"Yes, you understand me. Think of what you have said to me, of what you have written. I cannot share with another; I cannot adapt myself to a part which in spite of all is a sorry one. I have not only thrown my life at your feet, but also the life of another; I have renounced all, I have crushed all into the very dust, without regret and without the possibility of turning back; but for this, I believe, I am firmly convinced, that you will keep your promise, that you will unite your fate with mine."

“You wish that I shall elope with you -I am ready." (Litwinof, transported, bent down over Irene's hands.) "I am read; I take nothing back. But have you thought of the obstacles? have you provided means?" "I? I have as yet thought of nothing; I have prepared nothing; but say only the word, allow me to act, and not a month shall pass"

66

Now Litwinof also arose. "Irene!" he would begin with her hand pressed on her forehead, she threw herself vehemently on his breast and clung to him with more than womanly strength. Forgive me," said she with choking voice, "forgive me, Gregory. You see how spoiled, bad, jealous, how wicked I am; you see how very much I need your help, your forbearance. Yes, save me; draw me out of this abyss before it entirely engulfs me. Yes, let us flee; flee from these men and this world; let us go into any beautiful, distant and free land. There will your Irene perhaps become worthier; worthier of the sacrifice which you bring to her. Do not be angry; forgive me and believe that I will do all which you command; that I will follow where you lead me."

Irene would not leave his arms. He bent down over her; overflowing with gratitude, he scarcely ventured to caress her hands, and raise them to his lips. "Irene, Irene," he repeated continually.

Suddenly she raised herself and listened. "That is my husband's step; he has come

"Fourteen days are sufficient for me. O, Irene, you seem to meet my propositions coldly. You think perhaps it is a visionary dream; but I am no longer a child, and I deceive myself no more with idle fancies. I know what this step signifies; I do not deceive myself over the responsibility which I undertake; but I see no other way open. Consider that I must break all the bands which bind me to the past, in order not to stand as a liar in the eyes of this young girl whom I offer up on your altar."

Irene started suddenly up, her eyes flashing.

"Allow me, Gregory Litwinof, to speak. If I decide, if I elope, then I elope with a man who does it for me; who does it on my account, and not because he will retain the good opinion of a phlegmatic girl, in whose veins rolls curdled milk instead of blood. I

66

quickly away from him, seated herself in an arm-chair. Litwinof was about to go. "Where are you going?" continued she in a low voice. Stay; otherwise he will be suspicious. If you are not afraid before him"-she did not turn her eyes from the door while she spoke "yes, that is he; he will come in here immediately. Tell me something; talk with me." Litwinof could not compose himself so quickly and was silent. "Do you not go to the theatre tomorrow?" said she in a loud voice, “they play the Glass of Water, an old piece, in which Blessis cuts such horrible faces. That is a brute," added she in a low voice; "this cannot go on so; but one must take proper precautions. I must tell you that he has all my money, but I have my jewels. We go to Spain; shall we not?" Then raising her voice again, "Why are all these actresses so fat, even Madeleine Broham? Speak though;

The door opened and the General entered. He frowned as he saw Litwinof, but greeted him; that is, he bent his body stiffly forward. "I did not know that you had a visitor; I beg pardon. Baden still pleases you, Mons. - Litwinof?"

Ratmirof always spoke this name with hesitation; he appeared as if he had forgot ten it, or as if he feared he made a mistake. He flattered himself he offended Litwinof with this affected forgetfulness, as well as with the extravagant formality with which he greeted him as often as he met him.

"I do not suffer from ennui, General." "Really! I have already outgrown Baden; we shall leave soon, shall we not, Irene Paulowna? already enough of Baden? I have won in your favor to-day five hundred francs."

Irene coquettishly stretched out her hand. "Where are they? Give them to me, please, as pocket-money."

"By-and-by, by-and-by. You go already, Mons. - Litwinof?"

"Yes, I go, as you see."

Ratmirof again bent his body. "Hope to have the pleasure of seeing you again!"

"Adieu, Gregory Litwinof," said Irene, "I will keep my promise."

awake again in his soul. "The affair is decided; she will keep her promise, and I have only to make the necessary preparations — but she seems to hesitate still." He shook his head. His own decision appeared to his reason in a strange light; it seemed to him forced and improbable. One cannot long reflect upon the same thought. One cannot long revolve the same thought in the mind; unobserved, changes are produced. It is like a kaleidoscope, where the pictures unceasingly and gradually change. Litwinof felt an extraordinary exhaustion.

He needed at least an hour's perfect rest, but Tatiana -he shuddered, and without allowing himself farther meditation, went home, thinking that to-day he was like a ball tossed back and forth from one to the other. He must make an end of the affair.

He ascended to Tatiana's room without hesitation, almost without excitement. Capitolina Markowna came to meet him. At the first glance he saw that she knew all; the eyes of the poor old lady were swollen; her glowing face expressed indignation, anxiety, terror. She would have rushed towards him, but stopped, and gnawing her trembling lip, looked at him as if she would at the same time implore him and strike him dead; and convince herself that all was not a dream, a delirium, an impossibility.

"You come again!" she cried.

The door of the next room opened and Tatiana, pale but calm, noiselessly entered. She took her aunt gently by the hand, and seated herself beside her. "Be seated, too, Gregory Litwinof," said she to Litwinof who stood like a statue by the door. "I am very glad to see you once more. I have imparted to my aunt my decision, our decision; she perfectly approves it. Without mutual love can be no happiness; esteem is not sufficient" (at the word "esteem" Litwinof's eyes invol untarily fell) "and it is better to separate now than to repent later. "Is it not so,

First to Dresden, then to Russia."

"But why do you need to know that now, Gregory Litwinof?" observed the old lady with bitterness.

"Oh, Gregory, Gregory Litwinof, what is this? a dream, is it not? A dream? You renounce Tatiana! You no longer love her! you break your word! It is you, you who act thus, you on whom we all relied as on a stone wall! You? You? You, my Gregory?" She paused, but only for a moment. "But you will kill her, Gregory Litwinof," and the tears began to run down her cheeks in little quick drops. "Now she plays a brave part. You know her character; she does not complain, she never thinks of herself; more reason that others should be merciful to her. Now she is continually saying, Aunt, one must preserve one's dignity.' What has it to do here with dignity? Here it is a matter of life and death; death—" Tatiana moved a chair in the next room — "Yes, I see it beforehand, death," cont nurd

Tatiana arose. "Gregory Litwinof, we will speak no more of this-I beg you, if not for your own sake at least for mine. You are not an acquaintance of yesterday, and I can easily conceive what you must experience. at this moment; why tear the wound?"-she paused. She would master her emotion, press back the tears which gathered; she succeeded and continued, "Why tear open an incurable wound? Let us leave it to time to heal. I have only one request to make. Be so good as to carry this letter yourself to the post; it is important and we have not the time- you will oblige me very much. Wait, I shall be back in a moment." On the threshold, Tatiana cast an anxious look back on her aunt; but the latter sat there so dignified, with her frowning brow and firmly-closed lips, she had such a stern appearance, that Tatiana, as she left the room, confined herself to giving her merely a significant sign. But scarcely was the door closed behind her, than the solemn aspect of the old lady's face changed; she arose, ran on tiptoe to Litwinof, and bending low, in order to look better in his face, her whole body trembling, and the tears gathering in her eyes, she began, very fast and very low, almost stammering, to address him.

could all this happen? Are you bewitched? How long is it since you wrote her the tenderest letters? And, last of all, how can an honest man act thus? I am, as you know, without prejudice, a liberal minded person; I have given Tatiana the same education; she also has a free soul."

"Aunt," was the call from the adjoining

"Right away, my dear." Capitolina Markowna seized Litwinof's hand. "I see that you grow angry, Gregory Litwinof." ("I, angry?" he would exclaim, but his tongue was unable to move) "I will not irritate you; I do not mean to do that at all; on the contrary, I will beg of you, implore you; consider a moment; while there is yet time, do not destroy her, do not destroy your own happiness, she will yet believe in you. dear Gregory, she will yet believe in you; nothing is lost; she loves you as no one will ever love you. Leave this execrable Baden, journey with us; free yourself from this en

My

chantment which is like a spell upon you, and above all things, have mercy! have mercy!"

those flies, from which in certain times of the summer, one cannot free one's self; in the part which he had played in this last scene,

But the old lady heard her no longer. "Say only yes," whispered she to him, "I will bring all again in order; at least, nod only with the head, nod a very little only once, so!"

Litwinof would willingly have died on the spot, but the little word "yes" came not over his lips, and his head made not the slightest movement. Tatiana came in with the letter in her hand. The old lady stepped aside and bending down over the table, appeared as if she examined accounts and other papers.

Tatiana stepped up to Litwinof. "Here," said she, "the letter of which I spoke. You will carry it immediately to the post, will you not?"

Litwinof looked up- that was in fact his judge, who stood before him. She seemed to have grown taller; her face beamed again with a beauty which he had never known in her, and was as stony as the face of a statue; her bosom did not heave; her dress, of one color, fell like antique drapery in folds down to her feet, which it covered. Tatiana looked directly forwards, and this look, which did not even really see Litwinof, was lifeless and cold; it also was the look of a statue. In it Litwinof read his sentence; he bowed, took the letter from the hand extended to him, and silently retired.

Capitolina Markowna threw herself into Tatiana's arms, but the latter pushed her gently back, and looked down; the color came again into her face, and saying, "Now we will quickly prepare," she went into her chamber. With head bent low, the old lady followed.

The letter which Tatiana entrusted to Litwinof was directed to an acquaintance in Dresden, a German, who let furnished rooms. Litwinof let it drop into the post-box, and it seemed to him as if with this piece of paper, his whole past, his whole life was dropped into the box. He went out of the city and wandered long around in the narrow paths of the vineyards; & feeling of self-contempt hummed around him continually, like one of

returned to the Hotel, he inquired for the ladies; he was told that immediately after he went out, they had gone to the depot, and had left the city; in which direction, no one knew. Since morning their trunks had been packed and their bill paid. Only to be free from Litwinof had Tatiana requested him to carry the letter to the post. He inquired of the porter if the ladies left any note for him; the porter answered in the negative and did not conceal his astonishment; this sudden departure, after the rooms had been hired for a week, appeared to him strange and suspicious. Litwinof turned his back upon the man and locked himself in his room. did not come out again until the next day a part of the night he spent at the writingtable; he wrote and tore again what he had written. The morning began to dawn, as at last his long labor was finished; a letter to Irene.

(To be continued.)

THE SCEPTIC.

BY MRS. R G. PERRY.

Pity for him who founds his hope

On what he hears and sees and feels Of nature in her widest scope,

He

Or to her book alone appeals For what his inmost being craves, . Beyond this life, its ills, its graves, Beyond all blessings only born to die; What hope doth nature give to still his heartfull cry?

Pity for him! who hears a song

In rolling ocean, murmuring rill;
Lists to the zephyrs borne along

From leafy glade to sun-crowned hill
To rain drops on the new mown grass,

To sweet south winds which softly pass. Yet e'en while passing shape the thundercloud

Whence wind and rattling hail make discord long and loud!

Aye, pity him, whose open ear

Drinks in the music of the spheres ; Whose soaring soul is tethered here In doubt of the eternal years;