He touched your armhe spoke to youhe pointed to me. God be merciful to me, there is no escape, said Barton, in the low, subdued tones of despair. Montague had already bustled away in all the flurry of mingled hope and rage; but though the singular personnel of the stranger who had accosted him was vividly impressed upon his recollection, he failed to discover among the crowd even the slightest resemblance to him. After a fruitless search, in which he enlisted the services of several of the bystanders, who aided all the more zealously, as they believed he had been robbed, he at length, out of breath and baffled, gave over the attempt. Ah, my friend, it wont do, said Barton, with the faint voice and bewildered, ghastly look of one who had been stunned by some mortal shock; there is no use in contending; whatever it is, the dreadful association between me and it, is now establishedI shall never escapenever! Nonsense, nonsense, my dear Barton; dont talk so, said Montague with something at once of irritation and dismay; you must not, I say; well jockey the scoundrel yet; never mind, I saynever mind. It was, however, but labour lost to endeavour henceforward to inspire Barton with one ray of hope; he became desponding. This intangible, and, as it seemed, utterly inadequate influence was fast destroying his energies of intellect, character, and health. His first object was now to return to Ireland, there, as he believed, and now almost hoped, speedily to die. To Ireland accordingly he came and one of the first faces he saw upon the shore, was again that of his implacable and dreaded attendant. Barton seemed at last to have lost not only all enjoyment and every hope in existence, but all independence of will besides. He now submitted himself passively to the management of the friends most nearly interested in his welfare. With the apathy of entire despair, he implicitly assented to whatever measures they suggested and advised; and as a last resource, it was determined to remove him to a house of Lady Ls, in the neighbourhood of Clontarf, where, with the advice of his medical attendant, who persisted in his opinion that the whole train of consequences resulted merely from some nervous derangement, it was resolved that he was to confine himself, strictly to the house, and to make use only of those apartments which commanded a view of an enclosed yard, the gates of which were to be kept jealously locked. Those precautions would certainly secure him against the casual appearance of any living form, that his excited imagination might possibly confound with the spectre which, as it was contended, his fancy recognised in every figure that bore even a distant or general resemblance to the peculiarities with which his fancy had at first invested it. A month or six weeks absolute seclusion under these conditions, it was hoped might, by interrupting the series of these terrible impressions, gradually dispel the predisposing apprehensions, and the associations which had confirmed the supposed disease, and rendered recovery hopeless. Cheerful society and that of his friends was to be constantly supplied, and on the whole, very sanguine expectations were indulged in, that under the treatment thus detailed, the obstinate hypochondria of the patient might at length give way. Accompanied, therefore, by Lady L, General Montague and his daughterhis own affianced bridepoor Bartonhimself never daring to cherish a hope of his ultimate emancipation from the horrors under which his life was literally wasting awaytook possession of the apartments, whose situation protected him against the intrusions, from which he shrank with such unutterable terror. After a little time, a steady persistence in this system began to manifest its results, in a very marked though gradual improvement, alike in the health and spirits of the invalid. Not, indeed, that anything at all approaching complete recovery was yet discernible. On the contrary, to those who had not seen him since the commencement of his strange sufferings, such an alteration would have been apparent as might well have shocked them. The improvement, however, such as it was, was welcomed with gratitude and delight, especially by the young lady, whom her attachment to him, as well as her now singularly painful position, consequent on his protracted illness, rendered an object scarcely one degree less to be commiserated than himself. A week passeda fortnighta monthand yet there had been no recurrence of the hated visitation. The treatment had, so far forth, been followed by complete success. The chain of associations was broken. The constant pressure upon the overtasked spirits had been removed, and, under these comparatively favourable circumstances, the sense of social community with the world about him, and something of human interest, if not of enjoyment, began to reanimate him. It was about this time that Lady L who, like most old ladies of the day, was deep in family receipts, and a great pretender to medical science, dispatched her own maid to the kitchen garden, with a list of herbs, which were there to be carefully culled, and brought back to her housekeeper for the purpose stated. The handmaiden, however, returned with her task scarce half completed, and a good deal flurried and alarmed. Her mode of accounting for her precipitate retreat and evident agitation was odd, and, to the old lady, startling. VIII Softened It appeared that she had repaired to the kitchen garden, pursuant to her mistresss directions, and had there begun to make the specified election among the rank and neglected herbs which crowded one corner of the enclosure, and while engaged in this pleasant labour, she carelessly sang a fragment of an old song, as she said, to keep herself company. She was, however, interrupted by an illnatured laugh; and, looking up, she saw through the old thorn hedge, which surrounded the garden, a singularly illlooking little man, whose countenance wore the stamp of menace and malignity, standing close to her, at the other side of the hawthorn screen. She described herself as utterly unable to move or speak, while he charged her with a message for Captain Barton; the substance of which she distinctly remembered to have been to the effect, that he, Captain Barton, must come abroad as usual, and show himself to his friends, out of doors, or else prepare for a visit in his own chamber. On concluding this brief message, the stranger had, with a threatening air, got down into the outer ditch, and, seizing the hawthorn stems in his hands, seemed on the point of climbing through the fencea feat which might have been accomplished without much difficulty. Without, of course, awaiting this result, the girlthrowing down her treasures of thyme and rosemaryhad turned and run, with the swiftness of terror, to the house. Lady L commanded her, on pain of instant dismissal, to observe an absolute silence respecting all that passed of the incident which related to Captain Barton; and, at the same time, directed instant search to be made by her men, in the garden and the fields adjacent. This measure, however, was as usual, unsuccessful, and, filled with undefinable misgivings, Lady L communicated the incident to her brother. The story, however, until long afterwards, went no further, and, of course, it was jealously guarded from Barton, who continued to amend, though slowly. Barton now began to walk occasionally in the courtyard which I have mentioned, and which being enclosed by a high wall, commanded no view beyond its own extent. Here he, therefore, considered himself perfectly secure and, but for a careless violation of orders by one of the grooms, he might have enjoyed, at least for some time longer, his muchprized immunity. Opening upon the public road, this yard was entered by a wooden gate, with a wicket in it, and was further defended by an iron gate upon the outside. Strict orders had been given to keep both carefully locked; but, spite of these, it had happened that one day, as Barton was slowly pacing this narrow enclosure, in his accustomed walk, and reaching the further extremity, was turning to retrace his steps, he saw the boarded wicket ajar, and the face of his tormentor immovably looking at him through the iron bars. For a few seconds he stood rivetted to the earthbreathless and bloodlessin the fascination of that dreaded gaze, and then fell helplessly insensible, upon the pavement. There he was found a few minutes afterwards, and conveyed to his roomthe apartment which he was never afterwards to leave alive. Henceforward a marked and unaccountable change was observable in the tone of his mind. Captain Barton was now no longer the excited and despairing man he had been before; a strange alteration had passed upon himan unearthly tranquillity reigned in his mindit was the anticipated stillness of the grave. Montague, my friend, this struggle is nearly ended now, he said, tranquilly, but with a look of fixed and fearful awe. I have, at last, some comfort from that world of spirits, from which my punishment has come. I now know that my sufferings will soon be over. Montague pressed him to speak on. Yes, said he, in a softened voice, my punishment is nearly ended. From sorrow, perhaps I shall never, in time or eternity, escape; but my agony is almost over. Comfort has been revealed to me, and what remains of my allotted struggle I will bear with submissioneven with hope. I am glad to hear you speak so tranquilly, my dear Barton, said Montague; peace and cheer of mind are all you need to make you what you were. No, noI never can be that, said he mournfully. I am no longer fit for life. I am soon to die. I am to see him but once again, and then all is ended. He said so, then? suggested Montague. He?No, no good tidings could scarcely come through him; and these were good and welcome; and they came so solemnly and sweetlywith unutterable love and melancholy, such as I could notwithout saying more than is needful, or fitting, of other longpast scenes and personsfully explain to you. As Barton said this he shed tears. Come, come, said Montague, mistaking the source of his emotions, you must not give way. What is it, after all, but a pack of dreams and nonsense; or, at worst, the practices of a scheming rascal that enjoys his power of playing upon your nerves, and loves to exert ita sneaking vagabond that owes you a grudge, and pays it off this way, not daring to try a more manly one. A grudge, indeed, he owes meyou say rightly, said Barton, with a sudden shudder; a grudge as you call it. Oh, my God! when the justice of Heaven permits the Evil one to carry out a scheme of vengeancewhen its execution is committed to the lost and terrible victim of sin, who owes his own ruin to the man, the very man, whom he is commissioned to pursuethen, indeed, the torments and terrors of hell are anticipated on earth. But heaven has dealt mercifully with mehope has opened to me at last; and if death could come without the dreadful sight I am doomed to see, I would gladly close my eyes this moment upon the world. But though death is welcome, I shrink with an agony you cannot understandan actual frenzy of terrorfrom the last encounter with thatthat demon, who has drawn me thus to the verge of the chasm, and who is himself to plunge me down. I am to see him againonce morebut under circumstances unutterably more terrific than ever. As Barton thus spoke, he trembled so violently that Montague was really alarmed at the extremity of his sudden agitation, and hastened to lead him back to the topic which had before seemed to exert so tranquillizing an effect upon his mind. It was not a dream, he said, after a time; I was in a different stateI felt differently and strangely; and yet it was all as real, as clear, and vivid, as what I now see and hearit was a reality. And what did you see and hear? urged his companion. When I wakened from the swoon I fell into on seeing him, said Barton, continuing as if he had not heard the question, it was slowly, very slowlyI was lying by the margin of a broad lake, with misty hills all round, and a soft, melancholy, rosecoloured light illuminated it all. It was unusually sad and lonely, and yet more beautiful than any earthly scene. My head was leaning on the lap of a girl, and she was singing a song, that told, I know not howwhether by words or harmoniesof all my lifeall that is past, and all that is still to come; and with the song the old feelings that I thought had perished within me came back, and tears flowed from my eyespartly for the song and its mysterious beauty, and partly for the unearthly sweetness of her voice; and yet I knew the voiceoh! how well; and I was spellbound as I listened and looked at the solitary scene, without stirring, almost without breathingand, alas! alas! without turning my eyes toward the face that I knew was near me, so sweetly powerful was the enchantment that held me. And so, slowly, the song and scene grew fainter, and fainter, to my senses, till all was dark and still again. And then I awoke to this world, as you saw, comforted, for I knew that I was forgiven much. Barton wept again long and bitterly. From this time, as we have said, the prevailing tone of his mind was one of profound and tranquil melancholy. This, however, was not without its interruptions. He was thoroughly impressed with the conviction that he was to experience another and a final visitation, transcending in horror all he had before experienced. From this anticipated and unknown agony, he often shrank in such paroxysms of abject terror and distraction, as filled the whole household with dismay and superstitious panic. Even those among them who affected to discredit the theory of preternatural agency, were often in their secret souls visited during the silence of night with qualms and apprehensions, which they would not have readily confessed; and none of them attempted to dissuade Barton from the resolution on which he now systematically acted, of shutting himself up in his own apartment. The windowblinds of this room were kept jealously down; and his own man was seldom out of his presence, day or night, his bed being placed in the same chamber. This man was an attached and respectable servant; and his duties, in addition to those ordinarily imposed upon valets, but which Bartons independent habits generally dispensed with, were to attend carefully to the simple precautions by means of which his master hoped to exclude the dreaded intrusion of the Watcher. And, in addition to attending to those arrangements, which amounted merely to guarding against the possibility of his masters being, through any unscreened window or open door, exposed to the dreaded influence, the valet was never to suffer him to be alonetotal solitude, even for a minute, had become to him now almost as intolerable as the idea of going abroad into the public waysit was an instinctive anticipation of what was coming. IX Requiescat It is needless to say, that under these circumstances, no steps were taken toward the fulfilment of that engagement into which he had entered. There was quite disparity enough in point of years, and indeed of habits, between the young lady and Captain Barton, to have precluded anything like very vehement or romantic attachment on her part. Though grieved and anxious, therefore, she was very far from being heartbroken. Miss Montague, however, devoted much of her time to the patient but fruitless attempt to cheer the unhappy invalid. She read for him, and conversed with him; but it was apparent that whatever exertions he made, the endeavour to escape from the one ever waking fear that preyed upon him, was utterly and miserably unavailing. Young ladies are much given to the cultivation of pets; and among those who shared the favour of Miss Montague was a fine old owl, which the gardener, who caught him napping among the ivy of a ruined stable, had dutifully presented to that young lady. The caprice which regulates such preferences was manifested in the extravagant favour with which this grim and illfavoured bird was at once distinguished by his mistress; and, trifling as this whimsical circumstance may seem, I am forced to mention it, inasmuch as it is connected, oddly enough, with the concluding scene of the story. Barton, so far from sharing in this liking for the new favourite, regarded it from the first with an antipathy as violent as it was utterly unaccountable. Its very vicinity was unsupportable to him. He seemed to hate and dread it with a vehemence absolutely laughable, and which to those who have never witnessed the exhibition of antipathies of this kind, would seem all but incredible. With these few words of preliminary explanation, I shall proceed to state the particulars of the last scene in this strange series of incidents. It was almost two oclock one winters night, and Barton was, as usual at that hour, in his bed; the servant we have mentioned occupied a smaller bed in the same room, and a light was burning. The man was on a sudden aroused by his master, who said I cant get it out of my head that that accursed bird has got out somehow, and is lurking in some corner of the room. I have been dreaming about him. Get up, Smith, and look about; search for him. Such hateful dreams! The servant rose, and examined the chamber, and while engaged in so doing, he heard the wellknown sound, more like a longdrawn gasp than a hiss, with which these birds from their secret haunts affright the quiet of the night. This ghostly indication of its proximityfor the sound proceeded from the passage upon which Bartons chamberdoor openeddetermined the search of the servant, who, opening the door, proceeded a step or two forward for the purpose of driving the bird away. He had however, hardly entered the lobby, when the door behind him slowly swung to under the impulse, as it seemed, of some gentle current of air; but as immediately over the door there was a kind of window, intended in the day time to aid in lighting the passage, and through which at present the rays of the candle were issuing, the valet could see quite enough for his purpose. As he advanced he heard his masterwho, lying in a wellcurtained bed, had not, as it seemed, perceived his exit from the roomcall him by name, and direct him to place the candle on the table by his bed. The servant, who was now some way in the long passage, and not liking to raise his voice for the purpose of replying, lest he should startle the sleeping inmates of the house, began to walk hurriedly and softly back again, when, to his amazement, he heard a voice in the interior of the chamber answering calmly, and actually saw, through the window which overtopped the door, that the light was slowly shifting, as if carried across the room in answer to his masters call. Palsied by a feeling akin to terror, yet not unmingled with curiosity, he stood breathless and listening at the threshold, unable to summon resolution to push open the door and enter. Then came a rustling of the curtains, and a sound like that of one who in a low voice hushes a child to rest, in the midst of which he heard Barton say, in a tone of stifled horrorOh, Godoh, my God! and repeat the same exclamation several times. Then ensued a silence, which again was broken by the same strange soothing sound; and at last there burst forth, in one swelling peal, a yell of agony so appalling and hideous, that, under some impulse of ungovernable horror, the man rushed to the door, and with his whole strength strove to force it open. Whether it was that, in his agitation, he had himself but imperfectly turned the handle, or that the door was really secured upon the inside, he failed to effect an entrance; and as he tugged and pushed, yell after yell rang louder and wilder through the chamber, accompanied all the while by the same hushed sounds. Actually freezing with terror, and scarce knowing what he did, the man turned and ran down the passage, wringing his hands in the extremity of horror and irresolution. At the stairhead he was encountered by General Montague, scared and eager, and just as they met the fearful sounds had ceased. What is it? Whowhere is your master? said Montague with the incoherence of extreme agitation. Has anythingfor Gods sake is anything wrong? Lord have mercy on us, its all over, said the man staring wildly towards his masters chamber. Hes dead, sir, Im sure hes dead. Without waiting for inquiry or explanation, Montague, closely followed by the servant, hurried to the chamberdoor, turned the handle, and pushed it open. As the door yielded to his pressure, the illomened bird of which the servant had been in search, uttering its spectral warning, started suddenly from the far side of the bed, and flying through the doorway close over their heads, and extinguishing, in his passage, the candle which Montague carried, crashed through the skylight that overlooked the lobby, and sailed away into the darkness of the outer space. There it is, God bless us, whispered the man, after a breathless pause. Curse that bird, muttered the General, startled by the suddenness of the apparition, and unable to conceal his discomposure. The candle is moved, said the man, after another breathless pause, pointing to the candle that still burned in the room; see, they put it by the bed. Draw the curtains, fellow, and dont stand gaping there, whispered Montague, sternly. The man hesitated. Hold this, then, said Montague, impatiently thrusting the candlestick into the servants hand, and himself advancing to the bedside, he drew the curtains apart. The light of the candle, which was still burning at the bedside, fell upon a figure huddled together, and half upright, at the head of the bed. It seemed as though it had slunk back as far as the solid panelling would allow, and the hands were still clutched in the bedclothes. Barton, Barton, Barton! cried the General, with a strange mixture of awe and vehemence. He took the candle, and held it so that it shone full upon the face. The features were fixed, stern, and white; the jaw was fallen; and the sightless eyes, still open, gazed vacantly forward toward the front of the bed. God Almighty! hes dead, muttered the General, as he looked upon this fearful spectacle. They both continued to gaze upon it in silence for a minute or more. And cold, too, whispered Montague, withdrawing his hand from that of the dead man. And see, seemay I never have life, sir, added the man, after another pause, with a shudder, but there was something else on the bed with him. Look therelook theresee that, sir. As the man thus spoke, he pointed to a deep indenture, as if caused by a heavy pressure, near the foot of the bed. Montague was silent. Come, sir, come away, for Gods sake, whispered the man, drawing close up to him, and holding fast by his arm, while he glanced fearfully round; what good can be done here nowcome away, for Gods sake! At this moment they heard the steps of more than one approaching, and Montague, hastily desiring the servant to arrest their progress, endeavoured to loose the rigid grip with which the fingers of the dead man were clutched in the bedclothes, and drew, as well as he was able, the awful figure into a reclining posture; then closing the curtains carefully upon it, he hastened himself to meet those persons that were approaching. It is needless to follow the personages so slightly connected with this narrative, into the events of their after life; it is enough to say, that no clue to the solution of these mysterious occurrences was ever after discovered; and so long an interval having now passed since the event which I have just described concluded this strange history, it is scarcely to be expected that time can throw any new lights upon its dark and inexplicable outline. Until the secrets of the earth shall be no longer hidden, therefore, these transactions must remain shrouded in their original obscurity. The only occurrence in Captain Bartons former life to which reference was ever made, as having any possible connection with the sufferings with which his existence closed, and which he himself seemed to regard as working out a retribution for some grievous sin of his past life, was a circumstance which not for several years after his death was brought to light. The nature of this disclosure was painful to his relatives, and discreditable to his memory. It appeared that some six years before Captain Bartons final return to Dublin, he had formed, in the town of Plymouth, a guilty attachment, the object of which was the daughter of one of the ships crew under his command. The father had visited the frailty of his unhappy child with extreme harshness, and even brutality, and it was said that she had died heartbroken. Presuming upon Bartons implication in her guilt, this man had conducted himself toward him with marked insolence, and Barton retaliated this, and what he resented with still more exasperated bitternesshis treatment of the unfortunate girlby a systematic exercise of those terrible and arbitrary severities which the regulations of the navy placed at the command of those who are responsible for its discipline. The man had at length made his escape, while the vessel was in port at Naples, but died, as it was said, in an hospital in that town, of the wounds inflicted in one of his recent and sanguinary punishments. Whether these circumstances in reality bear, or not, upon the occurrences of Bartons afterlife, it is, of course, impossible to say. It seems, however more than probable that they were at least, in his own mind, closely associated with them. But however the truth may be, as to the origin and motives of this mysterious persecution, there can be no doubt that, with respect to the agencies by which it was accomplished, absolute and impenetrable mystery is like to prevail until the day of doom. Postscript by the Editor The preceding narrative is given in the ipsissima verba of the good old clergyman, under whose hand it was delivered to Doctor Hesselius. Notwithstanding the occasional stiffness and redundancy of his sentences, I thought it better to reserve to myself the power of assuring the reader, that in handing to the printer, the MS. of a statement so marvellous, the Editor has not altered one letter of the original text.[Ed. Papers of Dr. Hesselius.] The Room in the Dragon Volant Prologue The curious case which I am about to place before you, is referred to, very pointedly, and more than once, in the extraordinary essay upon the drugs of the Dark and the Middle Ages, from the pen of Doctor Hesselius. This essay he entitles Mortis Imago, and he, therein, discusses the Vinum letiferum, the Beatifica, the Somnus Angelorum, the Hypnus Sagarum, the Aqua Thessalli, and about twenty other infusions and distillations, well known to the sages of eight hundred years ago, and two of which are still, he alleges, known to the fraternity of thieves, and, among them, as policeoffice inquiries sometimes disclose to this day, in practical use. The essay, Mortis Imago, will occupy as nearly as I can, at present, calculate, two volumes, the ninth and tenth, of the collected papers of Doctor Martin Hesselius. This essay, I may remark, in conclusion, is very curiously enriched by citations, in great abundance, from medieval verse and prose romance, some of the most valuable of which, strange to say, are Egyptian. I have selected this particular statement from among many cases equally striking, but hardly, I think, so effective as mere narratives, in this irregular form of publication, it is simply as a story that I present it. I On the Road In the eventful year, 1815, I was exactly threeandtwenty, and had just succeeded to a very large sum in consols, and other securities. The first fall of Napoleon had thrown the continent open to English excursionists, anxious, let us suppose, to improve their minds by foreign travel; and Ithe slight check of the hundred days removed, by the genius of Wellington, on the field of Waterloowas now added to the philosophic throng. I was posting up to Paris from Bruxelles, following, I presume, the route that the allied army had pursued but a few weeks beforemore carriages than you could believe were pursuing the same line. You could not look back or forward, without seeing into far perspective the clouds of dust which marked the line of the long series of vehicles. We were, perpetually, passing relays of returnhorses, on their way, jaded and dusty, to the inns from which they had been taken. They were arduous times for those patient public servants. The whole world seemed posting up to Paris. I ought to have noted it more particularly, but my head was so full of Paris and the future, that I passed the intervening scenery with little patience and less attention; I think, however, that it was about four miles to the frontier side of a rather picturesque little town, the name of which, as of many more important places through which I posted in my hurried journey, I forget, and about two hours before sunset, that we came up with a carriage in distress. It was not quite an upset. But the two leaders were lying flat. The booted postillions had got down, and two servants who seemed very much at sea in such matters, were by way of assisting them. A pretty little bonnet and head were popped out of the window of the carriage in distress. Its tournure, and that of the shoulders that also appeared for a moment, was captivating I resolved to play the part of a good Samaritan; stopped my chaise, jumped out, and with my servant lent a very willing hand in the emergency. Alas! the lady with the pretty bonnet, wore a very thick, black veil. I could see nothing but the pattern of the Bruxelles lace, as she drew back. A lean old gentleman, almost at the same time, stuck his head out of the window. An invalid he seemed, for although the day was hot, he wore a black muffler which came up to his ears and nose, quite covering the lower part of his face, an arrangement which he disturbed by pulling it down for a moment, and poured forth a torrent of French thanks, as he uncovered his black wig, and gesticulated with grateful animation. One of my very few accomplishments besides boxing, which was cultivated by all Englishmen at that time, was French; and I replied, I hope and believe, grammatically. Many bows being exchanged, the old gentlemans head went in again, and the demure, pretty little bonnet once more appeared. The lady must have heard me speak to my servant, for she framed her little speech in such pretty, broken English, and in a voice so sweet, that I more than ever cursed the black veil that baulked my romantic curiosity. The arms that were emblazoned on the panel were peculiar; I remember especially, one device, it was the figure of a stork, painted in carmine, upon what the heralds call a field or. The bird was standing upon one leg, and in the other claw held a stone. This is, I believe, the emblem of vigilance. Its oddity struck me, and remained impressed upon my memory. There were supporters besides, but I forget what they were. The courtly manners of these people, the style of their servants, the elegance of their travelling carriage, and the supporters to their arms, satisfied me that they were noble. The lady, you may be sure, was not the less interesting on that account. What a fascination a title exercises upon the imagination! I do not mean on that of snobs or moral flunkies. Superiority of rank is a powerful and genuine influence in love. The idea of superior refinement is associated with it. The careless notice of the squire tells more upon the heart of the pretty milkmaid, than years of honest Dobbins manly devotion, and so on and up. It is an unjust world! But in this case there was something more. I was conscious of being goodlooking.


I really believe I was; and there could be no mistake about my being nearly six feet high. Why need this lady have thanked me? Had not her husband, for such I assumed him to be, thanked me quite enough, and for both? I was instinctively aware that the lady was looking on me with no unwilling eyes; and, through her veil, I felt the power of her gaze. She was now rolling away, with a train of dust behind her wheels, in the golden sunlight, and a wise young gentleman followed her with ardent eyes, and sighed profoundly as the distance increased. I told the postillions on no account to pass the carriage, but to keep it steadily in view, and to pull up at whatever postinghouse it should stop at. We were soon in the little town, and the carriage we followed drew up at the Belle Etoile, a comfortable old inn. They got out of the carriage and entered the house. At a leisurely pace we followed. I got down, and mounted the steps listlessly, like a man quite apathetic and careless. Audacious as I was, I did not care to inquire in what room I should find them. I peeped into the apartment to my right, and then into that on my left. My people were not there. I ascended the stairs. A drawingroom door stood open. I entered with the most innocent air in the world. It was a spacious room, and, beside myself, contained but one living figurea very pretty and ladylike one. There was the very bonnet with which I had fallen in love. The lady stood with her back toward me. I could not tell whether the envious veil was raised; she was reading a letter. I stood for a minute in fixed attention, gazing upon her, in the vague hope that she might turn about, and give me an opportunity of seeing her features. She did not; but with a step or two she placed herself before a little cabrioletable, which stood against the wall, from which rose a tall mirror, in a tarnished frame. I might, indeed, have mistaken it for a picture; for it now reflected a halflength portrait of a singularly beautiful woman. She was looking down upon a letter which she held in her slender fingers, and in which she seemed absorbed. The face was oval, melancholy, sweet. It had in it, nevertheless, a faint and undefinably sensual quality also. Nothing could exceed the delicacy of its features, or the brilliancy of its tints. The eyes, indeed, were lowered, so that I could not see their colour; nothing but their long lashes, and delicate eyebrows. She continued reading. She must have been deeply interested; I never saw a living form so motionlessI gazed on a tinted statue. Being at that time blessed with long and keen vision, I saw this beautiful face with perfect distinctness. I saw even the blue veins that traced their wanderings on the whiteness of her full throat. I ought to have retreated as noiselessly as I came in, before my presence was detected. But I was too much interested to move from the spot, for a few moments longer; and while they were passing, she raised her eyes. Those eyes were large, and of that hue which modern poets term violet. These splendid melancholy eyes were turned upon me from the glass, with a haughty stare, and hastily the lady lowered her black veil, and turned about. I fancied that she hoped I had not seen her. I was watching every look and movement, the minutest, with an attention as intense as if an ordeal involving my life depended on them. II The InnYard of the Belle Etoile The face was, indeed, one to fall in love with at first sight. Those sentiments that take such sudden possession of young men were now dominating my curiosity. My audacity faltered before her; and I felt that my presence in this room was probably an impertinence. This point she quickly settled, for the same very sweet voice I had heard before, now said coldly, and this time in French, Monsieur cannot be aware that this apartment is not public. I bowed very low, faltered some apologies, and backed to the door. I suppose I looked penitent and embarrassed. I certainly felt so; for the lady said, by way it seemed of softening matters, I am happy, however, to have an opportunity of again thanking Monsieur for the assistance, so prompt and effectual, which he had the goodness to render us today. It was more the altered tone in which it was spoken, than the speech itself that encouraged me. It was also true that she need not have recognized me; and even if she had, she certainly was not obliged to thank me over again. All this was indescribably flattering, and all the more so that it followed so quickly on her slight reproof. The tone in which she spoke had become low and timid, and I observed that she turned her head quickly towards a second door of the room, I fancied that the gentleman in the black wig, a jealous husband, perhaps, might reappear through it. Almost at the same moment, a voice at once reedy and nasal, was heard snarling some directions to a servant, and evidently approaching. It was the voice that had thanked me so profusely, from the carriage windows, about an hour before. Monsieur will have the goodness to retire, said the lady, in a tone that resembled entreaty, at the same time gently waving her hand toward the door through which I had entered. Bowing again very low, I stepped back, and closed the door. I ran down the stairs, very much elated. I saw the host of the Belle Etoile which, as I said, was the sign and designation of my inn. I described the apartment I had just quitted, said I liked it, and asked whether I could have it. He was extremely troubled, but that apartment and two adjoining rooms were engaged By whom? People of distinction. But who are they? They must have names, or titles. Undoubtedly, Monsieur, but such a stream is rolling into Paris, that we have ceased to inquire the names or titles of our guestswe designate them simply by the rooms they occupy. What stay do they make? Even that, Monsieur, I cannot answer. It does not interest us. Our rooms, while this continues, can never be, for a moment, disengaged. I should have liked those rooms so much! Is one of them a sleeping apartment? Yes, sir, and Monsieur will observe that people do not usually engage bedrooms, unless they mean to stay the night. Well, I can, I suppose, have some rooms, any, I dont care in what part of the house? Certainly, Monsieur can have two apartments. They are the last at present disengaged. I took them instantly. It was plain these people meant to make a stay here; at least they would not go till morning. I began to feel that I was all but engaged in an adventure. I took possession of my rooms, and looked out of the window, which I found commanded the innyard. Many horses were being liberated from the traces, hot and weary, and others fresh from the stables, being put to. A great many vehiclessome private carriages, others, like mine, of that public class, which is equivalent to our old English postchaise, were standing on the pavement, waiting their turn for relays. Fussy servants were toing and froing, and idle ones lounging or laughing, and the scene, on the whole, was animated and amusing. Among these objects, I thought I recognized the travelling carriage, and one of the servants of the persons of distinction about whom I was, just then, so profoundly interested. I therefore ran down the stairs, made my way to the back door; and so, behold me, in a moment, upon the uneven pavement, among all these sights and sounds which in such a place attend upon a period of extraordinary crush and traffic. By this time the sun was near its setting, and threw its golden beams on the red brick chimneys of the offices, and made the two barrels, that figured as pigeonhouses, on the tops of poles, look as if they were on fire. Everything in this light becomes picturesque; and things interest us which, in the sober grey of morning, are dull enough. After a little search, I lighted upon the very carriage, of which I was in quest. A servant was locking one of the doors, for it was made with the security of lock and key. I paused near, looking at the panel of the door. A very pretty device that red stork! I observed, pointing to the shield on the door, and no doubt indicates a distinguished family? The servant looked at me, for a moment, as he placed the little key in his pocket, and said with a slightly sarcastic bow and smile, Monsieur is at liberty to conjecture. Nothing daunted, I forthwith administered that laxative which, on occasion, acts so happily upon the tongueI mean a tip. The servant looked at the Napoleon in his hand, and then, in my face, with a sincere expression of surprise. Monsieur is very generous! Not worth mentioningwho are the lady and gentleman who came here, in this carriage, and whom, you may remember, I and my servant assisted today in an emergency, when their horses had come to the ground? They are the Count, and the young lady we call the Countessbut I know not, she may be his daughter. Can you tell me where they live? Upon my honour, Monsieur, I am unableI know not. Not know where your master lives! Surely you know something more about him than his name? Nothing worth relating, Monsieur; in fact, I was hired in Bruxelles, on the very day they started. Monsieur Picard, my fellowservant, Monsieur the Comtes gentleman, he has been years in his service and knows everything; but he never speaks except to communicate an order. From him I have learned nothing. We are going to Paris, however, and there I shall speedily pick up all about them. At present I am as ignorant of all that as Monsieur himself. And where is Monsieur Picard? He has gone to the cutlers to get his razors set. But I do not think he will tell anything. This was a poor harvest for my golden sowing. The man, I think, spoke truth, and would honestly have betrayed the secrets of the family, if he had possessed any. I took my leave politely; and mounting the stairs, again I found myself once more in my room. Forthwith I summoned my servant. Though I had brought him with me from England, he was a native of Francea useful fellow, sharp, bustling, and, of course, quite familiar with the ways and tricks of his countrymen. St. Clair, shut the door; come here. I cant rest till I have made out something about those people of rank who have got the apartments under mine. Here are fifteen francs; make out the servants we assisted today; have them to a petit souper, and come back and tell me their entire history. I have, this moment, seen one of them who knows nothing, and has communicated it. The other, whose name I forget, is the unknown noblemans valet, and knows everything. Him you must pump. It is, of course, the venerable peer, and not the young lady who accompanies him, that interests meyou understand? Begone! fly! and return with all the details I sigh for, and every circumstance that can possibly interest me. It was a commission which admirably suited the tastes and spirits of my worthy St. Clair, to whom, you will have observed, I had accustomed myself to talk with the peculiar familiarity which the old French comedy establishes between master and valet. I am sure he laughed at me in secret; but nothing could be more polite and deferential. With several wise looks, nods and shrugs, he withdrew; and looking down from my window, I saw him, with incredible quickness, enter the yard, where I soon lost sight of him among the carriages. III Death and Love Together Mated When the day drags, when a man is solitary, and in a fever of impatience and suspense; when the minutehand of his watch travels as slowly as the hourhand used to do, and the hourhand has lost all appreciable motion; when he yawns, and beats the devils tattoo, and flattens his handsome nose against the window, and whistles tunes he hates, and, in short, does not know what to do with himself, it is deeply to be regretted that he cannot make a solemn dinner of three courses more than once in a day. The laws of matter, to which we are slaves, deny us that resource. But in the times I speak of, supper was still a substantial meal, and its hour was approaching. This was consolatory. Threequarters of an hour, however, still interposed. How was I to dispose of that interval? I had two or three idle books, it is true, as travellingcompanions; but there are many moods in which one cannot read. My novel lay with my rug and walkingstick on the sofa, and I did not care if the heroine and the hero were both drowned together in the waterbarrel that I saw in the innyard under my window. I took a turn or two up and down my room, and sighed, looking at myself in the glass, adjusted my great white choker, folded and tied after Brummel, the immortal Beau, put on a buff waistcoat and my blue swallowtailed coat with gilt buttons; I deluged my pocket handkerchief with eau de cologne (we had not then the variety of bouquets with which the genius of perfumery has since blessed us); I arranged my hair, on which I piqued myself, and which I loved to groom in those days. That darkbrown chevelure, with a natural curl, is now represented by a few dozen perfectly white hairs, and its placea smooth, bald, pink headknows it no more. But let us forget these mortifications. It was then rich, thick, and darkbrown. I was making a very careful toilet. I took my unexceptionable hat from its case, and placed it lightly on my wise head, as nearly as memory and practice enabled me to do so, at that very slight inclination which the immortal person I have mentioned was wont to give to his. A pair of light French gloves and a rather clublike knotted walkingstick, such as just then came into vogue, for a year or two again in England, in the phraseology of Sir Walter Scotts romances, completed my equipment. All this attention to effect, preparatory to a mere lounge in the yard, or on the steps of the Belle Etoile, was a simple act of devotion to the wonderful eyes which I had that evening beheld for the first time, and never, never could forget! In plain terms, it was all done in the vague, very vague hope that those eyes might behold the unexceptionable getup of a melancholy slave, and retain the image, not altogether without secret approbation. As I completed my preparations the light failed me; the last level streak of sunlight disappeared, and a fading twilight only remained. I sighed in unison with the pensive hour, and threw open the window, intending to look out for a moment before going downstairs. I perceived instantly that the window underneath mine was also open, for I heard two voices in conversation, although I could not distinguish what they were saying. The male voice was peculiar; it was, as I told you, reedy and nasal. I knew it, of course, instantly. The answering voice spoke in those sweet tones which I recognised only too easily. The dialogue was only for a minute; the repulsive male voice laughed, I fancied, with a kind of devilish satire, and retired from the window, so that I almost ceased to hear it. The other voice remained nearer the window, but not so near as at first. It was not an altercation; there was evidently nothing the least exciting in the colloquy. What would I not have given that it had been a quarrela violent oneand I the redresser of wrongs, and the defender of insulted beauty! Alas! so far as I could pronounce upon the character of the tones I heard, they might be as tranquil a pair as any in existence. In a moment more the lady began to sing an odd little chanson. I need not remind you how much farther the voice is heard singing than speaking. I could distinguish the words. The voice was of that exquisitely sweet kind which is called, I believe, a semicontralto; it had something pathetic, and something, I fancied, a little mocking in its tones. I venture a clumsy, but adequate translation of the words Death and Love, together mated, Watch and wait in ambuscade; At early morn, or else belated. They meet and mark the man or maid. Burning sigh, or breath that freezes, Numbs or maddens man or maid; Death or Love the victim seizes, Breathing from their ambuscade. Enough, Madame! said the old voice, with sudden severity. We do not desire, I believe, to amuse the grooms and hostlers in the yard with our music. The ladys voice laughed gaily. You desire to quarrel, Madame! And the old man, I presume, shut down the window. Down it went, at all events, with a rattle that might easily have broken the glass. Of all thin partitions, glass is the most effectual excluder of sound. I heard no more, not even the subdued hum of the colloquy. What a charming voice this Countess had! How it melted, swelled, and trembled! How it moved, and even agitated me! What a pity that a hoarse old jackdaw should have power to crow down such a Philomel! Alas! what a life it is! I moralized, wisely. That beautiful Countess, with the patience of an angel and the beauty of a Venus and the accomplishments of all the Muses, a slave! She knows perfectly who occupies the apartments over hers; she heard me raise my window. One may conjecture pretty well for whom that music was intendeday, old gentleman, and for whom you suspected it to be intended. In a very agreeable flutter I left my room, and descending the stairs, passed the Counts door very much at my leisure. There was just a chance that the beautiful songstress might emerge. I dropped my stick on the lobby, near their door, and you may be sure it took me some little time to pick it up! Fortune, nevertheless, did not favour me. I could not stay on the lobby all night picking up my stick, so I went down to the hall. I consulted the clock, and found that there remained but a quarter of an hour to the moment of supper. Everyone was roughing it now, every inn in confusion; people might do at such a juncture what they never did before. Was it just possible that, for once, the Count and Countess would take their chairs at the tabledhte? IV Monsieur Droqville Full of this exciting hope, I sauntered out, upon the steps of the Belle Etoile. It was now night, and a pleasant moonlight over everything. I had entered more into my romance since my arrival, and this poetic light heightened the sentiment. What a drama, if she turned out to be the Counts daughter, and in love with me! What a delightfultragedy, if she turned out to be the Counts wife! In this luxurious mood, I was accosted by a tall and very elegantlymade gentleman, who appeared to be about fifty. His air was courtly and graceful, and there was in his whole manner and appearance something so distinguished, that it was impossible not to suspect him of being a person of rank. He had been standing upon the steps, looking out, like me, upon the moonlight effects that transformed, as it were, the objects and buildings in the little street. He accosted me, I say, with the politeness, at once easy and lofty, of a French nobleman of the old school. He asked me if I were not Mr. Beckett? I assented; and he immediately introduced himself as the Marquis dHarmonville (this information he gave me in a low tone), and asked leave to present me with a letter from Lord R, who knew my father slightly, and had once done me, also, a trifling kindness. This English peer, I may mention, stood very high in the political world, and was named as the most probable successor to the distinguished post of English Minister at Paris. I received it with a low bow, and read My Dear Beckett, I beg to introduce my very dear friend, the Marquis dHarmonville, who will explain to you the nature of the services it may be in your power to render him and us. He went on to speak of the Marquis as a man whose great wealth, whose intimate relations with the old families, and whose legitimate influence with the court rendered him the fittest possible person for those friendly offices which, at the desire of his own sovereign, and of our government, he has so obligingly undertaken. It added a great deal to my perplexity, when I read, further By the by, Walton was here yesterday, and told me that your seat was likely to be attacked; something, he says, is unquestionably going on at Domwell. You know there is an awkwardness in my meddling ever so cautiously. But I advise, if it is not very officious, your making Haxton look after it, and report immediately. I fear it is serious. I ought to have mentioned that, for reasons that you will see, when you have talked with him for five minutes, the Marquiswith the concurrence of all our friendsdrops his title, for a few weeks, and is at present plain Monsieur Droqville. I am this moment going to town, and can say no more. Yours faithfully, R. I was utterly puzzled. I could scarcely boast of Lord s acquaintance. I knew no one named Haxton, and, except my hatter, no one called Walton; and this peer wrote as if we were intimate friends! I looked at the back of the letter, and the mystery was solved. And now, to my consternationfor I was plain Richard BeckettI read To George Stanhope Beckett, Esq., M.P. I looked with consternation in the face of the Marquis. What apology can I offer to Monsieur the Marto Monsieur Droqville? It is true my name is Beckettit is true I am known, though very slightly to Lord R; but the letter was not intended for me. My name is Richard Beckettthis is to Mr. Stanhope Beckett, the member for Shillingsworth. What can I say, or do, in this unfortunate situation? I can only give you my honour as a gentleman, that, for me, the letter, which I now return, shall remain as unviolated a secret as before I opened it. I am so shocked and grieved that such a mistake should have occurred! I dare say my honest vexation and good faith were pretty legibly written in my countenance; for the look of gloomy embarrassment which had for a moment settled on the face of the Marquis, brightened; he smiled, kindly, and extended his hand. I have not the least doubt that Monsieur Beckett will respect my little secret. As a mistake was destined to occur, I have reason to thank my good stars that it should have been with a gentleman of honour. Monsieur Beckett will permit me, I hope, to place his name among those of my friends? I thanked the Marquis very much for his kind expressions. He went on to say If, Monsieur, I can persuade you to visit me at Claironville, in Normandy, where I hope to see, on the 15th of August, a great many friends, whose acquaintance it might interest you to make, I shall be too happy. I thanked him, of course, very gratefully for his hospitality. He continued I cannot, for the present, see my friends, for reasons which you may surmise, at my house in Paris. But Monsieur will be so good as to let me know the hotel he means to stay at in Paris; and he will find that although the Marquis dHarmonville is not in town, that Monsieur Droqville will not lose sight of him. With many acknowledgments I gave him the information he desired. And in the meantime, he continued, if you think of any way in which Monsieur Droqville can be of use to you, our communication shall not be interrupted, and I shall so manage matters that you can easily let me know. I was very much flattered. The Marquis had, as we say, taken a fancy to me. Such likings at first sight often ripen into lasting friendships. To be sure it was just possible that the Marquis might think it prudent to keep the involuntary depository of a political secret, even so vague a one, in good humour. Very graciously the Marquis took his leave, going up the stairs of the Belle Etoile. I remained upon the steps, for a minute lost in speculation upon this new theme of interest. But the wonderful eyes, the thrilling voice, the exquisite figure of the beautiful lady who had taken possession of my imagination, quickly reasserted their influence. I was again gazing at the sympathetic moon, and descending the steps, I loitered along the pavements among strange objects, and houses that were antique and picturesque, in a dreamy state, thinking. In a little while, I turned into the innyard again. There had come a lull. Instead of the noisy place it was, an hour or two before, the yard was perfectly still and empty, except for the carriages that stood here and there. Perhaps there was a servants tabledhte just then. I was rather pleased to find solitude; and undisturbed I found out my ladyloves carriage, in the moonlight. I mused, I walked round it; I was as utterly foolish and maudlin as very young men, in my situation, usually are. The blinds were down, the doors, I suppose, locked. The brilliant moonlight revealed everything, and cast sharp, black shadows of wheel, and bar, and spring, on the pavement. I stood before the escutcheon painted on the door, which I had examined in the daylight. I wondered how often her eyes had rested on the same object. I pondered in a charming dream. A harsh, loud voice, over my shoulder, said suddenly, A red storkgood! The stork is a bird of prey; it is vigilant, greedy, and catches gudgeons. Red, too!blood red! Ha! ha! the symbol is appropriate. I had turned about, and beheld the palest face I ever saw. It was broad, ugly, and malignant. The figure was that of a French officer, in undress, and was six feet high. Across the nose and eyebrow there was a deep scar, which made the repulsive face grimmer. The officer elevated his chin and his eyebrows, with a scoffing chuckle, and saidI have shot a stork, with a rifle bullet, when he thought himself safe in the clouds, for mere sport! (He shrugged, and laughed malignantly). See, Monsieur; when a man like mea man of energy, you understand, a man with all his wits about him, a man who has made the tour of Europe under canvas, and, parbleu! often without itresolves to discover a secret, expose a crime, catch a thief, spit a robber on the point of his sword, it is odd if he does not succeed. Ha! ha! ha! Adieu, Monsieur! He turned with an angry whisk on his heel, and swaggered with long strides out of the gate. V Supper at the Belle Etoile The French army were in a rather savage temper, just then. The English, especially, had but scant courtesy to expect at their hands. It was plain, however, that the cadaverous gentleman who had just apostrophized the heraldry of the Counts carriage, with such mysterious acrimony, had not intended any of his malevolence for me. He was stung by some old recollection, and had marched off, seething with fury. I had received one of those unacknowledged shocks which startle us, when fancying ourselves perfectly alone, we discover on a sudden, that our antics have been watched by a spectator, almost at our elbow. In this case, the effect was enhanced by the extreme repulsiveness of the face, and, I may add, its proximity, for, as I think, it almost touched mine. The enigmatical harangue of this person, so full of hatred and implied denunciation, was still in my ears. Here at all events was new matter for the industrious fancy of a lover to work upon. It was time now to go to the tabledhte. Who could tell what lights the gossip of the suppertable might throw upon the subject that interested me so powerfully! I stepped into the room, my eyes searching the little assembly, about thirty people, for the persons who specially interested me. It was not easy to induce people, so hurried and overworked as those of the Belle Etoile just now, to send meals up to ones private apartments, in the midst of this unparalleled confusion; and, therefore, many people who did not like it, might find themselves reduced to the alternative of supping at the tabledhte, or starving. The Count was not there, nor his beautiful companion; but the Marquis dHarmonville, whom I hardly expected to see in so public a place, signed, with a significant smile, to a vacant chair beside himself. I secured it, and he seemed pleased, and almost immediately entered into conversation with me. This is, probably, your first visit to France? he said. I told him it was, and he said You must not think me very curious and impertinent; but Paris is about the most dangerous capital a highspirited and generous young gentleman could visit without a Mentor. If you have not an experienced friend as a companion during your visit He paused. I told him I was not so provided, but that I had my wits about me; that I had seen a good deal of life in England, and that, I fancied, human nature was pretty much the same in all parts of the world. The Marquis shook his head, smiling. You will find very marked differences, notwithstanding, he said. Peculiarities of intellect and peculiarities of character, undoubtedly, do pervade different nations; and this results, among the criminal classes, in a style of villainy no less peculiar. In Paris, the class who live by their wits, is three or four times as great as in London; and they live much better; some of them even splendidly. They are more ingenious than the London rogues; they have more animation, and invention, and the dramatic faculty, in which your countrymen are deficient, is everywhere. These invaluable attributes place them upon a totally different level. They can affect the manners and enjoy the luxuries of people of distinction. They live, many of them, by play. So do many of our London rogues. Yes, but in a totally different way. They are the habitus of certain gamingtables, billiardrooms, and other places, including your races, where high play goes on; and by superior knowledge of chances, by masking their play, by means of confederates, by means of bribery, and other artifices, varying with the subject of their imposture, they rob the unwary. But here it is more elaborately done, and with a really exquisite finesse. There are people whose manners, style, conversation, are unexceptionable, living in handsome houses in the best situations, with everything about them in the most refined taste, and exquisitely luxurious, who impose even upon the Parisian bourgeois, who believe them to be, in good faith, people of rank and fashion, because their habits are expensive and refined, and their houses are frequented by foreigners of distinction, and, to a degree, by foolish young Frenchmen of rank. At all these houses play goes on. The ostensible host and hostess seldom join in it; they provide it simply to plunder their guests, by means of their accomplices, and thus wealthy strangers are inveigled and robbed. But I have heard of a young Englishman, a son of Lord Rooksbury, who broke two Parisian gamingtables only last year. I see, he said, laughing, you are come here to do likewise. I, myself, at about your age, undertook the same spirited enterprise. I raised no less a sum than five hundred thousand francs to begin with; I expected to carry all before me by the simple expedient of going on doubling my stakes. I had heard of it, and I fancied that the sharpers, who kept the table, knew nothing of the matter. I found, however, that they not only knew all about it, but had provided against the possibility of any such experiments; and I was pulled up before I had well begun, by a rule which forbids the doubling of an original stake more than four times, consecutively. And is that rule in force still? I inquired, chapfallen. He laughed and shrugged, Of course it is, my young friend. People who live by an art, always understand it better than an amateur. I see you had formed the same plan, and no doubt came provided. I confessed I had prepared for conquest upon a still grander scale. I had arrived with a purse of thirty thousand pounds sterling. Any acquaintance of my very dear friend, Lord R, interests me; and, besides my regard for him, I am charmed with you; so you will pardon all my, perhaps, too officious questions and advice. I thanked him most earnestly for his valuable counsel, and begged that he would have the goodness to give me all the advice in his power. Then if you take my advice, said he, you will leave your money in the bank where it lies. Never risk a Napoleon in a gaminghouse.


The night I went to break the bank, I lost between seven and eight thousand pounds sterling of your English money; and my next adventure, I had obtained an introduction to one of those elegant gaminghouses which affect to be the private mansions of persons of distinction, and was saved from ruin by a gentleman, whom, ever since, I have regarded with increasing respect and friendship. It oddly happens he is in this house at this moment. I recognized his servant, and made him a visit in his apartments here, and found him the same brave, kind, honourable man I always knew him. But that he is living so entirely out of the world, now, I should have made a point of introducing you. Fifteen years ago he would have been the man of all others to consult. The gentleman I speak of is the Comte de St. Alyre. He represents a very old family. He is the very soul of honour, and the most sensible man in the world, except in one particular. And that particular? I hesitated. I was now deeply interested. Is that he has married a charming creature, at least fiveandforty years younger than himself, and is, of course, although I believe absolutely without cause, horribly jealous. And the lady? The Countess is, I believe, in every way worthy of so good a man, he answered, a little drily. I think I heard her sing this evening. Yes, I daresay; she is very accomplished. After a few moments silence he continued. I must not lose sight of you, for I should be sorry, when next you meet my friend Lord R, that you had to tell him you had been pigeoned in Paris. A rich Englishman as you are, with so large a sum at his Paris bankers, young, gay, generous, a thousand ghouls and harpies will be contending who shall be first to seize and devour you. At this moment I received something like a jerk from the elbow of the gentleman at my right. It was an accidental jog, as he turned in his seat. On the honour of a soldier, there is no mans flesh in this company heals so fast as mine. The tone in which this was spoken was harsh and stentorian, and almost made me bounce. I looked round and recognised the officer, whose large white face had half scared me in the innyard, wiping his mouth furiously, and then with a gulp of Maon, he went on No one! Its not blood; it is ichor! its miracle! Set aside stature, thew, bone, and muscleset aside courage, and by all the angels of death, Id fight a lion naked and dash his teeth down his jaws with my fist, and flog him to death with his own tail! Set aside, I say, all those attributes, which I am allowed to possess, and I am worth six men in any campaign; for that one quality of healing as I dorip me up; punch me through, tear me to tatters with bombshells, and nature has me whole again, while your tailor would finedraw an oldcoat. Parbleu! gentlemen, if you saw me naked, you would laugh? Look at my hand, a sabrecut across the palm, to the bone, to save my head, taken up with three stitches, and five days afterwards I was playing ball with an English general, a prisoner in Madrid, against the wall of the convent of the Santa Maria de la Castita! At Arcola, by the great devil himself! that was an action. Every man there, gentlemen, swallowed as much smoke in five minutes as would smother you all, in this room! I received, at the same moment, two musket balls in the thighs, a grape shot through the calf of my leg, a lance through my left shoulder, a piece of a shrapnel in the left deltoid, a bayonet through the cartilage of my right ribs, a sabrecut that carried away a pound of flesh from my chest, and the better part of a congreve rocket on my forehead. Pretty well, ha, ha! and all while youd say bah! and in eight days and a half I was making a forced march, without shoes, and only one gaiter, the life and soul of my company, and as sound as a roach! Bravo! Bravissimo! Per Bacco! un gallant uomo! exclaimed, in a martial ecstacy, a fat little Italian, who manufactured toothpicks and wicker cradles on the island of Notre Dame; your exploits shall resound through Europe! and the history of those wars should be written in your blood! Never mind! a trifle! exclaimed the soldier. At Ligny, the other day, where we smashed the Prussians into ten hundred thousand milliards of atoms, a bit of a shell cut me across the leg and opened an artery. It was spouting as high as the chimney, and in half a minute I had lost enough to fill a pitcher. I must have expired in another minute, if I had not whipped off my sash like a flash of lightning, tied it round my leg above the wound, whipt a bayonet out of the back of a dead Prussian, and passing it under, made a tournequet of it with a couple of twists, and so stayed the hemorrhage, and saved my life. But, sacr bleu! gentlemen, I lost so much blood, I have been as pale as the bottom of a plate ever since. No matter. A trifle. Blood well spent, gentlemen. He applied himself now to his bottle of vin ordinaire. The Marquis had closed his eyes, and looked resigned and disgusted, while all this was going on. Garon, said the officer, for the first time, speaking in a low tone over the back of his chair to the waiter; who came in that travelling carriage, dark yellow and black, that stands in the middle of the yard, with arms and supporters emblazoned on the door, and a red stork, as red as my facings? The waiter could not say. The eye of the eccentric officer, who had suddenly grown grim and serious, and seemed to have abandoned the general conversation to other people, lighted, as it were, accidentally, on me. Pardon me, Monsieur, he said. Did I not see you examining the panel of that carriage at the same time that I did so, this evening? Can you tell me who arrived in it? I rather think the Count and Countess de St. Alyre. And are they here, in the Belle Etoile? he asked. They have got apartments upstairs, I answered. He started up, and half pushed his chair from the table. He quickly sat down again, and I could hear him sacring and muttering to himself, and grinning and scowling. I could not tell whether he was alarmed or furious. I turned to say a word or two to the Marquis, but he was gone. Several other people had dropped out also, and the supper party soon broke up. Two or three substantial pieces of wood smouldered on the hearth, for the night had turned out chilly. I sat down by the fire in a great armchair, of carved oak, with a marvellously high back, that looked as old as the days of Henry IV. Garon, said I, do you happen to know who that officer is? That is Colonel Gaillarde, Monsieur. Has he been often here? Once before, Monsieur, for a week; it is a year since. He is the palest man I ever saw. That is true, Monsieur; he has been often taken for a revenant. Can you give me a bottle of really good Burgundy? The best in France, Monsieur. Place it, and a glass by my side, on this table, if you please. I may sit here for half an hour? Certainly, Monsieur. I was very comfortable, the wine excellent, and my thoughts glowing and serene. Beautiful Countess! Beautiful Countess! shall we ever be better acquainted. VI The Naked Sword A man who has been posting all day long, and changing the air he breathes every half hour, who is well pleased with himself, and has nothing on earth to trouble him, and who sits alone by a fire in a comfortable chair after having eaten a hearty supper, may be pardoned if he takes an accidental nap. I had filled my fourth glass when I fell asleep. My head, I daresay, hung uncomfortably; and it is admitted, that a variety of French dishes is not the most favourable precursor to pleasant dreams. I had a dream as I took mine ease in mine inn on this occasion. I fancied myself in a huge cathedral, without light, except from four tapers that stood at the corners of a raised platform hung with black, on which lay, draped also in black, what seemed to me the dead body of the Countess de St. Alyre. The place seemed empty, it was cold, and I could see only (in the halo of the candles) a little way round. The little I saw bore the character of Gothic gloom, and helped my fancy to shape and furnish the black void that yawned all round me. I heard a sound like the slow tread of two persons walking up the flagged aisle. A faint echo told of the vastness of the place. An awful sense of expectation was upon me, and I was horribly frightened when the body that lay on the catafalque said (without stirring), in a whisper that froze me, They come to place me in the grave alive; save me. I found that I could neither speak nor move. I was horribly frightened. The two people who approached now emerged from the darkness. One, the Count de St. Alyre glided to the head of the figure and placed his long thin hands under it. The whitefaced Colonel, with the scar across his face, and a look of infernal triumph, placed his hands under her feet, and they began to raise her. With an indescribable effort I broke the spell that bound me, and started to my feet with a gasp. I was wide awake, but the broad, wicked face of Colonel Gaillarde was staring, white as death, at me, from the other side of the hearth. Where is she? I shuddered. That depends on who she is, Monsieur, replied the Colonel, curtly. Good heavens! I gasped, looking about me. The Colonel, who was eyeing me sarcastically, had had his demitasse of caf noir, and now drank his tasse, diffusing a pleasant perfume of brandy. I fell asleep and was dreaming, I said, least any strong language, founded on the role he played in my dream, should have escaped me. I did not know for some moments where I was. You are the young gentleman who has the apartments over the Count and Countess de St. Alyre? he said, winking one eye, close in meditation, and glaring at me with the other. I believe soyes, I answered. Well, younker, take care you have not worse dreams than that some night, he said, enigmatically, and wagged his head with a chuckle. Worse dreams, he repeated. What does Monsieur the Colonel mean? I inquired. I am trying to find that out myself, said the Colonel; and I think I shall. When I get the first inch of the thread fast between my finger and thumb, it goes hard but I follow it up, bit by bit, little by little, tracing it this way and that, and up and down, and round about, until the whole clue is wound up on my thumb, and the end, and its secret, fast in my fingers. Ingenious! Crafty as five foxes! wide awake as a weasel! Parbleu! if I had descended to that occupation I should have made my fortune as a spy. Good wine here? he glanced interrogatively at my bottle. Very good, said I, Will Monsieur the Colonel try a glass? He took the largest he could find, and filled it, raised it with a bow, and drank it slowly. Ah! ah! Bah! That is not it, he exclaimed, with some disgust, filling it again. You ought to have told me to order your Burgundy, and they would not have brought you that stuff. I got away from this man as soon as I civilly could, and, putting on my hat, I walked out with no other company than my sturdy walking stick. I visited the innyard, and looked up to the windows of the Countesss apartments. They were closed, however, and I had not even the unsubstantial consolation of contemplating the light in which that beautiful lady was at that moment writing, or reading, or sitting and thinking ofanyone you please. I bore this serious privation as well as I could, and took a little saunter through the town. I shant bore you with moonlight effects, nor with the maunderings of a man who has fallen in love at first sight with a beautiful face. My ramble, it is enough to say, occupied about halfanhour, and, returning by a slight detour, I found myself in a little square, with about two high gabled houses on each side, and a rude stone statue, worn by centuries of rain, on a pedestal in the centre of the pavement. Looking at this statue was a slight and rather tall man, whom I instantly recognized as the Marquis dHarmonville he knew me almost as quickly. He walked a step towards me, shrugged and laughed You are surprised to find Monsieur Droqville staring at that old stone figure by moonlight. Anything to pass the time. You, I see, suffer from ennui, as I do. These little provincial towns! Heavens! what an effort it is to live in them! If I could regret having formed in early life a friendship that does me honour, I think its condemning me to a sojourn in such a place would make me do so. You go on towards Paris, I suppose, in the morning? I have ordered horses. As for me I await a letter, or an arrival, either would emancipate me; but I cant say how soon either event will happen. Can I be of any use in this matter? I began. None, Monsieur, I thank you a thousand times. No, this is a piece in which every role is already cast. I am but an amateur, and induced, solely by friendship, to take a part. So he talked on, for a time, as we walked slowly toward the Belle Etoile, and then came a silence, which I broke by asking him if he knew anything of Colonel Gaillarde. Oh! yes, to be sure. He is a little mad; he has had some bad injuries of the head. He used to plague the people in the War Office to death. He has always some delusion. They contrived some employment for himnot regimental, of coursebut in this campaign Napoleon, who could spare nobody, placed him in command of a regiment. He was always a desperate fighter, and such men were more than ever needed. There is, or was, a second inn, in this town, called lEcu de France. At its door the Marquis stopped, bade me a mysterious good night, and disappeared. As I walked slowly toward my inn, I met, in the shadow of a row of poplars, the garon who had brought me my Burgundy a little time ago. I was thinking of Colonel Gaillarde, and I stopped the little waiter as he passed me. You said, I think, that Colonel Gaillarde was at the Belle Etoile for a week at one time. Yes, Monsieur. Is he perfectly in his right mind? The waiter stared. Perfectly, Monsieur. Has he been suspected at any time of being out of his mind? Never, Monsieur; he is a little noisy, but a very shrewd man. What is a fellow to think? I muttered, as I walked on. I was soon within sight of the lights of the Belle Etoile. A carriage, with four horses, stood in the moonlight at the door, and a furious altercation was going on in the hall, in which the yell of Colonel Gaillarde outtopped all other sounds. Most young men like, at least, to witness a row. But, intuitively, I felt that this would interest me in a very special manner. I had only fifty yards to run, when I found myself in the hall of the old inn. The principal actor in this strange drama was, indeed, the Colonel, who stood facing the old Count de St. Alyre, who, in his travelling costume, with his black silk scarf covering the lower part of his face, confronted him; he had evidently been intercepted in an endeavour to reach his carriage. A little in the rear of the Count stood the Countess, also in travelling costume, with her thick black veil down, and holding in her delicate fingers a white rose. You cant conceive a more diabolical effigy of hate and fury than the Colonel; the knotted veins stood out on his forehead, his eyes were leaping from their sockets, he was grinding his teeth, and froth was on his lips. His sword was drawn, in his hand, and he accompanied his yelling denunciations with stamps upon the floor and flourishes of his weapon in the air. The host of the Belle Etoile was talking to the Colonel in soothing terms utterly thrown away. Two waiters, pale with fear, stared uselessly from behind. The Colonel screamed, and thundered, and whirled his sword. I was not sure of your red birds of prey; I could not believe you would have the audacity to travel on high roads, and to stop at honest inns, and lie under the same roof with honest men. You! you! bothvampires, wolves, ghouls. Summon the gendarmes, I say. By St. Peter and all the devils, if either of you try to get out of that door Ill take your heads off. For a moment I had stood aghast. Here was a situation! I walked up to the lady; she laid her hand wildly upon my arm. Oh! Monsieur, she whispered, in great agitation, that dreadful madman! What are we to do? He wont let us pass; he will kill my husband. Fear nothing, Madame, I answered, with romantic devotion, and stepping between the Count and Gaillarde, as he shrieked his invective, Hold your tongue, and clear the way, you ruffian, you bully, you coward! I roared. A faint cry escaped the lady, which more than repaid the risk I ran, as the sword of the frantic soldier, after a moments astonished pause, flashed in the air to cut me down. VII The White Rose I was too quick for Colonel Gaillarde. As he raised his sword, reckless of all consequences but my condign punishment, and quite resolved to cleave me to the teeth, I struck him across the side of his head, with my heavy stick; and while he staggered back, I struck him another blow, nearly in the same place, that felled him to the floor, where he lay as if dead. I did not care one of his own regimental buttons, whether he was dead or not; I was, at that moment, carried away by such a tumult of delightful and diabolical emotions! I broke his sword under my foot, and flung the pieces across the street. The old Count de St. Alyre skipped nimbly without looking to the right or left, or thanking anybody, over the floor, out of the door, down the steps, and into his carriage. Instantly I was at the side of the beautiful Countess, thus left to shift for herself; I offered her my arm, which she took, and I led her to her carriage. She entered, and I shut the door. All this without a word. I was about to ask if there were any commands with which she would honour memy hand was laid upon the lower edge of the window, which was open. The ladys hand was laid upon mine timidly and excitedly. Her lips almost touched my cheek as she whispered hurriedly. I may never see you more, and, oh! that I could forget you. Gofarewellfor Gods sake, go! I pressed her hand for a moment. She withdrew it, but tremblingly pressed into mine the rose which she had held in her fingers during the agitating scene she had just passed through. All this took place while the Count was commanding, entreating, cursing his servants, tipsy, and out of the way during the crisis, my conscience afterwards insinuated, by my clever contrivance. They now mounted to their places with the agility of alarm. The postillions whips cracked, the horses scrambled into a trot, and away rolled the carriage, with its precious freightage, along the quaint main street, in the moonlight, toward Paris. I stood on the pavement, till it was quite lost to eye and ear in the distance. With a deep sigh, I then turned, my white rose folded in my handkerchiefthe little parting gagethe Favour secret, sweet, and precious; which no mortal eye but hers and mine had seen conveyed to me. The care of the host of the Belle Etoile, and his assistants, had raised the wounded hero of a hundred fights partly against the wall, and propped him at each side with portmanteaus and pillows, and poured a glass of brandy, which was duly placed to his account, into his big mouth, where, for the first time, such a Godsend remained unswallowed. A baldheaded little military surgeon of sixty, with spectacles, who had cut off eightyseven legs and arms to his own share, after the battle of Eylau, having retired with his sword and his saw, his laurels and his stickingplaster to this, his native town, was called in, and rather thought the gallant Colonels skull was fractured, at all events there was concussion of the seat of thought, and quite enough work for his remarkable selfhealing powers, to occupy him for a fortnight. I began to grow a little uneasy. A disagreeable surprise, if my excursion, in which I was to break banks and hearts, and, as you see, heads, should end upon the gallows or the guillotine. I was not clear, in those times of political oscillation, which was the established apparatus. The Colonel was conveyed, snorting apoplectically to his room. I saw my host in the apartment in which we had supped. Wherever you employ a force of any sort, to carry a point of real importance, reject all nice calculations of economy. Better to be a thousand percent over the mark, than the smallest fraction of a unit under it. I instinctively felt this. I ordered a bottle of my landlords very best wine; made him partake with me, in the proportion of two glasses to one; and then told him that he must not decline a trifling souvenir from a guest who had been so charmed with all he had seen of the renowned Belle Etoile. Thus saying, I placed fiveandthirty Napoleons in his hand. At touch of which his countenance, by no means encouraging before, grew sunny, his manners thawed, and it was plain, as he dropped the coins hastily into his pocket, that benevolent relations had been established between us. I immediately placed the Colonels broken head upon the tapis. We both agreed that if I had not given him that rather smart tap of my walkingcane, he would have beheaded half the inmates of the Belle Etoile. There was not a waiter in the house who would not verify that statement on oath. The reader may suppose that I had other motives, beside the desire to escape the tedious inquisition of the law, for desiring to recommence my journey to Paris with the least possible delay. Judge what was my horror then to learn, that for love or money, horses were nowhere to be had that night. The last pair in the town had been obtained from the Ecu de France, by a gentleman who dined and supped at the Belle Etoile, and was obliged to proceed to Paris that night. Who was the gentleman? Had he actually gone? Could he possibly be induced to wait till morning? The gentleman was now upstairs getting his things together, and his name was Monsieur Droqville. I ran upstairs. I found my servant St. Clair in my room. At sight of him, for a moment, my thoughts were turned into a different channel. Well, St. Clair, tell me this moment who the lady is? I demanded. The lady is the daughter or wife, it matters not which, of the Count de St. Alyre;the old gentleman who was so near being sliced like a cucumber tonight, I am informed, by the sword of the general whom Monsieur, by a turn of fortune, has put to bed of an apoplexy. Hold your tongue, fool! The mans beastly drunkhes sulkinghe could talk if he likedwho cares? Pack up my things. Which are Monsieur Droqvilles apartments? He knew, of course; he always knew everything. Half an hour later Monsieur Droqville and I were travelling towards Paris, in my carriage, and with his horses. I ventured to ask the Marquis dHarmonville, in a little while, whether the lady, who accompanied the Count, was certainly the Countess. Has he not a daughter? Yes;I believe a very beautiful and charming young ladyI cannot sayit may have been she, his daughter by an earlier marriage. I saw only the Count himself today. The Marquis was growing a little sleepy and, in a little while, he actually fell asleep in his corner. I dozed and nodded; but the Marquis slept like a top. He awoke only for a minute or two at the next postinghouse, where he had fortunately secured horses by sending on his man, he told me. You will excuse my being so dull a companion, he said, but till tonight I have had but two hours sleep, for more than sixty hours. I shall have a cup of coffee here; I have had my nap. Permit me to recommend you to do likewise. Their coffee is really excellent. He ordered two cups of caf noir, and waited, with his head from the window. We will keep the cups, he said, as he received them from the waiter, and the tray. Thank you. There was a little delay as he paid for these things; and then he took in the little tray, and handed me a cup of coffee. I declined the tray; so he placed it on his own knees, to act as a miniature table. I cant endure being waited for and hurried, he said, I like to sip my coffee at leisure. I agreed. It really was the very perfection of coffee. I, like Monsieur le Marquis, have slept very little for the last two or three nights; and find it difficult to keep awake. This coffee will do wonders for me; it refreshes one so. Before we had half done, the carriage was again in motion. For a time our coffee made us chatty, and our conversation was animated. The Marquis was extremely goodnatured, as well as clever, and gave me a brilliant and amusing account of Parisian life, schemes, and dangers, all put so as to furnish me with practical warnings of the most valuable kind. In spite of the amusing and curious stories which the Marquis related, with so much point and colour, I felt myself again becoming gradually drowsy and dreamy. Perceiving this, no doubt, the Marquis goodnaturedly suffered our conversation to subside into silence. The window next him was open. He threw his cup out of it; and did the same kind office for mine, and finally the little tray flew after, and I heard it clank on the road; a valuable waif, no doubt, for some early wayfarer in wooden shoes. I leaned back in my corner; I had my beloved souvenirmy white roseclose to my heart, folded, now, in white paper. It inspired all manner of romantic dreams. I began to grow more and more sleepy. But actual slumber did not come. I was still viewing, with my halfclosed eyes, from my corner, diagonally, the interior of the carriage. I wished for sleep; but the barrier between waking and sleeping seemed absolutely insurmountable; and instead, I entered into a state of novel and indescribable indolence. The Marquis lifted his despatchbox from the floor, placed it on his knees, unlocked it, and took out what proved to be a lamp, which he hung with two hooks, attached to it, to the window opposite to him. He lighted it with a match, put on his spectacles, and taking out a bundle of letters, began to read them carefully. We were making way very slowly. My impatience had hitherto employed four horses from stage to stage. We were in this emergency, only too happy to have secured two. But the difference in pace was depressing. I grew tired of the monotony of seeing the spectacled Marquis reading, folding, and docketing, letter after letter. I wished to shut out the image which wearied me, but something prevented my being able to shut my eyes. I tried again and again; but, positively, I had lost the power of closing them. I would have rubbed my eyes, but I could not stir my hand, my will no longer acted on my bodyI found that I could not move one joint, or muscle, no more than I could, by an effort of my will, have turned the carriage about. Up to this I had experienced no sense of horror. Whatever it was, simple nightmare was not the cause. I was awfully frightened! Was I in a fit? It was horrible to see my goodnatured companion pursue his occupation so serenely, when he might have dissipated my horrors by a single shake. I made a stupendous exertion to call out but in vain; I repeated the effort again and again, with no result. My companion now tied up his letters, and looked out of the window, humming an air from an opera. He drew back his head, and said, turning to me Yes, I see the lights; we shall be there in two or three minutes. He looked more closely at me, and with a kind smile, and a little shrug, he said, Poor child! how fatigued he must have beenhow profoundly he sleeps! when the carriage stops he will waken. He then replaced his letters in the despatchbox, locked it, put his spectacles in his pocket, and again looked out of the window. We had entered a little town. I suppose it was past two oclock by this time. The carriage drew up, I saw an inndoor open, and a light issuing from it. Here we are! said my companion, turning gaily to me. But I did not awake. Yes, how tired he must have been! he exclaimed, after he had waited for an answer. My servant was at the carriage door, and opened it. Your master sleeps soundly, he is so fatigued! It would be cruel to disturb him. You and I will go in, while they change the horses, and take some refreshment, and choose something that Monsieur Beckett will like to take in the carriage, for when he awakes byandby, he will, I am sure, be hungry. He trimmed his lamp, poured in some oil; and taking care not to disturb me, with another kind smile, and another word of caution to my servant, he got out, and I heard him talking to St. Clair, as they entered the inndoor, and I was left in my corner, in the carriage, in the same state. VIII A Three Minutes Visit I have suffered extreme and protracted bodily pain, at different periods of my life, but anything like that misery, thank God, I never endured before or since. I earnestly hope it may not resemble any type of death, to which we are liable. I was, indeed, a spirit in prison; and unspeakable was my dumb and unmoving agony. The power of thought remained clear and active. Dull terror filled my mind. How would this end? Was it actual death? You will understand that my faculty of observing was unimpaired. I could hear and see anything as distinctly as ever I did in my life. It was simply that my will had, as it were, lost its hold of my body. I told you that the Marquis dHarmonville had not extinguished his carriage lamp on going into this village inn. I was listening intently, longing for his return, which might result, by some lucky accident, in awaking me from my catalepsy. Without any sound of steps approaching, to announce an arrival, the carriagedoor suddenly opened, and a total stranger got in silently, and shut the door. The lamp gave about as strong a light as a waxcandle, so I could see the intruder perfectly. He was a young man, with a dark grey, loose surtout, made with a sort of hood, which was pulled over his head. I thought, as he moved, that I saw the gold band of a military undress cap under it; and I certainly saw the lace and buttons of a uniform, on the cuffs of the coat that were visible under the wide sleeves of his outside wrapper. This young man had thick moustaches, and an imperial, and I observed that he had a red scar running upward from his lip across his cheek. He entered, shut the door softly, and sat down beside me. It was all done in a moment; leaning toward me, and shading his eyes with his gloved hand, he examined my face closely, for a few seconds. This man had come as noiselessly as a ghost; and everything he did was accomplished with the rapidity and decision, that indicated a well defined and prearranged plan. His designs were evidently sinister. I thought he was going to rob, and, perhaps, murder me. I lay, nevertheless, like a corpse under his hands. He inserted his hand in my breast pocket, from which he took my precious white rose and all the letters it contained, among which was a paper of some consequence to me. My letters he glanced at. They were plainly not what he wanted. My precious rose, too, he laid aside with them. It was evidently about the paper I have mentioned, that he was concerned; for the moment he opened it, he began with a pencil, in a small pocketbook, to make rapid notes of its contents. This man seemed to glide through his work with a noiseless and cool celerity which argued, I thought, the training of the policedepartment. He rearranged the papers, possibly in the very order in which he had found them, replaced them in my breastpocket, and was gone. His visit, I think, did not quite last three minutes. Very soon after his disappearance, I heard the voice of the Marquis once more. He got in, and I saw him look at me, and smile, half envying me, I fancied, my sound repose. If he had but known all! He resumed his reading and docketing, by the light of the little lamp which had just subserved the purposes of a spy. We were now out of the town, pursuing our journey at the same moderate pace.