EBOLI.

137

Thus she talked as we were seated, one warm summer's afternoon, side by side on the green sward before my mother's cottage.

As the evening shadows fell, she grew more communicative, and gave me the little history which I • have here related. Since then it has been attested to me by those who saw her mother.

... The next winter passed by, and when the spring came my mother took her children to the country again for the summer. I bade Eleonore a gay adieu, under the promise of a long visit from her during the vacation. Alas! instead of a visit, I only received a brief but affectionate note, stating that in two days the "Silvie de Grace" was to take her as a passenger, and she should leave forever the shores of America.

Men and women usually laugh at the friendships of school-girls. It is true they are often transitory and of a frivolous character, but they are often, too, of a lasting nature, and founded on real esteem. I felt and appreciated the worth of Eleonore, and for years regretted her loss. Marriage, and a long residence abroad again brought me in contact with her, but under very different circumstances.

ELEONORE EBOLI TO WINIFRED BARRINGTON. Paris, November 1st, 18-. "MY DEAR WINIFRED,-Now that I am safely housed in Paris, I shall give you a short account of my journey. We were but four weeks on the ocean, and had no storms to boast of (at least the captain maintained this,) though we were all much frightened one windy night, when a gale arose that shattered our sails, and tossed us about in a most unceremonious manner.

"I was very sick, and as I lay in my berth I could feel each wave as it upheaved the ship, and when she pitched, headlong down its side, I wondered sometimes if we should ever see the light again. But I felt no fear, I was too sad for that. I thought of the happy home I had left behind, and its probable contrast with that of Papa and Mamma Carron's establishment, I remembered that it was my mother's birth-place, that I should visit Paris. Paris was my goal! There every object would acquire new interest in my eyes, each house would seem the one in which my mother passed her girlhood, each beautiful girl my mother's darling sister, each man her brother, the aged her parents; ALL AGES would have the charm of mystery to attract me, and my fancy would quickly vision forth the family to which I was related! But I will talk no more of this.

"The captain of our ship conducted me to Paris. He was very kind, and to gratify me, took the route up the Seine from Havre to Rouen in the day-boat, that I might see picturesque Normandy, with its lovely valleys, its cottages, with their thatched roofs and gables; the varied costumes of its peasantry, and its giant horses, which move with the power and majesty of elephants.

villages and the castles situated on the banks of the river, to reply to my queries. A young gentleman seeing our trouble, obligingly offered his guide-book, which contained all the information we needed. He also gave us many anecdotes concerning the nobility who lived in the chateaux. In the course of conversation he mentioned that his father lived but fifteen miles from Rouen, and that he was now on the way to visit him. His own name is Lazun.

"When he heard that I came from America, he immediately offered to be our guide in visiting the cathedral, and other curiosities of Rouen, an invitation which we gladly accepted.

"On separating for the night, our traveling companion said that we might expect him punctually at half-past ten the next morning to escort us. But when the hour arrived Mr. Lazun did not appear. The little French gilt clock on the mantel-piece struck eleven o'clock, then twelve, then one. The captain was fairly angry, and I must confess I was not at all pleased, for 1 had imagined he would come earlier than the hour. I am afraid I have but little penetration.

"We sallied out alone, but the day was hot, and the city dirty. We could not find the cathedral, and the captain would ask for no directions; so we returned to the hotel, where we had but just time to eat our dinner before the DILIGENCE arrived to take us away to Paris. You see what civility we meet with!

"I cannot say that I am happy. Yet I do not complain, for I am well fed and well clothed, but my heart and mind are oppressed by my dependent situation, which is hinted at on every occasion. I do my best to assist the family, but they are never satisfied with my efforts. Little Adele is at a boarding-school, so that I have no one to love; but say nothing of all this to any one. I would not have others know that I am unhappily placed.

"After my first communion, which is to take place next year, I shall endeavor to gain my own living, though I do not know yet in what way.

"Write to me soon dear Winifred, for I am very lonely, and believe me, I remain always your sincerely attached friend,

ELEONORE EBOLI CARRON."

CHAPTER VI.

know I only arrived in time to bid him farewell. But I will not now lose sight of her. I will know where she lives."

"You can easily do that!"

Monsieur Lazun saluted the lady; gave the reasons for his singular behavior at Rouen, which were kindly received, and taking leave, asked permission to call upon her, which she granted.

On returning from her walk she informed Madame Carron of having met Mr. Lazun, and of her giving him her address. A storm of reproaches followed this confession of her indiscretion, so that Eleonore concluded that if she made any friends it would not be through the aid of Madame Carron. In future she should not mention those she met.

But a few days elapsed before Eleonore met Mr. Lazun again. She gave him to understand, very delicately, that her guardian did not like to receive strangers. Which he answered, by saying that he should wait upon Mr. Carron at the earliest opportunity and show him some letters of recommendation, and also bring a friend with him, who was one of the first bankers in Paris, slightly acquainted with Mr. Carron. He thought he could satisfy any one as to his character and social position.

Eleonore heard this with pleasure, for she felt interested in Mr. Lazun, and as she had so few opportunities of conversing with agreeable people, looked upon the young man as quite a god-send.

It was not long before Mr. Carron received a visit from the two gentlemen, and upon the banker's sending up his name, they were immediately ushered into his study with great attention; but when the object of the visit was made known, "mine host" changed his tone, and rudeness took the place of courtesy. There was no mistaking his manner, and Mr. Lazun knew that his acquaintance was not desired, and that he must give up all thoughts of the fair Eleonore who had made so strong an impression on his fancy.

But fortunately, or unfortunately, my hero and heroine frequently walked in the same direction, (drawn probably by some mesmeric attraction)-by degrees they became strongly attached to each other, and finally, an engagement of marriage took place.

A hint from one of the servants, who had met the lovers in one of their walks, made madame send the young lady directly to the convent of St. Germain, for her communion. She was ordered never to think of marriage, (for Eleonore had immediately confessed her engagement,) she must make herself useful in the family to whom she owed every thing, and work she must and should for them all her life. Eleonore made no reply to all this, but afterwards, in the solitude of her convent cell, she made this decision: "I will marry Victor Lazun-my debt of gratitude has been paid to my guardians. As a child, my only expense to them was clothing of the poorest quality. My food was not missed in the extravagant household which they kept. To their brother and sister I owe much, and also to Mr. and Mrs. Delombre. They taught me all that I know. Since my

"This has gone on for two years, and I have done it willingly, but now I am old enough to choose my future course, and shall do so."

This passage I have copied from a note which she sent to Victor Lazun on her departure for the convent. There, of course, he could not see her, but he well knew that his pretty cousin Victorine La Graviere was at the same convent, and with a little coaxing, he persuaded his aunt to take a note to Victorine, in which he begged his cousin to show Eleonore some kindness for his sake, though without mentioning his name or their relationship.

The acquaintance of the two girls soon ripened into friendship, and it was not long before young Lazun thought his aunt sufficiently interested in Eleonore through his own representations and Victorine's eulogies, to confide his secret to her care. Yes, dear reader! it was a secret, and you would have laughed to see the dismay on the face of the gentle Countess La Graviere when she learned of his intended marriage.

"But you are not going to marry this poor orphan, are you, Victor? With your rank and favor at court it is quite absurd?"

"I certainly shall, my dear aunt. As to my rank she knows nothing of that, nor my fortune either; so, thank God! she loves me for myself alone." "Is this indeed so, Victor?"

"It is all settled. I am my own master, and will marry whom I please. I do wish you would ask her to visit "you at your country-seat during the next month. You will be delighted with her. She is the very image of your sister-in-law the Marchioness Eugenie."

"She must be very beautiful then. I will see her, Victor, and invite her for your sake. But do not be hasty about the marriage. Think it over coolly. Your relations will be mortified, and I fear that the king will be much displeased."

"The king cares less for rank than most of his subjects. And as to my relations, I marry the girl, not they."

CHAPTER VII.

We must now allow six weeks to have passed by, and we shall find Eleonore at the chateau La Graviere, dressing for a fête which is to celebrate Victorine's birth-day. Victorine is assisting Eleonore.

'Only look at this pearl necklace of mine. It is beautiful, and you must wear it this evening," said Victorine.

Eleonore returned-"I have also a pearl necklace, which I value highly. It contains a miniature of my aunt. Here is."

"What a resemblance to the marchioness. If I did not know that it was impossible, I should say that your aunt and mine were one and the same per son. It is strange, now I perceive you have the

regular Grecian La Graviere nose. Papa will fall in love with you at once. He is always looking at my nose, and wondering there is not danger that it will not become one-sided. I believe if I were to fall from a carriage the first question he would ask, would be, 'Have you hit your nose?'"

the saloon. She was in the arms of an aunt, a cousin sat beside her; they both gave thanks to God that she had been brought to them; they wept when she told them of her mother's death. And the poor marchioness said—

"Yes, if the Duke of Orleans do not detain him. There will be eight gentlemen beside from the court. But I hear carriages. The neighboring guests have began to assemble, and I must help mamma to receive them-come!"

The ball-room was brilliantly lighted, and Eleonore's beauty was the theme of every tongue. Her dress was white satin, covered with white lace and looped with white roses. The only ornament she wore was the miniature necklace, clasped tightly around her throat.

The countess was delighted with the appearance of her young guest, and introduced her to all her particular friends. In about half an hour there was a rush in the hall; the folding-doors of the antechamber were thrown wide open, and the prince royal entered, leaning on the arm of Monsieur La Graviere, and followed by his suite.

Monsieur La Graviere, after saluting his wife and presenting her to the prince, turned away to pay his compliments to some of the ladies present, when his eye was suddenly caught by Eleonore's face, as she stood within a few feet of him. "Good God! my sister!" he exclaimed, impetuously.

"She does indeed resemble Aunt Eugenie! We all observed it," said Victorine.

"Introduce me, my child. What is her name?" "Eleonore Carron."

"Carron-it was not his name. It is impossible." The introduction was made, and the master of the castle was inquiring if she was a native of Paris, when he stopped short-started, and then said:

"Forgive me, mademoiselle; but is not that a miniature of my sister Eugenie in your necklace?" Eleonore trembled, but she stood erect, and answered firmly. "It is a miniature of my aunt." "And what was her name?"

"You will excuse my not answering any further questions."

"I hope you will forgive my rudeness, when you see its likeness to my sister," continued the count. "Here she comes!"

Eleonore turned pale, for she felt that the hour was at hand that would reveal her name and kindred. Her self-command increased in proportion. Pride forbade any manifestation of emotion before those who spurned the mother who gave her birth; yet when she saw a face streaming with tears before her, that she knew belonged to her mother's only and dear sister; when she received a warm embrace, and heard in a soft voice, these words-"I know it is Eleonore Eboli, my beloved niece!" The poor child sighed "Yes!" and then fainted.

She was quickly carried out, and though soon restored to consciousness, did not venture again into

can be done to contribute to your happiness will be freely bestowed."

Here Eleonore summoned courage, and with downcast eyes and faltering words, told her aunt that her destiny was decided, she should become the wife of a young architect of Paris. He was poor in purse, but rich in affection, and she begged her aunt to say nothing against their marriage, till at least, she had seen the youth.

"She is like her mother in heart as well as in form," sighed the marchioness. "But come, Eleonore, I think we must go to bed; we have had happiness enough for one night, and you, Victorine, must return to the ball; his royal highness will miss those bright eyes!"

With many a kind embrace they then separated for the night.

"Your cousin!!! with the prince too. Ah! what will happen next; I hardly know now what I am saying, my senses are bewildered, one strange scene succeeds another till I almost doubt my own identity!"

"I salute you, ladies," said the prince. "My lord duke and I have been rifling your flower-beds. May I present you this bouquet?"

"My flowers will feel grateful for your highness' attentions," said Victorine.

"Forgive me, Eleonore," said young Lazun, "you will not love me the less now that I am a duke and peer of France. I am still Victor Lazun, as you are Eleonore Eboli.

I had recently arrived in Paris. A ball was given at the Tuilleries, and many Americans were there. We stood in rows through which the royal family passed, followed by several maids of honor and ladies of the bed-chamber.

I caught my breath as one passed near me. "Who is that?" said I to a friend, who was well acquainted at court.

"It is the Duchess of Lazun, the intimate friend of the Princess Marie of Orleans. She is a great favorite with all the royal family, and her husband also. But here she comes again."

Our eyes met, we recognized each other-my readers may guess the rest.

An examination of the above will show that one, great difference between the costumes of that day and our own was the use of powder; a stupid fashion which nothing but the confusion of the French revolution could do away with, yet which was adhered to with the most wonderful tenacity. Another whim was the habit of wearing the sword, which may be said yet more positively to separate the eighteenth from the nineteenth century. This habit, which had its use in the days of the Ligne and the Fronde, lasted till the commencement of the present century. Etiquette absolutely required that all who presented themselves within the sacred precincts of Versailles should be thus decked, and it became ultimately a passport, so that the shopkeeper, dancing-master and coiffeur had only thus to deck themselves, and they might jostle in the stairway of the palace gentlemen as noble as the king. This, however, all disappeared amid the revolution, when the pike and musket usurped the place of the gilded rapier.

The materials of the fashionable coat of that day were Brussels' camlet, velvet or silk. At this time we can form little idea of the variety of colors worn; black, green, blue, rose, yellow and violet all were seen. The waistcoat was not a gilet, but reached the hip, extending below which were breeches,

which being worn like a sailor's, without suspenders, had from time to time to be hitched up by the hands. In the cold winter of 1739 the English gaiters and over-coat were worn for the first time, and to this new fashion an old French nobleman attributed the decay of the monarchy.

The fashions of the present time date from the days of Louis XVI. and when we come to treat of his reign, we shall see the passing away and development of the old and new modes. Nor do they disappear alone, for classes go with them. Having been rejected as a livery unworthy of men, the beings who had glittered in them disappeared like shadows, either because they had really been annihilated, or had been regenerated under the new order of things. Among the classes which thus disappeared was the Morgues, the gilded type of French folly, not the creature, but the butt of the wit of Moliere; a compound of pride, insipidity and wit, of politeness and impudence, of gallantry and impertinence, of affectation and good manners. Not even comedy preserves them. Dandies are eternal- for such were the Muscadins, the Mervelleux and the Incroyables, but the Morgues are gone. With the Morgues disappeared their younger brothers, the abbés and mousquetaires, and with their estates the intendants. [To be continued.