tion of the property that had been confiscated during the emigration. The mother died, blessing the name of her brother, and enjoining her son to be obedient in all things to his uncle. Arthur, who adored his mother, swore obedience to her injunctions when she was dying; and it was the more easy for him to perform his vow, from the circumstance that, from his earliest years, he had always been accustomed to receive his uncle's com mands with the most unhesitating submission.

Sedate, quiet, and bashful, yet full of courage and generosity, Arthur had always had a strong inclination for a military life-partly for the uniform and the epaulettes, but principally, perhaps, because in the palace of his uncle he saw nothing but gowns and cassocks. He ventured one day, but with great shyness, to make his uncle acquainted with his wishes; but the prelate knit his brows, and answered, harshly and decidedly, he had other views for him.

The Abbe de V had been advanced to a bishopric, and he hoped for more. He had a good chance for the hat of a cardinal; and he was desirous of making his nephew share in his good fortune, and felt sure of being able to secure him the highest dignities of the Church. In short, the Church was at that time the surest avenue to wealth and power. Arthur did not dare openly to resist the terrible ascendant of his uncle; but he secretly vowed that he would never be a bishop. The King, in the mean time, had been spoken to on the sub ject, and had expressed his warmest approbation. Arthur was to enter the seminary in a few months as a matter of form, to take orders, and go through the lower offices to the highest dig nities of his new profession as rapidly as possible. He remembered the pro mise he had given his mother, and, besides, every body would have accused him of ingratitude if he ran directly counter to the wishes of his uncle; and as he therefore did not dare to oppose his designs at once, he endeavoured to find out some method of forcing the Bishop to resign them of his own accord. He could think of no better means to effect his purpose than some good dashing scandal, that might render him unworthy of the venerable profession into which they

tried to force him against his will, But this was not so easy a matter as might be supposed. Whether it arose from Arthur's natural disposition or from his education, he had a fund of moral feeling that prevented him from being a libertine; and Arthur took as much pains to make himself a rake as might have sufficed to make him a bishop. But he had a number of friends who introduced him to their gaieties. The racketing and sprees of his companions were insipid and disgusting; and he turned his attention to the ladies of the court as a better means of gaining what he wished. But the ladies of that court avoided the slightest appearance of impro priety-not that they extended their dislike to any thing beyond the appear ance and a glaring, unmistakable impropriety was all that Arthur de sired. A ray of light broke in upon his despair, when one of his friends said to him,

"Take an opera girl for your mistress-every body will know it."

"What! I?" exclaimed Arthur, flushing with indignation at the first thought of such a proceeding-" I mix myself up with such a set!"

"You need have nothing to do with them. These matters are easily arranged; the eclât of a mistress is all you require. Take one; you may do as you like afterwards, but your point will be gained at once.'

"Well, I consent.'

You know already how the matter was arranged between Arthur and the aunt. Measures were taken to have the Bishop informed of the scandal. He took no notice. He was told that every night his nephew's carriage was stationed in the Rue de Provence; and Arthur hoped every day for a blow-up with his benefactor, when he had resolved to throw all the blame on an uncontrollable passion which rendered him unworthy of the sacred office, and he could by no means account for his uncle's sang froid and placid forbearance. It was the calm that precedes the storm.

One morning his lordship said to him, "The King has been displeased with you for some time; I know not wherefore."

"I guess the reason," replied the nephew.

"I have no wish to know it, His Majesty has deigned to overl

it, but insists on your entering the seminary within two days." "I? uncle!-imp".

"They are the King's orders, and your objections must be made to him, not to me," said the prelate haughtily, and turned away.

"Arthur, almost out of his senses with rage, hurried off to Judith-took her to the Tuileries-paraded her as his mistress before all the world, on the very evening before he was to start for the seminary. This time it was impossible to pretend ignorance of so very glaring a scandal, or to think of forcing the hero of it into the Church-at any rate for a long time. The Bishop wrote the letter I have repeated to you to Judith, and the King sent an order to the Count to leave Paris within twenty-four hours. It was impossible to disobey. Luckily he was acquainted with one of the sons of M. de Bourmont, and went off on the following night with the expedition to Algiers.

"Since the choice of the place of my exile," he said, "is left to me, I shall choose one where glory is to be gained."

Arthur was at sea.

He went off at night with the utmost secrecy, for all his motions were watched; and, if they had suspected his destination, he was afraid they would have hindered his departure. He wrote a few lines to Judith, to tell her he was to be absent only a few days; but that note, insignificant as it was, was intercepted, and never reached her. The Bishop had great interest with the police. A week afterwards On the twentieth day he disembarked in Africa, was one of the first at the storming of the fort, and was wounded at the side of his gallant friend, young Bourmont, who was killed at the moment of victory. Arthur was for a long time in danger. For two months his life was despaired of; and when he recovered, his fortune, his hopes, and those of his uncle, had all disappeared, in three days, with the monarchy of

Charles X.

The Bishop could not bear up against such a disaster; ill, and suffering in mind and body, he was unable to follow the exiled court as he desired. Disappointment and vexation inflamed his blood; a dangerous fever was produced by all these miseries, and not knowing what to do in the state of

irritation into which he had worked himself, he revenged himself for, the Revolution of July on his unfortunate nephew. Arthur, still weak from his wounds, arrived in Paris; and it is here that I become connected with the story, (said the notary, somewhat elevating his voice.) The Count came to me about the succession-I had long been his notary, and that of his family-we proceeded first to break the seals. I will not trouble you with professional details; but in taking an inventory of all the papers deposited in his lordship's escritoire, a letter struck my eye, with the signature "Judith, danseuse a l'Opera. The letter of an opera dancer in the desk of a bishop!—I would have destroyed it out of respect to the church; but Arthur had already got hold of it, and from the emotion it produced, I fancied for a moment-Heaven forgive me for the thought!-that the uncle and nephew had been rivals unknown to each other.

"Poor girl, poor girl!" exclaimed Arthur, "what nobleness! what generosity! what a treasure I possessed! -There, there!" he said to me," read that ;" and when I came to the sentence-" If to love be criminal in the sight of Heaven, it is a crime of which I am guilty, and in which Arthur is not an accomplice"

"'Tis true!"exclaimed Arthur, who had tears glistening in his eyes-" She loved me with all her soul, and I never perceived it, and never thought of loving her and she was sixteen years old! and pure and beautiful! for you have no idea, M. Baraton, how beautiful she is the most beautiful woman in Paris."

"I have no manner of doubt of it,' I replied; "but if you please we will go on with the inventory."

"As you please" and he continued to read fragments of the letter aloud. If Heaven, if my good angel, if the happiness of my life shall lead him to say, I love you, Judithah! 'tis a sinful thing I am about to say to you, and you will most justly pour your maledictions on my head; but mark me, my lord, there is no power on earth that shall hinder me from being his-from sacrificing every thing to him!"

"And I misunderstood her! I re

jected a love like this!-I only was to blame: but I will repair my fault

I will sacrifice my life to her-I will own her before the world! I shall be proud of her, and introduce her to my friends-to you yourself, M. Baraton -who don't listen to a syllable I am saying, but keep poring over those musty papers."

Papers, indeed! It was his uncle's will I had discovered, which disinherited him, and disposed of his enormous fortune among hospitals and other charitable foundations. I told Arthur the contents-but he did not show the least disappointment; and began to read Judith's letter again and again.

"You shall see her, M. Baratonyou shall see my beautiful Judithyou shall dine with her this very day!"

"But these papers-this will," I said.

"Well-I have nothing more to do with them," he said with a smile; "but Judith will love me.-Adieu, M. Baraton; adieu. I shall find with her more happiness than I lose by these papers, adieu :" and he left me, while his eyes beamed with joy and anticipation.

"Strange young man!"-I said to myself to be consoled by a pretty face for the loss of such a succession!" and I finished the inventory.

An hour or two afterwards, I was about to go home, when Arthur rushed in like a madman.

"She is not there she is goneI have lost her!"

"What! she's false, then?" "Who told you so? Unsay the word-or- he had taken tight hold of me by the collar.

"I know nothing about it.” "So much the better," he said"three months ago she disappeared -she has left the Opera."

"What did her companions tell you?"

"They told me nonsensical stories -some said she had been carried off -another told me, with the utmost coolness, she had resolved to destroy herself."

"Possible enough," I said-" since the Revolution of July, suicide has come greatly into fashion."

"Say it not-say it not!" cried Arthur, " you will drive me mad-I went to her apartments in the Rue de Provence, but she had left them without saying where she was going." "No trace?"

"The rooms are to let; they have never been occupied since."

66

"And you found nothing in them?" Nothing-except that in her aunt's room, on the ground floor, this card, intended for some trunk, with the address, To Madame Bonnivet, Bordeaux,'-and now, that I remember, she comes from that neighbourhood."

"Well."

“ Take all the management of my affairs-make what arrangement you like."

"What are you going to do?" "Follow her traces-or rather those of her aunt."

"In your present state of health you wouldn't start for Bordeaux ?"

"This hour!"-He started that evening; and—But here the fourth act of the Huguenots began, and the notary listened in silence.

ARTHUR remained six months at Bordeaux, making every possible enquiry about Madame Bonnivet, but nobody could give him the slightest information. He advertised for her in the newspapers-and at last an old lady, with whom it appeared she had lodged, came and informed him that his search was now useless, for Madame Bonnivet had been dead two months. "And her niece!" exclaimed Arthur.

"She was not with her-but the aunt lived very comfortably, and had an annuity of a hundred louis.”

the time he had passed beside her. Every look, every smile, rushed back upon his memory-he visited every spot where she had been-he never missed the Opera.

He wished to occupy her apart ments in the Rue de Provence; but unluckily they had been engaged by a stranger, who did not live in them. He thought at all events he would go and look at them-the porter had not the keys, and the doors and window shutters continued firmly closed! Arthur, as you may suppose, took very little interest in his own affairs, but they gave great uneasiness to me. Disinherited by his uncle, he had nothing left but the small property of his mother-about fifteen thousand livres a-year. He had squandered half of it, first in his expenses with Judith, and next in his endeavours to discover what had become of her; for he grudged nothing to attain his object. At the slightest hint, he sent out couriers all over the world, but always without success, and he kept constantly saying to me-"'Tis use. less!-she is dead!" In our meetings upon business, he spoke to me of nothing but her-and I could hardly slip in a word about the state of his affairs. At last I got him persuaded to sell off every thing, and pay his debts; but it was a great sacrifice for him to part with the lands that came to him from his mother. But it was indispensable. He owed nearly two hundred thousand francs, and the interest would very soon have swallowed up the remainder of his estate. Bills, therefore, were printed; advertisements inserted in the newspapers; and, on the very evening before the sale was to take place, I received a communication from one of my legal brethren, which filled me with joy and surprise. Fate seemed at last to have grown tired of persecuting poor Arthur.

A certain M. de Corval, a man of very indifferent character, who had owed his mother a very considerable sum, now desired to pay it, with full interest from the time it had become due-making in all the sum of a hundred thousand crowns; and the notary he employed brought me the full amount in gold and bank-notes. rushed off to tell the good news to Arthur, but he seemed neither glad nor sorry. As long as Judith was

I

not talked of, every thing else was indifferent to him. As for me, I lost no time in giving a receipt, paying off our creditors, clearing the estate, and every thing went on swimmingly, with the exception of one very curious incident.

One day Arthur met M. de Corval, who had behaved so honourably, and thanked him in the kindest terms. At the very moment when that gentleman had began to excuse himself, on the plea of some recent losses, for being still unable to pay

what he owed_

66

have no further claim on youyou owe me nothing.' "'Tis impossible!" "Ask my notary."

The debtor-who was such no longer-hurried to me, and could not conceal his amazement.

"You are a lucky man," I said.

"M. Arthur still more so," he replied, very testily-" for I had made up my mind. As I could not possibly pay, it was exactly the same as if I did not owe, and this business does not make me a farthing richer; but the case is very different with him— he may think himself exceedingly fortunate."

"What then?" I said. "You really don't know where the money came from?"

"I have no notion," replied M. de Corval ;- 66 but if the same party should offer to pay off any more of my debts, I hope you will let me know; it would be pleasant to have some of the benefit for myself."

We were more amazed than ever. I went to the notary who had transacted the business. The letter which instructed him to pay me the money bore the post-mark" Havre," and the hand it was written in was unknown to us all; but Arthur uttered an exclamation of joy when he saw the seal, half broken as it was. It was Judith's. He had presented a seal to her in former days with the motto, "" Toujours seul"-and there it was upon the letter.

"The letter has come from Judith!" he said, and dropped it on the floor.

"Well then," I replied, " you see she is still alive, and has not forgot

ten you-you ought to be delighted."

Arthur was furious. He would have liked better if she had been dead. "For why does she conceal herself? Why, since she knows where I live, does she not come to me? She is not worthy to see me-she loves me no longer-she has forgotten me!

"The letter," Isuggested, "proves the reverse."

"And what right has she to insult me with her benefits? Where has she got her riches? How has she had the audacity to offer them to me? And since when has she considered me base enough to accept them? I won't have the money-take it back again!"

"With all my heart," I said;"but what am I to do with it?" "What you like-I refuse it." "You can't refuse it now. Your debts are paid with it-your estate cleared thanks to the hundred thousand crowns."

"I instruct you to sell my landsrealize that sum, which I shall never touch, and keep it till I find some means of returning it."

"But think what a state your affairs will be in."

"That is of no consequence. Faithless as she is, I cannot repent of having ruined myself for Judith; but to be enriched by her is a degradation I cannot submit to. Sell every thing!"

And, in spite of all my remonstran. ces, he persisted in his resolution. The estate was sold-the first three hundred thousand francs were deposited with me, and the surplus was sufficient to buy an annuity of six thousand livres for Arthur in the national funds-and that was the whole of his fortune.

He lived in this way for two years, striving to banish a recollection that weighed upon his heart. Sombre and melancholy, he foreswore all society. He saw me almost every day, and spoke of nothing but Judith. He told me he had forgotten her-that he despised her; and yet the only places he went to, were those which recalled her to his recollection most vividly. One day, or rather one night, there was a masked ball at the Opera, to which, by the-by, he never went without a violent beating of the heart. Alone, in spite of the crowd, he walk

ed in silence through all the noise of the assembly-he went on the stage, where he had seen Judith so oftenthen wandering among the corridors, he ascended slowly to the box on the second tier where he had sat so often in those happy days, and from which he had given the signal of a visit to the Rue de Provence on the following morning. The door of the box was open. A female in an elegant domino was sitting there alone, and apparently sunk in deep thought. At sight of Arthur she started, rose up, and would have left the box; but, scarcely able to support herself, she leaned on one of the sides, and sank down upon the sofa. Her agitation attracted Arthur's notice, and he went forward and offered his assistance.

Without answering, she rejected his offer with a motion of her hand. "The heat has made you ill," he said, with an emotion which he could not master; "if you will take off your mask for a moment".

She refused his assistance again, and contented herself with throwing back the hood of her domino, which had covered her head.

Arthur saw the beautiful black hair falling in ringlets on her shoulder. It was exactly in the same style that Judith wore it-that graceful attitude, that exquisitely elegant form the shape, the manners- -that indefinable charm which we may feel, but cannot account for-all were there!

She rose up at last.

Arthur started. It was now his turn to feel faint-but instantly, summoning all his strength, he whispered

"Judith! Judith! 'tis you!" She would have left the box"Stay, stay! for Heaven's sake! and let me tell you that I am the most unhappy of men; that I never knew you, even when you deserved all my love!"

She trembled.

"Yes, you deserved it then, and I did not know it; and now I love you, Judith! I love nobody but you -I shall love you for ever, even now that you are unfaithful-now that you have forgotten me!"

She tried to answer, but could not. She laid her hand on her heart, as if to justify herself.

"And how, then, can I account for your absence; and, above all, for your benefits- those benefits which have