8 , vs 
 Maximilian?” -_ l - a -)"

“But how can I give it“ to  2 £2 

people never coins in here.”"_,,, ,’

rm? Horacio: or» A focal room ills:

£

m.

 

 

“See, Helen, give me the bread, and I will
give it inyour name’toflhe first poor man
whom I meet;  that do ?" ‘ , ‘

“Oyes, indeed”, , . ‘ ’

The bell rang for Visitors to depart. I
broke the bread ‘in' two pieces, and put it into
the kets of my paletot. ’ y

“' ear Maximilian,"said the child, “come
again soc“, and tell me if you met a poor man,
if you gave him my bread, and if he thought
it cod."

I'es, Helen, I found a poor man, and gave
him your bread, and he carried it as a precious
boot to his lonely garret, and he' thought it
goo ; but it was a poor man without courage
or resolution, for he we 1: as he devoured the
alms bestowed by your eloved little hands, I
will tell you all, Helen, for it is well you should
know there are greater sorrows in the world
than'your, childish troubles; I will tell you all
except the name of the poor man. '

Friday, April 28.

.1 WENT this morning at nine o’clock to M
Laubepin’s, in the vague hope that he had re-
turned, but he was not expected till to-morrow.
,The thought then suggested itself of seeing
Madam Laubepin and telling her to what straits
I was reduced by her husband’s absence; but
while I hesitated between pride and need, the
old servant, frightened apparently by the fam-
ished look I fixed upon her, decided the queso
tion' by shutting the door rudely in my face.
I then resolved I would fast till to-morrow. I
said to myself that after all one would not die
, because of a day’s abstinence; if Iacted wrong-
ly through an excess of ride, I alone should
sufl’er, and consequently 1t concerned nobody
but myself. - v

I next went to the Sorbonne, where I had
attended several successive courses of lectures,
hoping to forget my physical wants in mental
.«enjoym'ent; but the hour came when this re-
source failed, though not until I had begun
to find it very insuficient. I also felt great nerv-
ous irritation, which I hoped to quiet by walking.
The day was cold and misty. As I crossed the
bridge of Saints-Peres, I stepped an instant al-
most in spite of myself; Ileaned my elbows on the
parapet, and watched the muddy waters of the
river flow beneath the arches ; I know not what
accursed. thoughts crossed 111 week and weary
mind; I new under the most msu‘pport'able col.
ore the future of continual stru gle, of depend-
ence and humiliation into whic I had entered
by the door of hunger. I felt an utter disgust
:for life, and that tolive was to me an im si-
bilityl At: the same instant, my heated and
rushed to my brain, my sight grew dim, and as
I beat downward over the bridge, the whole

 

surface of the the: seemed brilliant with sparks bo

of'fire. 4 .
, I will not say according to the commonforms
, of speech which I do not like: “ It was not
, God’s wifi that I should drown myself;” I will
 tony; “it was not my will!” God made
usgali  agents, and if I had'ever doubted it,
‘  "moment, during which the soul and 'the

body, cottage and cowardice, good and'evil,

contended in mortal combat within me, would

have #3in my doubts forever. I

01106, more master-{of myself,vthe water of.
fer-ed me noothertemptaticn than the innocent
one of quenching, y‘burning  But I re—
flected that I shou d find'much purer water in
'my own room. and I talked toward the hotel
with rapid steps. PIPignrmg to myself the deli-
cious pleasure awaiting me there, and feeling
astonished that I had not sooner thought or this
expedient for satisfying my hunger. On my
way thither I met Gaston de Vaux on the Ben.
leva‘rd, whom I had not seen for two years. He
stopped, after a moment’s hesitation, shock me
’ cordially by the hand, asked me .one or two
questious'about my travels, and qtntted me has-
tfg’y. Then retracing his steps, he said: “ My

:9 a, you must allow me to associate 7°“
wifi mygoo‘diuck. I have gained a treasure
webmaer days; I have received a lot of 01~
8‘13, Gasket .which cost me two francs, but
“Whioh' are priceless. Here is one; you shall
give me you- opinion of it. Good-bye."

 

. I sake my’hot‘el,“and mounting with 

cuity ray" six flights/of stairs, entered my room,
and coining my’ carafe, drank eagerly every
drop of water it contained; after which I light-
ed my friend’s cigar, and gave myself a smile
of encouragement in my glass. I determined
to go out again, feeling certain that exercise
and the diversion of the streets were both salu-
tary. On opening my chamber door I was-sun
prised and displeased to see in the narrow
sage the wife of the concier e of the hotel, who
was very much embarrasse at my sudden ap-
pearance. This Woman had been in my moth-
er’s service, and on her marrying, my, mother,
who was much attached, to her, gave her the
lucrative place she still held in the hotel. Ihad
remarked for several days that she seemed to
watch me closely, and had now almost caught
her in the act. “ What do you want?” said I,
angrily.

“Nothing, Monsieur Maximilian, nothing,”
answered she, greatly agitated ; “ I came to
prepare the gas.” I shrugged my shoulders
and came away. Night came. I could then
walk in the most frequented places without fear
of painful recognition. ,I was obliged to throw
away my cigar, which made me sick. My
promenade lasted two or three hours—cruelly
ong hours. There is something specially ter-
rible in being a victim to hunger, that scourge
of savage life, in the midst of all the abundance
and pomp of civilization. It is as if a tiger
were to spring at your throat in a crowded street
in full da .

Hunger! It is not then an unmeaning word!
It isa real evil, 8. positive malady ; there are
human beings who sufier ordinarily and almost
daily what I sufl’er, by chance for the first time
in my life. And to how many among them is
not this suffering niade keener by complications
which I am spared? The only being whom I
care about in the world I know is ded from
the sufi’ering I endure; I see her ear face rud-
dy with health and happiness. But those who
sufier not alone, who hear beloved lips ask" in
vain for food, those who see intheir cold cheer.
less homes only pale faces, and children who
know not how to smile! 0h, unhappy people!
Oh, holy charity ! ,

These reflections took away all idea of 1a-
menting my own condition; they evon gave me
courage tobear, the trial to the end. I could
have: shortened its duration. There are two or
three restaurants where I am known, and where
I did. not scruple to enter when ,I was rich, ab
though I had for otten my purse. I could do
so now; nor won it have been difllcult for me
to borrow a hundred sous in Paris, but these
expedients which savor of want and trickery,
are very repugnantto me. This nclination to
now ;’ opens a slip ery path for. poor men,
and I will not take 1: e first step in it. I would
as soon lose my sense of honesty itself as to
lose the delicacy which is the crowning honor of
this vulgar virtue.  I have too often observed,
with what terrible facility the exquisite senti-
ment of honesty is lost in the most giftedsouls
at the first breath of poVerty, not to keep a
strict watch over myself, not to reject as guilty
those parleyings with conscience which seem
most innocent. Fatigue and cold caused me to
return at nine o’clock. The door of the hotel was
open. and I reached the staircase with a light
step, when I heard the sound on an animated

conversation in the lodge of the concierge, .of '

which Iwas apparently the subject, for at that
moment the man pronOunced my name withan
accent of, contemfit. , a ,
“Be so good, adame Vanberger,” said‘he,
‘ ‘ as to leave me in peace about your Maximilian.
Is it I who ruined him? Well! what art thou
talking about then? If he kills himself he will
be buriedmthat is all ?” _ r
‘f I tell on, Vanberger,” replied the woman,
“ It would, have broken your heart to see him
gulp downthe water in his carafe~and if I
eheVed on were in earnest in what you sayr-v
‘if he himself, he, will be buried '--,—but I
“do not believe it, because on are a really kind
man, though you don’t {like to-be 
Think, Vanberger, of  both fire and
food! A. young man who has been fed allhi’s

 

 

life with dainties, and reared as  as a.
pet'ml‘ Is itnotasnsmexand adisgnoe,;and
ignit not a queer governmentwhich mm
t 'ng‘s ?” '  _. , » , f

‘ ‘ But the government 2 has nothing to do with
it,” said .M. .Vanberger, with reason; “and
then youaremistaken, I tell you; it isnoteo;
he cannot want bread—4t is impossible 1.”

“Well! Vanberger, .I; will tell you all!  I
have followed him, I have watched him, I have
made Edward watch him; I am sure that hedld
not dine yesterday, that he did not 
this morning, and, as I searched all C hats
and his drawers, and there is not. a.  in
them, it is certain he has not dined today, for
poistoo proudtoeat a dinnerhecanuot pay

or." . .

“ So much the worse for him! When one is
poor, one should not be proud,” reflied. the
man, who seemed to me to express the senti—
ments of a porter. .

"I wished to hear no more of this dialogue,
and ended it therefore by opening the lodge
door, and demandin a light of M. Vanberger,
who could not have can more alarmedjf Jihad
asked for his head. Notwithstanding/1n! great
desire to be resolute before these  J
could not help tottering and stumblingonoe or
twice on the staircase. On entering my
chamber, hitherto so icy cold, I was 
and touched to find the temperature of the
room soft and warm, and a clear fire burning.
I was not so rigid and harsh as to extinguish it ,7
I blessed the good hearts there are in the world;
I seated myself in an old velvet arm-chair that
had been moved like myself by the romance 0!
fortune from the drawing-room to, the giant,
and tried to sleep. I remained for half an hon: 
in a sort of stupor, during which my dreams 
were of plentiful and sumptuous fights “when I
was roused by the opening of e  I
thought I was still dreaming when “I saw
Madame Vanberger enter, bearing a large my,
on which were two or three savory dishes,
smoking hot. She had placed her tra I on the

floor, and was spreading a cloth on e’ table; ‘ 1
before I could rouse entirely franc my le ‘  .
I then rose quickly, saying, “What " A B?

What areyou doing ?” i _ A _ I

Madame Vanberger pretended to  Iiinfi

 V , V ‘ r v f ,,' i ‘ ,1
“.Did not monsieur order a dinner? 
“ Not at all. Edward has made, 3

it must be another ledger.”  , j, "  l

lodge! the '1 ‘ '

 

.a.

  
  
    

“But there is no other H
floor with monsieur ; I do not,  

“At , rateitisnotI. , 
to say ? on trouble me! its  ’ f _

The poor woman began to middle ‘ g u ,
with a sad air, castin ' on me the 
looks of a {10th has n  ‘ ’

sieur has pro bly dined ?‘”’ she resnrmd 
timid voice. ‘ I t  ' ~   “
“Probably?! . a 1  ’. ’   g
“It is a great ity, for the  
read ; now it  belosh'andthe' ; "

   
   

monsieur has not dined, monfaieur
greatly obliged me ”~—-  - _
I stamped my foot angrily. “ C479,  _ , ,,
go; ” then as she went I a proached  "
said, “My good Louison,  7 {I
thankvyou; but I am not'very   
I am not hungry.” , ~ j   "
“ Ah! Monsieur  she said, we
ing, “ if you knew how you‘mel‘ Will;
you shall pay me for the dinner, If you wish;
you shall put money note my hand ,when‘itre-
turns to ypu—butyou may be surethat it“ you
were to give me a hundred thousfind francs: it
would not cause me half as much pleasure auto
see you eat my poor dinner! It would  138+
sm%a shanty upon me! You who, do
gent, onsieur Maximilian, you ought 
e , . , . ,

will scolded by his father; 11. 

  

nd‘this.” _ .
“ Well, my dear Louison, what do you‘wantt
I cannot give you a hundred thousand 
but I will eat your dinner. You may leave me—-—
Will gounot?” , ' ‘ ' fl  ' 
‘f es, monsieur. Ah! thank’you, moment;
I thank you very much, monsieur. , You have; '
800d heart." ' ’ ’ ' , a ‘ ’."'~\

i

 

V,“ m vwmuflg 335w.” ,1. _ $3

 

    

o a «muww .~ w

 

3m (w.  4' ,W',_ » a .v . .‘m
9, \‘ . ‘

 

: ,  gaming


i

,2,

my maker or: .4 Pooh. rouse 141v.

 

‘ r v

v a“ Anda good appetite also, Louison. Give
meyoilmhandr; do notbe afraid, I shall put no
.merisit «Themwsoodrbyefi’ ‘ .

The excellent woman went out sobbing.
“Thadvjustfinishod writing these lines, after
doing bonus to Louison’s dinner, when I heard
the sounde a-firm, «heavy step; at the same
time I Gould distinguish the voice of my humble
Wmcspeaking in‘an agitated but confi-
dent :tone. A few minutes after, some one
knocked at my door, and, as Louison moved
aside, the solemn profile of the old notary ap—
pearedin the doorway as in a frame. M. Lau-
bepin threw a. rapid glance on the tray, where
I had placed the remains of my repast; then
advancing . toward me and opening his arms
with a gesture at once of reproach and confu-
sionz- “ Monsieur 1e Marquis,” said he, “‘why
ill the name of heaven did you not come to
me? ” ~I-Ie interrupted himself, crossed the
room several times with great strides—“ Young
myths resumed, “it is wrong; you have
mottled a friend, you have made an old man
blush l” » He was greatly moved. I looked at
him; a'little touched‘myself, not knowing how
toenswer him, when he drew meto him, press.
Ingéxme to his breast, murmured in my ear:
fszy’fpoor boy! ” There was a moment’s si-
‘lence. between ,us; then seating ourselves, M.
Inubepin addressed me:

"“ Maximilian, are you still of the same mind
sswhmI saw yen last? Ham on the cam
age-"to accept the humblest 1a or, the most
modest em‘ployment, provided it be honorable,
which, 'wh‘ e assuring your own ersonal sub-
sistence, will also preserve your sister from the
griefs and dangers of poverty in the present
"and future 1’" - >
1 3'“ Very certainly; such is my duty, and I am
ready to do it.” ’

I. “In that; case, my friend, listen to me. I
have  001110 from Brittany. There lives in
that ancient province a wealthy family of the
We of Laroque, whose entire confidence I
hate been 'honored with for many long years.
This is now represented b an old man
 We women, who are equa, y unfitted by
agé‘ and character for business alfairs. They
 a considerable estate, the management
of which has been for a 1011 time entrusted‘to
a steward,,whom I took the 'berty of consider-
in situate. The next day after our interview,
Mfiximilian, Ireceived the news of this person’s

goth 5,1 setput immediately for the chateau

 do;  a plied for the vacant situation
£93,,31dhf I p ed great stress on your pro-
feséio’nal educatibn, but more particular on

I  , According to your esire

hatchet spoken of your birth; you are, and

  in the house only as Maximilian

,, , , on will live in a separate building,
 "ere " r‘meals will be served when not
agreeably] to you to take a seat at the family
 your salary is fixed” at six thousan
 year. Does it gistggu ?"n a m
 ;_.nte  an we |; an e
 '   your friendship touches
madcap}, "‘ y; but, to 11 y
shallfgahttle strange, a little new at my busia

_ , our-self on ' this olnt. My
scruphfimy fnend, have precede yours, and

 a save concealed'nothing from those interested.

,’ said I to my, excellent friend, Ma-
dame , , no, ‘you need a steward for your
agate,  ,  ofler you pie. Elie is far fiom
posse'   e ca ityo is pro ecessor; eis
not. vetoes inthepn‘grsteries of leaSes and rents;
be‘koowsnot the first word of the business that
you will  leased to confide to him; he has
not the ,_ knowledge, not the practice, not
the caper-ream, nothing of all that which he
'fiust know; but he has something that his pre-
decessor lacked, that sixty years of practice did
.not 've him, and that ten, thousand years
would not give him, moreover: he has, ma-
dame, honest . Take himiziou will oblige
'both me an him 3803 t l (3ng Laroque
laughed, , v , oun ‘man, new! a «0 recommend-
 ‘ I, y '; gut, after emit seemed a good
’Sty 9, since it succeeded.” ‘ _

on the truth, I fear I

 

. '- The worthy old man then adored to give me
someelemen and general, ideas upon, the
natureof the , usiness with which Iwas to, be
intrusted; he“ gave .me somedocuments
relative to e interests of the Laroque family,
which he had taken the trouble to collect and
put in order for me. .

"‘ And when, my dear sir, ought I set out ?”

“Why, really, my dear boy" (it was no
longer “Monsieur le Marquis’) “the sooner
the better, for those people down there are not
capable among them all of writing a receipt.
My excellent friend Madame Laroque in par-
ticular, a woman otherwise in every way praise-
worthy, is neglectful, careless and childish in
business matters to a degree that can hardly be
imagined. She is a Creole.” '

“ Ah! she is a Creole,” I repeated with some
vivacity. '

“Yes, young man, she is an old Creole,”
replied M. Laubepin, drily. “Her husband
was a Bret-0n, but these details will come in
their own time. For tomorrow, Maximilian,
have geod courage. Ah! I forgot. Thursday
morning before I set out, I did something
which will not be disagreeable to you. You
had among your creditors several knaves,
whose dealings with your father had evidently
been usurious; armed with legal thunderbolts,
I have reduced their demands one—half, and
have obtained receipts for payment in full.
There remains to you definitively, a capital of
five thousand francs. By adding to this sum
the amount you can lay aside yearly out of
your salary, we shall have in ten years a pretty
dowry for Helen. Come tomorrow to break-
fast with Master Laubepin, and we will settle
everything. Good night, Maximilian; good
night, my dear child.” I r

“May God bless you, sir.”

 

CHATEAU 1m LAROQUE (D’Anz), May 1.

I ammo Paris yesterday. My last inter.
view with M. Laubepin was sad. I have pro-
mised ason’s affection to the old man. Then
I went to bid Helen farewell. In order to make
her understand the necessity for my engagin
insome employment it was impossible to avoi
telling her a. portion of the truth; Itherefore
spoke of some temporary embarrassment of
fortune. The poor child comprehended more
than I told her, I believe, for her large eyes
wide open with astonishment, filled with tears,
andkshe sprang up and clasped me round the
use . .

Atlength I’ set‘ out. The railroad carried me'
as far as Renncs, where-I passed the night.
This morning I took my seat in a ‘diligen‘ce,
which put me down, five or six hours later, at
the villa e of Morbihan, a short distance from
the Cha au dc Laroque.
dozen leagues this side of Rennes without ferm-
ing a judgment of the reputption for picturesque
scenery which the old Arinorica enjoys in the
world. A flat country, green and monotonous,
with eternal apple-trees in eternal meadows,
the ditches and wooded-slopes bounding the
view on both sides of the road, or, at most,
shaving little corners of rural grace: blouses
and glazed hats to elevate these “ vulgar pic-
tures"—all this caused me strongly to think
that the old, poetic Brittany was only a pre-
tentious and even pitiful sister of Lower Nor-
mandy.‘ Weary of cheats and apple-trees, I
had ceased for an hour to pay the least attention
to the landscape, and had fallen into a doze
when I Was mused by the unusual pitching
forward of our heavy vehicle; at the same time
the pace of the horses slackened sensibly, and
a noise of old iron, accompanied by a peculiar
friction, announced to me that the conductor
was putting the shoe on the wheel of the dili-
gence. An old lady, who was seated near me,
seized my arm with that lively sympathy which
a community of danger gives birth to.

I put my head out of the door; we were de.
scending, between two high banks, a steep
declivity—«the notion of some engineer who
was too great a friend of the straight line.

I had traveled a 9°“

 

With the wheels of the diligence half Sliding,
half rolling,.we were not long in finding our-
selves in a narrow, gloomyvalley, at the bottom
of which a little stream ran sadly and noiseleme
among thick reeds; over these shaking banks
hung some old trunks of trees, twisted ther
and covered with moss. The road crossed the
stream on a bridge of a single arch, and as—
cended the opposite hill, then passed over a.
vast heath, and and absolutely here, which
reached to the verge of the horizon in front of
us by the side of the road and near the bridge.
stood a ruined house, the look of utter desola‘
tion of which struck the heart. A robust
young man was cutting wood before the door ;
a black string fastened his long, light-yellow
hair behind. He raised his head, and I was
surprised at the strange character of his features,

at the calm look of his blue eyes; he saluted v

me in an unknown language, with a sweet but
uncultivated accent. A woman sat at the
window of the cottage spinning; her head-
dress and the cut of her garments reproduced
with theatrical exactness a picture of the stone
images one sees reposing‘ on tombs. These
people had» not the appearance of peasants;
they had to a high degree that easy, gracious,
and dignified bearing. that is known as Pair-
distingue. Their physiognomy were that sad!
and dreamy expression that I have often re;-
marked with emotion among those people whose:
nationality is lost.

I got out of the diligence and walked up the
hill. The heath extended all around me fur—.
ther than I could see; eve where hungry
rushes were tangled over a b ck earth; here
and there were ravines, abandoned quarries, a.
few rocks breaking through the ground; nota.
single tree. But when I reached the plateau I
saw on my right the dark line of the heath cut:
in the distance, a band of the horizon more dis-v
taut yet, slightly indented, blue as the sea,
flooded with sunlight, and. which seemed to-
open in the midst of this desolate place the
sudden perspective of some shining and fairy
region: this was Brittany.

I had to hire a man in thalittlevillsgeof'
---—- to take me the two leagues yet remaining
of my journey. During this long slow drive I.
have an indistinct remembrance of seeing pass
under my eyes, woods, lakes, and oases of‘
fresh verdure concealed in the valleys; but on.
approaching the Chateau de Laroque, I was.
filledwzth a thousand painful thoughts which
left httle place for the impressions of the tour-
18

A few moments later and I should enter an
unknown family on a footing of a sort of dis-—

d servitude, with a title which would
rdly secure me the consideration and respect
of the menials of the house; this was. new for
me. At the moment when M. Laubepin pro~
tome this situation of steward ’all my
instincts, all-my habits rose inrebellion '
the character of dependence ‘ 'cular y at-
tached to such an office. I behaved, however,
that I could not refuse it without ' ' ' a-
wound and discouraging the eager siesta of
my oldfriend in my favor. Besides, I could
not hope to obtain for several years in a more-
independent position the advantages which this.
offered me from the beginning, and which per-
mitted me to work at once for my sister’s future.
benefit. Itherefore subdued my repugnance,
my prejudices; but they had been very keen,

and they were reawakened with more strength.

when I was face to face with morality. I
repeated to myself that there is no situation so
humble that personal dignity cannot sustain.
itself, and even elevate the lace. Then I
marked out my Ian of con uctytovtard the
members of the que family, promising
myself to dis lay a conscientious zeal for their
interests, an a proper deference for their per-—
sons,  removed from servility and rude--
ness. , ut could not conceal from myselt
that this last part of my task, the most deli-4
cute without contradiction, would be simplim
fled or complicated by the special nature oi:
the characters and minds I was about to find,
m 'self in contact with. ' '

I. Luubepin was obstinately reserved bill.

 

THE ROXANC’E OF, .4 P003 YOUNG MAN

7

 

 

this point, though he acknowledged that. my.
eagerness to gain information was perfectly
reasonable. . ,
me, he put a confidential letter into my hands,
recommending me to throw 1t into the fire, as
soon as I was master of it's contents. I took
this letter from my porttolio, and studied its
sibyllic worda'which I Will copy here exactly:

"(Sumo DE LABOQUE (n’Anz).

“List of persons who inhabit the above-
named chateau. ' '

“ I. Monsieur Laroque (Louis Auguste),
an octagonarian, head of the family and chief
founder of its fortune, an old sailor, celebrated
underthe first empire as a licensed privateer;
he acquired his wealth upon the sea. by honest
enterprises of diiferent kinds ; for a long time
a resident of the colonies. Originally from
Brittany, hereturned to his native province
thirty year-Sago, accompanied by his only son,
tltie late Pierre-Antoine Laroque, husband
0 ‘ .

 

“II. Madame Laroque (Josephine-Clara),

daughte‘r—in—law of the above-named ; a Creole
by birth, aged forty ears; indolent and r0.
mallitic in character, is fanciful ; an excellent
sou , , ‘

“III. _Mlle. Laroque (Marguerite Louise),
grand-daughter, daughter, and presumptive
heiress of the before—named persons, aged
twenty years; Creole and Bretonnese; has
idle fancies ; afine mind. .

“ IV. Madame Aubry, a widowof MnAubry,
exchange broker,» deceased in Belgium; a sec-
ond cousin, received as an inmate of the house;
sour and crabbed.

“ V. Mlle. Helouin (Caroline Gabrielle),
aged'twenty-six _;_ a ,former governess, now a
polmpanion‘; mind cultivated; character doubt-

- u . , r - r

'3' Burn this.”

. This document has been very useful to me,
notwithstandin its reserve, for it dissi ted
my horror of t ‘
fears. Besides, if there were, as M. Laubepin
asserted. two beautiful characters in the Chat-
eau de Laroque, it was certainl a greater por~
tion than one had any right to ope for among
its five inhabitants. , , . 1

After two hours’ traveling, the carnage
stop , before the barred gate, flanked by two
pa ' ens, which were occupied by a porter. I
oft my baggage there, and walked toward the
chateam.,carr ing'my little carpet-bag in one
hand, and be ending with‘blows of my cane in
the other hand the daisies which pooped
through the turf. After walking several hun-
dred yards; between two rows of enormous
chestnut trees, I found myself in a large, cir-
cular-aha garden, which seemed to trans-
form i ‘ into a park at a little distance. I
perceived on both right and and left deg per.
speotiv, open between dense thickets eady
 bits of water  the
 white boats housed under rustic
Before me rose the chateau, of con-

some“, built in the elegant half-Italian,

style of thowly days of Louis XIIL It was
 a terrace which formed a kind of
private garden in front, and was accessible by sev-
eral low etc The stately and smiling
aspect ofthisi‘b ' f ‘ g really disappointed me.
and this feeling “did not'diminish when on ap-
proaching the terrace I heard the sound of
young and joyful voices above the tinkling of a
more distant iano. Iwas decidedly entering
a house of peasure, instead of the old rigid
castle I had chosen to imagine.
However, this was not a time for reflection;
I slowly ascended the steps and found myself
’ in front of a scene, which, under other (sitcom-
stances, I should have slimmed].  a doan
lat hmg' oung girls Were WK 1 . 1n coup es
onlgthe tzrf of the parterre, wk 6 a piano,
touched by a skillful hand, sent them through
an Open window the measures of an impetuous
waltle'hsd tinietoseetheammatgd
faces; ‘0!“ the dancers, their disordered hair,
theirlarge hats flapping upon their shoulders :

my “alien is , 'tion was saluted by a general
$11.03*: renames! by profound silence;

But at the moment of my depart:

unknown, the half 0 my‘

 

the dancing ceased, and the band, ranged in
order for battle gravely waited for the stranger
to pass. The stranger had stoppednot, how-
ever, without exhibiting a little'embarrassment.
Althou h; my mind had not for a long time
been directed to [social pretensions, I confess
that at that moment I should have sold my
traveling-bag at a very low price. But it was’
necessary for me to act. As I advanced, hat
in hand, toward the double staircase leading
to the vestibule of, the chateau, the music
ceased, and there appealed first at the open
window an enormous Newfoundland dog, which
rested his leonine muzzle on the window-still
between his two hairy paws; then an instant
afterward a tall young girl presented herself;
her slightly brown and earnest ‘face was set
in a frame, as it were, of thick, shining black
hair. .Her which eyes, were extraordinarily
large, examined the scene passing outside
with indiflerent curiosity. “‘Ah, Well? what
is the matter?” said she, in a calm voice. I
made her a low bow, and once more execrat—
ing my traveling-bag, hastened up the flight of
etc 8. ‘ " ‘

ll) gray-haired servant dressed in black took
my name. I was shown a‘few minutes later
into a large, drawing-room hung with yellow
silk, where I recognized at Once the young
person whom I had Seen at the window, and
who was extremely beautiful. Near the bright
fire a middle—aged lady, Whose features showed
her to be a Creole, sat in a large arm-chair, al-
most buried in its eider—do'wn cushions of all
sizes and shapes. A tripod of antique forms
placed over a lighted brasero, stood at her side,
and she frequentl held it to her thin pale
hands. By the si e of Madame Laroque was
seated a lady knitting; her morose and dis-
agreeable countenance made me recognize her
as unquestionably the second cousin, widow
of the exchange broker, deceased in Bel-
gium.” _ . ‘, ‘

The first look which Madame Laroque gave
me was.stamped with surprise borderingon
stupidity. She made me repeat my name. ~

‘-‘ I beg pardon—mansions!”

“ Odiot, madame." ‘

“ Maximilian 0diot, the agent, the steward
from M.”Laubepin ? ”

“ Yes, madame.”

f‘Are on very sure? "a

I coulg not help smiling.
perfectly sure.”

She cast a rapid glance on the exchange
broker’s widow, then on the young girl with
the earnest face, as if to say “Only imagine
it! ” After which she fidgeted slightly among

“ Yes, madame, ‘

her cushions and resumed : .

“Be so good as to be seated, Monsieur
Odiot. I thank you very much for devoting
your talents to our service. We are in 4 great
need of your assistance, I assure you, for it
cannot be denied that we have the misfortune
to be very rich.”

Perceiving that her second cousin shrugged
her-shoulders at these words, she went on:
“Yes, my dear Madam Aubry, I think so. In
making me rich, God wished to try me. I was
born positively for poverty, for privation, for
devotion and sacrifice; butI have always been
thwarted. Foroxample, I should have loved
tohaVe an infirm husband.» Well! Monsieur
Laroque was a man of the must robust health.
You see how my destin has been and Will be
missed from one end 0 life to the other.”

“That will ’ do,” said Madame Aubry
harshly: “poverty would be a line thing for
you, who cannot deny yourself any refine-
ment, any luxury.” ' .

“ Allow me, dear madame,” replied Madame
Laroque, “I have no taste for useless sacri-
fices. If I were to condemn myselfto endure
the hardest privations, who or what would be
benefited thereby? If I were to freeze from
morning till night, would you be any hap-

ler ” * ,

‘P Madame Aubry made us understand by an
expresaive gesture that she should be no hap-
ie'r, but that she thought Madame . .' nos
guage'prodigiously afiocted and rub us.

“ After all,” continued the latter, ." happy or
unhappy, itmatters little. We‘are very rich,

 

Monsieur Odiot, and though I hadllilfle to do
with the making of this fortune, itinmy duty
31 fire

to preserve it for my daughter, ~ 
poor child cares no more for it than I my-
self—is it not so, Marguerite ?”

At this question a feeble smile was visible on
the disdainful lips of Mlle. Marguerite, and her
eyebrows were slightly raised, after which this
dignified and superb physiognomy regained its
repose. ‘

“Monsieur,” said Madame Laroque, “ you.
shall be shown the apartments that have been.
prepared for you at the express " desire of M.
Laubepin; but, previous to that, will you be
so good as to visit my father-in—law, who will.
be glad to see you ? Will you ring, my dear‘
cousin? I hope, Monsieur 0diot, that you will
do us the pleasure. to dine with us today...
Good morning.”

. I was confided to the care of a. servant, who
begged me to wait in a room adjoining that,»
which I had just quit/ted till he received his
orders from M. Laroque. This man-had left;-
the door half open,. and it was impossible not
to hear these words, spoken by MadeiraeLai-m,
que, in the tone of ironical. good—nature,,evi—
dently habitual to her; “Can any one under-
stand Laubepin, who promised me an honest,~
sober, middle-aged man, and who sends me a. *
younggentleman like that?" ,

Mlle. Marguerite murmured several words,
which escaped me, to my regret, I confess, "
and to which her mother replied; I do not con-
tradict you, my daughter? but that does not
render it any less ridiculous on Laubepin'spart.
How can you sup 036 that Such a gentleman
will 'go trotting in wooden shoes over the
ploughed fields? I wager that man never ut

on wooden shoes; he does not even-know w t

they are. Well! it is perhaps one of pr; faults,
but I cannot imagine a geod Stewart without
wooden shoes. Tell, me, Margueri .3, now I

' think of it, if you will conduct himto your

grandfather?” r ‘ ,

Mlle Marguerite came immediatel into the
room where I was. Do seeingme, e seemed.
scarcely pleased. A “ I beg pardon, ‘mademoi-
selle ; but the servant desired mete wait here
for him.” . u  I

“ Be so good asto follow me, ’ monsieur.” ,

I followed her. She led me up a ‘,
through several corridors,  showed 
into agallery, where she left me. I began to
examine the pictures suspended on the walls.
These were mostly inferior sea-pieces 
to' the glory of the old privateers of  ,

There were several pictures of, l  r a.
little smoked, in which itwas evident, ’ the
little brig Amiable, Captain Laramie, 
guns, had caused John Bull senses  j‘
Then came full length portraits of 
Laroque, which naturally attracted my  "
attention. They all represenwd, with some ’,
slight variations, a man of gigantic sine, wear-
ing a sort of republican uniform, with _  '
facings, long-haired, like Kleber,  
right before him an one etio fiery look ; oaths
whole, a man who had 'ttle  i '
about him. As I was , ems . 
(figure, which realized w ' uliy the 
i ea of a privateer, and even eta  .  
Marguerite came and ' ‘

be ‘ “me: «toasters!!- _
other room.” Ithere foun _  
ence of a thin, decrepit old manfiwhoso eyes
hardly preserved the vital   who, to“ ;
welcome me, touched with _a‘tremulous hand
the black silk cap which covered his bald 
as shining as ivory. ‘ r ” '
,“ Grandfather,” Mlle. Marguerite, rain. ,,
ing her voice, “ this is Monsieur Odiot.” »
The poorold captain raised himsek '0. little in
his arm-chair, as'he looked atme with a . dull.
uncertain e resslon. Isolated myself 9:31 '
from Mlle. erite, who  3?
0diot, the new steward, grandfa er." ‘ 1
“Ah! good-day, sir,” murmuredtheold man.
A most painful silence followed. :Captain
Laroque continued to watch me with his blenro:
ed eyes as he sat bent double, and his head.
hanging down. At length,  to recollect
an interesting subject of warmtion, he. said .

 

 

3

THE ROMANCE 0F .4 mos Your/'6 ‘ HAN:

 

 

use is saber; hence voice; M. as Beau;
shoe is dead “ ,

loom make no answer to this unexpected
communication ; 'I was ignorant who this M.
de Beauchene could be, and as Mlle. Mar ue-
ritédid not. ive herself. the trouble to ex sin
tome, I could only express by some feeb 6 ex-
«claniafion of condolence the share I took in this
mid event. This was not apparently to the taste
.0: the old sailor, for he repeated the moment
miter, in the same lugubrious tone : “M. de.
'Beauchene is dead !” _

My embarrassment was redoubled by this
permstency. I saw Mlle. Marguerite’s foot beat
the floor with impatience; I was in despair, and

unluckin expressed the first, thought which-

came into my mind: “ Ah! and of what did he
die 2” :

This question had scarcely escaped my. lips
when an angry lance from Mlle. Marguerite
warned me that was suspected of I not know
what irreverent raillery. Feeling I had been
guilty of a silly blunder, I was anxious to give
the interview a he pier turn. I spoke of the
pictures in the g cry, of the emotions they
must recall to the captain, of the re ctful in-
terests I felt its tools the hero of sue glorious
deeds. I even'entere into details, and instanced
two or three combats in which the bri Amiable
seemed to me to have really accomplis ed mira-

cles. Though I was ‘ving such a proof of court- {2

say and good taste, e. Marguerite, to my ex.
trams s ise, continued to look at me with
manifest iscontent and vexation. Her grand-
father, however, listened attentively, raising
his head little by little. A strange smile lighted
up his thin face, and seeméd to efiace the
wrinkles. Suddenly placing his hands on the

arms of his chair, he rose to his full height; a

warlike flame shot from his deep.sunk eyes,

and he cried in a loud voice that made me
tremble: “ Up with the helm! To windward!

,  larboard guns 1 Come alongside!

  irons! Quick! We hold
him‘l""¥ire high! weep hisdeck! Now! to-

Fall upon the English, the cursed

’ 5 rear Hurrah i” In uttering this last shout,
 rattled in his throat, the old man, vainl

‘ supported gamma piOus hands of his gran ~
daughter, f _ sci: crushed into his 
  made me an imperious sign, and
1* left the. i I, found my way. back as well

as I‘ could, through the maze of passages and
 felicitating myself warmly on the wit
and discretion 1‘ had displayed in my intervlew
 the Old captain of the Amiable. '

, fili§gray~haired servant who received me on
 and whose name was Alain, I found
waitingfor me in the vestibule to tell me from

w Madame ‘, no that I had no time tovisit my

" aparfinents to? as before dinner—that I was
 as ’I was. At the moment when I
enterfidthe‘saloon, some twenty persons were
abontg' leavi “it, with the usual ceremony, to
go tcitlie  -room. It was the first time
since'the' change in my condition, that I had

" "1  in society. Accustomed to the prefer-
 which etigette accords in general to birth
fortune; I ‘d not receive without a bitter
feel,  this first indication of the neglect and:
 to which my new situation inevitably
condemns me». Repressing as I best could the
mutinous’feeling, I ofiered my arm to a young

‘ , girl, short, but well-formed and gracefu , who

 I an " d her to be, Mlle. Helouin, the

governs-sap y place at table was near hers.

Attire, company were seating themselves, Mlle.

 

Marguerite ‘a peered, u like Antigone, guiding,

the Slow and aggin steps or her grandfather.
  ongmy right, with that air of
tranQuil majesty .;which. becomes her so well,
and lb? Powerinlflewfoundland, seemingly the
authorized guardian of this princess, Was not

‘ -_10n§ in posting ghimself as a sentinel. I en.

waged to my neighbor, without delay, the re—

gret I felt at haying so awkwardly evoked mam.
' ages that. agitated her grandfather in so sad a

manner.“    r

’5‘)! Ityisl who, ought to» make excuses, mom

clear,” she answered, “I ought to have told

you we must not speak of the English before

 

am... sass; Are‘ a. familiar are“;
tan ?” y

. 3' ~

I replied that I had not seen the province
before this day, but that I was very glad to her
come acquainted with it; and in order to prove
that I was worthy of it, I spoke in a poetic
strain of the picturesque and’beautiful scenery
I had passed through. I thought this adroit
flattery would gain the goodwill of the young
Bretonnese, and I was astonished to see symp-
toms of im atience and annoyance in her face.
I‘vvias deci edly unfortunate with this young
gir.

“I see, monsieur,” said she, with a singular
expression of irony, “that you love that which
is beautiful, which appeals to the imagination,
to the soul; nature, verdure, stones, and the
fine arts. You will succeed wonderftu with
Mlle. Helouin. who adores these things, which,
for my part, I do not love.”

“ But in heaven’s name, then, what do you
like, mademoiselle ?”

At this question, which I addressed to her in
a tone of amiable pleasantry, she turned ab-
ruptly toward me, gave me a haughty glance,
and answered coldly, “ I like my dog. Here l
Mervyn.”

Then she lunged her hand afiectionately
into the long  of the Newfoundland as he
stretched his formidable head between my
late and hers while standing on his hind

gs.
I could not but observe with new interest the
physiognomy of this singular person, and seek
for the external signs of that barrenness of soul
of which she boasted. Mlle. Laroque, who
seemed to me very tall at first, owed this ap-
pe’aranceto the ample and perfectly harmoni-
ous character of her beauty. She was in reali-
ty of ordinary size. ' Her face of a slightly
rounded oval, and her neck exquisitely arched,
and proudly set upon her shoulders, are lightly
tinged with a dull golden color. Her black
hair forms a strih'ng relief to her forehead and
throws wavy, bluish reflections at each move-
ment of her head; the nostrils, delicate and
thin, seemed copied from the divine model of
the Roman Madonna, and sculptured in; living
mother of pearl. Beneath‘the large, deep, and
pensive eyes, the tawn golden hue of the
cheeks shades into a row‘ner circle, which
looks like a mark traced, by the shadow of the
eyelashes, or as if burned by the fiery radiation
of her glances. It is difficult to describe the
sovereign sweetness of the smile, which comes
occasionally to animate this beautiful face, and
to temper, by a gracious contraction, the bril.
liancy of those large eyes. Truly, the goddess
of poesy, of , dreams, and of 'the’ enchanted
realms, might confidently present herself for
the worship of mortals under the form. of this
child, who loves only her dog. Nature, in her
choicest productions, often prepares for us these
cruel mystifications. . W

Moreover, tome it matters little. I feel that
I am destinedto play the part of a ne ' o in Mlle. ,
Marguerite’s , imagination—~the o ject, as
everyone knows, of slight attraction for a Cre-
ole. On in side,I flatter myself that I am as
proudas e. Marguerite; the most impossible
of all attachments for me, would 'be' that which
would expose me to the snaplcion of intrigue
and fortune—hunting. I do not think, besi es,
that I, shall need to arm myself with great
moral strength a ' inst an improbable danger,
for the beauty of e. Laroque 18 Of that Order
which challen es the pure contemplation of the
artist, rather an}: a more human and tenderer
sentiment. . .

On hearing the name of Mervyn, which Mlle.
Marguerite has given to her body-guard, my
left-hand neighbor, Mlle. Heloum, launched
full sail into the time of Arthur, telling me that
Mervyn was the authentic name of the celebra-
ted enChanter, vulgarly called Merlin. From
the Knights of the Round Table,;she went back
to the time of Cassanand I sawdefile before
me in a somewhat tedious procession the whole
hierarchy of druids, bards and ovates, ' after

which wehad a fatalrtumble from menhir to

dohnen and from galgul to cromlech; . ‘ I
While I wandered in Celtic forests, guarded

 

a me: eaten, the; any than be 4.

little fatter in order to make an. creellent druid.
see, the exchange broker’s widow, who sat
near us, kept up an incessant complaining,
“ they had forgotten to giveher a foot-stove;
they had brought her cold soup ;' the meat
which was served her was nothing but skin and
bones; this was the way she was treated. But
she was accustomed to it. It was sad to be
poor, very sad. She wished she was dead.”

“ Yes, doctor,” she continued, addressing.
her neighbors, who seemed to listen to her
grievances With an afiectation of interest
mmgled the least in the world with irony~—
“yes, doctor, it is not a. jest; I wish I were
dead. It would be a great relief to all the
world. Think, doctor! When one has been
in my position, when one has eaten ofl’ silver
plate, marked with one’s own crest—to be re-
duced to living on charity, and to see one’s
self the sport of servants! No one knows
what I sufier in this house, no one ever will
know. Those who have pride,rsufl'er without
complaining; it is for this reason that I hold
my peace, doctor, but I think none the less.” 1

“That’s right, my dear lady,” replied the
doctor, whom they called Desmarests, I believe,
“ do not let us talk of it any more ; drink some
wine, that will calm you.”

“ Nothin , nothing will calm me but death!”

“ Ah w l madame, whenever you please/l”.
replied the doctor quietly. ‘

Near the center of the table the attention of
the guests were engrossed by the careless, sa-
tirical, and vainglorious sallies of a personage
whom I heard addressed as M. deBevaIlan, and
who seemed to enjoy here the privileges of "an
intimate friend. He was a large man, of ma-'
ture age, whose head belonged strictly to the
type of Francis the First. They listened to him
as toan oracle. and Madame Laroque herself
granted him as much interest and admiration
as she seemed capable of feeling for anything,
in the world. For myself, as the greater part
of the witticisms related to local anecdotes
and occurrences, I could not fully appreciate.
the merits of this Armorican lion; , ‘

I had, however, to acknowledge his, glitea',
ness tome; he ofiered me e: Cigar after and»
and showed me into the room appropriated to
smoking. He did the honors, atth‘eflmme timel '
to three or four young men just out ’offtheir
teens, who evidently regarded him as a model'
of good manners and elegant wickedness." ' ‘ '

“Eh! Bevallan,” said 'one of these young
fellows, “you do not, then, give up the'pflesti
ess of the sun '2” ‘ f " ”

“Never,” answered Bevalla’n; “I wmwsiti
ten months, ten years, if necessary; but “I 
have her or nobody shall.”   , 

“You are not in the meantime unhap 3,7813.
fellow; the governess will help youjto; je pal
 , “  , .

“Ou ml to cut oil, your sorter"
ears, Agthur 2” replied , M. IBervallgii1  ‘aybwf
voice, advancing toward his interlocutor, and,
reminding him of my presence by a quick ’ge‘s:
ture. » 4  .
They; were then brought en the ,ctirpét, in'
charming confusion, all the horse‘s, all the dogs, ' '
all the ladies of that part of the country. 'It is
to he wished, by the way, that women could
be secretly present for once in their lives at the‘
conversations held between men after a'goodl
dinner; they would then understand exactly'
the delicacy of our customs. and the-confidence,
we ought to inspire them with. I do not’ ride,
myself on my prudery, butthe  to w chrI‘
was a listener had the serious fault, in myo in--
ion, of exceeding the limitsof the looSest Jest.I
ing; it hit at everything by the way, outraged
,gayety, and finally took a character? (if univer-
sal profanation. , " I " ' ' ' ' '

But my. education, doubtless *ver imam--
plete, has left in my heart a fluid ofy‘re’spect,"
which it seems to me ought to be, preserved ‘i '
the midst of the liveliest expansiéns of good bu."
mor. We have our Young America in France,i
however, which is not content if it does not
utter blasphemy after dinner;- we have annable
little vagabOnds~the hope of the‘i'uture—ewho
have had neither fathers nor mothers, who have,

I

O

 

THE ROM4NCE or A 130012 "YQUNG MAN

 

I..- _._.

no country, and no God, but whe would seem to
be the brutal production of some machine-with-

out heart or soul, which limitlepqsited them ae-I

cidentally on this globe to be indifierent orna-
ments to it. . “  ’ « -- ,

In short, M. de Bevallan, who did not fear
to constitute himself the cynical professor of
these beardless roues, did not please me, and I
think I-pleased him as little;~
fatigued, and took my leave. ' ‘- .

At-my request, old Alain equipped himself
witha lantern, and guided me across the park
to the building allotted to my use. After some

' minutes’ walking, we crossed a’ stream on a
wooden bridge, and found ourselves before a
massive door surrounded by a kind of belfry
and flanked by two turrets. This was formerly
the entrance of the old chateau. Oak and fir
trees formed a mysterious circle around this
feudal ruin, which gave it an air’ of deep seclu-
sion. This was to be my habitation ; my three
roomi?’ Very suitably furnished with Chintz, ex-
tended above the door from one turret to the
other. This melancholy abode pleased me; it
8111th my fortune.

As soon as I was rid of old Alain, who was
in a talkative humor, 'I seated myself to record
the doings of this important day, stepping at
intervals to listen to the soft murniur of the
little river, flowing beneath my windows, and
the 'cry of the légendary owl celebrating its
and love in the neighboring woods.

 

I July 1.

It is time for me to try to disintangle the
thread of my own interior existence, which has
'oeen lost sight of during the last two months,
owing to my active engagements. “The next
morning after my arrival, after Spending some
hours in studying the books and airports of
fatherlilivart, as they call my pr ,oessor, I
went, to breakfast at the. chateau, Where I found
Emlyn pan; of the guests of the previous even-

mmo Laroque, who spent much cf the time .
,gueriive, ,Quickly.  , , .
not Proserpine, mademoiselle i’” ‘I "

in Parisrbefore the health of her father-in—law
condemned her to at erpetual country life, faith-
fully preserves in, r retreat the taste for the
pleasures, elegant or‘frivolous, of which the Rue
du Bac was the mirror in Madame de Stael‘s time.
She appear-8,? besides, to have visited most of
the large cities of Europe, and has brought
book vhtemr‘y tastes far exceeding the common
extent .. of the knowledge and curiosity of
Parisian  She takes a number of jour«
nals and reviews, and endeavors as much as
possibletofollow from a distance the movements-

or the refined civilization of Paris, of which“
the theaters, the museums, and the new books, ,

m: the flowers and the fruits, more or less
ophcnieral. During the breakfast, anew opera

was spoken of, and Madame Laroque asked M. -
y do Bevallanf some questions relggeeting' it which *

he was unable to answer, than he  al was ,3.
ifonemey believe him, asta attheo ,ra es
. Ital-ions. Madame Lamqueuthen turn *to me,
but showed by her abstracted airkthelittle hope
she had 0! finding her man of business wellin-
formed on such subj sets ;but these ara‘unfore;
tunately, precisely the only oncewith which I
r  ‘ ted. . I. had heardtheo . rawhen
in m y that was being played‘in mace/for
the first tune. “The. reserve of my answers
roused  curiosity, and she began to press
modififqnspfions, and soon deigned to com-s;
. unabated. gown impressions othertravelss
.    _:nthusiu§tlp enjgy-
: ,.  ., a: !,,,,,._t' wombat e-
forq , Wésivisited 1 (mg

 most celebrated  and,

  
 

 of the

“continent, and our contematlon,wai so we

mated that, as we rose from the table, u; e

' Lame” took my arm unconsciously» order

. notvto interrupt its cmrse. 0n: symwhofio

>;in_t_,en:h , e of, thought continued in. the g...

 , mo baroque forgetting mom.md

_ more the benevolent, patr mums was which
 v. to this time, greatly ofl‘ended mo. 1

‘ , coalesced thattuoinahilitytomtifyhor

I!” if»! the theater tron , greatly

blodher
 lithium. in ; omdymdgat
.  'cdluintln
  III!” If “a

,4: 

I pretended to be ~

ring upto the

together in imagination the ,

Had.

 

hervat length otythe private eta earrangements
I had seen in Paris and in t.,“;Petersburg:,
than, not-,wishintho. abuse my? privileges, 1
ms": declaring that 1, must at one ,eommeuce
my. duties 11373116.. ex’aminatipn ’91 a, large farm

situated ,two'leagues fromthe' chateau; At"

this announcement Madame Lanoque seemed
filled with suddenoonsternatibn ; she looked
at me,, fldgeted.in"'her V'ohair, held her hand
over brasero, and at length said to me in a‘ low
voice : “Ah 2 what dees that matter? Let [it
go ”~—and when I insisted, “‘ why, men Dieu,”
she replied. with a
“the roads are frightt ul—wait at least till the
fine weather comes.” ' r _

“ No, madame,’ " said I, laughing, “ I will
not wait one minute {one is eithera steward or
one is not.’

“Madame,” said old Alain, who chanced to
be there, “ Father Hivart’s wagon can be har-

nessed for Monsieur Odiot ; it has no springs. .

but it is all the mere substantial ”

Madame Laroque cast a look of thunder at
the unlucky Alain, who daredto pinpose Fa-
ther Hivart’s wagon to a steward of my sort,
who had attended the theatrical performances
at the palace of the Grand~Duchess Helen.

“ Will not the carriage go in that road?” she
asked. ' ' .

“ The carriage, madame? Ma foi, no. There
is no doubt it would go, but it would not go
whole,” said Alain—4‘ ' and yet I do not believe
it would go at all. ”

I protested that
on foot. V

“No, no, that is impossible, I do not wish
it! Let us see-we have a half a dozon sad-
dle-horses who do'nothin‘g—bu’t probably you
do net ride on horseback?” '

“ I beg your pardon, madame—but it is really
unnecessary, I can go”#—-—— r ‘ . ' ' w z ., ,

~t‘ Alain, have a horse saddled for Monsieur
Odiot-which one, Marguerite ?” ’ a " " 7

“Give; him froser inc," muttered. M. as
Bevallan; laughing in issleeve. . ’ 

, “No. no, not Proserpine,” cried Mlle. Ma;-

I could go perfectly well

u 
then said.

“Because she will throw you," the young
girl frankly answered. >

“Oh, indeed? really? pardon me, if you
will allow me to ask, mademoiselle, if you

mount this beast?" ._

_ “Yes, monsieur, but I have great difilculty
in doing so.”

‘- Very well! erhaps you willhave less when _

I havs'mo'unte heronce or ‘tWice. ,1 That die-V
aides me. Have Proserpine saddled, Mainlf‘ 
Mlle, Marguerite frowned  Bat dowh,
making a gesture with her hand, as if tofthro‘w
or“ all'reSponsibility for the, catastrophe-that
she foresaw;  y , '
' “It you need spurs, I have a pair at your
service,’l§aid M. de Bevallau, who seemed to
think I should never return; , ‘
‘ Without seeming to ram 1: the reproachful
look' Mlle. Mar erite gave the obliging gentle-

‘Imm, I accepts his spurs. , Five minutes later

the noise of unruly feet announced Preset.

.pine’slgp‘proach ; she was led with difliculty to-

the .footof one oithe‘flights nix-steps lead-
‘ rivate garden, mam, by the
way, a very hauntiqu half-blooded animal,
black one  descended £11er steps.

,Severalyoun .men With Ml. do Bevallan at
their

head, fo lovvedme out upon the tattoos;

at the same, thus. the three [windows of._ the

saloon were opened for the benefit of the ladies"

mystic: greatness as

leaSant embarrassment, .

on contrary 
against ' ' d 

through’fie'lings of humanity, doubtless, and 

 

the reins, and evenio pat her “chest, grit out
the least signer fear ttuxsne’nériogi  ,felt
, V I ’p‘jtfihfiiiélf ’,
aside,” «gave three or four tapers W
the anemone mes Wieh"”i’fi7fifiié '
Steps; then the" curbed terse ates:
beating the air with her .fore feet a ,
she stood quiet, trembling an 
“ N’ot’easy Wimbfint. ’,’_ autonomous
ing  eye.  A  .mr:  . ,. ""lit-‘f‘r; .
“ I see that, my lad, but} and'fgoihjg to as—
tonish her—see.” ’ " ’ ‘ " “ i ‘  “ '
Atthe same momentlleaped into sad-
dle without touching 'the' stirrup, and while
Proserpine reflected upOn what. had happened
to "hethad taken a! firm Seat; The; ‘ slant
after we disappeared at a gallo gdownthe‘ ave-
nue of chestnuts, followed y the sound of
cla ping " of hands, for which M. de Bevallan
ha had the’kindness to give the signal. 
.This incident, insi nificant as it Was, Reid
not fail, as I perceive ‘ that evening, to. leftcb-
lisn my reputation in their opinion". fieveral
other accomplishments ‘ of equal ,wortht'hnve
completely secured me all the importance I
wish for here, that which will allow moto‘isus—
tain my personal dignl . It can, a seen,
moreover, that I do not" ntend to- abuse, the
kindness and respect of which; I mayjbé the
object, in order torusurp in'the chateau a
position little in confermity with, in y humble
duti$.' I shut myself up in my‘tovrer as “fish
as I can without being wanting in politeness ;
I keep myself, in, one ,word, Strictly  my
place, so that no one will ever be tempted to
put me there. ‘_ “ "‘ ‘  ‘ j "  4 f
Several days after myIarriva‘lI was patent
at one of those ceremqeieuedieeefirhich, at
this season, take place slinostr'eve’ry day: *-*Dur—
ing its progress I heard my name pronounced
in. atone of interr tiongrb'y’the fitgnnder-
prefect of the mag boring "tetra. who was
seated 'on the right of the mistressoftho house.
Madonna baroque, who is ’ dot to Meet ab-
stractiou, forgot. that I #38 near her, Ind
whether I would orno,‘jI;heard every word of

    
  
 

,her answer: "

“Mon Dian—ado notspsak'ojf it! ‘fierels
some inconceivable mystery there—in 
he is some disguised princes—ho can demibo
his travels over the, jworld by the to.
gather! He has  accomplishmmfi he
rides,kplayjs the phoy‘lib  to
perfection. lBetween’,.6uxsolvoe,a any _ -
derrpreect; I minimise   r .
butavery agreeablemant’” , I ‘ "pf . '
 The ‘iunder-prefeet,’ who is also}; 
able memor‘who thinks he loom, y W . is

quite at snowman rm. :0le

 
            
        

fully, members were mindful   g ‘
nonhuman tantalum  as,  " r 
besides. Laverne;  T i to?  yet of
Folly,and one; r, em f
th’en ssdéshlr.  sins pit, 
madame,” he added, “pi ; ,u‘i- 'viithoieaet
uneasiness respecting‘him, ’5' ' haw‘ " in-

tenogated' commit; the  ‘ f. the
gendarme‘rie.”       ,

Madame/Longuepmtited' '   *’ 

 
   
  
  

'esslofpolitezeal‘andth  I 

lug nut proceed , “no—"further stem? 

moireat’lyfinot  " ‘ ' ' ‘ film ’1!!!
to mfi‘mfi in . 

 

 
 

Imor'ie thaniitsfiééw my?  ,
‘ net'suficiently  u I} I“ I} my

bfiOUYmefit‘ '   a . y .
It chanced, ’ hat‘qn‘tlfe’ mitt   re-
new the'léeseéffi    
acnnnin ’old, ' ‘ “ball-I.“ , 

 

   
      
 

       

1)? ' ,‘ 5' l- ‘- a
and elder) men.’ I‘would,w11hngl_ ,' ‘ have es; dazzling,  .01. 
coped all this Preparations but it Wanamaker-y" 'wmifiy   the WW9 “01' 
to submit tel and besides,  not uneasy diploma; When u : rm?méfit‘  WE,
about them of the adventure, fol-it! was a cm 166, th- gooé  on my 
young stow d, w an 20 , 110mm”. I 1‘01.“ 0‘ 391,1 £133”? . 1 “3,11 “3‘ ~  , i
could hardluwalk wan my father, laced, me maternal}.  “not   ' 
on were. o medium: .mmd woe Mario e6»?! maim-  ., -  
ballad «new. med no time tandem my Wang; W new _. m-
. mflmfiioh tenants; fie tiom that . scum   
ind «as carried my education in this respect money. customary, on who},   tee
refinanced, in making me sometimes may losses; ,0? in other words”, the p  v gem“
sauna haw- thoin  {a order to whioh the margin the ' _
museum ’ . ’ ' ,, « , g « tit-dam ~ t" :3-
Kowvmg , , pinaflmdmtomsma haves;

 

 

 

 

 

 

jayyl-“wy .3 "my -». u»  .< _ -. ‘ ...

 

-‘ ll  meet _ . .
 . y and despair. My life is nnreservedly

 for met my

a?“

20

THE ROMANCE OF A POOR YOUNG MAN.

 

 

in the tamer leases, drawn 3 by my skillful

 and which eerv me as models.
drowns Mummers circumstance,
at 50 moment, but when ,I placed this pledge
in Indemnified! hands, her surprise as»

no.

“What does this mean ?” she  me. It
«planned the nature, of the gratuity. She
made me repeat my explanation.

“ Is it the custom ?” .

" Yes, madame, whenever a new lease is

ted."

"But there have been during thirty A cars
more than ten leases renewed to my know edge
-—-what is the reason we have never heard of
the“ things before.”

“I do not know what to tell you, madame. "
e Laroqne fell into an abyss of re-
m, at thcbottom of which she met, per.
hope, the venerable shade of Father Hivart, all
tor which she shrugged her shoulders, slightly
baked at me,then at the gold pieces,then‘ again
“mend seemed to heeltate. Then she leaned
hack in her arm-chair, and sighing deeply,
mid to me with great simplicity :

' "“Very well, monsieur ; I thank you.”

This act of palpable honesty, which she had
the good taste not to com liment me for,
had the sheet of impressing adame Laroque
with a great idea of her steward’s ability
 virtue. I discovered that some days
 Her daughter was reading to
hora history of a voyage to the North Pole, in

_. which there was an account of an extraordinary

bird which did not fly away :——“Hold,”said
she, “that is like my steward.”

I firmly hope that I have since acquired, by
the strict attention with which I have devoted
myself to the task I have undertaken, some
may lees negative praise.

on I wentto Paris recently to visit my
sister, M. 'Laubepin thanked me with great
wormeh p for the honor I had done his recom-
mendation of me. x ‘ -

" Courage, Maximilian,” said he to me ; “ we
will have a dowory for Helen. The poor child

- will that be, so to raglan: for nothing. And
my

to yourself, and, cherish no regret.
it me, that which most resembles happi-

:-   world, you have within you ; and

 3.97:3. I see u windagwitlyt; have it;
: “ , , ooan ea y serem
er  devotion to duty.” /

l 5 ,  ,‘I‘he oldmsnisdoubtlessrig‘n. 1am tranquil,
I . hut! are hardly happy. Therenrein my soul,

which is not at matureencugh tor the austere
‘ ' sacrifice, alternate transports of

' fie «other, feebler and clearer, and

V I tenancies er;ithasno future it

u in a cluster, forever. My heart
 ‘, head must think for another
 ' bohapip'y! ,Agedmwe near

‘ come quickly 2 its
 will sustain my courage.
:3 autism , besides, of asitua-

  

  beguiled my I most painful

some ‘i‘ “We. 3“ 3; “him...
‘ . , _.m _ hen our 1! e
  ,M'euto. mitosis for soli-
 eway {mastheohateam I
‘ utmost”

6 In

x Mmtfl w5oomel
M em as. n , outer,
ommhmeh tto me; makes
theeonddantoi her strange but very gin.

  for poverty, i‘or devotion,. and

. . , which‘fcrm- an 'm
 1th her man precautions against
f'   metimes she envies
« poles burdened withchildren, who dnfi
 e cart along the roads and coo
 Wonder the shelter 0‘ the hedges;

_  it lathe sisters of charity, some—
it'is‘the camp woman, whose heroic

 law the». e bide of emulating. Then
. .  wilirggé the into M. iLeroq. newith his
"greenest which never permitted his

'   to displsy her dhihtiee as, r . sick nurse, ,
r f , ' to have

i.   like M’Wil’h
»  "attenuation use :2“
 _Te‘,m* , fits

139‘s “6,. Hf, .5, J“, V _,.

" a,

   
 

morning, in this kiosk, where she sweetly
awaited mart om. _

I have hat ly less to praise in the other in—
hnbitants of the chateau. Mlle. Marguerite.
alwa pin in some unknown reverie, like
9. Nu iansp int, condescends, however, with
obliglng readiness, to sing my favorite airs.
Her voice is an admirable contralto, and which
she uses with the most consummate art. but at
the same time with a coldness and indifi'erenoe
which must be intentional. It sometimes
happens that an expression of warmth and
passion escapes her lips, but she seems humil-
iated and ashamed of this forgetfulness of
character, or part, and hastens to resume her
icy propriety.

Several games at piquet, which I have had
the politeness to lose with M. Laroque, have
won the good-will of the poor old man, whose
looks are sometimes fastened on me with an
intentness truly remarkable. One would say
that some dream of the past, some imaginary
resemblance is half awakened in the shadows
of that worn~out memory, through which float
the conf: sed images of a whole century. But
no one has offered to repay me the money lost
with him ! It seems that Madame Aubry, who
isthe old captain‘s regular partner, does not
sample to accept the repayment of her losses,
but this does not prevent her winning as often
as she can, on which occasion the old sailor
falls into a great rage with her.

‘This lady, whom M. Laubepin treated with
great lenity when be characterized her simply
as possessing a mean mind, inspires me with
no sympathy. But I wasconstrained, through
respect for the house, to gain her kindly re-
gard, and think I have done so by listening to

or miserable lamentations over her present
condition, and her glowing descriptions of her
former magnificence, her silver plate, her fur-
niture, her laces, and her numberless pairs of
gloves!

I must confess I am at a good school to learn
to despise the fortune I have lost. All preach
to me eloquently, by, their attitude and lan.
guage, on the vanity of riches; first Madame

ubry, who may be compared to those shame-
less gourmands whose rationing greediness
takes away your appetite, and w 0 ve you a
thorough disgust for the dishes w in]: they
[recommend to Eyou ; next this old man, who is
sufi‘ering with is millions as sadly as J ob on
his dung heap; then this woman, excellent
but romantic and blase, who dreams, in the
midst of unwelcome prosperity, o! the forbid-
den fruit of poverty ; and finally the superb
Marguerite, who bears the diadem of beauty
and opulence which heaven has. placed upon
her forehead, as i! it were a crown of thorns.

Strange girl! Almost every morning, in
fine weather, I see herypass under my belfry
windows on horseback ; she salutes me with a
dignified bow which merel names the black
'i'eather on her hat, then s owly disappears in
the shady path which crosses the ruins of the
old chateau. Ordinarily, old Alain follows her
at a distance; sometimes she has no other at-
tendant than the enormous and faithful Mer-
vyn, who moves along at the side of his beau-
tiful‘mietress, like a pensive bear. Shegoes in
this style on errands of mercy, through all the
neighboring country. She is her own lprotec-
tor; there note. cot e within six esgues
retard, fwhere 0:11;? notl own fid venerated
as e iry nevo once. a peasants,
when g of her, say simply: “Marlo
moiselle,” as if the spoke of one of those royal
ladies who make echarm ‘of their legends,
and whose power and beauty she seems to
them to possess. , .

I often endeavor to explain to myself the
shadow of somber reoccupation which is con—
stantly visible in her face, the state! and de-
fiant severity 01! her glance, and the itter dri-

. ness of her conversation. I ask myself whet

or these are the natural Straits of a mixed and
capricious character, or the symptoms of some
secret trouble, remorse, or fear, or love, which
verse this noble heirt. ' However disinterested
{one may‘be'in the case, it is im ible not to

"feel 'a certain curiosity respect ng so remark-

 

“Iu‘i‘h a

able a I;

avorlte; served mfsolitary repeat.

~her estimation; but she hppeers to

.ofsientimonts they wish to-i

 

arson. Last evening'dlsin, with school»
 aim gr lion strangeness-e

“ Well, Alain,” said I, “this has been a bean
tifulyday. Have you Wdayg' d

H as, monsieur, ’ ' w: me e-
moiselle."

“Ah! indeed.”

“ Fd monsiglur mm: peg? ?” I .

“tispossi e, . as, see on
sometimes. You sit our horse welLyAlam

"Monsieur is very ind. Mademoiselle sits
a horse much better than I.”

“ She is a very beautiful youn gir .”

“ Oh 1 perfect, monsieur, an as good as
beautiful; and so is madame, her mother. I
will tell monsieur something. ,Monsieur knows
that this property belonged formerly to the
last Count of Castennac, whom I had the honor
to serve. When the Lax ue famil bought
the chateau, I acknowledge that my cart was
full, and I disliked to remain in the family.
I had been taught to have a great respect for
the nobility, and it cost mes. great deal to serve
people without birth. Monsieur may have re-
marked that it gives me particular pleasure to
do him any service, and it is because he has
the air of a gentleman. Are you very sure
you do not belong to the nobility?” ‘

“ I fear so, my poor Alain. "

“Nevertheless, and it is this I was going to
say to monsieur,” replied Alain, with a grace-
ful bow; “I have learned, while in the ser-
vice of these ladies, that the nobility of feeling
is worth much more than the other, and in
particular than that of Count de Castennac,
who used to beat his servants. It is a pity,
monsieur, that mademoiselle could not marry
a gentleman with a fine name. There would.
then ’be nothing more wanting to her perfec-
tion.’ 4
“But it seems to me, Alain, that it depends
on no one but herself.”

“I! monsieur speaks of M. de Bevallan, it
depends only on her, for he asked her hand
more than six months ago. Madame did not
oppose it; and, in fact, M. de Bevallan is the
richest in the country, after the Laroques; but
mademoiselle would not give a decided an-
swer, but wished to take time for reflection.”

“But if she loves M. de Bevallan, and it she
can in him whenever she wishes it, why'is
ills gilways sad and abeenhminded, as one sees

e1- ’ . ,

“It is true, monsieur, that mademoiselle is
entirely changed within two or three years.
Formerly, she was like a bird for gayety~now
one would so. there is somethi which trou-
bles her; but do not believe, wi all respect,
that gt iséier love for this man.” ~

“ on 0 not appear to, be Y tender our-
self toward M. de Bevallan, a; good Aylain.
He is of excellent birth, however. "

“That does not prevent him from being a
bad fellow, who spends his time in debauch-
ingtheoountrygirls.,dndlimoaoiourhaa
the use ofhis eyes, he mthdmnot
restrain himself from playing them in the
chateau, while wailing {or ' ‘ .”

’I'here'ed was a pause, mm,m re-
sum : ,

“ Pity that monsieur has not a hundred. thou-
sand francs income. ”

“And why so, Alaini’_’

“Became.” “id Alain. nodding his head
with a dreamy air. .

July 25.
In the course of the month, which is nearly
passed away, I have ' one kind, and I
have made, I think, we enemies. The one- ’
mice are Mlle. Marguerite and fills. Estonia;
the friend is an unmarried MyofoigMy-eight.
itahm afraid one does not compensate for the
0 er. ~ ’
Mlle. Helonin, with whom I will first settle

myaccounhisanu ulpersen. The
fault that she retende I ve been guilty of to-
ward’her‘o t rather to hounded me in

fine of
those women, common enough in the world,
who do not rank esteem filmed; the, number
, 're other-smith,

or which they feelv‘toward at cm.  my
eafllestaresidenoe here‘aslmilarit  the
5b! the

THE ROXANOE OF A POOR YOUNG HAN.

 

 

steward, and the equality of our positions in
the chateau, made me assume toward Mlle.
Helouin the relation of afleetionste kindness.‘
I had prided myself. at all times, on manifest-
ing to these poor girls, the kindly interest
which their ungrateful task, their precarious
andhumiliating situation seemed to me to de-
mand for them. Mlle. Helouin is pretty, in.
telligent, full of talent, and though she spoils
all a little by the viv’ecity'of conduct, the fever-
ish coquetry, and light pedantry, which are
the frequent results of her occupations, I had
very littleimei‘it in laying the chivalrous part
that I have ascribe to myself. This character
took the form of duty, in my eyes, when I dis-
covered that a devouring lion, wearing the
features of Francis the First, is roaming secret-
ly about my young rotegee. This knavery,
which does honorto de Bevellap’s audacity,
is carried on under the color of amiable famili-
. arity, with a emftiness which easily deoeives
inattentive or ingenuous eyes. Madame La-
roque, and her daughter in particular, are too
ignorant of the perversities of this world, and
live too far from all reality, to ex crience a.
shadow of suspicion. As to mfyso f, irritated
9.231 cm againstthis devourer 0 hearts, I find
a plenum in thwarting his designs; I have
more than once diverted the attention he en-
deavored to _ ;‘ I have striven above all
to lesson-tin  Helouin’s heart that bitter
feeling of abandonment and isolation which in
general 3i so muchvslue to that sort of con-
solation WE}: was, offered to her. Have I ever

difl‘erence. There is the general, irho knows
something of it, he who had absolutely noth-
ing when I married him-«hut his sword; and
it 18 not a sword which will butter soup, is it,
madame ‘2”

“No, no 1 Oh, no, madame,” cried Madame
Aubry, applauding this bold metaphor. ‘ ‘Honor
and glory arenvery fine things in romances,»
but I think a. good carriage is much better; is
it not so, madame '2”:

“ Yes, certainly, madame ; and that is what
I said this morning to the general in coming
here ; is it not, general ?” . I l

“ Hum l" growled the general, who was
moodin playing in the corner with the old
captain. '

“You had nothing when I married you, gen-
eral,” returned Madame de Saint-Cast; “you
would not think of denying it, I hope?” _

“ You have already said 80,7? muttered the
general. r - ' _

“ It is none the less true that if it were not
for me you would go on. foot, my general, and
that would not be so fine with your wounds. It
is not with «pension at six or seven thousand
francs that you could ride in a. carriage, my
lriend. I said that to him this morning, med—
cme, in talking of our new carriage, which is
as easy as easy can be. However, _ I paid a
high price for it; it modes good four thousand
fiance lessin my purse, madame l’v’r . . ~

“ I believe it, madame! My visiting carriage
cost me nearly five thousand francs, counting
the tiger’s skin for the feet, which alone cost

France, has gmdunll

"little house, with a little  it ,.  '9’;

otyouthfulvamty’ 1-va 
this peculiar name’of Porhoet good my 
whovwc very loaned in such 
of ittome. ( ‘  i, Q
. a”
l

/ '4‘?

Mile. de Porhoet, who to-dey remains
lost of her name, has never wished to,
in order to preserve, no lo as Woodmen
armament of the Frenchno ilit theconetdls- .
tion of these magic syMlm—lyerhoet-Gsell .

Some one chanced to  (before her) one r
day of the origin of e... BonrhonnJ “The
Bani-hens,” said Mlle. do Format, plunging

her knitting-needle several times into her

blonde wig, “the Bourbons are 01‘ good coho
ity, but,” (putting on suddenly  of
modesty) “there are betterw’f  5-“, - . ,

It is impossible, nevertheless, to bow Selma
thiis augustlold hilly, Ebb bears with , ma, 'nel- ‘
e #1ng ity etri can heavy'fll 139' ; ‘
of age, and of misfortune. _ deyiomble  
suit that she obstinateg entries on, Hung} '

- ,  18d. “09 d :3  ;<.. 
fortune; there  he'to   ”
imome ot‘ a thousand francs oiMI”

,.
e 5 ;

 
  
    
 

 

  

trouble has not,lessctlod~ 
crossed he: temper; She is  I,
courteous; she lives,,no enema. it. '

        
 

cam attachment for their ‘ * .
nfibboihw ' hdfihmb-  it
vmmg e ,. e o, ,   ..
attention, which confotmds

 
 

 

exceeded in this ill—advised struggle the deli- five hundred francs.” : _ r ,, I have often seen Mlle. Mergu
gate limits of fraternal protection? I believe “As to mo,”.replied Madame 'dsflaintpcast, dance to go mkethoflfeurth at
notgund the words otthe ohm-talc! cwhich “ I he.an compellcdto eoonomrzs a little, host’s WW; it mode 0
hernias“, ed tie 3am 1 ens-role: ,grweflished my synonym twin? gowmm five  .,,
m, .m s in we: myprn once. ‘03; 'cecrpatsnhWWL —  mamglo‘ _, T’
aaWthstweckwewcntoutu the temthonmdfmncs, Therm-emth 1mm mot 2*" W ' L
terrain Mothefruhair. Mlle. ouin, torcprcvinoialholcgoumll “and. itis old. , ;.,nd on,“ ‘  
to'vhoullhnd had a 811068.65 vcryMez-butnhthoMu,m their knees speahwedidnotadhy—  decim-
toshovsomc particular attention, lean mathemmcnclovcstobecdmiudtismdan—b 
lightly upon my arm, sndwhzle biting an itmtpdmodmc?" _. 7 . lee,““£ .54, fl  W at
orange-hover with her small white tooth, sold “Without doubt. madcme,”retumed m. mdmgMMh m;  T v i A
in urn-unsth voice: ’ ama Alibi" . “one loves to 136 itde and one It must be .mderstoodihutotthc    :
“Wu” ‘1' “mi.” WWW” “WW3 only infwromon to the money mentofthe Mommy. a ma ,,
“I try to be so, mdemoiselle.” one has. For me, console myself for not be- de Porhoet, who was in  ’ '
“ You are a true Mend.’ ins more honored now, or thin ' if I d'Anjou, crossed the ‘ tut
’ u " ' were still whetl have been, I she sec at my W '
“But a friend-how 1‘” feet all the Willa who slight me.”
“Amie one, as on said", “Exec tme~zoundsl" cried DoetorDsemo-
u Ammonives me ?” rests, ' . gnuddenly ; you might have 3 him.
“Without doubt.” drcd millionsryeorly and you wouldnot seem
"finch?" K styourfeet, Igmryou.» in word of honor.
“W.” ‘ Shawl mwgoiatothe «hair; for the,
«We ' ' . devil take ins, boom has: so more elitl"
, "Ho." ~ - - r ‘ ffldwith this the bring gage: m m
‘U  MM!!! noon, V ’ .mygrstiuevr‘ am {9,
WV , olecrly new by s hc.hsdmmsreslserneehyreheving
firm  Edouard  orange. myhcsrt, oppressed withmdignction and dies
man “an moped scam. I .‘, ,,
q unlucky our, I have been outed Although Doctor manure-ts was established
fithnmthstlhsnnfishmkfiom,md inthehouee on the team! of 9 St. Jenn
1W doctdeéfibclierethomm ~ “one Beuchc d.’0r, to whom was mm W,
mktheothcrtobocnilinsiondfmymis- in enceof than c was WWW” 
as for Mlle. do Bedrock ho , ”

adventure. had nothcdamtof counterpolsc
thi w“y' to a: l stth ha-
ssle , , V e even :23 c 0
teen; moor mummawho he}! spouts
formng had leftinthemommg, sndI
found the habitual visitors—the cure, the
collector, cheater Damn-eats, and finally,
the General do wot-Cast and his wife, who,
ass-well“ the doctor, live in the neighboring
 do '_‘whoscemsto
hach I her husbands tine fortune, was
w on; I entered i153 Th con-
vorsction vi W0 .nbry- one two
dunes understand one another perfectly; they
oelehmtc. by turns, like two shepherds in an

logue. incom hie» charms of riches,

g a styfilzrhcre coof form contends

with elevation of then ht _ '
“you finish“ ” said Madame An-

b ’ “there is but one thing in the world, it
isryth be rich. When Im richIdea me
with all my hem those who were not; and
it very mm m m: I should be despised,
and I do not 

ofit.”
. “Ho mania 13.1323;
was,” top I - ‘v
certainly not, madame; but it is certain that
to be rich orto be poor makes awonderful

 

too nottcoausethespcctatorec feeling
ofun mythic}: was manifested by an

   
 
 

citly of the unto-1mm 

 

embarrassed crime. We Loroque skill. devotes in her ' her chi 7 ‘
fully broke ithy asking hcr‘daughtcr if it was inheritance—it is the erection in the ’ i -
aghto’olook. , .v v J r v ‘ ingoityntsecthedmhintheincntm hit
“its, motlm,’ _1ed Mlle.  style, which willows:er : fl  . ..  ,
“foerle. do For unoteome yet.’ the name of its to m ,, ,flf  ,
The minute after,ssthe clock begsntosttiko, but extinct nee. , ,  . . ,
thedoor opened, and Mlle. Jocelynde do _ «eliminate ,  '
Porhoct-Gcel, leaning on Doctor Desmerest’s otthis child. Show“ 3|”- .
arm, entered the room, with sshonomiosl it drawn ; chem . , , V
» on. ._ nights, in meditating co  in
MflePorhoetwho this mhodseeahcr changingitswm. 9' , 
tightly—Gish“! spring. end w o bed the appear- menu to it, end she at it u of n. me;
once of along reed preserved in silknns the matches!!! . .  . g i 7
last of anoble me, whose earliest ancestors ' “I was in. tin marl-qt m Wt;.l¥m«
might be found wrong the tubulous kings of marked a W 0450‘“! flunk the north obi!

ancient America. Seriously, however, this
house does not appear in history till the twelfth
Gen in thepcrcon ofJuthaci, sonch
male Mdmdcdfromtheyeungerbrmoh
o! the al _
the bl of the

De Elohim, De Lusigasn. and Dc Ponthieve;
and these nobleman considered it the purest

of their blood. I remember, when studying one

day the history of our family alliances, in a fit



l ' oi  Madmen!
crhoets have tested in the
veinsofthe molt illustrious men of France:

 

Wilt; I have changed the ,hecdle’s lived}.
at octets.” -

“Well! msde‘moiselle,” said thc‘doobr ii
is. clarified the cards. “hm . worked so
your cathedral since yesterday _

“Yes, doctor; a wry hoop; idea has 
curred to me. I here replaced the plot: wall,
which seth the , . 7 from the sacristy,,hg
folmgcinmgnghtctondin ‘ off ‘
phcpel ofChuon in  Charlie! kaolin. it
is much lighter. " . r

i-
i

n» l»

Tim Rennie}; 'm‘ -A I 1,903 ‘ ~1‘05‘1‘3‘Gr MAY.

 

 

 

ii rill, feeliheifi f'lfiit‘ehlwewcam seem

inethe‘ineemimei‘  l 'isit‘ true? as I think 1‘

item! this in the Helms dos Delta's Manda,
Ethntihe youn ( kc cf Ville-Hermon; pro«
* "1’ 7‘ toyth  I inete your lawsuit amicably
‘. ymufleng“  '  '

‘Mile’. Poi-heel; ', tossed her head with 3 dis.-
as.qu methamehokin‘g the bunch of faded
ribbons whichflosted over her cap—“ I should
«his distinctly," said she: . ' ‘

“Yes, yes, 11 any that, Mademoiselle ; but
whet means on that sound of 3 guitar which

has been. heard for some nights under your
windows 1'" ‘

I!  1” . l

j} 5 2 And, this Spenierd, in mantle and

yellow om. when: one sees roaming about
the country and sighingp incessantly ?"

“20"!  wag,” 38' d Mlle. Porhoet, tren-
jq‘qilly‘; {his her snufl}hox._ "For the rest,
‘efieeémh'to know, my men of business
 '1  Madrid‘,htw¢idde s e‘ , that

.’ oneewesou " on source
We‘dotofirecrrcwe." ‘ f -
 ‘ let. I believe it, indeed! Do you

~ “where he comes transient men of busi-
near Irons the carom Gnomes. direct.
ES on last crown, one»le make
  " V if WVOuld'onl bend.
  ‘ (down ‘t' Holly and We tren-
tq “ y! , "wouldmilliom serve-you? Are

,  V end'heid in consideration—and
’ with.

 “do; , mom As to your cathe-
   o{ it. because it is o bed

 jest'only in the eyes
D‘emereete; besides,

4.,
 , our,
0  ' m. j , _.
  f remand for justice»; the
pM'  to he. 1 f Veheerd it solid as
h , an“ r . . .
a with my consent people-who arenamueh
s ‘ ‘ “tenth yet-yummy deer friend,

I  “Who’mfbrthh
I  “is Mae em eon-
 you"ere' mistaken, for

V “thelheeer oi‘me'rrying with

  
 

   
   
  
  
 
  
 
 
  
   

   
   

,. ' 7 2737 s . ‘ 
 ‘ 5h  Mlle. ' u
I ., ._ ego  ,,h
‘ ‘1  '   "the  meiin' thg
'1 enter '“ 'llierselrutothe'mto
  sineurher enhances-by e

,_  and pettinge inch of
 her-{thin nose, sci : “You

 A I monotone? oung'men.’ ‘
   ieuloue boosting, and
f*hfi¢k  by" the ’ 'uieitive
i  ‘niey. {bowed
"   ‘ New '11 her. One game
‘ were ‘ all ‘eilence; It was «ten

    
  

made rm touchedunyerm : “Hr.- thst God hesehosen to "denounce “058 3‘
~  - eon. theshbnorofeooom- were». inertia! that whereas. material
W“ “M the events?" i ‘. Emmett“. my “1"” “it"m
‘ 4; renewed=aler.« , v 4 ite‘e eein our persons, a species. 0f merit. 0‘:

I I .5    ‘z .  I ‘ dis! L‘Ufluetre,‘-VM flows and? “W09
  _.    .3 J  - ~ .  ~ pass‘fornothi, ,=whlehinothingcanhuy.which
’ '  ‘ ' ‘M 25 1s notto be sol ! Such. 00118111. 16, “lde

' We I mew, mm in e. We . .he
 «it  provincial ' oestume '

Ipre-
snetm; then-Mlle. de :

 ‘ swam “in
 lie leg wifh Nonfremlhsndthe thin
 he?" ' dress: she hit! ooldl ' refused
thebfier of" W. and I walked“ or side.
 low ,* and very» ill-pleased with
434 whifirfltssiafithe on; no
“speak. 11 em oi nyrou
 goon algiied to yours, and
seen 7- ; ‘ stories is in point or histo
snarel *nWfibnir‘eflmhell" be very“ mue
 ‘9 @373 is?“ will “listen me upon

to me,

,. “I lied decided in my own mindi‘tlietll ought,

it wreak WWW! l?“ 39°?“ of my int

‘  ,,   ,9» .J I I, . (I m
wanton Dion l, 'imedemeiselle l’ L replied, to:
 on will, "excuse a ‘  which
sees  I ,fithe‘ifi. the’bchlfie ofyoonyetentloni”,
  - plmlryi="erlea»mle do Poi-hoot";

 

‘ r. end it she’llvnever»

» ‘ ironic minutes of this gloomy,

to? said

successively.
smell soulto-
esbundenfitable, Orig
TTnilyyimerquls, if my I
,thevonl consideration, you may believe that
,I shoul‘ be Very indifierent shout mymillions
ifrom’ ii in“ ; but it seemssuitable, end a good.
' * exempt cities/e! house like mine should not
“the subject. in truth, affords much pleas-

 

 ” use whet do“ foni’ouil,"irl this “age,
't e

leasantries that are openly addressed to
an o‘ d,“ unprotected womsnfiand that no one
would dare to allow himself to address to a
men ? "

“ Mademoiselle, you lento me no retreat pos-
sible; nothing more remains for me but to
confide in your discretion' I do not know,
modemoieelle, whether the name of Champcey
d’Heuterive is known to you '9.”

“ I know perfectly, monsieur, the Chem ey
d’Hautei-ives, who are a good, on exec lent
family of Dnuphiny. What conclusion do you
drew from it? "

“ I am today the representative of this
famil ." o

“ on? ” said Mlle. do Porhoet, making a.
sudden halt ; " you are a Chempeey d’Heute-
rive ? ’f ‘ v

" Yes, medemoieelle." V

“ That alters the case," said she; " give me
your erm,'cousin, end tell me your history.”

I believed that in the: present state of things
it was best to conceal nothing from her. I
terminated the sinful recital of the misfor-
tunes of my ism lyljust as we found ourselves
in front 9» a rural house, singularly narrow
and low, which was flanked on one of the

lee by a kind of pigeonchouse, with a
litigated roof. “Enter, marquis," said the
aughter of the kings of Gael, stopping on
the threshold of her r palace ; “ enter. I
beg“ or you.” Thai nt otter} was intro.
(1qu into n little parlor with e brick floor;
on the pale tspestry which covered the, wells
hung e. dozen family portraits, emblemed

I with the duesl ermine; on the mantlenpieee I

saw shining e. msgnifioent clock olzshell, ins
laid with copper end surmounted by 3 group
representing the chalet or the "Sun. ' Some
meg choirs withovulbeeke, and an old son).
wit slender legs, completed- the decoration of
this room, where everything spoke of rigid
ropriety, and where one breathed ooneentrw
d odor-or iris; Spanish enufi, end uncertain
eromstleid‘rugs. -' K v , » . \
’ 'heru

.‘q

“'Sit down, eeid the 
semester sole ; “ sit macaroni-tier E1:
in reellty wemnot: mm1.mdi'm‘s I

regimes-ensue rel-hootch Bnnhee do 3

Chompoey hhd the telly,- between you: and
me, thei‘elly notto increase the stock, it would

beng’reesblezto me, with: your permission, to

nation on: e cousin, in? prints, in order to
begul ethesed feelin of my loneliness for
the time. The past indeed bitter, but I
will suggest some thoughts which are habitual
to me, ond'whioh seem of a. nature to word
you sincere consolation. - in the firstlfloce,
mygaeer-rmrquis, I often soytoxnyse that
there is an odoroi distinction and good taste
in poverty, when I see the simpletons end;
former servants riding toldny in their can
riege‘s. »- Bald/es, I on: hotter from: believing

to ell ireppeirsn‘oe; the . presidential justifica-
tionon your condition‘end ofminc.’ - v v _, -
_ I expressed to Mlle. do Porhoet how proud
I was at having been chosen with her to give
to the wet-1&3 the nobleinstmctions, of which:
ithed so much need, and b which it was so
little disposed to profit. hen she resumed :

"F‘or:»rrny‘own’ pert, monsie’ur, I am made'for“

indi once,“ and I suffer little from it ;when
one “seen inathe course of a life already
too long, .a father, worthy his name, and four
brothersw Worthy of their father, fallby the

' bullet or the steel: when one has seen all the,

objects-oi one’s meeting and. one's worship,
Egrish, zone must have a very

.ocou led about a. more or less
ilet more or less fresh. 1
personal ' comfort were,

disappear from the earth without leaving sitar

I
,l-

2!

3 create manifest it to her.

p-

it some lasting trace. some glorious monument
of itlg-gmdenrond its faith. This is why,
in initiation of some of my ancestors, i have
dreamed. cousin. and I will never give it up
while I have life, of the pious endowments
which you have heard spoken of.” r

' Being secured ot'my assent. the noble old we-
men scented to collect her thoughts, and while
she ezed with amelnnchol expression upon
the sif-eflooed portraits 0 her ancestors, the
hereditary clock alonedisturbed the midnight
silence, in the dim parlor, , .

“There will be,” Mlle. do ‘Porhoet seden-
ly resumed, in a. singularly solemn voice,
“ there will be a chapter of canons regulan
attached to the service of this church. Em
day at routine, 9. low mass will be said in the
private ohe 101' my family. for the repose or ,
my soul on theoouls of my ancestors. The
foot of the emulating priest will reel n on a.
marble slab without inscription, .whio » will
form the step of the alter, and will also cover
my remains.” r .

I bowed with visible and respocthi. emo-
tion. ’ ~ " ' * I
Mlle. do Pcrhoet took my hand and pressed
it gently. “ I am not crazy, cousin," mid she.
"altho 111 an: celled so. My fetha'. who
did not e, always sleeved me that et the ex-
tinction of the direct descendants ofcur‘
‘lsh'bruneh, we should here the sole rig to
“the inheritance; his sudden end violent dent}!
prevented him unfortunately, from -  us
more precise informetion outbid so act: at
being unable to doubt his “24,: I 'mog
doubt my ' lat. Howner," added «she, 'm .
Vs pause, on with aneocent of ten sed—
ness, “ if I am not crazy, I am old; and ‘those
,men down‘thereflknow it well. , They- Love
drown me on for fifteen yearsWith Fons frichly
and another; they ere waiting for in death,
which will end everythingL-V-eml  » as they
will'nct need to whit 10113 ~ "I must mike my I
last sacrifice one'bfj these'ds'ys', 1136! it." 
poor-cathedral, my sole love—mobiles re-
placed  lien? .90 ,moh oméhel or'reo
pulsed ‘ act on——- t will never have J snowman
One stone, thet‘o'f my tomb.“ ‘ r A. k; w
The old lady ceased. 'She" brushed 
tears from her withered _  heir? "
hands, and, forcing e. smile;  “11‘ “
don me, cousin, you lists troubles one ,
your own. Excuse me~besides, it it: "
retire, you will compromise me." " I ,, 

Before leaving, I again recommended “X110-
de Porboet's discretion, the secret}, M ,qon-
fided. She replied evasively, thht I  be
tranquil;th sheehonld  in $835.!!!
my peacoéMmy dignity.  It ,.  _
fromthe frequent glances I received from Ms-
domeIm-oqnen few days‘leter, my _
friend had. communicated my  ; ‘..:
do Porhoet diam  to nickname .
it,eenringmesheeould~notede4hu1w '
honor at her temil‘y. endlhete .W Mg»,
dame Leroqne Munchiesefebctmm it,
even to her daughter. I . " V g; 5 :

" My enter-sees with the? “old lady  ' red
me with o tender-respect, end-11love ion ' ' a.
The next evening

    
 

 s

,, I commenced drawing plans for thei'lutenor

and exterior orn emotion of hérl'dm'mthe.
drsl, with the u est skillI pcesessfitfiheilwns,
greatly pleased bythis attention; " end'malmost.
every evening, after the game at weld-215.311.
ishcd, I go to my drawing, and theiidsn‘i church
is enriched by a statue, s pulpit, "or" n gsllery,
Mlle. Marguerite, who seem: to p r her
neighbor with e feelingbf' adoist‘iom; ‘ : com
tributod to my work‘s: charity,’ b devoting an
album to this monument of if? yorhoets,
which Iem charged to   y if: i i '
Lhasa, elated.” besides, gtd  de-
Porhoet in the investigations 3nd Mailings of,
all kinds necessary'to forward 11.83 film The r
woman 'acknowleiigod that I could-be ‘o the-
grestest service ,«to hem for ngh she ‘cOuld still
*keep up her ordinaryoorrespondenoephqr a as
were too weak. todcoinheflfghfi mum: is in or
possession, and she had shrunk, from ' ‘fl'eurring
the raille or: he: noshbars 1)! ensuring an:
to under-to c this labor. In short, she accepted

 

5.}

, , 45W

 

mania"

. monkey, and Iran vi?

‘ to have been engaged ln'the

1:11; (gnomes or _ .4 more rat/aye JUAN.

13.

 

 

mess  counselon assistant. . I have since
most conscientiohsl studied the voluminous
papers relating. to. t r lawsuit, and I em con-
vinced that the cause, which will soon have its
final trial, is hopelessly lost. M. Laubeyin,
whom I have consulted, is of the some opimon,
which I hate concealed from my good old
friend as for as possible. In the meantime, I
give her the pleasure of- seeing me examine,
paper by paper. her family archives, in which
she oonflntly hoped to discover some title de-
cisive in, her favor. Unfortunately, these ar-
chives are Very extensive, and the pigeon-house,
their place of dsvposit, is filled with them from
the top to the bottom. , .

Yesterday I went curly to Mlle. do Porhoet’s,

l in order to complete the examination of bun-

dle No. 115, Which I began the previous even-
ing, before the hour for breakfast. The mis-
tress of the house had not risen, and I seated
myself quietly in the parlor, b consent of the
little servant, and began my usty work. At
the end of anhour, as I was gladly running
over the lost lost of bundle No. 115, Mlle. d

iPorhoet entered. earl-yin with dimculty an
enormous package, car yeovered with white

““Goodmommg ' m‘kind "said she.
“flooring that you ’gave you . so much

trouble for me this morning, I have given on ~
:seli'olittle trouble for you. a I have broug‘ t
you the bundle No. 116.”

In some tale,jthoro is an unhup y ' been ‘

ahut'up in a. tower, and a wick f , who
hotel! has famil .,  on her, time after
time,er of honest extraordinary maim—
posoible  I  that in spite [of her
many .virtuoo, Mlle. do 7 Poi-hoot seemed tome
at momentfto‘be 0 near relative or that

‘1 L . _ ' x. .l , .

"fly! dreamed lad ight.”;she oontihmg,"that
  I  toy to my } _
meson. “You _, oblige me very much (not
deferring its examination; When this is ' he,
you" will do moths honor to partake of a mod-
est repast  I intend to ofer you in my ar-
m”  _. l 1 . ‘ , '

Iresigned myself to my fate. It is need;

less. to .say  the happy bundle 116
   predecessors, only the
duster fingers. fifteeisely at noon,
H ladyqu f6 0161‘ me her arm, and 0013p
ducted; memlth great ceremony, into 3 little

‘ on; set round with box,“ and, which formed,

, _ un'endofthe  meadow, all the
new domain “the Porhoets. The” table. was

loid'under on elm tree. the branches of which,
It was 3‘
and the sunlight,

Militant so as teform an arbor.
beautiful summer’s day,
whiohhero and there penetrated the shade, fell
11 n the  ’ white and  table-

,. " I had dons. honor to the"th dole,
the trash, soled, mouths bettle‘ot old Bor-
d '  wineLWhleh composed our feast, when

a. de‘Porhoet, who seemed delighted with
my appetite, turned the conversation upon the
Ls“ ' no family.) ' , , ,

‘* “’ ' nice: to you," said she, “I‘do not like
theold  I remember when he come into
thiifiofinhmhe hfidh‘large monkey which he
Md like u servant, and which seemed to
understood  This animal was a
real Deana the’nelg‘hbor,  and only a man
without education end [without decency could
hove beensovmptu in it; It was. oalled'a.
, y, y it should be,,but in
mith I thmk‘it,wusg‘negl‘o, and the more
so, because Ihave always 'cted his master

_ ve~trade on the
 Africa. ' However, the, son. thelate M.
Lax-Oque, was a,ng man, and, a very  a

foul. As toi‘th’e ladies—41 speak‘ot, Mariano

Lamas, and her daughter. and not of the
video Aubry, who also mean woman or low
jpitsie~  6 Which the. do not’merit.” v I
 daemon}; the sound or a horse’s feet
 in the path just outside the garden
. M in another instant some One knocked
at». We door'oiose' tothe arbor. ' ‘ .  ,
,i‘We " Mid Mlle. do Porhoet, “.3th is
there?" ‘ 'i 4' .

with—As to those ladies» I 3337’ mm is liq

y,

sh.

 

, . I lookedwup and saw a black plume waving
above the toy of the wall. _

‘.‘ Open," said a clear, musieelvoice, gayly,
“ open, it is the Fortune of France! ” V

“What! it is you, my darling," cried the old
lady. “Run quick, cousin.” .

On opening the door, I was nearly thrown

down by Mervyn, as he dashed est me into the
garden, and I perceived Mlle. rguerite, who
was engaged in fastening her horse to the bars
of a fence.
- “Good morning. monsieur," said she, with.
out exhibiting the least surprise at finding me
there. . Then gathering up the folds of her
riding—habit upon her arm, she entered the
garden. '

“ You are very welcome this beautiful day,”
said Mlle. do Porhoat; “kiss me.’ You have
ridden very fast, mad girl, for your face is a.
bright purple, and fire seems literally flashing
from your eyes. What can I ofler on I”

“ Let us see," said Mlle. Marguerite, lsncing
at the table, “ what have on there ? lionsieur
has eaten everything. V o matter, I am not
hungry—I am onl thirsty.” '

“ I forbid you ' 'ng in suchastnte as you
are in; but wait—there are some strawberries
in thsat bed." '

“ trewben-iesl o ‘fa-l "' the young

f 1--“‘ quick, monai’ofirl Mm of those
e leaves, and come with mo.”
bile I we salootin one of the
leaves from afig-tree, e. do Porhoet ed
with a smile at approbation thepmud march
of hertevoriteocross the garden-walks in the
full sun: "Look at her, cousin,” said she, in
a lg'wvoice, ‘f'is she not worthy to belong to
us .

 mm exits, tri pingin her long Skirt
atalmp¢ emote!) as.£hesbcnt‘over  straws
bony—bed, , ' ed with, a little shout at 
mtsz 45119 Sound» [3110!”st new and
then put one berry. upon the figtleet  I held
in my hand, for even? tvoehe Me. .te sivsgher
patience. When she had gathered all she.
wished, we returned in kingshto the arbor;
the strawberries that we brought were
Sugar-fed} and then eaten. . . -, ,

“Ah thntbes done me good!” sold Mlle.
Marguerite,  herbal. on "a sent and
leaning againstthe hedge. “And nowto 

,plete my happiness, my deathly. eon Wm.

relate to me, some history of tanner (143378, of

the time when you were a  warrior."
Mlle. do Pothoot, smiling and delighted, did

will“ mm "W" itimm “ '°“‘°

of a most ' ep' es " '

in the: suites of the Lemlures and the Moog

jacqueleins. ‘I had, on this occasion, a new

grout of my old friend's elevation of soul, in

esring her render homage to all the. heroes of?
those gigantic struggles, regardless of the flags

under Which She spoke, in per.

ticuhr, of  e, whose captive she
oncewns, w on  Mlle.
erite ‘ ' ed” to ‘these'rboictsls with a

go attention which; astonished “me.
matinee, half-hidden by the hedge, and her
long eyelashes lowered, she would preserve the
immobility of a, statue; sometimes a keener
interest wouldbe roused, and she fwbuld place

her. elbows on, the little table, and plunging; hex-5

hand in the waves of her hair, she would dart.
on the oldYendeean'the continuous lightning
of her large eyes; v  ‘ j ,

(I shall elwa 3 count among the sweetest
hours of my life, these that I spent in con.
temlilafing that noble tface, radiant with the; re.
fleetion of the clear sky and the sympathypf a.
courageousheart.  A , '

: When Mlle. rde Pox-hoot ceased her remin-
iscences, Mlle. Mar ‘ erite embraced ' her, and
reusing Mervyn, esp at her feet, announced
her intended return to' the chateau. ' I had
no samples about-returning: thitherat the
some tilino,"1oeiing: certain I should cause her
no «imminent, limitieoheiecttreme insig-
nificanee of myerson sndfimy company, in the
eyes at the w thy. hoimogfa tote-mm gener--
ally gave her no annoyance, : her: mother having
given her the liberal education that she had her.

you hevo'a right”? ‘

 

self received in one ofjlm  colonies». It
is Well known that the English ’ve women, be-
fore marriage, all the indepen whiohrwe
so wisely grant them on the day when any
abuse of it becomes irre hie. '

We therefore left the garden together; I held
the stirrup while she mounted her horse, and
we went toward the chateau. After we had

tokens. few steps, “ Mon dieu! Monsieur," said,

she, “ I came to disturb you Very “assembly,
it seems to me. You were in very agreeable
society.” r ,

“ It is true, mademoiselle; but as Iliad been
there a long time, I forgive you, land evenlthank
you. '

“ You show ' t attention .10, . our poor
neighbor. My mar is very to you
for it." v

“ And your mother’s daughter?"  I,
laughing. , ,

“Ah! Idonot bestow raisesoreudily. - It
{go have the idea that I  you, you must

vethegoodnemtogaltclittlo p .1”:

not in'the habit of judging human ,

ly; they generally have two,  I foo.
ignowmge that your conduct £0!-
oet A a appearance, oak-M, ‘_.
shoe? harm, and resumed in am hit.
ter, and even insulting tone—“ but I not
very sure that you are not yin: mt lobar
in the hope of beingmo’dm W" V
I felt myself grow '

on the ridiculomem oi replying saw to this

y girl, I restrained ml! Ind to hot,
grave , i“ Allone,  lopity you
sincerely." ‘ - ' '  , 'f
She appeared very much: 3W! “fro
pity me, monfieurl’f’ '-  - 
"Yes, medemoiselle, antenna to to
you therospeutfhl pity to which lbw—togme

’ i

 w  see,   

turning towmrd nie with. eyes  

disdain, , ‘ “ I havenot "the honoree 
70“.” ’ ‘  L  L 
“Mar meaningji’syeryi'sim   

i O.  or,    I i r: H), i /.

 

distrust andbmenneas of soul, are '


,fmitsof' ex 1  nee. disuse e 

       
       
  

mtbe‘ we ‘ merits Neon; scion undue than.
.heart.wiflzeredby§1|t.; he: ‘ shame“.
" Mansions: replies   , {so
unusual vivacity,‘ , ‘, you do outwit.“  you ,.
are talking shout! on "’  "”  ’ V' 

ly “ ou’Torget to '1' so  " ”.
 t isutrue, 
plied, bowing; “I 

so 1 me to whom we .  v *

theorem 1e.” . . j V    _'
Mlle  «wth km fixed, on

the tor; of 1 trees which 

ssidaowith ironioal dignity, “Must;  .
par  - ’ ‘ -‘ x  ; is- its};

"(111: _ , 3’ 1: ,,  with.
emshasis ‘,‘ If one» of us, hoe-1m  v
of the. other, it will be you: you no    .

.11?” ,
“W > r

I  Poor; you can humble 
no ' - . \ ‘ _

  

distended-nostrils. _:- .

the :"Yilllunoe of thew '1 
loitering-her hand on for o. “Sean-23:,“ ,
well!"  “twelve ml?  At the some

time she struck her: home «violent; blow and;
setofionagdlop,  mo lathe middleof‘

the .3: r t" .
I have not oeemhersmce.

.” v

The  on of, fire
unprofitable than 'w' on it is exercised'bn tho
subjeetbf a woman's thoughts and refines.
Kettering-t0 find ,mxselt so. soon in 3131.8- Mar;
fist-he’s presence, after-the beinfui teens Which

3,,

taken P1366 between 123,1 had spent tvao -

days Without going‘t’o the chateau. _ Iih'nrdly
hoped this short interval Would.‘ ligve‘ suficed
t0 eolm the jesentmen‘th   in "her
proud heart However;  (morning,

about's’e'ven o’clock, do Ives  nearjthe ”
Open window of my turret, I heard myself

' .  .. so.
babilities'is with...» , ’

There was silence.  fl hora;
I h“ m  o v

 

 

1‘

THE “NANCE 01" A POOR YOUNG BAN.

 

 

calxed’in a tone of friendly gayety, by the very
per son whom I believed had made on enemy.

“ Monsieur 0diot, are you there ?"

I presented myself at my window, and I saw
in a boat, stationed near the bridge, .Mlle.
Marguerite, holding back the brim of her large.
straw hat, and looking up at my dark tower.

“ Here I am, mademoiselle," said I eagerly.

“ Will you take a walk 2’”

After the fears with which I had been tor-
mented for the last two days, so much conde—
scension made me fear I was the plaything of
some foolish dream. ’

“ I beg par-don, mademoiselle~what did
you so. ' ? ’ -

“Will you come to take a little walk with
Alain, Mervy’n and me ?"

‘ ‘ Certainly mademoisalle. "

“ Very we 1’! take your-“album.”

Ihastened down and ran along the side of
the river: ‘ ‘ " '

“Ah to): v! "I said the young girl loughingly

‘ to dialysis are in a good humor this morning,
it appears ti?» * I

I murmured awkwardly some confused re-
ply, to the end that I was always in a good hu-
mor, of which Mlle. Marguerite seemed in-
credulous; than I sprang into the boat and
seated myself at her side. -

‘“ Bow, Alain,” asldshe; and the old man,
who prided Mon being.a master boat—

‘mn, began own at the ears methodically,
which : Va: the appearance of a heavy
bird 7 rain smarts to fly. "Itwasnec.
emery," I Kilo. Morita. “for me to com
and tear on away from your castle, since you
have obstinate 'mlked . there for two days.”

_ "Mademoise lo, I assure you that discretion
aWW—iw’L—

“ "Ah! ' on Dion! respect—~fear——you have
utilized. We know better than you, positively.
Ky mother, who maintains, I do not well know
why that We ought to treat you with great
 has begged me to sacrifice my-
self on the altar at {our grids, and being an
obedient _ , saori co myself.”

.1 . . flexibly my warm gratitude to

"'f Roth do things by halves 1” she resumed,
“I resolved to given treat to your fancy, your

taste  W therefore, 'a [beautiful summer
: the  ms to  es, with
m  mammal?» , 'ng

widfitfii rem ' ~ e, a mysterious bark' ll ing
ovbt ,aogflbré-you' who love anal: sthings
ought . suntan .’

‘ *1  , ‘

*1}?ka bad.”

I was, indeed. satisfied, for the moment,
with a destiny. Theth between which
we    with nerdy-cut hay.
wrth

. I saw h t us the
corolla: avenues of the y PM

"1:, mm... :33? ‘“ all“ if
no - m . ., ' of t; m -
Ben:  intoxicated with the dew in
the  “tithe More, bummed joyonsly
around It. ' Alain

. 4 , Opposite me, the
mulled marl-me at each stroke of the oar,
with an _ doomplamncy and protection;
We:  balsam £3233
gruesome. wfiflth mohair;
 v t
Nomadtothelaoeoshezhatandluld

the quantum attraction» the faithful

11m tailorinth the water. Trulyit

we not have required any urgent solicite-

tiontomkemo gotothe end of the world in
thbMthito boat. '

Alto left the boundaries of the park by
 9f the arches which pierced
the w: i 7 it: "Youdo not ask me,
_ where ‘ am taking you," said the

Creole. ' “is _

“ o, no, MM ually unim-
portanttenis.” ? 

- “Ismtaldngyouhitofalryslmdfl
“IMRM , 4 ‘ _
“m.fidouin,mmversedthsnlinpootio

mam ought to have told you 'that the

Mormon which coverthe country for

twenty «round, are the remains of the

was himself, by a

 

old forest ol'Brocelyande, where the ancestors‘

of your friend, Mlle. de Porhoet. the sever-signs
of Gael, hunted, and where the grandfather of
Mervyn was enchanted, e'nchanter' though he
_ young girl, by the name of
Vivian. But we 8 all soon be m the center of
this forest.’ But if this is not sufficient to ex-

cite your imagination, know that the e woods.

still preserve athousand traces of the myste-
rious religion of the Celts; theyare paved with
them. You have therefore good cause to pic-
ture to yourself a Druid, in a white robe, under
each of those shades, and to see a golden sickle
glitter in each ray of the sun. The religion of
these intolerable old men has even left near

here in a solitary Spot, romantic, picturesque, ,

ct cetem, a monument, before which those er-
sons divsiiosed to ecstacy are accustome to
swoon; thought you would take pleasure in

sketching it, and as the place is not easy. to
find, I resolved to serve you as a. guide, de-
manding no other reward than to be spared the
explosions of an enthusiasm which. I should not

know how to» sympathize wit .’.’

“ Be it so, mademoiselle, I will restrain my‘~
self." , - '

“ I pray you to do so.”

“ That is understood. And what do, you'
,call this monument 1’.”

" For myself, I call it a heap of large stones;
some of the antiquarians call it, sim ly a dolmen,
others. more pretentious, a or . ' the coun-
try people name it, without explaining why,
the migonrdit.“

Our boat moved gently along with the cur-
rent of the stream between two ships of damp
meadow; small black cattle, with 1011 , sharp
horns, rose here and’there at the 80131; of the
oars, and watched us pass with wild, sava
eyes. ' The valley, throngh'which the gradual y

widening river wound, was shut in by a chain ‘
of hills on each side; those on one side were

covered with broom and dried vines and
makes; those on the other by green coppice-
wood. From timeto time. doe}: gullies be—
tween thehills ned a sinuous per-Eeotive,
attheendof w ich one could see t a blue
summitofsome distant mountain. m Mar;
guerite,,notwithstanding her profound incom-

» cc. "constantly pointed out to me the
homer“... 1 1°" “was”
s We 5 aceom r re-
marks bfme ironiolil obseflpaginons.

All at Once a continuous hollow noise an-
nounoed our near a h to a waterfall, and
the valley closed, assuming the aspect of a wild,
lonesome gorge. On our left rose a high wall

of rocks, 6&3)?“ with moss; oaks mingled

withdraw vyandhan' brierssu »
lug themselves in the erevgggoi the hillde
tothashore, threwam steriousshadow onths
d waterstthefoot theroch. ‘fioz‘nehun-
2 mim‘l‘ew‘miz‘" Elm” “fills?”
ea rug, 1: an - on
line of the river Wisconsin; visible t
the white vapor, win between green ban
insdistastmeadows our ht,the bank
opposite the hill presented 0
ale. of the meadow, beyondvdfinh
tifiivoodedhfllslookéd likanfnngo' of dark
v vet. I . ‘
“Wewill land here,"sldd the young £21.
w)

And while Alain madothe bunt fast to aw

we trans lightly ashore-

“Well, mondenr, you do not  this bad? ‘

You are not confounded, petrified, thunder-
struck? It is said this place is very pretty. I
like it because it is always fresh; but follow
me into these woods—if you darenandl will
show you these famous stones.”
Mlle. Marguerite, lively, alert, and
the meadow with two bounds and k a path
which penetrated into the forest. Alain and I
followed in Indian file. After a rapid walk of

some minutes, our conductive“ are up.
posted to deliberate and consider w she
was; then ..

ting ‘ two closelyotlmg ed

branchessho, tied the path anddashed to
the  ’ '

The walk close agreeable. “use very

uncut: to terse a passage through the various

* In the woods of Gadondal.-—Monnrm.

dress had the brilliancy or

,a narrow,

y,croued r

 

young oaks, with ctheir oblique trunks end
thick branches, crossed andtwisted together like
Robinson Crusoe's palisades. Alain and I it
Is st advanced with great dimculty, bent nearly
(1 uble, knocking our heads at every step, and
w th each heavy movement shakin down upon
ourselves a shower of dew; but Effie. Mar 2.
rite, with the superior address, and the cat— ikc
suppleness of ‘her sex, glided, without any ap-%
parent efiort, through the interstices of this '
labyrinth, laughing at our sufierings. and care-
lessly allowing the flexible branches to unbend
behind her, hitting our faces, sometimes not
very gently. .
We at length reached a- small opening which
seemed to crown the summit of this hill; there
I saw, not without emotion, the monstrous
stone table, sustained by five or six enormous
blocks which are half sunk in the earth, form-
ing thus a cavern, full of a sacred hormr.
There was, at the first sight of this intact men-
ument of an almost fabulous time, and of a.
primitive religion, a power of truth, a sort of
real presence, which" seized upon the soul, melt~
ing one shudder. Some rays of sunlight, pene-
trating the foliage, filtered through the dis-
jointed. layers of stone, played upon the sinister
slab, and lent an idyllic grace to thisbarbaric
altar. Mlle. Marguerite seemed ,pensive'iand
abstracted: ,Formyself, afterhavin penetrated
into the covenant! examined the ' all under
all its as ots, I be an to sketch it. ' '

1 had on so a sorbed 'in We eccumtion.
for some minutes as to observe nothing or
what passed around me, when Mlle. Marguerite
suddenly said, “Would you like af-Vellech to
give animation to the picture?” I, looked up;
she had woundan oak wreath round her head, ,
and wasgtixtilding at the head of the dolmen,
caning g y againsta group of . oung. trees;
under the dim light of the to of her white
lo, and lie!
eyes sparkled witha strange fire in the Shadow
thrown by her crowu. She was beam;th and
I believe she knew it. I gazed at he!  '
knowing what to say, when she  "It
I annoyyou I will goaway.‘ .. . , a .

“No, no,Ib‘ youtostay.” . _ . .' .

“Welllmolm will“? I" also; he
shallbe the Druid,_andlthe Dru' '5 ‘ '

I hadthe d torture to  with

tolerable Meg; thanks tothe vagueness of a
sketch, the poetic, vision with which! was
favored. She came with an appearance at
eagerness toexamine my drawing. “ It is not

had," said she. Then she threw‘ away he:
wreath, as she laughineg said, “ Confess that I,
am good l" - ' .

Iacknowledgedshe was so' I would m
bummed, had she desired, it, that sis 434
not a

grained notary; but showwld.
notbcawornan withfitthat, is

and _
hatefiil‘: goddesses themselves to
be loved, something more than '
beauty. '
We crossed through the Mable copes,
and. regaining the path in the forest, descended

toward the river. ,
“Before we return,”  Miler

_ Remnants.
“I wish toshow you the waterfall. and all the.

more because I. count on giving myself a little
amusement in my turn. Come, Mervan Come,

m and dog! thou art a fine fellow!” ,
e soon found ourselves on the a bank
in front of the ———~—. which closed the _ 0f
theriver. Thewaterfellfromtheh' is!
several feet into a large, doe’ ' round '
thatseemedtobeboundedon m 

am hitheater of green. grass, Vi”)
Some invisible rivulets served as eat.
lots for the little lake, reuniting at a short d18-
tanee andforming the river. . _.
Thisis not exactly a Niagara," sud Mlle.
Marguerite, elevating her voice above the who
of the waterfall ; “but! have heaxdzit said by
connoisseurs,  that its: nevertheless
ve retty veyycu admuedvit enough?
W lnowI hopeyouwillhestow on limo
whatever enthusiasm still remains. a“
M 2”

The Newfounde came to his mm.
side, and looked at her, trembling with in.

 

«a.

(W.

-basin.andmmrap

TED ROHANCE OF A POOR FGUNO HAN.

15

 

r

The young girl first tied up some

in herlmndkerehiel', thenthrew itinto
thewoteralittleabove thefall; at the more
instant Mmyn like a block into the
y from the shore: the
handkerchief was carried along by the current;
it reached the cascade. danced an instant in an
eddy, then shooting like an arrow over the
rounded rock, it came whirling in a wave of
room under the very eyes of the dog; be seized
i and proudly regained the bank where Mlle.

guerite stood clapping her hands.

This charming exercise was repeated several
limos with the some success. but on the sixth
trial it happened that either Mervyn started too
late, or the handkerchief was thrown too soon,
for the poor dog missed it as it passed him.
The handkerchief was carried by the eddies of
the cascade intoa thicket of brambles which
showed themselves just above the water’s edge.
Mervyu went to fetch it; we were surprised to
see him suddenly drop his prey. struggling con.
vulsively and raise his head toward us, utter-
ing most pitiful cries. “Oh! what has hap.
pened?’ cried Mlle. Marguerite.

“I believe he is caught in those bram-
bias; but he will easily free himself, do not
fear."

Soon, however, we began to fear, then to de-
spair. Theinetwork of vines in which the unfor-
tunate Newfoundland was caught as in a snare
was directly below the mouth of one of the
outlets of the lake, and s ceaseless whirling
stream fell on poor Mervyn’s head. He was
half sufioeated, and had ceased to make the
least edort to break his bonds, and his plain-
tive barking had a rattling sound. At this
moment Mlle. Marguerite seized an arm and
almostw‘ redinzny ear, “ eislostl
Come, ur, ,let as! o away." I looked
at her. _.Grief and anguis oonvulsed her pale
face, drawing a livid circle beneath her eyes.

“There is no way," saidl, “of bringing the

1 boot down here; but I can swim. and if you will

,,allcne'e_st1'en8*h;1m

and more critical. I
‘ Elle.

itmeI willgo downsndlendapswtothe
poor fellow.” ,

"No, no, do not attempt it—it is very far
from here—and besides I have always h ard
the river was deep and dangerous below the
fell." '

“ Be tranquil, mademoisello; I am prudent."
As I spoke. i threwmy jacket on the grass, and

plunged into the lake. taking care to keep

acertein distance from the tall. The water
was really rery deep, (or Idid not touch bot.
tomcat the moment I reached the Maorian
dog. I do not know whether there had for-
merly been a little island here which had been
Weaniwsshod away. or if the river had do.
mired ere some out from the h'
h. but certainly a ‘ ck tangle of lamb es
and roots were concealed and ' 3 under
ma, Warmer. I lacedmyleetonone
of e mumps from w "h they seemed to
grow, and succeeded in freeing Mervyn; as
m an be was master of his increments, he
swam without dela toward the bank, wan.
donth with all is heart. This trait was
not in conformity with the chivalmu requ
tlon injoyed by his species; but the good
Mam had always lived among men, and 1
mom he had become a philosopher.
When I atteiupted to take a leap in order to

follow him, I found with vexation that I was
" caught 

in turn in the net of the jealous
and wicked listed. who agparently reigns in
this latitude. Once! my cg was entangled
in knot: oft-lie winemwhi I vainlytried
my brag. One is net'sumciently at casein
deep water, and on i film  to employ
, 0'. halfblinded
thg quay of the  foammg water
short, I felt that my Slim We more

asked up at the bank;
rile was clinging to Aloin’s arm,

b
13

. and bending over the whirlpool. Wfitphing .me

with clock of mortal annety. I  to my.
self. that ‘ ‘ pa nothing more remained to:
 in the world but to  wept by those
beautiful eyes to give an amiable termination
flatworm life. ” Brit I shook all those weak
 with a violent short 1- Wed

 

myself. and tying the little tattered handker-

chlel around my neck. «am easily to the

shore. '
As I. reached the bank. fills. Marguerite
held out her hand; it trembled violently in

mine. "What madness ! ' said she; “what
madness! You might have died there l—and
for a dog !" " It was yours." I replied to her,

in the same low tone that she had used. This
seemed to annoy her; she withdrew her hand
guickly from mine, and turning to Mervyn.

rying himselt in the sun. began to caress
him ; “Oh, the simpletoni the great simple.
ton !' said she ; ' what a stupid fellow l"

The water ran ofi‘ me down upon the grass
in streams as if out of a watering-pot, and I
did not know what to do with myself, when
Mlle. Marguerite said with great sweetness :
“ Monsieur Maximilian, take the boat and go
home quickly; the rowing will warm you a
little. 1 will return through the lorest with
Alain ; the road Is much shorter than the
river."

This arrangement seeming to me the fittest
in all respects. I did not object to it. I bowed,
and had for the second time the pleasure of
touching the hand of Mervyn's mistress belore
ste ping into the boat.

11 making my toilet after reaching home, I
was surprised to find the little torn handker-
chief round my neck. which I had entirely for-
gotten to return to Mlle. Marguerite. She
certainly believed it to be lost, and 1 had no
scruples in retainingit as the price of my wet
journey.

Iwent to the chateau that evening]; Mlle.
Laroquc received me with the air at aughty
indolence. ct grave abstraction, and of bitter
ennui, which is habitual to her, and which
formed a singular mantras? to the graceful good
nature and reeeble vivacity at my mornin
companion. uring the dinner, at which V .
do Bevallan was present, she ire of our ex-
cursion as it to deprive it at a l appearance of
mystery: she flung some sharp jests at all lov-
ers of nature. and finished by recounting Mer-
vyn’s misadventure, but suppressed all my
church: this last episode. ll this reservation
was intended, as I believe it was, to give the
tone to my own discretion, the young lady
took very needless trouble. Let it be as it
mlglhxt. when the recital was ended, M. de Be-
vel deafened as 1) his exclamation: of de-
spair. " What! , Marguerite had suf-
icred such prolonged anxiety, the brave Mer-
vyn had incurred such 1, and he. Bevellan,
was not there! He co never console him-
self, there was nothing for him todo but to
hen himell like Crillon l"

“ oil? it there were nobody but meto‘lake
him down,” said old Alain to me, as he lighted
me home that night, "I should not worry
about it. ”

Yesterday did not commence as gayly for me
as the precodin day. I received a. letter

"Th'nisaproper time to tell you. monsteur.
thatlsm deeplygretdul for your e
for ourwellare; and each day I have more

pleasure in our campus: more regard to:
you. 1 send wish. monfieur~l be: your

pardoc. lot you can hardly share this wish-—
could wish thatwe. might never be .
I humbly ray heaven to perform all 0 min-
cles eases tel to in this end—tor l’do not
hide from myself I at miracles would be neces-

sary.

1 could not seize the meaning or this
language any more than Ioould en:th to my-
self the sudden emotion which shone in this
excellent woman’s eyes. I her v
properly, and went across the fields to ‘ -
pate my sadness by walking.

Accidentnabout which there was Ming
trange, l frankly confess—led me, 31hr an
hour’s walk, into the retired val! y. 30!: the
borders of the basin which  c then-
ter 01 my late exploits. The amphitheater of
foliage and the rocks surrounding the little
lake realize one’s ideal of solitude. One can
fancy himself at the end of the world, in s vir-

‘n country, in China, or wherever he wishes.

stretched myself upon the heather. and liVed
over again, in imagination, all the events of
the preceding day ; such a day as never comes
twite in the course of the loo est life. I sl~
ready lelt that alike day of apoiness. if it
were offered to me a second time. would not
possess for me the samacharm of cereal and,
to speak the word, of innocence. l n ed to
tell myself that this sweet, youthlul romance
could eve but one chapter, one 9 even,
and 1 had read it. Yes, this hour, is hour
cl lave. to call it by its right name. had been
supreme] sweet, because it had not been pre-
meditat .because I had tasted itséntoxieation
without being conscious of it! Now 2.. y con
science was awakened ; I saw myself on the
verge at an impossible, ridiculous iove~woree
than that—a guilty love. It was time to
{etch over myself, poor, dislnherited men that

am.

1 was giving myself these counsels in this
solitary place—it had certainly not been very
essential to come here to do iii—when. o flur-
muring of voices suddenly roused nelson my
abstraction. l partly mood at advancing
toward me a party of live or six persons. who
had come here y boat. First came. Elle
Marguerite leaning on Al. de Bevailsn’a arm,
than Mlle. Belouin and Madame dirk], fol-
lowed by Alain and Kenya. The  of
their ep roach had been eoveredhy-the rum-

bling o the waterfalt;they.m ‘Imely
threesteps from me, and “and fine to re—
treehbuthadtobearthm in“ ,  , not
being‘ surgned‘ inmyrewn ~ W‘ ,

presence this laceexcitedno ‘ _ 
tontton;onlyl ciedhawu aid it.
Mmemmie. ' ‘ 's and
she returned my actuation with marked M"

from Madrid ear y in the morning commis- nest.

stoning me to announce to Mlle. Pal-hoot the
definite loss of her suit. The agent informed
me, moreover, that the family who were de—
fendants in the cause would not profit by their
present ’trium h, for they new found them-
selves involv in a suit with the ermnent,
whose attention had been roused the noise
made about these millions, and w 'ch main-
tained that the estate in litigation belonged to
the Crown by escheehge. After reflecting a
long time, it seemed to me an act of charity to
conceal from my old friend the utter ruin of

her hopes. I would make her Spanish agent

an accomplice in my designs; he should in-
vent _ - for new delays; on my side, I
won] pursue my researches in hermhives,
and I would do all that lay in my power to
have the rwo'msncontinue, to her last hour,
toeheris her dear illusions. But however 19.
gitimate the characterol this deoeptiou might

be, I felt a desire, to have itmctioned by some I

tender conscience. . . V

I went to the chateau in the afternoon and
made In confession to Madame Lamque: she
approved of mylplan, and psaised me even
more than the‘owasion 'seemed‘to mate re.
quire. It wmwith great surprise that I heard
her close our conversation bythese words:

 

tics: "Delicious pictureszuel , 
fullthepenciGeci-gesen it.th a!
mmlmponying it ,
master: - ‘ gesture. At length it
calm,and

norm so .
recounted anew
ever, the some silence ,
it. She even insisted 1r . a sort
heartednees on the bravery and ,

mind displayed by her dog. 
report, on that occasion. lathe ltme
posed that her shortlived kind”

serviceIhadthe rtun eto reader r

it is. “married...
a. cute called a
and threw er handkerchie! into them: as

on the reoedin da ; but» the
brave “Erwin, lg plies of jwmmthe
lake, ran along the edged the _' g ,2  ing
and  ' ’ '

 

with; snow _ “Gilg'hihing-

,, vv'3mv'lgvn\ m “rant

 

 

. me no indication of merriment.

 

 

 

 

’ .

THE BOHANCE OR A POOR YOUNG MAN.

 

 

and that I am concerned about you ; my heart,
mademoiselle, is, wholly yours, as I hope yours
is mine; and if it is so, you me be very sure
and certain that, there is not a iving soul on
earth or in heaven happier than your friend—e
who does not si himself, but you well know
,who, mademoise e.” ~.

“ Do you know who, Mademoiselle Chris-
tine?” said I. .

“That may be,” said she, showing herwhite
teeth, and gravely shaking her young head, il-
luminated with happiness. “Thanks, ladies
and kind-sir.” She leaped from the step and
disappeared in the wood, from which rose the
clear, joyous sound of some Bretonncse song.

Madame Larcque had followed, with evident
delight, all the details of this pastoral scene,
which pleased her fancy; she smiled on this
girl with naked, feet ; site was charmed. How-
ever, when Mademoiselle Oyadec was out of
s' ht, a strange idea presented itself to

adame Laroque ; it was that she would have
done well to bestow on the shepherdess a five-
franc piece as well as her admiration;

“Alain!” she said, ‘foall her back!”

“What for, mother?” said Mlle. Marguerite
quickly, though she hnd'not hitherto appeared
to pay any attention to the incident.

“Why, my child, perha 3 this girl does not
understand perfectly all t e pleasure I should
have—~and she ought to have herself—in run-
ning about in the sand with bare feet ; I think
it pro r at all events to leave her a little sou-
venir. ’

“ 01‘ money l’? replied Mlle. Marguerite ;
“ oh ! no, mother, do not do that ; do not
mingle money with her happiness.”

The expression of this refined feeling, which
Christine would not have appreciated, from
Mlle. erite, did not, astonish me, for I
thought she was jesting, although her face gave
But this fan-
cy, whether jestin or noawas taken in earnest
by her mother, an it was decided to leave the
shepherds“ to her innocence and her bare
feet. .

After this, Madame Laroque, evidently well
satisfied-with herself, fell again intoa smiling
reverie, and Mlle. Marguerite resumed her

lay with her fan with increased gravity. An

our we reached the end of our journey.
The farm of Longest, like most of the farms of
this country, where the hills and tablelands
 (layered with heath, was situated in a val-
ley traversed by: fine stream. Thefarmer‘s

xfe'was mnch- tter, and immediately began
to p \ cur dinner, the principal materials
for a  we had taken the precaution to
bring  us. ~ I ,

It was served on the natural turf of the
meadow, in the shade of an enormous chest-
nut. ' ’ y
y We , ue, installed in a very uncom-
' fortableyattitude on the carriage cushions, was

radiantv’with pleasure. “She was reminded,”

" she, said, “of those groups of reopers which

she as every summer sittin under shelter of
the  and Whose rustic, nets she had
always remarked with envy.

Formyself, I should, perhaps, have found
informer days a peculiar sweetness in the
close intimacy that arepast on the ground,
like‘all scenes of the kind, could not fail to
establish between the guests ;' but now this
feast of brotherhood wasvery bitter, and I put
awe hem me, with a painful feeling of con-
 7t.~”7a spell'which would need to be re-

entod’ of. After our dinner was finished,
lime ‘ as said to me : “Have you ever

‘  been-up there ”’ designating with her head a
" very high bill which commanded the country.

"No, madame.” ,

“0h! That is a'pit . There is a very
beautiful view there. lieu ou ht to see it.
While they are harneaéing. ', arguerite can
guide you there, can you not, Marguerite?"

, «us, mother ? I have ncver been there but

canoe, andthat was along tune— ago. ,, No, mat.
teal can find the way easfly. , poms, man.
slang-and prepare for hard climbing.”

heath, I perceived at some

 

We soon began. to ascend rapidly a little path
which wound up the side of the mountain,
etratin‘g here and there thickets of. trees.
Ill: young ' stopped, occasionally, in her

light and re 1d ascent, 'tolsee if I followed her,

988 from her walk, smiled, without
On reaching the lateau, a barren
stance a village
church, the sharp angles of its small steeple
clearly defined against the sky. “ There it is,”

and, ,brea
speaking.

said my conductress, quickening her steps.

Behind the church was a graveyard, enclosed
by a high wall. She opened the door of the en-
closure; and passing With difficulty through the
brambles and high grass which encumbered this
resting—place of the dead, directed her course
toward a flight of steps in the form of a semi-
circle, at the extremity of the graveyard.
These steps, disjointed by time, and singularly
ornamented with massive globes or spheres,
led up, to a narrow platform, elevated to a
level with the wall, and a granite cross rising
from the center.

Mlle. Marguerite had no sooner reached the
platform and taken one survey of the vast
space opened around her, than I saw her
place her hand obliquely over her eyes, as if
to shade them. I hastened to join her.

This beautiful day, now drawing to a close,
lighted up, with its final splendor, a scene vast,
strange, and sublime. which I shall never forget.
Before us and at a great distance below the
plateau, there extended, as far as the eye could
reach, a kind of marsh, dotted here and there
with bright spots, and which presented the ap-
pearance of land half abandoned by an ebbing
tide. This large bay reached almost under our
feet, to the fo'ot of the mountains. On the
banks of sand and mud separating the lagoons,
there was amiugled vegetation of rushes and
sea-weeds wearing a thousand tints, equally
dark and yet distinct, which contrasted with the
shining surface of the water. As the sun rap-
idly neared the horizon, he alternatively
illuminated, or threw into shadow, some one of
the innumerable lakes-which spotted the half-
dried he seemed to draw from
his cc estial casket the most precious
materials, gold, silver, rubies, and diamonds,
to display them by turns, on every point of
vthis'magniflcent plain. Just who sunk be-
low the horizon, «a vapory and nndulatin line
which bounded the extreme limit 0 the
marshes, suddenly assumed an ex uisite
flame-like purple. I was wholly absor ed in
the contem lation of this, picture, stamped
with a tru y divine grandeur, when. alow,
stifled voice murmured near me, “My God!
how beautiful it is.”

I was far from expecting this sympathetic
outbreak from my young companion. I
turned toward her with a warmth and surprise
which did not decrease when I saw the change
in her countenance, and the trembling of her
lips, attesting the sincerity of her admiration.

“You confess it is beautiful!» ” said I.

She shook her head; but at that moment
two great tears rolled slowly down her cheeks;
she dashed‘them away, making an indignant
gesture; then turning suddenly to the granite-
cross, the base or which served her for a pedes-
tal, she grasped it with her hands, and lean-
ing her head firmly against it, sobbedconvul-
sively. \
I felt I ought not to interrupt, by a single
word, the course of this unloo ed-for emotion,
and respectfully withdrew a few steps. After
a moment, seeing her raise her head, and re-

lace with a careless hand, the hair that had
become 'unfastened, .I approached her.

“ How ashamed I am?” she murmured.

“ Be happy, rather," and cease the attempt, I

pray you, to" .dry up the source of those tears ;
it is sacred. Besides, you can never accom—
plish i .” ’
g “It shall be done!” cried the Young girl,
violently. .M‘,‘ Besides, it is done! This fit of
weeping was only an oversight. .All that is
beautiful, and all that is goodml wish to hate
it-——I debate it i” v ’ '

“ And why ?, Good God!”

   

_.She , looked me in the 

with a gesture of pride, and ines‘preuible‘ sad-

pzsi: ‘édBecause I am beautiful, and can have:
v, .” . * 7

Then, like .a'ton-ent long restrained, . which
has finally broken its bounds, she continued,
L‘LIt is true, nevertheless!” And she ut her
hand on her breast. “ God put in his heart
all the gifts that I jeer at, that I revile every
hour of the day! But when he inflicted
wealth on me, he took away with one. hand
what he bestowed with the other! Of what
good is my beauty, of What good the devotion,
tenderness, enthusiasm, with which I am con.
sumed! Ah! it is not to these attractions that
the homage is rendered with which so many
poltroons annoy me! I know, I, know too
well! and if ever some disinterested, generous
heroic soul were to love me for ~ what
am, notfor what I ,haYef‘I should not-be—
lieve it? ,Distrust always! That-,9 is, my
sorrow, my punishment! One.  is
positive—I shall never love! I  o-never
risk diffusing in an unworthy, ven'al ,heart
the pure passion which burns inmy own. .I
will live and die with a virgin heart in‘my
bosom I” ‘ - 1

“Well! I am resigned to it; but all, that is
beautiful, all! that one dreams Of, all that speaks
to me of forbidden happiness, all that rouses
in me a useless love—I drive it» away/~61 hate
it 1” She stopped, trembling with emotion;
then in a; lower voice she resumed, f‘ Mon-
sieur, I have not sought for this—I have not
weighed my words, I have) not designed to
bestow all this confidence upon youwbut-I have
spoken; you know all—and if I have ever
wounded your sensibility, now I believe you
will forgive me.” 1 , .

She gave me her hand. When my lips
touched this soft hand, still wet with tears, it
seemed to me that a mortal languor filled my
veins. Marguerite turned away her head,
gazed for a moment at the darkening heavens,
then slowly descended the steps, saying, “. Let
usgo.” - f
l , sugars so. 
, A Lorena but much easier roadthan thatby
which we ascended the mountain, led us into
the court-yard or the farm-house, withouta
word being exchanged between us. Alas! what
couldI say? I Was more'open to 
than any one else. I felt that eachwond which
esca dfrom myfull heart would increase
the nce which separated me from/this dis-
trustful but adorable being. « * ' i I .

Night had already fallen, hiding spam all
eyes the traces of our mutualemotion. We
set out homeward. Madame ‘ _ us ,l’ell
aslee , after having again expressed». , e lead,
ure 8 e had experienced during theday. , .
adargugige, invfizlilble and, immovabltzb in the

es s ow o e carnag' e, seemed, . aloe
likepher mother; but when a turn of the 
threw on her a ray of ale light, her 0
steadfast eyes showed at she ,watche in
silent communion withher one inconsola'blo
thought. For myselifil can hardly say‘whafi
I felt; a strange sensation of mingled ‘ joy and
grief had usurped in whole being, ande ‘
yielded'to it as one yie ds to a dream of which
0&3 is conscious, but lacks the strength to shake
o t , I V,  ‘. :
Wear-rived at home about  Ide-
scended from the carria e at the entrance
of the avenue, in orger to  “my
apartments by the shortest wayacross thepark.
As I entered a, dark path, thesoundofap '
ing steps and voices struck my car, an I die.
tinguished two figures in the darkness. The
night was so for advanced as. to jus ' : my
precaution of concealing myself in the thicket,
and watchin these nocturnal ramblera, They

assed slow y in front of me; 1 'mW
gills. Helouin leaning on M. de Bevallan’sm
At that instant the sound of the carriage whoa;

 

alarmed them, and after a warm pm.”

their hands they separated hastily, , .mk.

 

THE ROHANOE OF A POOR YOUNG HAN.

10

 

 

Helouin going in the direction of the chateau,
and the other Wards the forest. . .

I returned to my room, and still reflecting on
this adventure,faaked myself 'm'th anger if I
should allow M. do Bevalhn to pursue freely
his double love, and seeks. wife and a mistress
in the same house. Assuredly I am too much
a man of my time to feel against certain weak-
nesses the vigorous hatred of a Puritan, and I
have not the hypocrisy to afl’ect it; but I
think that the loosest morality in this respect
admits some degree of dignity, elevation, and
delicacy. Above all, love is its own best ex-
cuse, and M. de Bellavan’s vulgar profusion of
tenderness excludes all appearance of fascina‘
tion and passion. Such love is not a fault ; it
has not eVen that moral value ; it is the result
only of calculation and of the bets laid by
stupid pimps. ' _

The various incidents of this night showed
me to what an extreme degree this man was
unworthy of the heart and hand he dared to
covet. This union would be monstrous. And
yet I instantly perceived how impossible it
Awould be for me to thwart his designs by using
the weapons chance had placed in my hands.
The best end would not justify bad means, and
my knowledge had not been .honOrably ac-
quired. .This marriage will then take place!
Heaven will allow one of the noblest creatures
ever made to fall into the arms of this cold lib-
ertine l ' It will sufier this profanation ! Alas!
it has sulfered manysuch profanations !

Then I tried to conceive through what error
of judgment this young girl had chosen this
man. I thought I understood it. M. de Be-
vallan is'very rich; he will bring a fortune
nearly equal to that which he finds here; this
seems a sort of guaranty of his sincerity; he is
presumed to be more disinterested because he
is less needy. Sad argument! A grievous
blunder to rate characters by the degree of
venalityl Threcqfourths of the time greediness
v increases with wealth-and» the greatest beg-
gars are not the poorest I

Was there not, however, some hope that Mlle.
Marguerite would of herself open her eyes to the
'unworthiness of her choice, and find in some so-
cret ' iration of her‘own heart the counsel I
was pro ~bited from oifering her ? Might there
not  up in her heart a new, unlockedofor
acntlment, which would blow away thee i vain
resolves of reason, .
. "Was not this feeling already alive there? Had

I not‘riceived undoubted proof of it? Many.

of the ' e on rices, the struggles, and the
tears, of. which I 'd been the object or the
“’1th proclaimed, without a doubt, a we-
vering mmd,,little mistress of itself. I was
not so new in life as who ignorant that a scene
 that of. which I chanced to be this very
> night the confident and almost the accomplice
whowover “premeditated it might have been,
would. not havebu'rstd‘orth in an atmosphere
ofindifiercnoe. Such emotions, such shocks,
prosup e two souls already disturbed by a
, mum tempest. * ’

But If it were true, if she loves me, as it is
only too certain that I love her, I could say of
this love what she said other beauty, “Of
what good l for I could never hope that it
would have sufloient strength to triumph
ovor the endless distrust which is the singulari-
ty and the virtue of this noble girl, a distrust
of- which my character would repel the injus-
tice, but which my situation. more than an
other, ismade to inspire. What miracle can
fill up the abyss between ithes‘e terrible ens.
picions and the reserve they impose on me?

And, finally, if this miracle were to inter.
vene, were she to deign to 0361' me 3‘ hand for
which I would give my life, bu} Whmh Ilwould
never ask for, would our 11111011 be 11813.1) ?
Ought I not to fear, sooner or later: mine In-
emorable awakening of an ill-suppressed sus-
picion in this restless imagination ? Could I

rd myself from all painful after-thou hts,
1n the midst of borrowed wealth? Cou 1.1 I
enjoy without uneasiness alove tainted with
favors? Our of protecting women is so
formally imposed on us by all the sentiments

making them of no afoot?

 

of‘ honor, that it cannot be‘reversed a single
instant even in all honesty, without casting
upon us some shadow cf doubt and snap:-
own. But in reality, Wealthis not so, t an
advan ethat no kind of compensation can
be foun in this world, and I take for granted
that a man who hr" to his wife, in exchange
for a few bags'of gol , a name that he has ren-
dered illustrious, or great merit, ora promis—
ing future, ought not to be overpowered with
gratitude; but 1-1 have empty hands, I have
nothing more to hope from the future than
of the present; of all the advantages that the
werld appreciates, I have only one—my title,
and I should be very resolute not to bear it in
order that no one could say it was the price
of the bargain. In short, I should receive all,
and I should give nothing; a king might

marry a'shepherdess, and it would be gener-V

ous and charming, and one would justly con-
gratulate him upon it, but if a shepherd were
tobe married to a queen, that would not make
so good a figure.

I have passed the whole night in, turning
these things in my poor brain, or in seeking a
conclusion that I have not yet found. Perhaps
I ought without delay to laws this house and
this country. Wisdom commands it. All this
would then be at an end. What mortal trouble
would one often save himself by a minute of
Courage and decision! I ought, at least, to be
overpowered with sadness. I have never had
greater occasion for it.
the bottom of my disturbed and tertured heart
there is one thought which overcomes all else,
and fills me with a superhuman lightness and
Joy. .

I see constantly, I shall always see, that little
cemetery, that distant see, that immense hori-
zon, and that angel of beauty bathed in divine
tears! I feel still her hand under my lips’; I
feel her tears in my eyes, in my heart! I love
her! Well; to-morrow, if necessary, Iwill de-
cide. Till then, let me rest. For a long time
I have not misused ha piness. This love—I
shall die of it perhaps; at me enjoy it in peace
another day l - _

August 26.

Tara day, this single day, that I implored,
has not been granted to me. My shortlived
weakness has not long awaited its expiration,
nor will‘it soon be ended. How could I have
forgotten that it, was sure to come! In the
moral, as in the physical order of things, there
are laws that cannot be transgresaed with impu-
nity, and the certain efl'ects of which form in
this world the permanent :intervention that is
called Providence. A weak, but great man,
who wrote with an almpst foolish brain the
evangel of a sage, said of these very passions,
which were at once his misery, his oppre-
brlum, and his genius, “All are good when we
are their master; all are bad when we allow
them to enslave us.” What we are forbidden
by nature is, to ' our affections beyond
our power to control t em; what reason forbids
is, to wish for what we cannot obtain; con.
science does not forbid us to be tempted, but
to yield to temptation. It (lees "not depend on
us‘to have or not to have passions; but it de.
pends on us to govern them. All the feelings
that we control are legitimate ; all that control
us are criminal. v

Let thy heart cling to that beauty only which
pcrisheth not; let thy condition bOund thy de.
sires; let thy duties go before thy passions; ex-
tend the law of necessity to moral things; learn
to give up all when virtue commands it! Yes,
such is the law—I knew it; I have violated it;
I am punished; nothing could be more just.

I had hardly rested for a moment in the cloud
of this foolish ove, than I was precipitated vio-
lently from it, and I have scarcely recovered,
after five days, the necessary co, ‘ to record
the circumstances of myfall. , 'eIia.
mque'and her dau ter had ,, no to pay another
visit to Madame e Saint.- ast, and to bring
home Madame Aubry. I found Mlle. ,Eclouin
alone in the chateau, whither Iahad gone to car-

But I am not! At,

 

' ,her her quarter’s salary, for though in
glides left main general. a stranger to till;
managementnndintmmldisdplinedmm
the ladies had desired, cut'of regard for Mlle.
Helouin, as well as for myself, that 
should pass through no hands but mine.

The young lady was seated in a little boudoir
adjoining the saloon She received me with a
pensive sweetness which touched me. '1 pos-
sessed at that moment that fulness of heart
which disposes one to confidence and good-will.
I resolved, like a true Don Quixote, to extend a
succorin hand to this lonely being. » “Made-
moiselle, ’ I said, abruptly, “ you have with-
drawn. your friendship from me, but mine still
remains wholly yours; will you permit me to
give you a proof of it ‘3” ' .

YShe looked at me, and murmured a timid
‘5 es.” ' ‘

;;Well! my poor child, on willvruin your—
se .”

She rose hastily. “ You saw me “that night

.in the park ?”

“Yes, mademoiselle.” . ‘ '

“ My God l” She took one step towards me-
“ Monsieur Maximilian, I swoar to you that I
am a virtuous girl.” ' ‘ ’ ' "

“I believe it, Mademoiselle; but I ought to
tell you'that, in this little romance, very inno-
cent, doubtless, on your part, but less so on
the part of the other, you seriously risk your
reputation and your peac’é of mind. I beg:
you to reflect, and I beg you, at the same time,
to be assured that no one but yourself shall
ever hear a word from my mouth on this sub-
ject.”

I was retiring when she threw herself" on her
knees beside a sofa, sobbing aloud, and lean-
ed her forehead on my hand, which {she had
seized. I had seen but a little while before
more beautfiul and . more worthy tears new;
but I was moved by these.’ “ Tell ‘me, made.
moiselle,“:said I, “it is not too. late, is it ?"
She shook her head. “ Well my poor child,
take coura e; we will save you. What can I do
for you ? that man any tokens, any letters
in his hands, the restoration of'which I cande-
mand in your name? Command me as you
would a brother.” . ' . ,

She released my hand, with a look of an or.
“Ah! how cruel you are!” saidsho. “§o’n

speak of saving me~it is__,you who have

ruined me! After he. ' to love me
you have repulsed lumen ,ve humiliated
me; youare thesole causeotwbathashap»
pened ?" ' > ‘
“Mademoiselle,
never, feigned to love you; Ihovearmy
sincere afiection’for you, andI‘  I
own that your beauty, your  and your
talents, give you a perfect right to expect from
who live with you  'mmer

than fraternal friendship; but my pacified in
the , world, the duties which are» on
me by my family, do not permit are 
any other sentiment toward you 

loyalty. I tell you frankly that   

charming, and I assure us, Gratin

my feelin within the  j ” 'ty'
honesty, ,
nothing in this very humiliating toyou; 
which should justly humiliate you. is 

yourself boldly loved by a man who is: deter. ,

minednottomarry ou.’ ,,,_,

She gave me a ‘hidom look. '2 “ What
do you mean? All men are not fortune.
hangs.” ., maybe,“ ‘, 

“ylyouwo wi 
Mlle. Helouin? That being the case, I 131:;

the honor to so good-b .”

“Monsieur Wu!" she cried, PM
herself before me; "“ pardon me! pity me:
8m 80 WPPY 3 Alas! imagine what must be,
the feelings of a poor creature like me, who

canseguence! What is my resent life ? and
what is there for me in the filters ? My life is

filled with the thought of my - v —
granted by the refinements of 
surroundme. My future willbe filled 
regret, With bitter tears for even this life: this

you are  have

have not been  ’ 'Isee'

 

 

 

 

 

:«A Amine“. .u.

I 

«ea

 

 

 

 

230

THE "ROHANC‘E OF A POOR YOUNG MAN.

 

life of slavery, odious as it is! You
mind, talents I would I had never, d abilities
for aligning hith than _ stones on the
10de Wald  i Ishall have spent the
e
order that 13‘s might be more beautiful, more
adored, and more We! still. And when the
have thus passed into the
veins of th , puppet, she will go to the armsofa
happy husban , and hear her in the festive
scenes of life; while I, lonely o d, and abandoned,
shall die in some corner with the pension of a lady’s
maid. at have I done to merit from Heaven
such a destiny? Why I more than other women?
All)! notas wort as they? If I am wicked, it is
misfortune, it isi notice, which has embittered my
:2}? ving, charitable, like
' em.

I was born to be good, lo

Ah! kindness costs so little when one is rich,
and goodnessis easy to the happy. If I were in their
ghee, and they in mine, they would hate me as I
. ate them. One does not love his masters. What
I say is horrible, is it not? I know it well. I felt my
abjectness, and I blush for it! Alas! you will scorn
me now more ever, monsieur; on, whom I
would have loved so well, if you would ve suffered
in you, who could have restored me to all that I
have lost — hope, 6, oodness, self - respect.
‘There was a momen when behaved myself saved
--when I had for the first time a thought of happi-
ness, gage—unfortunate that I am !’

She both my hands, bowed down her head
and we bitterly. “My dear child, I understand
better any one the vexation, the bitterness of
your situation; but allow me to say, that you only
add to it by nourishing such the hts as on have

on ve d is very

Just expressed to me. What
disagreeable; I will not cone it from you. and on
will end by merlting all the hardships of your es.
tiny; but your imagination has greatly exaggerated
it. As to the present, you are treated here* what-
ever you may as , ass friend; and as for the uture,
31sec nothing w ich would prevent you also from,
quitting this house to go to the arms ofaha 13y
husband. For myself, I shall always be grate or
= your sift-lotion, but I wishto so to you once more,
and end the matter forever, t have duties to
fulfill, and that I neither can, nor do I wish to

She suddenl

“Notevon

“I do not see t t the name of Mlle. Marguerite
:need he brou ht into this discussion. ”

She push back her hair from her face with one
hand, and pointing the other toward me with a
threatening esture:

, "You love er!" said she, in a hoarse voice, “or
11113118? you love her fortune, but you shall not have

. t.
“ Mademoiselle Helouin i”
“ Ah!” she replied, “ you are very childish if you
. "think you can deceive awoman who has the
.1 ' to love you! I read your maneuvers clearly.
. dog I know who you are—I was not far on when
Mlle. de'Porhoet communicated to Madame Laroque
your litic confession to her."
, _ ‘5 _, , i'doleou listen at doors, mademoisellel"
, .‘9 I lit for your insults. Besides, I can

looked up at me.
erite ”

I  lh,‘aiid soon; Ah; “on drove? cunning,
  do'C’hamgcey. and complimen you. You
 the part of disinterestean

. 13'
land reserv that your friend Laubepin recommend-
ed‘to'youw on he sent on here. H knew with
whom you had-to deal. e knew also e ridiculous
:fancy of this beautiful girl. You think her already
your prey, do you not? ‘ Beautiful millions; the
neuronal which would be very convenient to plaster
. upamargiisate' and d an eseutoheon. We‘ll!
{dismay nouhce all he of it, from this moment,
 on all Wear our mask only

one

long? on this bond shall ar it off.”

 * amt: she Helouin, it is quite time to put'aii
end-m this’seene, for it is becoming melodramatic.

_ '3‘ have put the, game into my hands, and I could
 you in your own domain of accusation

culminating: but u may rest secure; I gue you

 ' ' follow you thither. I amyour
 thisnuhaggg‘ f ‘ men

‘of  ‘ 3filth

“val ' sol-m that the t end-owed organiza-

ts, be irritated

fti mint, in roportion to their
and soured, in the equivocal and magnifying tion'
that line. ‘ in occupied, in imagine on had
. "ne'er sounded-the abyss or he , beneath
my eyes. 'l‘ruhr, when one thinks of , one can
filiardly conceivo a kind of existence which exposes a.
human soul to more venomous temptations, or which
, might be more ca bio of dove-lo env sign-ism
the heart,;-,an of exasperat g all t e ursl
vanity and Jealous of woman. , » I
‘I cannot bedou ed that thegreaterpartof the
‘r ortunate girls, whosc loss of fortune, or whose
abilities have caused them to seek this egldployment
m,vhonmaue in itself escape by the m eratiorl'o
 feelings, by the moose of their princi ice, or
by them? of God, the lamentable pertur tions
.. from w M'ilaflelouin had been unable to guard
3 11°le but the testis a fearful one. As to myself,
the idea  sometimes occurred to me that my
ulster might be compelled by our misfortunes to
, enter some wealth amin as agoverness; I new
V took a vow that w atever might befall us in the
' suture. I would sooner share with, Helen the bitter-
est bread of labor in the rest arret, than allow
her even to'seat herself a the po cued feast of this
hateful semtude. , r
' Although I was firm! d

y

with a profound feeligg
ity. Although I h

 

P.

110W 0

new flfwm 'recrim‘inatiOns, I ceuidr f
‘1 H . , 2 o ‘ B.
'  uneasigiess, the probable consequences



 

of my

orning another WOW in f

' nod togieave the,

M Meier: to him in can a
Mile. Heio n, and notto enter at on" . e of my

 

of the, war which had been declared against me. I
was evidently threatened where I was most sensi-
tive, itnortny logs:a anddin my honor. mg: the
score my. ,an us hear mmgiin’ with
, ood with the skilmllnes’s or hog sex, Mlle-
He ouin could easily present my conduct in a sus-
picious light, could lend to my sim est actions the
color of a premeditated intrigue. was impossible
to know precisely what turn she would ve to her
malevolence; but I could trust to her, no to blunder
in her choice of means. She knew better than a
one, the weak points of those she wished to afle .
She possessed over the minds of both Mlle. Margue-
rite and her mother the natural sway of dissimula-
tion over frankness, of craft over candor; she en-
joyed with them all the confidence which long habit
and daily intimacy gave birth to, and her masters,
to use her own language, had no cause to suspect,
under the show of graceful goodhumorand obse-
quious officiousness, the frenzy of ride and ingrati-
tude which devoured this miners. le soul. It was
onl too probable that a hand as skillful and as sure
as are would drop its oisons with entire success
into the hearts thus fit to receive them. Mlle.
Helouin m ht fear, in yielding to her resentment,
to place e. Marguerite‘s hand in that of M. de
Bevallan, and by hasten“ this marriage, to crush
her own ambitious hopes, at I knew that a woman’s
hate does not calculate, but risks everything. I
looked therefore for the speediest as well as the
blindest ve eance on her art, and I was ri ht.

I assed t e time in sin ul anxiety, whic I had
do cated to the swee thoughts. The sharpest
and bitterest suffering that dependence can cause a
proud spirit, that suspicion can inflict on an up ht
conscience, the d wound that scorn can ve
to a,lovin heart- have felt it all. Adversl in
m worst ys had never dealt meso hard 8. w.

‘endeavo however, to work as usual. To-
ward flve o’cloc I went to the chateau. The ladies
had returned, and I found in the saloon Mlle. Mar-

erlte, Madame Aubrfinm. de Bevallan, and two or
so other visitors. 9. Marguerite did not ap-
pear to perceive my entrance' she continued to con-
verse with M. de Bevallan in an animated tone
which was unusual with her. There was a question
about oing to an improm tu ball, which was to take
filzce hat night at a he hboring chateau. Mlle.
rguerite was oing th her mother, and she
urged M. do Bev an to accompan them there; he
excused himself, alleging that as 6 had left home
$138] receiving the invitation, his dress was not
e.

Mlle. Marguerite, insisting uppn it with a coquettish
earnestness, that surprised e Bevallan himself,
told him there was sufficient time for him to 0
home to dress, and return for them; they won d
keep him a cod dinner. M. de Bevallan objected

his carriage- orses were sick, and he could not re-.

turn on horseback in bulldress.

“Mien,” replied Mlle. Marguerite, “you can be
driven home in the " Americaine," and ,
in toward me for the first time. with flashing eyes,
“ onsieur Odiot," said She, in a tone of command,
“mud tell them to barn it.”

order was so different from the style in which

I was ordinarily addressed here and to which I
should'be expected tosubmit, that the attention

and curiosit of the most indifferent s ators
were to at once. There was an em rrassed
silence. M. de Bevallan cast an astonished lance

on Mile. Marguerite, then looked at me, an then
rose from his seat. They were disappointed if they
e ectcd an exhibition of anger from me. The in-
en ting words addressed to me by lips so beautiful,
so beloved, and so cruel, had sent a death-like cold-
ness to my very heart. But I was never more calm.
The bell which Madame Laroque used habitually to
summon the domestics stood on a table within my
 ,1! rang it, and .a servant entere‘ d inane

“I lichen " said I to him, “ that Mlle. Marguerite
has some or to give ou.’

, At these words, whic she listened to with a look
01 stupefaction, she gave a negative shake of her
head, and dismissed the servant. I would lad]
have left the saloon, where I seemed to he s cos
i but I could not do so in faceof the provoking
at tude which M. de Bevallan had assumed. .

“Upon to faith,” he muttered, “this is some-
thing very ngular.”

I pretended not to hear him. Mlle. Marguerite
said two or three words in a low voice.

“I bow to your wishes, mademolseile " he replied
in a more elevated voice “but I ma bgapermitted
aim iy to or: less the sincere t I feel at
hav cg no rig tto interfere here.’ _

I rose at on . ,“ Monsieur do Bevalian,” said I,
placin myself in front of him, “this regret is very
su nous, for tho ‘ h I have not thought it my
du y to obey mademo lle’scommands, Iam wholly
at yours—wand I shall await them i”

“Very well—ve well monsieur, nothi can be
better ’ replied . alien, waving s hand
81‘ . to reassure the ladies.

11y
we bowed, and I left the room.
I dined alone in .my tower, attended, as usual, b
poor Alain, who had undoubtedly learned, throng
he rumors of the antechamber, all that had,

for he constantly gave the most sorrowfu looks:

uttering d sighs at intervals and preserving,
contrary to is usual custom, a dull silence, telling
me only, in reply to my question, that the ladies
Wiii‘e nfit cling to, the:l bglli . d
s , ropes on e , arranged my papers, an
wro ale-few words to M. Laubegin, recommendin
eat . The thought 0
her desolation in such an event grieved me deeply
but did not in the least shake in determination. I

may err, but I have always t caught that honor

     

'80. From the first,

turn- ‘

 

 

3

rules over all the hierarchy oi duty in our modern
society. Ittakeethe place' else ‘
virtu haif-eilaced from the consciences oz men, of
, half-dead faith, that it walla never enter
my mind to' weaken its authority, to discuss its
to subordinate itso one. Honor, in its
undefined character, is comet lug to law
and to moraiit . It is a religou. we have no
ion r the fa! of the Cross, let us preserve the
fa! of honor.
I expected momentarily a messa e from M.de

Bevallan. I was reparing to o to e collector of
the borough, whopwas a young gillcer w been

wounded in the Crimea, when some one knocked at
my door, and M. do Bevallan himself entered. His
face wore an e ression of open and joyous good

nature, with a ht shade of embarrassment.
“Monsi‘elg,” paid illif‘éwhiie I 100533;; athhitn} 1with
surprise ‘ rsisan gular roce ' 'u ave
d the State services whpich, God '

rendere thanked,
put in courage beyond all suspicion. Besides
which, feel to-night a pleasure which leaves no

room in me for hostility or rancor. And I yield to

commands now more sacred to me than ever. In

short, I come to offer you my hand.” '
I‘lfiowed gravely],1 and took his proflered ha! (I.

ow,” added e, seati himself, “I can fulfill
my emb at my case. e. Marguerite ve you,
in a thong tiess moment, some orders, w ' cer-

tainly were not in your province to receive. Your
susce tibility was justly wounded, we acknowledge.
and t e ladies have commissioned me. to express to
you their deep regret. The were in despair lost
this momentary error shoul deprive them of your
good offices, of which they appreciate all the worth,
and interrupt the relations between you and them,
to which the attach an infinite value. Form if,
monsieur, I ve acquired to-night, to m grea joy
the right to add my entrnaties to theirs; t e repeal
of marriage, which I made a long time o, s a last
accepted, and I should be personally ob! to you,
if you will consent not to mingle with the happy re-
membrances of this evening the sorrowful one of a
eageration, that would be prejudicial to the family
in which I am about to enter." ‘ '

“ Monsieur ” I re lied, “1 cannot be lusonsible to
the tokens of good eelin which on have given me
in the name of the lad es and n your own. «You
must excuse me from rep! ing to them immediater
by a formal decision, whlc uires more freedom
0 thought than I possess at s moment.”

“Permit me at least ” said M. de Bevallan, “ to
carry away a hope. Le us, monsieur, since the cc-
casion presents itself, let on break throu h the
shade of coldness which has hitherto exis d be-
tween us. For my art, I am ‘well disposed to do
adame Laroque, without v-
ing up a secret which did not belong to her. app sed
me that circumstances the st honorable for on,
were concealed under the of mystery with. W ich
you surround yourself; Finally, owe you-special
gratitude; I know that you were. recently consulted
on the subject of my pretensions to Mlle. , ue’s

d, and that I have to commend yourkin ap-

“ I do not think monsieur, that I have merited-e”

“ Oh! I know,” he replied. laughing, " that you'did
not overflow in m to se but you id not say any-
thing to my pregl ice. Ieven think you ave evi-
dence of real sagacity. You said that 
guerite were u t positive happ .wit me, she
would not be u appy. e pro et Daniel oculd
not have spoken better. The tru is, that the deer
child would never be tivel be p with any one,
since she would not _ in t e w as worldahus.
band who would talk to her in verse from mommy:
till ht. I am not of this sort more than  one
else, confess; but—as you have done me the onor
to say of. rue—I am an accomplished mam, Iram
not a Wicked devil I am a good follow, ,I have
faults—l have lied tilem at least—«I'haveiovedfi'ettg
women-I cannot den it! But what oft’hat It
the proof of a g heart. But {have reached
port, and I am oh

armed, because—- “ween our.
selves—I begin to grow yellow alittle. short, I
wish in future to think orgy of my wi eaud my
 ml“ r “We” 
e . a y, as uc so as s
all: be in this wfildfigvtzh mg a head as here; furl
will refuse her nothing, i will even anticipate her
wishes. But if she wereth askme for the moon and
stars, I could not andtske them down in order to
has able—the. would beimpossible. Above all,
my nd giv’eme ourhand once more."x »‘
save him my He rose saying.“1_hbpe
you See. Clear your brow a
ttle. We will make our life as pleasant as possi-
ble; but you must f in with it a little—what th’e
devill~you delight in our sadness. You live ex-

0

cuss me, like an Owl. ou are a sort of Spaniard,
such as one never sees now-adays. don’t you
crook your tin or to the little Helouin? ’ at would

amuse you. he is ve pret
—I forgot my promot on to
Monsieur Maximilia
“To-morrow, cc .  . . ' >
And this accomplishe 'mané—who is himself a sort
of Spaniard, such, as one sees many (ll—left me to
my reflections. . .

, and—but the deuce

h di ty. Adie
andrtcmigrrowgfiis it not Wu,

 

‘ ‘ October 1, :
A swarms event! Altho hfihe'consequences
are not the happiest to mgfie have done me
good. After the terrible bloww ich struck meg}
remained as if benumbed with grief. This had a}:
least restored me to a feeling of life, and for the first
time d three 10118‘ Weeks, I have courage to
n ‘h%f"?l&22emwb¥i E" n" I ‘

A a sea on n venme'th t
resell?) reason to quit, hastily at least}, 

 1%}; ‘

THE ROMANOET OF A POOR YOUNG MAN.

‘21

 

 

and advantages which are, after all, very necessary,
and for which I should have great difficult in find-
ing an equivalent to-day or 'to-morrow. e r-
spective of purely personal suffering _thatI m ht
have to encounter, and that I have, benides, brought
on myself by my own weakness, could not justify me
in forsaking duties in which other interests than my
own are involved. Besides, I did not wish to have
Mlle. Marguerite construe in sudden retreat as vex-
ation for the loss, of a ric Wife, and I made ita
point of honor with myself to show her an im assi-

le countenance, even at the altar; as to my cart,
she could not see that. I

I finally contented m self with writing to M.
Laubepin, that certain th ngs in my situation mi ht
at any moment become intolerable to me, and t at
I was desirOus to obtain some employment, less re-
munerative, and more independent.

The next day I presented myself .at the chateau.
where M. de Bevallan welcomed me cordially. I
saluted the ladies With as much naturalness as I
could assume. It was well understood there would
be no explanations. Madame Laroque seemed to
me pensive and thoughtful, Mlle. Marmerite a little
uncertain, but olite. As toMlle. Helouin, she was
very pale, and ept her eyes fastened on her em-
brOidery. The oor girl had no cause to felicitate
herself on the al result of her di lemacy. She
would, from time to time, throw a 100 of scorn and
menace at the triumphant M. de Bevallan; but in
this stormy atmos here, which would have disturb-
ed a novice, M.‘ e Bevallan breathed, moved and
fluttered about with the most perfect case. This
manifestly irritated Mlle. Helouin, but it also sub-
dued her. If she could have mined her accom lice
as well as herself I do not doubt that she woul in-
stantly have ren ered him, and with much eater
right, a service analogous to that which s e had
done me the previous evening; but it is probable
that in yielding to her jealous anger, and confess-
ing her duplicity, she would haveruined herself
only, and she had sufficient intelligence to under-
stand that. M. de. Bevallan in truth, was not the
man to commit himself wit Mlle. Helouin without
reserving some means of defense, and this he would
use with a pitiless exposure. She resigned herself,
therefore, not without finding by bitter experience,
I suspect, that the weapon of treason turns some-
times in the hand which employs it.

Durin this day and many days followin , I
was sub acted to a kind of torture which I iad
foreseen, but of Which had not calculated
all the sharp details. The marriage was to take
place at the end of a month. It was therefore
necessary to commence pre arations with all haste.
Bouquets from Madame lrevost came regularly
eve morning. Laces. stuffs, and jewelry flowed in
to e her, and were displayed every evening in the

oon, to the eyes of usy and envious f ends. I
was compelled to gbifizla mi Opinion and my advice
upon every ointa e. a erite solicited them
with cruel eciation. I won (1 obey her commands
w1th good grace; then I would return to my tower
and taking from a secret drawer the little tattered
handkerchief that I had saved at the peril of my
life. would dry my tearful e es with it. Faint-
‘hearted still! ut what shallI o? Ilove her. Per-

yf atred,irre arable misunderstandings, separate
us orever; so 8 it! but nothin will prevent this

eart from living and dying‘ full 0 her!

But a jeeri demon w i ered in my ear, that
. according to e foresight 0 human wisdom, Mar—
guerite would find more peace and real happiness in
the hamperate friendship of a reasonable husband
than she would have met with in the passionate love
ofa romantic spouse. Isit true? Is it possible? I
do not believe it! She Will have peace, be it so; but
peace. after all, is not the highest word of life, the
silifireme symbol of happiness. If merely to escape
s ering and to petrifg the heart is all that is neces-
sary in order to be appy, too many people are
haPPY, Who do not deserve to be so. By the force
of reason and of prose, one ends by defaming God,
and degrading his work. God, gives peace to the
dead, fassion to the living. Yes, there is in life, b
the Si e of vulgar and da y interests, from which
havenot the childishness to pretend'to esca
is 11 Poetry permitted, nay commanded!
immortal Kart of the soul. IIt is necessary that this
soul shoul be revealed sometimes, whether it be by
storms. 01‘ tears. There is a suffering which is of

than happiness or rather, which is
hapl , 9 that tofahuman being who
un erstands all the sorrows of the heart, and a the
fancies of the brain, and who shares these noble
torments with a sympathetic heart and a kindred

mind.

Moreover, the cor child will not have even this
boasted peace. _ at the union of two cold hearts
and inert imaginations engender the re se of noth-
ingness I beheve' but the union of ii e with death
cannot be maintained without terrible constraint and
perpetual heart-breaking-

In the midst of these grievous troubles 'I found no
relief except near my P00? Old mend. Mlle. de Por-
hoet. She was, or feigned t0 be. ignorant of the
state of my heart; but in vailed allusions, germ”
involuntary she laid her hand on in 1
wounds with all a woman‘s delicacy and s . There
was, besides, in this soul, a living emblem of sacri-
fice and tion, and which seemed to float
above the earth, a freedom a calmness a sweet
firmness, which diffused itself over me. . i began to
comprehend her innocent foil , and even to associ-
ate myself ingenuously with . Bendin over my
album, I was cloistered with her for ong hours
in her cathedral, and I breathed there, at moments,
the vague perfume of an ideal serenity.

Inpl’olgortion as the fatal day approached Mlle.
Morgue to lost the feverish vivacity which had

, there
t is the

 

animated her since the marri e had been decided
on. She fell at intervals into er farmer familiar
attitude of passive indolence and sober reverie.
Two or three times I surprised her lookiniiat me
with an air of extraordinar perplexit . adame
Laroque, too, on her part, 0 ten regar ed me. with
an expression of anxiety and indecision, as if she
desired and at the same time dreaded to a preach
some. painful sub ect of conversation. he day
before yesterday chanced to be alone with her in
the saloon, Mlle. Helouin having gone to transmit
'some order. The indifferent conversation in which

we were engaged ceased at once as if b some secret
accord. “ onsieur,” said Madame roque in a
penetratin voice, “you choose very unwisely to
whom to te your secrets.”

“ My secrets, madame! I cannot understand you.
No one here except Mlle. de Porhoet has ever heard
from me a breath of my secrets.”

“Alas!” she replied, “I wish to believe it~I do
believe it; but that is not enough!”

At this moment Mlle. Helouin re-entered, and noth-
ing‘ more was said.

he next day—that is, yesterday—I set out on
horseback early in the morning to oversee the fell—
ing of some timber in the nei borhood. I was re-
turning toward four o’clock n the direction of the
chateau, when at a sharp turn of the road, I found
myself face to face with Mlle. Marguerite. She was
alone. I bowed, and was about to pass, but she
sto‘pged her horse.

‘ beautiful autumn day, monsieur,” said she.

“Yes, mademoiselle. You are going to ride?”

“As you see, I am using my last moments of in—
dependence, and even abu ' them, for I feel a lit-
tle troubled by my solitude. ut Alain was wanted
down there—my poor Mervyn is lame. You do not
wish to re lace him b chance?”

“ With p easure. here are yOu going?”

“Why—I had the idea of pushing my ride as far
as the tower of Elven.” She pointed with the end
of her riding-whi to a dark summit which rose
within sight of t e road. “ I think ” she added,
" that you have never made this pi mags.”

“It is true. It has often tempts me, ut I have
put it off till now, I hardly know why.”

“Well! it is easily found; but it is already late,
and we must make a little haste if you please."

1 I turned my horse’s head, and we set out at a gal-
op.
As we rode I sou ht to explain to m . elf this un-
expected whim, w ich I could not ut think Ere-
meditated. Iconcluded that time and reflection ad
weakened in Mlle. Marguerite's mind the first im-
pressions made by the caluinnies‘ which had been
ured into her ear. She had apparently ended by
oubting Mlle. Helouin's veracity, and had con-
trived to offer me, by chance, under a di uised
50m, a kind of reparation which might possi ly be
no me.

In the midst of the thoughts that besieged me I
attached slight importance to the particular end we
proposed ourselves to in this strange ride. I had often

card this tower of Elven oken of as one of the
most interesting ruins of t e country, and I had
never traveled over either of the two roads which
lead from Rennes, or from Jocelyn, toward the sea,
without contemplating with an ' or eye, that un-
certain mass which one sees towering upward in the
middle of distant heaths like an enormous 'stone
bank; but time and occasion had been wanting to

me.

The villa of Elven that we traversed, slackening
our pace a ‘ttle, ave a striking re resentation of a
town of the Mi die Ages. The cm of the low,
dark houses has not chan ed for five or six cen-
turies. One thinks himsel dreaming, when he sees
through the large aps, arched, and without sashes,
which take the pace of windows in the houses,
these grou of women with wild eyes, spinning
from istags in the shade, and conversing in low
voices in anunknown lan e. It seemed as if all
these ayish specters quitted their monumen-
tal sla s to enact some scene of another age of
which we were to be the sole livin witnesses. 8
little life that was visible in the 11 lo street of the
village bore the same character 0 antiguity and
faithful re resentation of a vanished worl . .

. A little (1 stance beyond Elven we took a cross-road,
which led us up a barren hill; we saw from its sum-
mit although at some distance from ‘us, the
fan al ruin overlooking a wooded night in front
of us. The heath where we were, descended
sharply toward marshy meadows, surrounded with
thick young woods. We descended the slope
and were soon in the woods. There we took a nar-
row road, the rough, unbroken pavement of which
resounded loudly under our horses’ feet. I had
ceased for some time to see the tower of Elven, the
locality of which I could not even conjecture, when
it rose out of the foliage a few ste s before us, with
the suddenness of an apparition. is tower is not
decayed; it.has preserved its original hight, which
exceeds a hundred feet, and the regular layers of
granite, which compose this magnificent octa onal
structure, ve it the aspect of a formidable b ock,
cut yester ay by the purest chisel. Nothing more
imposin , more dproud and somber, can be imagined
than th old onjon, impassible to the effects of
time, and alone in these thick woods. The trees
have grown close to‘ its walls, and their tops reach to
the openings for the lower windows. This growth of
Vegetation conceals the base of the edifice, and in-

appearance of fantastic mystery. In this
surrounded by forests, and with this mans
extraordinary architecture in front of us, it was
impossible not to think of enchanted castles, where
 t finggses :50 alhundred yroifa‘sé hom’ I

e" difleJIarglnie e, ow

tried to communichte this idea, “ I ve seen no more

than what we now see; but if you wish to wake the
princess, we can enter. As far as “(now , there may
be in the neighborhood a shepherd or shepherdess,
who is furmshed wit a key. Let us fasten our
horses and seek for them—you for the shepherds
and I for the shepherdess.”

The horses were accordingly fastened in a little
enclosure near the ruin, and we separated for a nio—
ment to search around thecastle. But we had the:
vexation to meet neither she herd nor she herdess..
Our desire to see the interior naturally ncreased
with all the force of attraction which forbidden
fruit has for us, and we crossed a bridge thrown,
over the moat at aventure. To our great satisfac-~
tion, the massive door of the donjon was net shut ;'.
we needed only to push it open in order to enter a.
corner, dark and encumbered with rubbish, which
was probably the place for the body-guard in former.-
times' from thence we passed into a vast circular
hall, the chimne piece of which still showed, on its.
coat of arms, t e besants of the crusade; a large
open window traversed by the symbolic cross, plain»
ly cut in the stone, lighted distinct] the lower part.
of this room, while t e e es failed 0 pierce the un--
certain shadows of the oft , broken roof. At the
sound of our etc 5 an invis ble flock of birds flew
out from the dar ness, shaking down upon us the:
dust of centuries.

On mounting up the granite steps, ra ed one!
above the other round the hall, into the em rasure-
of the window, we could overlook the (lee meat:
and the ruined parts of the fortress; but we ad no--
ticed on our entrance a flight of steps out in the
thick wall, and we felt a chi dish impatience to push
our discoveries further. We, therefore, undertook
to ascend this rude staircase; I led the way and
Mlle. Marguerite followed bravely holding up her
long skirts as well as she could. From the top of
the flat roof the view was vast and delicious. The
soft tints of twilight were creeping over the ocean
of half-golden autumn folia e, the dark marshes,
and the green mossy groun near us, and the dis~
- tant ranges of hills mingling with and crossing each

other. As we ,azed own upon this melancholy
landscape infin te in extent, we felt the peace of
solitude. the silence of evening, the sadness of the
past descend into our hearts.

This charm was increased, for me at least, b the.
presence of a beloved being- all who have oved.
will com rehend this. This hour even of mutual.
contemp tion and emotiOn, of ure and profound
enjo cut, was, without doubt, e last that would,
be given me to pass near her and with her, and I
clung to it with a sad earnestness. For Marguerite
I know not what assed within her; she was seate ,
on the led e of t e arapet, gazin silently at the
gistaglilce. heard on y the sound 0 her quickened

rea .

I do not know how long we remained thus. When!
the mists spread over the low meadows, and the far:
of! hills became indistinct in the increasin dark~'
ness, Marguerite rose. “Let us o.”said s e, in a.
low voice, as if the curtain ha fallen on some:
regretted pageant; “it is finished!” . Then she»
be an to descend the staircase and I followed her.

hen we attempted to leave the castle, to our
great surprise we found the door closed. Apparently
be young keeper, ignorant of our presence, had
turned the key while we were on the roof. Our first,
impression was that of ayety. It was actually an
enchanted castle! I ma‘ e vigorous efforts to break;
the enchantment; but the encrmous belt of the Old.
lock was solid] fastened in the granite, and Iwas

compelled to vs '11 the attem tto unf _ suit. I.
then attacked the cor itself: t e mas ve hinges:
and the oak anels, banded with iron, resisted all

my strength. 0 or three pieces of rough stone
that I found amongst the ru bish and that I threw
against this insuperable obstacle to our egress, had
no other result than to shake the roof, fragments of
which fell at my feet. Mlle. Marguerite, would not
allow me to h‘pursue an enterprise so evident] hope-
i sshand w ch was not without dan er. I then ran
to t e window, and shouted for help ut nobod re—
plied. Durln the next ten minutes Impeated t ese
cries constan , but with the same'lack of success.
We then employed the remaining daylight in explor»
ing’minutely the interior of the castle. but we could
discover no place of egress exec the door, as
solid as the wall to us, and the grea window, thirty
feet above the bottom of the moat. , ' ,

N ht had now fallen over the country, and dark—
ness vaded the old castle. , Some eye of Econlisht
penetrated the window, and fell. u on 6 stone
steps beneath it. Mlle. Marguerite .Who had
gradually lost all a pearance of spflghtilness, ceased
,o replyl to the confisctures, reasonable or otherwise,
with w ich I endeavored to dispel her x1ety. She:
sat in the shadow of the window, 81 out and im--
movable, but I was in the full light of the moon on
the step nearest the window, at intervalsvsending-
forth a cry of distress; but in truth the more uncer-
mm the success of my efforts became, the more an.
irresistible feeling ,0 oyfnlne seized upon me. I
saw suddenly realize me 911 1658 and most im—-
possible dream of lovers: I was alone in a ,esert
with the woman whom I loved! For longh ours.
there was onl. she and I in the world, only er life
and mine! I t ought of all the marks of sweet pro ~-

tection of tender respect, that I should haveihe
right, the dut to laweh upon her;I ictured her
fears ed. er confidence her slee ; said to 1113"

self the this fortunate nigh
the love of this dear
me her most lasting es in.

As I abandoned myself with all the e otism of
passion to my score ecstasy. some re action 01“
which was perha painted on my face Iwas and»
I denly roused by ese words, addressed to me in the
tone of affected tranquility: “Monsieurle Marquis

, if it (1! not give me
1‘1, would at lesst assure to-

 

%.

de Chain have there been many cowards in
your famfigegefore you?"

I rose, but fell back again u
turning a stu fled look in the ction where I saw
the vague out no of the young r1. One idea alone
occurred to me, a terrible idea, hat fear and anxiety
had affected her brain—that she was becoming

craz .
“Marguerite!” I cried, without knowi even
that I spoke. This word completed her ' tation,

doubtless.
How odious he is! What a coward!

“M God!

Yes, repeat it, what a coward!"

The truth began to dawn upon me. I descended
«line loll; the steps. “ Well, whatis the matter?” said
. co . '

“It is you,” she replied with vehemence, “ you
who have bribed this man—or this child—to im-

rison ' us in this tower. To-morrow I shall

lost— dishonored in ublic opinion and I
can belong o to you—sue is your calculation, is
it not? But t s plan, I assure you, will not succeed
better than the others. You know me ver imper-
Ifectly if you think I shall not prefer dis onor, a
convent, eath—all to the disgrace of uniting my
hand in life, to yours. And when this infamous
ruse succeeded, when I had had the weakness-—
as certainly I shall not have—to give you my rson,
and what 18 of more im ,ortance to you, in ortune
-—-in return for this eautiful stroke 0 policy.
What kind of a man are you? to wish for wealt ,
and a. wife, acquired at such a price as this? Ah,
thank me still, monsieur, for not yielding to your
wishes; they are impudent, believe me, for if ever
shame and public derision shall drive me into your
arms, I should have so much contempt for you that
Ishould break your heart! Yes, were it as hard,
ascold as stone, I would draw tears of blood from

“Mademoiselle,” said I, with all the calmness I
could assume, “I beg you to rec0ver yourself, your
reason. I assure you upon my honor, that you in-
sult me. Will you please to reflect? Your suspi-
cions have no probable foundation. I could not
have possibly arranged the base treachery of which
you accuse me, and how have I given you the right
to believe me capable of it?” .

“ All that I know of you gives me this right,” cried
she cutting the air with or riding-whip. “I will
tell yen for once what has been in my soul fora
long time. You came to our house under a bor-
rowed name and character. We were ha py, we
were tranquil, m mother and I. You have rou ht
us trouble, disor er, anxiety, to which we were e-
fore strangers. In order to attain your end, to re-
pair the loss of your fortune, you have usurped our
confidence—you have been reckless of our repose—
you have played with our purest, truest, most sa-
cred feeling. You have broken our hearts, with-
out pit . at is what you have done—or wished
to do— t matters little which. I am very weary of
‘itall, I assure you. And when, at this hour, you
come and pledge me your honor as agentleman,
{ihavfttlr’le right not to believe it— and I do not be-

eve

I was beside myself; I seized both her hands in a
transport of vehemence, which controlled her!
“ Marguerite, my r child, listen! I love you, it
istrue, and never id love more ardent, more disin-
terested, more holy, enter into the heart of man. But
you also, on love me; you love me, unfortunate!
and you id 1 me! You speak of a bruised and broken
heart. Ah! what have on done with mine? But
itis ours: I leave it wit you. As to In honor, I
will eepit—it is untouched. And soon will force
ygu to acknowledge it. Andu on this honor, I swear

ou,that, if Idle, you wi weep for me; that,

.if live, never, adored as you are—were you on
our knees before me—never will I marry you,
you are as r as I, or I as rich as youi
And now ray: as God for miracles, it is time! '

Ipush her away from the embrasure of the win-
dow, and sprung upon the upper steg; I had con-
ceived a desperate plan, and I execute it with the
precipitation of actual madness. As I have before
sai e tops of the beeches and oaks, growir‘ig in
the moat reached the level of the window. ith
the aid of my bent riding-win ,1 drew toward me
the extremi y of the neares branches: I seized
them on a venture, and leaped into s ace; I heard
above my head m name, “Maxim an!" uttered
suddenly, with a ted cry. The branchesto
which I was clin bent with their whole length
toward the abyss; t on there was a crashirig sound'

e

n my stone seat,

the tree broke under my weight, and I f heavily
to theground. '
The muddy nature of the earth lessened the vio‘

lence of the shock for though I was wounded. I was
not ldlled One 0 m arms had struck a must the
sloping maso of t e tower. and I ercd such
p pain in i that I fainted. I was aroused by
erite’s frightened voice: “Manmilian! Max .
miliani For pity’s sake! 1n the name of the good
00d, speak to me! Forgive me!”

I rose, I saw her in the Openin of the window in
the full moonlight, with herh bare, her hair dis~
beveled, her hand gras ing the arm of the cross,
and her eyes earnestly fixed upon the ground he

ow.

“Fear nothing,” said I to her. “I am not hurt.
Only be atient an hour or two. Give me time to go
to the c ateau; it rsthe surest. Be certain that I
will, keep your secret, that I will save your honor as
I have saved mine.”

I got out of rho moat With difficulty and went to
mountm horse. I suspended, my left arm, which
was whody useless and very sinful, with, hand-
kerchief. Thanks to the ligh of the moon, ' easily
found my way back and an hour later-I reached the
chateau. I was told Doctor Desmarests was in the

 

THE ROMANCE 0F .4 POOR YOUNG MAN.

saloon; I went in at once, and found there some
dozen rsons, whose countenances wore an expres-
sion 0 anxiety and alarm.

“Doctor,” said I, gayly, on entering, “my horse
took fright at his own shadow, and threw me on the
road, and I am afraid my left arm is sprained. Will

on see
y “How, s rained!" said M. Desmarests, after un-
fastening t e handkerchief. “ Your arm is broken,

mfipoor boy.”

adame Laro ue gave a little cry, and ap-
prgzlaclllied me. “ Thisis then a night of misfortune,"
sax s e.

g fésigned surprise. “What else has happened?" I
c e

“Mon Dieui I fear some accident has happened
to my dau hter. She went out on horseback at
three o‘cloc , and it is now eight, and she has not
yet returned."

“Mademoiselle Ma elite? Why I saw her—"

“ How? Where? t what time? Forgive me,
monsieur- it is the egotism of a mother." .

“ I saw er about five o’clock on the road. We met.
SPgEtlold me she thought of riding as far as the tower
o ven."

“The tower of Elven! She must be lost in the
woods. We ought to go there promptly”. Let or-
ders be given."

M. de Bevallan at once ordered horses to be
brou ht out. I affected a wish to join the
cave code, but Madame ue and the doctor
positively prohibited it and I al owed m self to be
easily persuaded to see]: my bed, of whic , in truth,
I felt eat need.

Doc or Desmarests, after having applied a first
dressing tom injured arm, took a seat in the car-
riage with adame Laroque, who went to the vil-
lage of Elven to wait there the result of the dili-
gent search that M. de Bevallan would direct in the
neighborhood of the tower.

It was nearly ten o’clock when Alain came to an.
nounce to me that Mlle. Marguerite was found. He
recounted the history of her in] risonment, without
omittin any details, save, be 1 understood, those
which t e young girl and I would alone know. The
account of the adventure was soon confirmed b the
doctor, then by Madame Laroque herself, and had
the satisfaction to see that no suspicion of the ex
act truth entered the mind of any one.

I have passed the night in re eating with the
most fatiguing rseverance, an with the oddest
complications 0 fever and dreams, my dangerous
leap from the old tower window. I cannot become
accustomed to it. At each instant the sensation of
fallin through space rises to my throat, and I awake
breat ess. At length the day dawned, and I be-
came calmer. At eight o‘clock Mlle. de Porhoet
came and installed herself by my bedside, her knit-
ting in her hand She has done the honors of my
room to the visitors, who have succeeded each other
all the da . Madame Laroque came first after my
old frien . As she held With a long pressure the
hand I had extended to her, I saw two la e tears
roll down her cheeks. Has she then been t on into
her dau hter’s confidence?

Mlle. e Porhoet has informed me that M. Le.-
ro ue has kept his bed since yesterday. He has
h a slight a tack of paralysis. To~da he cannot
speak and his state causes great anx et '. It has
been decided to hasten the marriage. M. ubepin
has been sent for from Paris; he isex ted to-
morrow, and the marriage contract will signed
the day following, under his supervision.

I have sat u some hours this evening, but if I am
to believe M. esmarests, I am wron to write with
my fever, and I am a great blockh .

 

October 3.

Ir really seems as if some malign power took the
trouble to devise the most singular and the cruelest
temptations and to offer them b turns to my eon.
science and my heart! M. Lau pin not having
arrived this morning, Madame ue asked me
for some information which she n ed in order to
determine u n the reamble of the contract which,
asle so d, isto signed tomorrow. AsI am
condemned to keep my room for several da
longer, I begged Madame Laroq
titles and private rs which were in the was-
sion of her father~m- aw, and which were in ens-
able to me in order to solve the dimculties the. had
been pointed out.

They soon brought me two or three drawers filled
witht em thathad been secretly taken out of M.

ue’s cabinet while the old man was asleep, for
he had always shown himself very fealous of his
private papers. In the first which took up the
repetition of my own family name caught my eye,
and appfigled to my curiosity with irresistible force.
This is literal text of the paper:
“ mo in serum.

“ The name that I bequeath to on and that Ihave
honored, is not my own. ather’s name was
Savage. He was manager 0 a plantation of con-
siderable size in the island, at that time bole
to France. of Saint-anie, owned b a wealthy an
noble family of Dauphiny, that o the Ghana ys
d7Hauterives. M father died in 1793, and I, nher»
ited, althou h at quite young the confidence they
had placed 11 him. Toward the close of that sad
year, the French Antilles were taken by the English,
or were delivered up to them by the insur- ent colo-
nists. The Marquis de Champcey (1’ auterive
(J ac lies-A te), whom the orders of the Conven~
tion ad no then attainted, commanded at that
time the frigate Tbetis, which had cruised in these
waters for three years. ’ v

“ A large number of French colonists scattered
through the Antilles had acquired large fortunes

no to sendmet e.

 

with the loss of which they were new daily threat-
ened. They contrived, with the aid of Commandant
Chain ey toorganizeaflotilla of light transports,
to _ ch they transferred all their movable prop-
erty, hoping to return to their native land, ro—

_ elily the guns of the Thetis. I had ion be ore
receiv orders to sell the lantation wh ch Ihad
managed since my father‘s eath, at an rice, in
view of the impendi troubles. 0n the n g t of the
14th of November, , I secretly quitted Saint
Lucie already occupied b the enemy alone in a
boat from Cape Mome-au ble. learned with me
the sum for which I had sold the lantation, in
English bank notes and eas. M. e Champcoy,
thanks to the minute knowledge he had gained of
these coasts, had been able to elude the English
cruisers, and had taken refu e in the difficult and
obscure channel of the Gros- let. He had ordered
me tojoin him there this very n ht, and only waited
in coming on board before iss ng from t echan-
neiwith the flotilla under his escort and headin for
France. 0n the we thither, I had the misfo une
to fall into the bar: s of the English. My captors,
masters in treachery as they are, gave me the
choice to be shot immediate , or to sell them, by
means of the million which I ad in my possession
and which they would abandon to me the secret o
the channel where the flotilla lay. I was young.
the temptation was too stron ; a half hour later
the Thetis was sunk, the flot taken, and M. de
Champcey grievously wounded. A year passed, a
sleepless year. I became mad, and I resolved 'to
revenge myself on the accursed English, for the
torments which racked me. I‘went to Guadeloupe,
I changed my name, and devoting the greater art
of the price of my treason to the urchaseo an
armed rig, I fell u on the Englis . For fifteen
years, I washed in eir blood and my own the
stain I had made, in an hour of Weakness, on
my country‘s flag. Althou h more iban_three-
fourths of my real fortune as been acquired in
gloriczlus battles, its origin is none the less, as 1 have
state . ,

“On my return to France in my old a e I inquired
into the situation of the Champce s (filiauterives;
the were happy and rich. 1 cont nued, therefore,
to old my peace. May mgr children forgive me!
I could not gain courage to lush before them while
I live; but m death will reveal this secret to them;
they will use t accordin to the inspiration of their
consciences. For myse f, I have only one prayer
to make to them; there will be, sooner or later, a
final war between France and her opposite neigh-
bor; we hate each other too much; we must ruin
them, or the will ruin us! If this war breaks out

during the fetime of my children or in grand-
children, I desire that they shall resen to the
equipped, on

government a corvette, armed an
be sole condition that she shall be named the
Savage, and be commended by a Breton. At every
broadside that she sends on the Carthagenian shore
my bones will shake with pleasure in m grave!

‘ RICHARD SAVAGE, called aqua.”

The recollections that were roused in my mind,
on reading this dreadful confession, confirmed its
correctness. I had heard in father. twenty times,
relate, with a mixture of p do and sorrow, the in-
cident in mcy. grandfather’s life which was here

oken of. nly it was believed in my family that
. ichard Savage was the victim, and not the actor,
in the treason which had betrayed die commander
of the Thetis.

I now understood all that had struck me as singu-
lar in the old sailor, and in particular his timid hear-
ing toward me: My father had always told me that
I was the living portrait of my grandfather, the

uis Jacques: and without doubt some glimmer-
ing of this resem ce penetrated occasionally his
clouded brain, and even reached the unquiet cor»
science of the poor old man.
ardly was I master of this secret, when I fell
into a terrible quandary. I could not feel ammosity
against this man, whose temporary loss of moral
strength had been expiated by a long life of repent-
ance, and by a passionate despair an hatred which
was not wantingnin grandeur. I could not recog.
nize, without a 1: d o admiration, ihe savage s t
which still animated these lines, written by a. pa-
his but heroic hand.

But what ought i do with this. terrible secret?
The first though which, occurred to me was, that it
would destroy all obstacles between Mlle. Marguerite
and me; that henceforth this fortune, which had
separated us, would be an almost obligatory bond
between US. dnce I alone. of all the world, could
render it legitimate, in sharing it with her. In truth,
the secret was not mine; and although the most in-
nocent of chances had revealed ittome strict pro-
bity demanded. perha , that I should leave 1 to
reach, in its own cod ime, the hands for which it
was intended: ou in waiti for this moment. that
which was irreparable wou have taken place-Tend
I should allow it when could prevent it by a Single
word! And these r women themselves. when
the day came for go fatal truth to make them
mm. would, perhafiss‘share my sorrowhmfideapam
They would be the to 0 me. i if you
knew it why did you not spea 7”

Well, no! neither to-day, nor to-morrow,norever,
if I can help it, shall those noble faces blush with
shame. Iwill not ipurchase my hap iness at the

rice of their humil ation. This score , known only
old man, henceforth mute forever,
cannot be —-this secret exists no longen—the
flames have evoured it! r .

I had considered it $11.. I know What I have
dared to do. It was a w -—a testament~gnd 1 have
destroyed it! Moreover it would not have benefited
me alone. My sister, who is confided to my care,

me, which

THE ROMANCE OF A POOR YOUNG MAN.

 

23

 

 

would have gained a fortune through it—and, with-
out her consent, I» have thrust her back into poverty
with my own hand. I know all that. But two ure,
elevated, proud souls will not be crushed and blight-
edby the weight of a crime which was foreign to
them. There is here a principle of equity which
seemed to me superior to all hteral justice. If I
have committed a. crime), in In turn I will answer
’ for it! But this inward strugg c has wearied me.
can write no longer.

 

' October 4.
M. Launan arrived at length this evening. He
came for a moment mum, to s to me. e was

abstracted, alglzlilpt and tismgcll. He s oke t3! me
very re 0 e roposedm e: ‘ very a-
, py operaggn," sai he; “ a praisewagrthy union in l

respects, where nature and societ both find the -

ant as that they have a right to emand on suc an
occasion. Upon which, young man, 1 wish you a
good-night, and I will go and clear the ticklish

_ grounds of the preliminary articles, in order that the
car of this interesting Hymen may reach its destina—~
tion Without jolting.

The contract is to be signed at one o’clock today,
in the saloon in the presence of friends, and the cus-
tomary attendants. I cannot be present at the cer-
emony, and I bless my injury, which has saved me
from enduring this torture.

I was writinng my little Helen, to whom I shall
endeavor for t e future to devote all my thoughts,
when M. Laubepin and Mlle. de Porhoet entered my
room. M. Laube in had not failed to appreciate the
many virtues o my venerable friend during his
frequent visits to Lar ue, and a warm, respectful
attachment .has exists for a long time between
these two old people. After an interminable ex-
change _of ceremonies, salutations and bows, they
took the seats I had prepared for them, and began
to look at me with an air of eat beatitude.

“Well,” said I, “is it ende ?”

“It is ended!” they replied, in concert.

“ Has ever hing one on well?"

“ Very wel ” said e. de Porhoet.

“ Excellent y ” added M. Laubepin. Then, after a
pause, “ That Ilevallan is gone to the devil l"

_ “And young Helouin is on the same road,” added
Mlle. de orhoet.

I uttered an exclamation of surprise: “Good God,
what does all this mean?”

“I; y friend,” said M. Laubepin, “the roposed

on
would ve secured, undoubted y, the mutual happi-
ness of the parties, if marriage were a final com—
mercial association; but it is not so. y uty in
these interesting circumstances was, since my as-
sistance was demanded, to consult the inclination of
the hearts, and the suitableness of the characters, as
well as the proportion of the fortunes. ButI per-
ceived from thefirst that the marriage in question
had the inconvenience not to exactly please any
one, neitherm excellent friend Madame Laroque
nor the amia le bride, nor the clearest-sighted
friends of these ladies; nobody, in short, unless it
were the bridegroom, about whom I cared very
little. It is true (this remark is due to Mlle. do Por-
hoet), it is true, I said to myself, that the bridegroom
is gentle—9’

‘ A gentleman, if you please," interrupted Mlle.
de Por oet, in a stern voice.

“ Gentleman," returned M. Laubepin, accepting
the'amendment; “but it is a kind of gentleman
which does notplease me.” .

“Neither does it please .me " said Mlle. do Por—
hoet. “ He was one of thebuffoons of his species,
and rese led those mannerless grooms that we
saw in th last century, issue from the English
stables, under the management of the Due de
Chartres, as a prelude to the revolution.”

‘ “ Oh! If they had done nothing but act as a pre-
lfiidfifio 1algaill-Levolution, one could forgive them," said

. u p

“I ask a thousand pardons, m dear sir; but
speak for yourself. Besides, there no need of (im-
cussing that; will. you continue?” .

“Therefore,” resumed M. Laubepin, “ seeing that
all were going to these an tials as toa funeral, I
sought for some means, b0 h honorable and legal,
not tobreak our faith th M._de Bevallan, but to
induce him towithdraw from the marriage. This
was the more allowable, because, in my absence, M.
de Bev had taken advantage of the inexperi-
ence of my friend Madame Lar no, and the soft-

ness of my confrere from Renncs, order to secure
himself most exorbitant interests. Without depart-
ing from the letter of the articles 0

n, I
succeed _ 1y modifyi their sp rit. How-
ever, honor and the promises zfiren imposed bounds
I could not break, The contract, in spite of all I
could d0, remained quite as advantageous as any
man oculd accepfi who , the least nobleness
of soul. and .ten amass for his future wife. - Was
M. de Bevallan this man? We must risk the chance
of that. I confess to on that Iwas not unmoved
when I began the re n: this morning of this irre-
vocable instrument, before an 1m ng audience."

“For myself,” interrupted m emoiselle,“1had
not a drop of blood in my veins. The first part ave
so fine a portion to the enemy, that I gave up for
lost ”

“ Without doubt, mademoiselle; but, as we say,
the venom is in the , in cauda venenum. It was
Oieasautt, in friend, to see the faces of M. de Beval-
lan and has7 of my colleague from Rennes, who was
present, when I abrupt.le unmasked my batteries.

hey looked at each 0 er in silence at first, then
they W red together, and finally they rose, and
aD‘l‘Droachi the table before which I was seated,
as 0d. in :fiiw voice, for explanations. V .

"‘Speak aloud, if you please, gentlemen, said I

resented all the advan s desirab e and it.

 

to them, ‘ there is no need of mystery here. What
do you wish 2’

“ The spectators began to attend to the conversa-
tion. M. de Bevallan, without raising his voice in-
sinuated that this contract was a suspicious wor .

“ ‘ A suspicious workl’ I replied, in as loud a voice
as possible. ‘ What do you mean by that? Is it
against Madame no a ' true, or a ainst my
colleague here presen , the you direct strange
imputation?’

‘ ‘Chuti silence! no noisel’ said the notary from
Rennes, in a prudent tone; ‘ but, see; it was a reed
from the first that the marriage settlement 8 ould
be dis ensed with-J

“ ‘ 8 marriage settlement, sir? And where did
you find any question of a marriage settlement?’

“ ‘ Come, brother, you know very well that you
restore the marriage settlement by a subterfuge.’

“ ‘ Subterfuge, brother! Permit me, as your
senior, to advise you to erase that word from your
vocabulary.’ -

“ ‘ But. really,’ muttered M. de Bevallan, ‘ my
hands are tied on all sides; I am treated like a little

‘ ‘ How, monsieur? What are we doing here ac-
cording to you? Is this a contract or a will? You
forget that Madame Laroque is living, that her fa-
ther-in~law is living, that you are marrying, not in-
heriting—not yet, at least, monsieur; have a little
patience; what the deuce—’

“At these words Mlle. Marguerite rose. ‘That is
enough,’ said she. ‘Monsieur Laubepin, throw the
contract into the fire. Mother, return the entleman
his presents.’ Then she left the room wit the etc
of an insulted queen. Madame Laroque followec
her. At the same monent I threw the contract into
the fireplace. _

“ ‘ Monsieur,’ said M. de Bevallan to me, in a
threatenin tone, ‘ there is some maneuver here, of
which I wi 1 learn the secret.’

“ ‘I will tell it to you,’ I replied to him. ‘ A youn
person who has a just pride in herself, had conceiv

he fear that our wooing was addressed solely to
her fortune; s e no lon er doubts it. I have the
honor to wish on a g -day.’

“From him went to find the two ladies, who, on
my faith threw their arms around In neck. A .uar-
ter of an hour afterward M. de Beva an quitte the
chateau with m colle ue from Rennes. His de-
parture and his 'sgrace ad the inevitable result of
unloosing the tongues of the domestics, and his im-

udent intrigue With Mlle. Helouin was soon known.

he young woman, suspected for some time past in
other respects asked for her dismissal, and it was
not refused her. It is needless to add that the
ladies will secure her a comfortable su port. Well,
my lad, what do you say to all this? re you suf-
fering more? You are as ale as a dead man.”

The truth is, that this un ooked-for news had ven
rise to such a crowd of happy and painful fee 'ngs
that I nearly fainted.

M. Laubepin, who was to set out on his return the
next mOI‘m'Allf at sunrise, came this evenin to say
good-by. tera few embarrassed words tween
us, he said: “ There, m dear child, I am not going
to question you as to w at has taken place here; but
if, bly chance, you need a confidant and a counsel-
or ask our preference."

I coul not unbosom myself to a more trusty
friend. I ave the worthy old man a detailed
count of the circumstances aflec my relations
with Mlle. Marguerite since my arriv at the cha~
teau. I even read him some p es of this journal in
order to show him‘ more 13190188 y the state of those
relations and the state 0 my fee ings. finally,
the secret that I had discovered the prece cg day
amogg) the pers of M. Laroque; I concealed noth-

m in.
en I had ended M. Laubepin, whose face had
become very thoughtful and anxious, replied, “It
is useless to disgse from you that in sendi on
hitherImedita aunion between you nigh.
Laroque. All went at first according to my es.
Your hearts, which in my 0 mlon are Worthy of
each other, seemed to a ro hisensibly;,but this
strange adventure of w ch Elven was the romantic
theater, entirely discOn me, I acknowledge.
What the deuce, my friend, to lea from the window
at the risk of breaking
tell you, sufficient p of your disinterestedness;
it was uite superfluous to add to this honorable
proceed C‘g the solemn oath never to marry this
poor chil , except in contingencies which we can-
not possibly hope for. I pride myself on beings
man of resources, but I own I am incapable of giv-

ou two hundred thousand francs a year or of
them away from Mlle. Laroquel"

“ ell, sir, give me {gut counsel. I have more
confidence in you than myself, for I feel that mis-
fortune, by constantly ng me to icion,
has roused in me the sensit veness of honor even to
excess. . Will yOu tell me to to at the un-
wisebut ll solemn oath which, at t moment,
alone separates me,I beheve, from the happiness
you have dreamed of for your adopted son?”

M. be in rose and paced the room for some
minutes, with his thick eyebmws drawn down over
his eyes; then stopped, and seizing my hand,
“Youclll‘fi man,” said he, “ it is true I love you as my
own d; but, were your heart to break and mine
with yours, I cannot trifle with my rinciples. It
ishetter to exceed the demands of onor- than to
fall short of them; in the matter of oaths, all those
which are not exacted at the point of the sword, or
at the mouth of a istol, should be either not taken,
or if taken, siioul bekept. Such is my 0 mon.
wft‘tht, is ,also mine. I will leave here morrow

I y ou. ’ '

“ ,0, Maximilian, remainhersa little while‘longcr.
I do not believe in miracles, but I believe in (run,

“to his heart-“ , e
’baicgnllllpon the pillow, an inert mass.

 

: and cares'to devolve upon me. WhiCh

who rarely suffers us to perish through our virtues.
Give Providence a little time. I know that what I
ask will require t resolution, but I claim it
formally of your friendship. If, in a month, you do
Inot " ve any news from me—well, you shall
eave.

He embraced me, and left me with a peaceful
conscience but a desolate heart.

 

October 12.

Ir is now two days since I left my retreat and
Went to the chateau. I had not seen Mlle. Mar-
guerite since the moment of our separation in the
tower of Elven. She was alone in the saloon when I
entered there; on recognizing me she made an in-
voluntary movement as if to withdraw; then she re-
mained immovable, her face becomin crimson.
This was contagious, forI felt myself ush to the
very roots of my hair.

“How do you do, monsieur?” said she, holding
out her hand, and pronouncing these simple words
in a voice so soft, so humble—alas! so tender—that
I could hardly restrain myself from kneeling before
her, But I replied in a tone of cold politeness. She
looked sadly at me, then cast down her large eyes
and resumed her werk.

At that moment her mother sent for her to come
to her grandfather, whose state had become very
alarming. He lost his voice and allpower of mo-
tion several days revious, the paralysis having at-
tacked his whole y; the last glimmerings of in-
tellectual life were also extinguished; sensibility
alone contended with disease. No one could doubt
that the Old man drew near his end; but his ener-
getic heart had so strong a hold on life, that the
struggle promised to be a long and obstinate one.
From the first apcpearance of danger, however, Mad-
ame Laroque an her daughter had been lavish of
their strength, watching beside him day and night
with passionate abnegation and earnest devotion
which are the special virtue and glory of their sex.
But they succumbed to fati e and fever on the
night before last; we offere , M. Desmarests and I,
to sup 1y their places beside M. Laroque during
the nig t. They consented to take a few hours’ re-

ose.

The doctor, very tired himself, soon announced to
me that he was going to lie down in the adjoining
room. “I am of no use here,” said he; “the mat
ter is decided. You see he suffers no longer, the

cor old maul He is in a state of lethargy which

as nothing disagreeable in it; he will awake only
to die. Therefore on can be easy. If you remar
any change, you wi lea-ll me but I do not think this
wilbe before tomorrow. In the meantimelam
dead with sleep!”and yawning aloud, he left the
room. His language, his heanng in the presence
of a dying man shocked me. He was an excellent
man, however;_but in order to render to death the
respect which is due, it is necessary to behave in

. an immortal principle which it sets free, not to see

merely the brute matter which it dissolves.

Left alone in the sick-room, I seated myself near .
the foot of the bed, the curtains of which had been
raised, and tried to read by the li ht of a lam that
stood near me on a little table. e book fe from
my hands: I could think only of the sin ular combi-
nation of events which gave to this ad man the
grandson of his victim, as a witness and protector
of his last sleep. Then, in the midst of the rofound
quiet of the hour and the lace, I con ‘ure up the
scenes of tumult and vio ence, of wh ch this life,
now about to close, had been so full. I sought for
some dim im ression of them on the face of the
sufferer, but saw there only the heaviness and
premature repose of death. Iagproached his illow
at intervals, to assure myself t at the vital reath
still moved in his sinking breast.

At 1 , toward the middle of the night, an irre-
sistible torpor seized me, and I fell aslee , my fore-
head leaning on my hand. I was suddgnly awak-
ened b some inournful sound; I raised my eyes,
and I elt a shivering in the very marrow of my
bones. The old man was half-risen in his bed, and
had fixed upon me an attentive astonished look
In which shone a life and inte gence that, up to
this time, I had never beheld in him. When my eye
met hishe trembled; he stretched out his crossed
arms, and said to me in a supplicating voice, the
stra e, unusual sound of which suspended the
veryu eating of my heart:

“ onsieur le Marquis, forgive me!”

I tried to rise, I tried to speak, but in vain. I sat
in my chair like one petrified.

After a silence, during which the eyes of the dyc
ingkman had not ceased to plead to me, he again

e.
SIJ‘(?liionsienr le Marquis, deign to to we me!”

Ifound ‘wer at lastto oto im. AsIap-
pinched, e shrunk backw as if to escape some
eadful contact. . I raised one hand and lowering it

ntl before his eyes. which were distended and
graild {vith terror, I said. to him:
“ Go inpeace, I forgive on."
I had not finished speak g these words, when his
withered face became Illuminated with a flash of
joy and youth, and a. tear flowed from each sunken
eye. He extended one_hand toward me, but sud-
den clenched it, wavmg it threatenin ly in the
air; sawhiseeballsrollasifaballhad nsent
English,” he murmured, and fell
. He was dead.
ed aloud quickly: attendants came running
in. He was soon Surrounded, by e(prayers and pious
tears. I withdrew, deeplv mov by this extraor-
dinary scene, which would forever remain a secret
between Inga-‘1! and the dead.
lh‘ls sad , ily event had caused numerous duties
have jizsti‘fied
m  own eyes my prolonged stay at the chateau.

94 I  ROMANCE  A £0,012.  

 

 

 

It is im , 1 Is to (:0an what could have been
H.115“ ’smqtivesincounselingmetodefermiy
urc. What cache hope been this delay? t
seems to me that he yielded in this case to a feeling
of vague mlgerstition and Verillty to which a mind
r tempered 7 his slice never have bowed. and
which I  wrong’mysslf in submitting to. Diddle
not understand that he was imposing on me 5 art
entirely wantin in openness and dignit , bee dos
the increase 0 useless suffering? 00 not one
“ustly reproach me now with triflififi with sacred
celings? My first interview with e
had sumced to reveal to me all the seth of the
test I am condemned to, but the death of M. as
has given a little naturalness to my relations th
her, and propriety to my continued stay. _ '

, ' Reruns, October 35.
THE last word is spoken—M God! How stron
mas this tie! How i has ran my heart to bro

Last night at nine o’clock I was surfprised as I sat
at mg open window to see a faint lig t approac
my we ling through the dark alleys of the par
and from a different direction to that used by the
servants at the chateau. An instant afterward
seine one knocked at my door, and Mlle. de Porhoet
entered breathless. "Cousin," said she, “ I have
business with you.” ‘

I looked in her face. “ Is there some new misfor-

s‘fNo it is not exactly that. You shall judge of it
yourself. Sit down, my dear child, you have spent

we or three evenings at the chateau in the course
of this week: have observed anything new or
s1 ‘ align the bee. ng of the ladies?”

‘ mg.

“ Have you not, at least, remarked in their faces
an expression of unusual serenity?” s

‘7 Perhaps so, yes. Aside from the melancholy
of their recent ailiiction, they have seemed to me
calmer and even happier than formerly.”

“Without doubt. on would have been struck
h_ other peculiarities if you had, like me, lived for
13an ears in their daily intimacy. Thus I have
latelyo n surprised some sign of secret intelli-
grace of mysterious complicity between them.

sides. their habits are perce tibl changed.
Madame Laroque has put aside er rasero, her
easy-chair with its turret and her innocent Creole
fancies; she rises at fabulous hours and seats her-
self with Marguerite, at their work-table. They
have both become pinesionatdy fond of embroidery,
and have inquired ow much mone a woman can
earn daily at this kind of work. short it has
been'aneni ato which I have striven to discover
the slew. (his has just been disclosed to me, and
without intruding upon your secrets, I have thought
it , to communicate it to you without delay.’ ‘

 my gmtcstations of the entire confidence I
cult! fills ly repose in her, Mlle. dc Porhoet con-
tinued her sweet, firm styler . “ Madame Aubry
to Seems this evening: she began by

 

came secretly
throwing her two covetous arms around my necki '

whichgmetly peased me; then with a thouean
amniotic that I will spare you, she beg me to
A  who-were on the brin of ruin.

4'  she has, learned branching at the.
Roommate her delicate custom' these ladies
are  at this moment the authorisation of
their property to a church at Homes in‘
‘ Wrodestro the in ualit'y of fortune between
 ‘ you. w . now separates you. Be—
ing” his to make you rich, they intend to make
themselves poor. It seemed inn is, cousin, to
Ice » f t rant of thishdmrmigstig‘n, eqii‘al
wofihro osegenerous e s,a osec -
ish  You will forgive me for adding that

. -  d .is to thwart this designfat on cost.
 it  for our friend; what
-  responsle y
 to tell on; you will, understand
Well as, at  eight. I! on could, my friend,
, ‘.  ‘ ,, erlte‘s hand a once, that would be
'  lathe world, but bigot! are bound‘in
‘ la ' which, all

  .. Am

 

resence here many » V
nyou gone it will be easier forms
these children back to reason.“ r

3W"! lam ready; I widest-out this very

'Thatisrl ht,” she lied. “In vlng' on this
adviea'lhiwg myself myed a verygiha j law of
. ' be last hours of solitudegtymr

have restored the illusions of the sweeteatattaeh-
'mentseflifc,whichlhad lost for ,  In
‘se , yogaweylmakemylastsacrl ce,anditjs

 

v ' speaking. “Onedoesnotem on
m  “rams “stnymfi
in. r u ear r I ~ 6
WMMgeyoul" Ikisse‘dher 
'  my preparations for departure
then Iwrotea tewfinestoimm Latoqu' e-I
begged her to abandon a dc ,
,sequencesandextcntof which she  oatmea-
snre, and to which two: _ ' y
“ minnowsyan  i gave her my
vwfi sheknewmconldrewcm What
went! new ' at the at
~  in ~ to di-
 of

1'  ,mmss was 

. Marguerite ’just

mar
0h1h0w Ihave

railroad, a post~chaise entered the courty

- tails given in A
‘voonilrtned.a As I have before said this
9

'f . . , -
“tracted’ lawsuit between Mlle. Porhoet and a ngble

‘ suing my researches in the archives 6: the

. She rose and looked, at inc a moment, v

 

tower, where I have suffered and loved so degplyi

and I crept into the chateau, by a private ‘ nor

the ire of which had been confided to me. i
~ ' sod he macaw pty and

ii

when, it“ .13... 8; olefin: “it well "i
'so see no: so as as
couldhlx edarknessrctfiagth  thesaloon

"where "had a orthe first time. She
and her me or hardly havo quitted- it an
hour before; their recent ’ was betrayed by
a soft sweet perfume that ntoxicated me. “nought
forand .found, her basket, in whichher hand had
I replaced her newly be 'n-embrol . Alas!
my poor heart: I fell on my noes by her c r, and
there with my forehead throbbing against the cold
bio of the table, Isobbed like an infant!

‘ cred her!

I profited by the remaini

I took this mornin ' the carriage for Rennes. To-
morrow n ht I sh i be in Paris. Poverty. solitude,
dos airaa that I left there, I. shall find them
ag 11! Last dream, of youth, of heaven, farewell!

 

Fame.
to the
of the

hotel, and I saw old Alain descend from it. His

face lighted up when he saw me. “ Ah! monsieur,
how luckyl you are‘not gone! Here is a letter for
£011!” I rec nized the handwriting of M. Laubepin.

e told me 11 two lines that Mlle. de Porhoet was
seriously ill, and that she asked for me. I took time
only to change horses, and threw 'myself into the
chaise, compelling Alain, with great difficulty, to
take the seat opposite me. ‘ ,

I then pressed him with uestions, and made him
repeat the incredible news e brou ht me. Mlle. do
Porhoet had received the evenin fore an official
paper conveyed to her by M. ubepin, informing

or that she was put in full and complete possession
of the estates 0 her 8 anish relatives. “And it
seems "added Alain, “ t at she owns it to monsieur,
who discovered in the igeon-house some old apers
which nobody knew o , and which have esta lished
the old lady’s right and title. 1 do not know how
much truth there is in that; but if it be so, the more

Bity said I to myself. that she has ot such ideas in
er cad about a cathedral, and w ich she will not

let go of—for, take notice, that she holds to them

more than ever, monsieur. At first, when the news
came, she fell stiff on the floor, and it was thought
she was dead; but an hour afterward she began to
talk, without end or rest, about her cathedral, of the
choir and the nave of the chapter-house, and the
canons, of the north aisle and the south aisle, so
that, in order to calm her, an architect and masons
were sent for, and all the plans of her cursed edifice
were around her on her bed. At len h, after
three ours’ conversation with them, she f l asleep;
on waki she asked to see monsieuo—Monsieur

Marquis( n bowed, shutting his e es), and I was

sent after him. It seems she wishes consult Inca:

sieur about the lobby." ' ' ~ v

his strange event caused me great surprise. But
with the helpxof . memory and theoont‘used de-

e‘b in! ‘edat‘an‘ ' location
of the matter 5mm t informer soon
Pothoet

firsts ro

Tun next morning as I was about goin

the occasion‘of theS 'nlshbr’anch
sing" had Wo‘phaoepf' re was

house of came. which my old friend lost on its final

'trial'; then, a new suit, in ‘which Mlle. de Porhoet

was not involved, heirs and the

cd to it sec on .
actions, a papal-Ken intowig; ‘ s

devolv I
as was -
rang,

_ two months beégre my departurenjom the chateau.
t threatens you with it is ' I

"use -

y .u, n p.by_t egraceoiGodgKing’of/sttile,
Icon andiAragon, of the two - , v Jemalem,
Navarre; WToiedo Vqlenoia,  Seville.
comm, Bentham , icon .

i the“ canary Is , the

- duke of: Luanda, Duke of

can 
hedgerow a n a w 

fie .
“.T  “ o ean’Joeel isleur do ’Forhoet-
Gaeb‘domn of Torres  to ’ ‘ -

1139:! my I

‘As‘ide'tronrthis “ westwards-nanos-
tion,‘jf"‘fonndwthe  bear! 'tgeyrcyal seal.
Thehnport coo thsdoenment noteecape ‘
butéwgg , that“ t ‘it. Id ‘ch

‘ “he? 0 , 
some; v' ‘ yonld bent?v by

 
  

. batsmen the Sigma:
crown. which claimed 1that the pDuperty in qoestion
hand

and word; I
Wannabe-smiths lather 3111,1716. ;
I , ~‘ ~‘ W“ onLRu."‘-‘

, hours of night to he :
secretly driven to the little no hboring town, where

ring these trans: :

e . who hast foi-‘ ~

‘loggd me to: dominions, andjhagtzwedme 2»
1! ex sing ‘ promised » rm; .
thhé'ngdt’" to mil.“ ru‘m‘éiht'hth’a  ’
a . ma ‘ a ‘

return, even to't’lia with.»  she‘ll-mum the
crown to the direct and legitimate heirs of the
 branch «linear-homeschoolth as it 
shailexist.,'   "g *  

' “and. I thlsfor. megandiny, successors

‘i

It was nine o’clock at night when I descehded
from the y at the threshold of the humble .
house where this alrnost‘royal fortune had sotardily
come. little servant opened the door. ' She war:
wee‘pin‘g. I heard the vevoice of R.
my agatthe head or t e‘stair‘case: “It'ishel’ " 1
hastened up the stairs. ' The old ‘manglapcd ’m
handlime and led me into Mlle. ‘Porhoet '
chamber. without speaking. The doctor warme-
cure of the town stood silently in the shade of the
window. Madame ,Lar , us was kneeling on ,a has
gag near 3% badéhhernlo lighter was haththe bed’a

,sup ng e ws-u w c reposed
the headpof rm poor ngend. .Wmthe cuter-er per— ‘
‘ eeblesmile spread- over her features

now sadly changed'she extended * ’one hand, bu .

' with evident pain. i took it as I kneeled beside her;
and I could not restrain. m tears. “M child!’

- said she “my dear child 1” en she loo ed earn—-
eat] at M. Laubepin. The old notarytook up from
the a sheet of . per, and appeared to continue»
an interrupted r ingI: ~ I . 

“For these reasons, a oint by this will written
b my own hand, Maxim an Jacques Ma eOdiot,

arquis do Cham ey d’Hauterive, noble in heart.
as well as by birt , general legateeof all my pro-
perty both in France and in Spain, without reserve.

, or condition. Such is my will. -

"Joanrnos JEANNE, ‘
' “ Countess de Porhoet-Gsel.”

In the excess of my surprise, I rose abruptly, and
was about to s ak, when Mlle. do Porhoet drawing
my hand gent y back, placed itrin Marsueflte’s.
The dear girl started at that sudden contact, and,
laying her blushing face on the pillow, whispered a
few words into the dyi woman s car. For myself.
I could not speak; I con (1 only fall on my knees and
thank God. r ,

Several minutes ed thus in solemn silence,
when Marguerite su denly withdrew her hand from
mine, and made a sign of alarm. The doctor ap-~

roached hastily; I rose. Mlle. do Porhoet’s head

Bad fallen backward; her face was radiant with joy,

and her eyfs turned upward as if fixed on ven;
her lips ha f apened, and she s he as if in a dream:
“on, God! oodGodl Isee t—u there! yes-the
choir—the golden lamps—the w ndows—the sun,
shining everywhere! Two angels kneeling before
the altar—in white robes—their wings move—they
are living!" This exclamation was smothered on
her lips, on which the smile remained; she shut her

r eyes as if falling asleep, then suddenly a look of im-
mortal youth spread over her face. .

Such a death crowning such a lite, was full. of in~
structlontomy soul. I begged them to leave me,
alone with the priest in the chamber. This pious
Watching will not be lost to me I hope. More than
one forgotten or doubtful truth red tome
with irresistible evidence upon the taceatemped

at; crown, it nobly restored  «to the legitimate

with a glorious peace. My noble and minted friend!
.I knew that you had the virtue crash-sacrifice; I.
saw that you had received gem-“rewardl
Somehonrsatter mldnig t, yielding to f I
wentato moths-them air for a momma. de~
scanned the m lathe dark, and avoiding the
where I saws I on red ’

saloon, tie the 
The night was, extreme . ,As I app ‘ the.
.turret.“ the dart elittleenclomrallm

slight noise under theelm tree; at the same
’ an mdlsdnctaform’disen d itself from the roll»
Ange. Myheart beatwiolen zm skint dim, I:
saw the with stairs. '- l” I said,
“stretching many hands' I heard a little cry. than
mynamc murmured soltimthea—then 1! felt her
upsmeetxminei. . .w .  » r 
a I .hav itgiven Helen half my f rtune; '
is w .. ‘I close these pages lorever. ‘ where
excrete confide tothem.  «momenta
hlch‘has been'aaid-ofmnancnsr “Happy

arm «a
those w 0 have no history l" .
-‘ if: ' ‘ 

y Y   ,_ , ‘ w I.

 

 

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arm. paid.

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