must step aside, my noble esquire,' said he to me; 6 Go, take your seat on that bench, in yon arbour. I wish to have a witness of this interview; for, to confess the truth, I have too richly deserved hatred in that palace, not to have reason to feel rather insecure here. Go, then, my friend, wait for me there, and keep an eye upon me. Above all, happen what will, not a word, not a gesture, not a motion, that may betray fear.'

"In obedience to these injunctions, I left Mirabeau to his reflections, seated myself in an arbour from which I could see all that passed, and began to think of the perilous chances of a revolution, which, at such an hour, could force the daughter of emperors to quit the bed of her royal consort, in order to implore the forgiveness and support of this man. Amidst these

doleful thoughts, I saw three females advancing as if from the palace. They seemed to glide over the greensward, hastening on slowly; they were evidently afraid. I was between them and Mirabeau. I cast a look at him, and saw him walking to and fro, with measured step, like a man who has long paced the circumscribed platform of a dungeon.

"The three ladies gradually drew nearer: two of them passed before me. It was the queen, followed by my mother. The queen was pale; her eyes were cast down, her hands clasped: she trembled, but was yet resolute. Her white dress, blown by the wind, displayed her shape: her auburn hair flowed loosely over her shoulders. You would have taken her, at midnight, with a cloud veiling the face of the moon, for the apparition of a young female, who had died the preceding day, and who had returned in her bridal night-dress to earth, where her steps have ceased to produce an echo, her body a shadow, her breathing a sound.

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My mother followed the queen very closely. She was always cool; her step was always stately, her head motionless, her eye fixed: she walked as though she had been in the presence of the whole court in the great drawing-room of the palace.

"My attention was so taken up by the scene before me, that I was scarcely aware that the third of these ladies had entered the arbour where I was posted. When the queen had passed this arbour, she quickened her pace, as if she had forgotten the errand on which she had come; and

presently, finding herself face to face with Mirabeau, she gave a piercing shriek, and started back. It was not till then that I perceived that I had a companion. At the outcry of the queen, she would have rushed forth from the arbour, but I detained her.

Pardon me, madam,' said I, that cry is not a cry of distress; her majesty was startled-nothing more. Let us not disturb this interview by useless interference.

"See,' said I, resuming, the queen has recovered herself, and is accosting him. The conference begins; may it end well!' "Good heavens!' exclaimed the young lady; what an ugly man! I don't wonder that the queen was frightened.'

"The voice was so sweet, and so touching, that, in spite of the scene which absorbed my attention, I turned my head, and recognized Helen, my cousin Helen, whom I had seen but once since my arrival in France."

We pass over the conversation which ensues after this recognition, as unconnected with our subject.

"At length, the moon succeeded in bursting through the cloud which covered her. One of her rays fell upon Marie-Antoinette and Mirabeau. From the agitation expressed in their faces, it was evident that the conversation had been interesting and animated. The queen seemed to have somewhat recovered her spirits; her look was serene; she bade adieu to Mirabeau. On his part, calm and polite, he respectfully accompanied the queen to the end of the greensward:, there he stopped, and there, too, terminated the pale moonlight, rendered fainter by the trees of the shrubbery.

"Madam,' said Mirabeau to the queen, 'when your august mother dismissed a subject with whom she was satisfied, she did him the honour to give him her hand to kiss.' As he thus spoke, he dropped on one knee. The queen, with a slight smile, held out her hand, which he pressed to his lips. She then took the way to the palace, still followed by my mother, who had not seen me.

My parents possessed but little property: still a tolerably profitable business enabled my father to give me an education that was far above my condition. Ambitious plans, which I conceived, Heaven knows how, filled my imagination during my schoolyears; but when I had finished my studies the realities of life drew me down from the clouds to which my poetic and philosophic dreams had elevated me, and I was forced to pursue my course upon the level plain of ordinary life, and to strip off my enthusiasm like a ridiculous garment. At variance with myself, I returned to the parental house, in which my family had long carried on a trade in silks. Nobody expected me to go behind the counter, nay, I was urged to attend to my studies as closely as before; for my father had particular views respecting me, which were never accomplished, and which, owing to the events that I am about to relate, were never even communicated to me.

Proud as I was of my pursuits, I nevertheless took great delight in passing a leisure hour in my father's shop, where I had opportunities of seeing all the handsomest young females in Caen, who frequented it for the purpose of buying stuffs, ribands, and all the numberless trifles with which women contrive to heighten their charms, at the same time that they appear to hide them. Among these young ladies there was one, the sight of whom produced an extraordinary effect upon me. She was the only daughter of the Count de Mathan, a young creature who was but just on the threshold of actual life, and whose look betrayed that unaffected simplicity which marks only the short period between childhood and adolescence. Isabelle's eyes were blue as a serene sky in May; her features were delicate and regular; her hair was dark

brown, and her complexion so exquisitely fair, as to vie with the cambric which modestly covered her neck. The image of this angelic girl daily sunk deeper and deeper into my heart: in my walks she hovered about me, and she haunted me in my dreams. She was my world; she brought me light and life; both seemed to forsake me with her; and in her presence alone did I feel happy. I followed her everywhere as regularly as night follows day. To be sure, the son of a shopkeeper could not offer himself to her as a partner at the ball; and this consciousness was a thorn in my bosom. But at all public amusements, in the promenades, at church, at the Lord's table-God forgive me, miserable sinner!I was always near her; I touched her robe, and took care not to lose sight of her. Had she guessed my thoughts? had her eye read the expression of mine? I could not believe it, for not a word had passed my lips. Fortune at length afforded me an opportunity of disclosing my secret. It was the festival of Corpus Christi. I had as usual, entered the church at the same time with her. The air was sultry, and the sky overcast with heavy gray clouds, from which the sun sometimes burst forth fiercely, throwing through the painted windows a dim light under the dark arches. The fragrance of the flower-wreaths around the tall pillars, the penetrating odour of the incense, the tones of the organ, the solemn chant of the priests, all concurred to affect me so powerfully, that my heart could scarcely endure the excess of its love. The Gloria in excelsis was over, when distant thunder began to roll, the heavens became obscured, and the yellow flashes of lightning played upon the stained glass of the windows. Terror was painted in every countenance, while the singers proceeded with the service, but in a lower and more doleful tone: the thought of God was banished from the mind, and the ear listened in apprehension to the thunder alone. My eyes rested on Isabelle, and I experienced a singular joy on seeing her look pale like the rest. Whether this general feeling of anxiety seemed to bring her nearer to me, or to level the inequality between us, I know not. Her face was turned towards me, when a flash of lightning dazzled my

eyes for a few seconds; and when I opened them again, Isabelle was still looking in the same direction. The congregation rose for the Gospel; but at that moment the lightning struck and shattered the roof, and ran through the nave with a tremendous crash, like the explosion of a powder-mine. Screams and lamentations arose from all quarters, and such was the stupefaction caused by the general terror, that no one thought of escaping from the sulphureous effluvia. Most of the people lay, half senseless, on the seats. Isabelle alone stood up with folded hands, and her large eyes wide open. Not knowing what I did, I caught her in my arms, and carried her, almost suffocated with the vapour, and fainting upon my bosom, through the aisle to the street, where the fresh air soon recovered her. She looked anxiously around her, and, without noticing the person who had just saved her, she exclaimed, "My mother, my mother!" Instead of making any reply, I rushed back to the door of the church; but it was impossible to penetrate into the building, for the people were pouring out like a torrent: young men were carrying the aged upon their shoulders, husbands their wives in their arms, mothers their children. At length, the entrance having become clearer, I went in.

Gracious God, what a sight!-Smoke dust, heaps of stone and rubbish! The tapers were extinguished, and not a creature to be seen. Here and there, indeed, I heard a slight moan-I approached the unfortunate sufferers all was silent-they were dead.

Hastily returning to the spot where I had left my treasure, I found, to my surprise, the whole family assembled, and waiting to thank me. They made me get into the carriage with them, and overwhelmed me with civilities and demonstrations of friendship. Isabelle alone said nothing, neither did I address a single word to her, for her every look seemed to say to me, "Be silent!" The Count's house was thenceforward open to me, and I lacked not opportunity to disclose to Isabelle the secret which was locked up in my breast: for, though her parents seemed disposed to forget my inferior rank, they looked upon this very circumstance as a pledge that I should never presume to raise my wishes to their daughter. This calculation was not absolutely false: the consciousness of our unequal condition daily ncreased my respect

ful reserve, and many weeks elapsed before I one day expressed my passion, and almost against my will received Isabelle's confession that it was returned. And yet, what bliss lay in this assurance! I was too deeply enamoured to be able to conceal my feelings for any length of time they were divined. The Count treated me, at first, with coolness, and soon forbade me his house. But it was too late; Isabelle and I understood each other's looks, and when I durst no longer cross the threshold of the château, we met at a small sequestered farm-house, whither she used to go with a female friend, and where we spent many a happy evening. Her friend returned to her own family, and then it was but rarely, and for a few moments at a time, that I could see her. Both of us lamented this restraint; and my entreaties at length, one day, drew from her a promise that she would meet me in the evening, disguised in boy's clothes, in the adjacent forest.

It was a delicious evening in September: the sky was sprinkled with small, light, gold-fringed clouds; the air was warm and calm, but at times a gentle breeze swept through the branches, and played with the leaves, which already exhibited the manifold tints of autumn. I waited long in the appointed alley; and so heated was my imagination that in the twilight I frequently fancied that I saw Isabelle issuing from the thickets; and when she really made her appearance, I ran to meet her, as though fearful that it was again only a phantom which I beheld. Unluckily, I was not this time mistaken; for Isabelle had already stretched out her arms towards me, when a man rushed forth from the bushes, stabbed her, and ran back into the forest. All this was the work of a moment, and before I had gone many steps in pursuit of the murderer, he was out of sight.

Beside myself, I raised my beloved Isabelle in my arms; her blood streamed from the wound, and the dagger was still in her heart. Trembling, I drew it out; she stammered my name, and the last sigh escaped her lips. I pressed her to my bosom, and bathed myself in her bloodthat blood which afterwards bore witness against me.

Who was the murderer?—what urged him to the deed? Full well I know; for there is a suspicion that lieth not. He whom the justice of men cannot reach,