You

truly. You do not say so! I am charmed with this reason. do not say so! That is all that is wanting to complete the abuse, eh! truly ;-but I suppose you do say so, and then would I treat you as you deserve-as-" But as I do not say so, brother."" There you go again; you see you oppose me continually; pure obstinacy on your part, rage for discussion, for dispute. What! you want to commence again. I tell you that I suppose-so, starting with a supposition, surely I may tell you that you are in the wrong, that you mistake the authority which you arrogate over me, that-that-" Therefore, starting with a supposition, Rumphius gave free course to his humour, in the hope of exciting the anger or tears of Sulpice; but the poor brother, seeing that he had started with merely a supposition, was not to be moved, and just at the moment when Rumphius, quite out of breath, was terminating his philippic with the words, You are a wicked brother, a Judas,"-in expectation of a bitter reply, he answered with a smile, and with the most innocent calmness, "That is to say, you suppose that I am a Judas; for we commenced with a supposition, brother, and you know how much I love you."

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The astronomer was silent; the passion which was already chasing the tardy globules in their course was suddenly checked. This answer cast ice upon the glowing furnace. He must begin again, and would certainly have choaked with disappointment had he not found means to resume the attack.

"By the way, Sulpice," said he, what were you telling me of the Mercuré de France?" "They praise you highly, brother, for your labours on the astronomy of India." The astronomer breathed again. "Well, then," said he to Sulpice, "you will not deny, I hope, that the portrait of the genuine Gorou of the sect of Siva is, as I have declared and proved besides, drawn from the Vedanta Sara." "No, brother; but you know that I am too ignorant of your learning to understand at all the nature of these sciences, and that-" "Pshaw! eternal waywardness-you know it just as well as I do, but the desire for opposition misleads you. Now, according to the Vedanta Sara, the genuine Gorou is he who has seen Gocarnam and Calestry with his own eyes. But behold he is nothing but a scoundrel, a villain, a vagabond, says the Pringuery to Gocarnam and Calestry. This scoundrel, this villain, this vagabond, is Hoetquel, who pretends to prove the heresy by means of the Tamular Grammar of father Breschio. But answer me then, Sulpice-you stand there immovable! You see Hoetquel insult me, contradict me, and you take not my. part. You are perhaps delighted? Ah! I see you are pleasedvery well."

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Hoetquel is certainly in the wrong, as far as I can see," answered Sulpice quickly, willing to say any thing to conciliate the views of Rumphius, and knowing how exasperated he became on the bare mention of the name of his learned antagonist, whom Rumphius hated with that inflexible intensity which often exists between philosophers holding opposite opinions, "Hoetquel is in the wrong." "Hoetquel in the wrong! Not at all. He is perfectly right as far as the Vedanta is concerned." "I mistook the question, then, bro-, ther," sighed Sulpice; "Hoetquel is right.”

"Ah! there I hold you," cried the astronomer, almost beside himself for joy. "Ah! you think him right, do you? Hoetquel right! Ah! I am in the wrong-I am an ass a fool! But you know what I should answer to Hoetquel, or rather to you, for you declare yourself one with Hoetquel, since you adopt his heresies and prefer him before me. Now then, Hoetquel, vagabond, since you are in the right, who is the genuine Gorou of the sect of Siva? Is it not he who has bathed his limbs in all the holy pools, such as the Souriapouchkanary, Ichendra-pouchkanary, Indra-pouchkanary, hey? Answer me, I say! Is he not the genuine Gorou, hey?"

"He is the genuine Gorou, brother; yes, he is the true Gorou." "Don't call me, brother! Hoetquel! Ah! you do not know that Gorou signifies master or guide. Kings are the Gorous of their kingdoms. Ah! you know it not," cried the astronomer, furious with rage, and you wish in cold blood, in gaiety of heart, to attack with the fury of a wild beast, of a tiger, the works of a poor author who dwells in the seclusion of solitude, and is worth a myriad of Hoetquel's. And you think that I will be insulted with impunity. I say you insult me, Hoetquel, and you shall confess that you know nothing of the genuine Gorou." Rumphius seized the trembling Sulpice by his dress, and shook him violently; but the exertion was too great for his strength, and he fell, fainting, into the arms of his brother. Sulpice placed him in a chair, and wiped the large drops of perspiration from his forehead. "Be calm, my brother; I pray you pardon me."

"No, no, Sulpice, it is I that am wrong," said Rumphius, feeling his intention effected; "the warmth of discussion made me unreasonable. You know that as soon as the quarrel is at an end I think no more of it. Do pardon me, Sulpice, you are, indeed, the best creature that ever descended upon the golden mountain of Maha Merow, as Brahma writes. But do forgive me.' Say no more about it, my dear brother," answered Sulpice, "but come quickly to bed, for you must be dreadfully exhausted."

Sulpice did not retire to his own little chamber till he had watched Rumphius to sleep, and was about to throw himself upon his couch when he was startled by three violent knocks at the cottage door. All he feared was the repose of his brother, and he hurried down as quickly as he was able, and called through the key-hole of the antichamber, "Who's there? What do you want?"

"Are you not the astronomer Rumphius," answered a voice. "I am his brother; he is asleep, but speak more softly, for the love of heaven." "Give him this letter, which I will slip under the door. He must, upon condition of great misery if he refuse, he must deliver it himself to Count Vaudrey, who is at present in Paris. Swear by your soul that it shall be done."

"Mon dieu! I swear it," answered Sulpice, trembling from head to foot. "Here it is, then," cried the voice; "it relates to the duchess of Almeida." At the same instant a letter was slipped beneath the door, and Sulpice listened to the receding echoes of the stranger's footsteps.

Eight days subsequent to this adventure, the astronomer, Rum

phius, was presented to the Count de Vaudrey. "I am the bearer of a letter on the part of a duchess who my brother tells me is recently dead," said Rumphius, as soon as the introductory salutations were past.

"What! dead! What duchess is dead?" cried Henry. "A Spanish duchess, who resided near St. Renau." "Do you know what you are saying, Rumphius?" enquired the count, eagerly. "It cannot be ! It is impossible!" "It is indeed true," answered Rumphius; "the funeral was magnificent; money was distributed profusely among the poor, and the curate of Renan, an intimate friend of mine, administered the last offices to the dying lady." "Good God!" cried Henry, "I am convinced she loved me. Her devotion, her offers, her despair, all proved too clearly; and, to reward her love, I have brought destruction upon her." He burst the seal of the letter, which he yet contemplated with horror, and read its contents. The characters were in the commencement plain and legible; towards the close they had lost their form, and became so confused that it was evident that the duchess must have been dying when the pen fell from her hand.

of

Henry, I have deceived you; all that was said of me is true. Can you pardon me? I have had lovers, and you are not the cause my death. My only wish in this world is to confess my guilt to you, but I feared that the time would not be granted. I feel the hand of death; my head scarcely supplies me with ideas to express myself; my tears have been incessant. You have no part in my death; I alone am culpable. Alas! I have willed it so, and you are innocent. Do not regret me, for I have indeed deserved the hard fate which you have prepared for me. Adieu! Adieu! My sight fails, my hand stiffens; Henry, adieu!" Some illegible lines followed, but it was impossible to decypher them. In a note at the bottom of the page, which showed the discolouration produced by many tears, was written, in another hand, "Died October 13th, at two minutes after three in the morning."

"My dear Rumphius," said Henry, after a long silence, "I would be alone; you must excuse me." He then threw himself into his chair, while the astronomer, pained by his pupil's sorrow, slowly quitted the apartment. After perusing this letter, the count's bitterest reflection was-"I was not then her only lover."

This letter, his best justification both in his own eyes and in those of the world, was to him a source of torment; for he felt annoyed by the thought that he had no part in the duchess's death.

"Am I then a woman's dupe ?" repeated Henry, after a pause, while egotism and vanity strove for mastery within his breast. "Believe thyself dupe," whispered Egotism, "and thou wilt sleep peacefully." "Think thyself a perfidious monster," said Vanity, "and if thou sleepest not thou wilt find consolation in the assurance that she has embraced death rather than renounce thy love." Vanity was in the right; from that moment Henry considered Rita's letter as a last and unanswerable proof of the passionate and slighted love which had lowered the unfortunate duchess to the grave. It is night. Nearly opposite to the Hotel de Vaudrey is a house

of simple exterior. On the third floor, in a bedchamber of humble appearance, a woman is seated before the table. She reads; a small mirror is by her side. She is wrapped in a long black mantle, and has her face concealed by a black velvet mask. She appears Ineditating deeply, and ever and anon trembles with inward emotion. She raises her hand to her forehead and presses it forcibly. Her eyes flash through the openings of her mask as she exclaims, in a deep tone, "Begone, faint heart." The book she is studying is strange-it is a treatise on poisons, by Ben-Afiz, an Arabian physician, translated into Spanish by José Orbey, a work replete with so fearful a science that the Inquisition condemned it to be seized and burnt wherever it was found; and Philip V. expended an immense sum of money in purchasing copies for the purpose of destroying it altogether. She rises, opens a large desk and withdraws from it a casket; it is filled with bank drafts, payable at the principal towns of Europe. The sum is enormous. Then raising the cape of her mantle she drew from her bosom a small steel chain, to which were suspended more jewels than would be required for the decoration of the most costly diadem. She sighed heavily, and, passing her hands over the jewels, she exclaimed, "Shall I have enough?"

“ I

The door of the apartment opened; a man entered and bowed respectfully; he was followed by one of those beautiful mountain greyhounds with long silken hair. The stranger removed his cloak and large slouched hat. His face was thin and much tanned by the sun. It was Perez, dressed in deep mourning. In two months he appeared to have grown older by ten years. The woman in the mask was Rita, late duchess of Almeida. Well, Perez, what news?" have obtained the list, Madame, which you required." "Give it me," said Rita, somewhat hurriedly. She read. It contained names and addresses. -Bishop of Surville-Lelia-the chevalier de l'Eperie, &c. And their houses, you have entered them, Perez?" I shall soon. succeed, Madame." "Have you attended to our disguises-my To-morrow they will be here. But, Madame, you must -indeed you must remove this mask." Rita answered not. must be completed, and these are useless pangs you cause yourself." Rita was still silent. "That which is done is done-besides, it would be too late now

dress?" 66

"All

"Tell me, Perez," interrupted Rita, "did you see my funeral? was it magnificent?" "Splendid, Madame." "And suspicion, Perez?" Not the slightest, Madame. You know that after the dismissal of your servants, whom you had assembled in your chamber to recompense before your death, myself and Joanna remained alone with you until the priest arrived. The chamber was darkened. You appeared dying. He administered to you, and after his departure we alone watched you, and, according to your express wishes, alone accompanied the coffin into the chapel-vault adjoining your oratory. The next day the coffin was on its road to Spain, accompanied by Joanna and the upper servants of your household, who conveyed it to the chateau de Libsyra, the mausoleum of your family."

"Has he received my letter, Perez ?" "Yes, Madame; that astronomer handed it to him ten days since; I chose the man because

he knew both the priest and the physician, and he would not fail to give him an account of your death." "And what said he—him ?” "Him? Why, he secluded himself for eight days, and would see no one; but, as his old servant says, he must decide something, so he is now almost gay again." Rita could not repress a slight ejaculation of pain. "But, Madame, this mask, in the name of Heaven tear it off-it must be so." After a moment of silence she answered, in a suppressed and trembling voice, "I am indeed ashamed-you will think me cowardly-but I dare not." "You dare not!" " No, Perez, I dare not. Iffear to withdraw it." "Fear! Madame, you afraid! when twenty days since you exclaimed fearlessly, 'I will be avenged, and, lest my vengeance should be foiled, he must believe me dead. Even that is not enough; I must be disfigured, that he may gaze upon my face without a chance of recognition. How shall we effect it, Perez?' Ah! you had no fear then, Madame; you were courageous-decided. I told you of a secret I had got at Lima-a fierce corrosive that the Indians use to trace upon their bodies ineffaceable marks. You did not fear then, when you exclaimed with indignation, I have sacrificed my rank, my name, my life, I would also sacrifice my beauty.' You did not then hesitate; this mask covered all. Is it now that you would fear,-fear when of all your beauty not a trace remains-fear when this mask conceals only features which none could recognize." With these words Perez burst asunder the cords which held the mask and it fell from her face.

Perez was unable to restrain an ejaculation of horror and astonishment at the sight which presented itself to him. This inflexible man loved his mistress with a complete and disinterested attachment, with that instinct which unites a dog to his master, and had vowed his life and soul to the vengeance of Rita.

Rita stood for an instant motionless, then rushed to the little mirror which stood upon the table, and threw herself, almost fainting with horror, upon the chair. Two large tears rolled down her cicatrized cheeks. The wretched woman was so disfigured that Perez only could have recognized the duchess of Almeida in those scarred features. "Good God!" she exclaimed, all is at an end-beauty, name, rank, all lost." "But vengeance, Madame," said Perez, seriously. Rita raised her head and exclaimed with a firm tone of voice, as she dried up her tears, "Pardon, my good Perez, pardon my injustice, my weakness, but I am a woman, I was beautiful, and you must excuse one last retrospect on a life so brilliant, so full of hope. But now all is forgotten. You shall see if I be wanting in energy. With that she seized the mirror and gazed upon her mutilated features for more than a minute without emotion. "Now, Perez, I breathe for vengeance-vengeance complete and dreadful."

"But should he die, Madame-should he die before your vengeance shall have brought despair upon his head!" "He shall not die," cried Rita, with a voice rendered prophetic by the conviction which it expressed; "he shall not die; I feel in my heart a certainty of the future. You must confess, Perez, that something unknown, superhuman, infernal, must have worked in me this certainty of success.