ladies of Turin, afflicted the heart of Claudine, and made her fear that the moment for her to discover herself would, perhaps, never arrive.

In fact Mr. Belton, who, by the death of his parents, had been left master of a large fortune at the age of nineteen, had hitherto employed that fortune in rambling over Italy; stopping wherever he could find amusement, or, in other words, wherever he could find women, who pleased, deceived, and ruined him. A lady of the court of Turin, who was past the hey-day of youth, but still beautiful, was at this period his mistress. This female, who was of a quick and passionate temper, was exceedingly jealous of Mr. Belton. She insisted upon his supping with her every evening, and writing to her every morning. The Englishman dared not fail: and, notwithstanding his obedience, At the quarrels and disputes frequently occurred. least trifle, she would threaten to kill herself, would seize a knife, weep, tear her hair, and play such tricks, that Mr. Belton began to grow heartily tired of them. Claude saw all this, for he accompanied his master at night, and waited upon him at table, and he carried his letters in the morning. His poor heart suffered beavily, but he suffered in silence; he implicitly obeyed Mr. Belton, whose confidence in him increased every day, and who frequently complained to him of the melancholy and tiresome kind of life which he led. On these occasions Claude ventured a few words of advice, partly gay, partly serious, which his master listened to and approved, promising that he would profit by it the next day; but, when the next day came, Mr. Belton repeated his visit to his mistress, more from habit than from affection; and Claude, who wept in secret, pretended to smile while he accompanied his

master.

Some months passed away in this manner. At length, so violent a quarrel took place between the marchioness and the Englishman, that the latter determined never to go near her again; and, to put it out of his power to change his mind, he formed an intimacy with ano ther lady, who was no better than the one whom he had quitted. This change was only a new subject of affliction to Claudine. All that she had said, all that

she had done, was now to be said and done over again.” She, however, bore her disappointment without a murza mur; and continuing to be as submissive, as sweet tempered, and as attached as ever to her master, she listened to his new secrets, and served him with the same fidelity as before.

But the marchioness was not of a disposition to give up so easily the heart of her Englishman. She set spies to watch him, soon dsicovered her rival, and,being determined to spare no pains to gain back or to punish Mr. Belton, she began by exhausting all the resources of cunning and intrigue to win him once more to her arms. Her efforts were fruitless. The Englishman left her letters unanswered, refused to meet her, and laughed at her threats. The marchioness, driven to desperation, now gave up her thoughts entirely to revenge.

One morning, about two o'clock, when, according to his usual custom, Mr. Belton, followed by Claudine, was quitting his new mistress, and, already tired of her, was telling his faithful Claude that he had a great desire to return to London, all at once four ruffiaus, who were hidden at the corner of a street, fell with their daggers upon Mr. Belton, who had only just time enough to put his back to the wall, and draw his sword. The instant that she saw the assassins, Claudine threw herself before her master, and received in her breast the stroke of the poignard which was aimed at Mr. Belton. She fell to the ground immediately. With exclamations of fury the Englishman darted upon the villain who had wounded her, stretched him upon the pavement, and then attacked the three otherswith such impetuosity that they took to their heels. Mr. Belton did not pursue them; he returned to his servant, raised him up, embraced him, and weeping called him by his name; but Claudine did not reply. Claudine had fainted. Mr. Belton took him in his arms, carried him to his residence, which was not far off, and laid him upon his own bed; then, while, by his direction, the rest of his servants hastened to fetch a surgeon, Mr. Belton, who was impatient to see whe ther the wound was considerable, unbuttoned the waist coat of Claudine, drew aside the shirt which was covered

with blood, looked, and was struck motionless with astonishment to see the bosom of a woman.

At this moment the surgeon arrived. He examined the wound, and declared it not to be mortal; the dag ger had been turned aside by the bone. But Claudine did not come to herself: the wound was dressed; and stimulants were applied to her nostrils. Mr. Belton, who was supporting her head, perceived a ribbon which hung round her neck; he drew it out, and saw a ring. It was his own; it was the same which he gave on the Montanverd to the pretty shepherdess, whom he so cruelly deserted. All was now plain; the mystery was cleared up; but Mr. Belton did not betray his feelings on this occasion. He sent for a nurse, who undressed Claudine, and put her to bed. As soon as she came to herself again, the poor girl turned her eyes with astonishment on the nurse, the surgeon, her master, and little Benjamin, the latter of whom, awakened by the noise, had got up half naked to run to his brother, whom he now, crying, embraced.

The first thought of Claudine was to console Ben jamin. Then recollecting what had happened to her, finding herself in bed, and remembering too, with dis quietude, that she had been undressed, she hastily put her hand to the ribbon which held the ring. Mr. Belton, who was looking at her, read in her looks the pleasure which she felt in finding it again. He im mediately sent every body out of the room, and, kneeling down by the bed side, he took the hand of Claudine.

"Be calm," said he," be calm, my dearest love; I know every thing, and it will be for the happiness of us both. You are Claudine, and I was a monster. I have but one means of ceasing to be so, and you alone can furnish me with the means. I am already indebted to you for life, and I wish to be indebted to you for my honour; yes, honour, for it is I who have lost it and not you. Your wound is not dangerous, and you will quickly be well. As soon as you are able to go out, you shall go to the altar with me, to give me the name of husband, and to forgive me a horrible crime, which I am far indeed from forgiving to myself. The marriage which I request of you, which I'intreat on

my knees, must do the honour, must ennoble ine in the eyes of those who know what virtue is. Long time, Claudine, did I forget that virtue, which is so lovely:0 but it becomes more dear to me, since it is you that re store it to my heart."

Imagine to yourself the astonishment, the joy, the transports of Claudine. She would have spoken hut her tears prevented her. At length, preceiving the little Benjamin, who had been sent out with the rest, but who, anxious about his brother, had softly half opened the door, and thrust in his pretty face to see what was going on, Claudine showed him to Mr. Belton, and said, "there is your child, he will answer you better than I can." The Englishman darted towards Benjamin, clasped him in his arms, covered him with kisses, and, carrying him to his mother, he spent the evening in the company of his wife and child, with a contentedness of heart to which he had hitherto been a stranger.

In the course of a fortnight Claudine was quite re covered. She had related to Mr. Belton all that had happened to her. The narrative had rendered her still more dear to the young Englishman, who was now much more enamoured of her than he had been the first time that he saw her. When she was able to bear the journey, Claudine, dressed as a female, but modestly attired, set out in the Englishman's carriage along with the little Benjamin; and all three, accord ing to their new scheme, went straight to Salenches, where they alighted at the house of the reverend rector. The good pastor did not remember Claudine. The Englishman enjoyed his embarrassment for a few minutes. At last Claudine, embracing him, reminded him of all his goodness to her, and informed him of the motive of their journey. The good rector returned thanks to Heaven; and then ran to fetch Madam Felix, who was still alive, and was ready to die of plea sure to see Claudine and Benjamin again. On the morrow, they set out to Chamouny, where Mr. Belton, who was a catholic, wished that the marriage should take place publicly in the parish church of la Prieure.

The moment that they arrived in the evening, the young Englishman sent the rector of Salenches to the formidable Mr. Simon to ask the band of his daughter.

The old man received him gravely, listened to him without giving any great signs of joy, and replied in only two or three words, to give his consent to the match. Claudine hastened to him, to throw herself at his feet. The old man allowed her to remain there a few moments, raised her without a smile on his face, embraced her without clasping her to his bosom, and coldly bowed to Mr. Belton. The worthy Nanette, who had been sent for the moment Claudine came, wept and laughed by turns. When they set out to the church, she carried Benjamin on one arm, and held her sister with the other; the two rectors walked before; Madam Felix came behind, along with Mr. Simon, whom she scolded occasionally; and all the children in the village followed them singing songs.

In this order they proceeded to the church, where the rector of Chamouny allowed the rector of Salenches to say the mass. The wedding was delightfully kept. Everybody in the village danced for a whole week. Mr. Belton had ordered tables to be laid out in the meadow, on the bank of the Arve, where everybody that pleased sat down. He bought an excellent farm for old Mr. Simon, who, however, refused to accept it, and was even angry with our rector, because he reproved him for refusing. Nanette was not so unbending; she accepted the farm, and a pretty house, which Mr. Belton gave her; and she is at this moment one of the richest and happiest people in our village, After having spent a month, Mr. and Mrs. Belton departed, with the benedictions of everybody: they are now in London, and Master Benjamin has already five or six brothers and sisters.deid

This is their story, which I have not been able to shorten, because I have tried to tell it you as I have often heard the worthy rector tell it. If it has not amused you, I hope you will excuse me." H

I gave many thanks to Francis Paccard, and assured him that I had been much affected by his narrative. My thoughts entirely occupied with the story of Claudine, I then descended the Montanverd, and, when I reached Geneva, I wrote down the particulars, just as Paccard had related them, without even endeavouring to correct the faults of taste and style, which will undoubtedly be found in it by good judges. 1.D.c