attribute to her, I have no positive document on the sub- || Madame Bonnivet or her niece. Ambition grows of. us ject, and prefer relying on your immense erudition." The professor bowed. by degrees." "But Judith," I said-" what became of Judith ?" for I saw the curtain about to rise. One of the nymphs or sylphides, her companions, whis. pered in her ear-" See, Judith, look in the orchestra-at || the right-how hard he is looking at me." "Who?" said Judith. "But, whether dark or fair, there was one thing that nobody disputed, and that was, that the little Judith was "Judith! I'm coming to her directly. Madame Bor. a charming creature. And another point, which appeared nivet, in spite of all her caution, could not hinder her undeniable, was, that her aunt, Madame Bonnivet, was niece from talking with her companions. In the mornporteress in the Rue R-helieu, in the house of an old ings in the green-room, and, above all, at night when gentleman, whose confidential manager she had once they were on the stage-a region where the aunt found it been; some said his cook: but Madame Bonnivet dis-impossible to follow-Judith heard some things that as dained the impeachment, and went on, quietly plying her tonished her. knitting-needles, and managing for the different lodgers, while her niece even already began making conquests. For it was impossible to past the porter's lodge without he:ng struck with the extra..dinary beauty of little Judith, who was scarcely twelve years old. Her eyes even 'then were the finest in the world; her teeth like pearls ; her form exquisitely graceful; and in whatever dress she wore, she had the most distingué air imaginable; and, to crown all, an expressive, clear, and open countenance, with something radiant and coquettish in its very innocence. In short, she gave promise of one of those glorious combinations of grace and beauty, enough to turn people's heads, and, as a poet would say, to change the fate of empires. People paid Madame Bonnivet so many compliments every day on the loveliness of her niece, that she determined to make considerable sacrifices for her education. She sent her, therefore, to a charity school, where little girls were taught to read and write-an enormous amount of instruction, the advantages of which were soon felt by Madaine Bonnivet herself; who, in her capacity of por teress, had found it rather difficult to make out the dif. ferent addresses, and to send the letters and parcels to their respective destinations. Judith took this duty on herself, to the universal satisfaction of all concerned; and Madame Bonnivet being now persuaded that with such an education, superadded to so much beauty, her niece was sure to make a sensation in the world, she waited impatiently for an opening. It was not long before an opportunity presented itself. M. Rosambeau, the ballette-master, who rented one of the attics, offered to give little Judith some lessons; and, in a few days after, Madame Bonnivet communicated in confidence to all the ladies of her acquaintance, that her niece had been accepted as one of the corps de ballet of the Opera-a piece of news which of course was spread far and wide, and Sew rapidly from door to door along the whole extent of the Rue Richelieu. Here, then, was little Judith installed at the Opera, taking lessons every morning of M. Rosambeau, and coming on at night-totally unnoticed amidst the groups of young girls, naiads, or pages, as the professor justly observed a few minutes ago. Judith was innocence itself, though belonging to the stage; for she had been brought up in a respectable house, where all the lodgers were decent Benedicks. Her aunt, who was as watchful as a dragon, never left her; accompanied her to the theatre in the morning, brought her home at night, and even remained whole days in the green-room knitting her stockings, while her nicce took lessons and practised her steps. You wonder what became all this time of the large house in the Rue Richelieu. I can't exactly say; but people believe that a friend of Madame Bonnivet undertook all her duties there, in the expectation of the little Judith making a ratch; for you are aware, gentlemen, that no one goes on the Opera boards unless with the hope of making a catch-gaining a settlement, or however you choose to express that great object of an actress's, ambition. In this way they leave the stage-they are rich-they reform; and the good aunt-for all pretty dancers, you may have remarked, have invariably aunts of the highest respectability-marries her niece, now weaned from the vanities of tin spangles and paste diamonds, to a flour. ishing stockbroker, or-" "A retired notary," added the professor. M. Baraten shrugged his shoulders. "Of course," be said; "but at that time thoughts of such prodigious advancement had never entered into the heads of either "That handsome young man with the cashmere vest don't you see him?" "What does it all mean ?" "I've struck him." "Struck him ?" said Judith, astonished. "Ha, ha!" said the nymph, "wnat a simpleton you are! Girls, here's a curios--she has never had an admirer!" “All her aunt's fault," said another of the sylphs. Indeed! Well, if I had an aunt so ridiculous, I would-" 66 “Hush, hush; you know nothing about it,” replied the other, who seemed a few years older; "she perhaps has serious intentions about little Judith, and, to keep her from the dangers of love, is going to give her to a protector." "She!" rejoined the other, "she hasn't wit enough to get her one. Such good fortune would be too much to expect." Judith did not lose a syllable, but had not courage to ask anybody for an explanation. But she understood enough to see she was looked down upon, and she naturally had an intense desire to avenge herself, to humble her companions, and fill them with rage and envy. Accordingly, when Madame Bonnivet informed her on their return, with a solemn face, that she would introduce her to a protector-a noble and rich protector-her first sensation was one of joyful surprise; and her aunt, who had not expected such a reception for her news, proceeded in rapture. "Yes, my darling niece, an admirable person in all respects--a person who will secure your happiness, and a provision for your aunt; and indeed he can't do less, after all the trouble and expense your education has cost me." Here the good aunt wiped away a few tears; and Judith, who was moved at the appearance of so much tenderness, only ventured to ask who was the protector, and how she had deserved such generosity. 66 but in the meanwhile your companions will die with "You shall know in good time," replied the aunt; spite." This was the very thing Judith wanted; and great indeed was the surprise when the intelligence became known in the green-room. "Is it possible? a creature like that! a figurante-a chorus-girl, and I a first dancer-'tis disgusting!" "Quite right!" said the others: "she is so good; she deserves her good luck, she is so sweet and pretty And, in short, if it had been a marriage to a duke, they could not have made more exclamations, or envied her advancement more sincerely. And there could no longer be any doubt upon the subject, when her aunt appeared that evening in a magnificent shawl of Ternaux. But who could this protector be?-some rich old curmudBut to all these questions Judith maintained a pruder geon-some gouty old bachelor, or worn-out old roué? reserve; one great reason of which probably was, tha she did not know a syllable about the matter. In a few days she had quitted the porter's lodge to live with her aunt in a charming suite of rooms in the Rue de Provence-a bed-room furnished splendidly, and a boudoir so tasteful, so elegantly fitted up, that the aunt never ven. tured to approach it; she preferred sitting in the diningparlour, or indeed in the kitchen; she felt so much more at her ease there than elsewhere. But day after day passed on, and nobody appeared, which struck Judith au something rather strange; for Judith was without educa tion, but not without sense. Her candour and naiveté proceeded from innocence, not from stupidity; and after thinking over her position for some time, she would have: given the world for somebody to consult-for some one to defend her against this protector whom she did not know, and whom she feared and hated. It is true, the only idea she had formed of him was of an ugly old man; for her companions had prepared her for nothing else by their conversations. She accordingly trembled, and had almost d with agitation, when, on the fifth day, her aunt threw open the door and announced the expected visitor. Judith would have risen to receive him with proper respect, but her limbs shook, and she sank back again upon the sofa. When at length she raised her eyes, she saw standing before her a handsome young man of twenty-two or twenty-three years old, of a noble and elegant appear ance, who looked at her with a kind and benevolent expression. In one instant she felt she was safe. A person who looked at her with so soft a smile would be her defender froin all evil, and from him she would have nothing to fear. 66 the direction of the opera-" Will you allow me the honour of conducting you home?" ""Tis too much honour for me," stammered Judith, without perceiving what a laugh her answer excited. Make haste, then. I will wait for you on the stage.' She lost no time, you may be sure, in changing het dress; and, on returning, she found Arthur in conversa. tion with a group of fashionables, and with M. Lubert the manager, to whom he recommended Judith very warmly, and then gave her his arm before them all, and conducted her down the performers' staircase. At the door his carriage was ready to receive them; they got in, and, as it was cold, he pulled up the glass, and put her shawl over her shoulders. How beautiful she was-so glad-so gratified; but the gladness did not last long. liere and the Rue de Provence, and the horses went so The distance is so short between the Rue Grange Bate fast! The carriage stopped; Arthur got out and offered his hand to Judith. They went up stairs together, and arrived at the door of her apartments. He rang the bell respectfully took his leave, and disappeared. Mademoiselle," he said, in a calm and respectful Judith could not sleep. The conduct of the count ap tone; but perceiving that Madame Bonnivet was still in peared so rude. He might at least have entered her the room, he made her a sign, and she immediately reroom, and sat down for a moment. She knew very little, membered she had orders to give about the dinner-Ma- to be sure, of the manners of high society; but she thought demoiselle, you are here at home; I hope you will be that would have been more polite than to leave her sc happy; but pardon me if I have the honour of seeing you suddenly at the door. She was feverish and disturbed; but seldom-other engagements will prevent me the plea- and at daybreak got out of bed, and went to the window sure. I therefore lay claim to but one title-that of your to get cool. There, before her door, still stood the carfriend; to but one privilege-that of satisfying your slight-riage with the fast gray horses; they pawed the ground with cold and impatience; the coachman was asleep on his box. est wish." Judith did not reply; but the beating of her heart lifted up the light muslin of her pelerin. "As to your aunt," and this he said with a scarcely perceptible tone of contempt, "she will hereafter be at your command; for I wish that you should give your commands to every one here, commencing with myself." He then went near her, and took her hand, which he lifted to his lips, and seeing that the hand still trembled "Have I alarmed you?" he said; "be assured that I shall never repeat my visit except when you desire it adieu, Judith!" And he went away, leaving the poor girl in a state of emotion which she could not comprehend. All day long she thought of nothing but the handsome stranger with his beautiful black eyes. She had not ventured to look at him, and yet nothing he had done, not a movement had escaped her. She was uneasy, and lost her spirits; her complexion grew pale, and her aunt smiled. When the stranger was spoken of, she blushed the deepest scarlet, and her aunt smiled again. return. But he returned no more, and she could not ask him to What had she to complain of ?-apartments beautifully furnished-servants and carriage at her command-she had not a want in the world! On the other hand, her companions in the theatre, seeing her so brilliantly dressed, and so radiant in beauty, overwhelmed her with questions. But those very questions made her have suspicions that there was something unusual in the whole transaction-that she was treated with a sort of disdain; and she avoided the conversation as much as she could, and never told her aunt even how very respectfully she had been addressed. One night when the house was crowded, she perceived the stranger in the reyal box looking at her. She nearly screamed with joy, and inade a dancer miss the proper time, who was just then whirling a pirouette. "What's the matter?" said Nathalie, one of her friends who held the other end of a garland. ""Tis he! there he is!" "Is it possible! Count Arthur de V- one of the young nobles of the court of Charles X., and moreover the handsomest of them all! You have nothing to complain of with such a friend to see you every day." Judith made no reply. She was too happy. Arthur, to the great scandal of all who saw it, bowed to her from the king's box; and, better still, when the ballette was finished, just when she was about to ascend to her dressingroom, Arthur came to the side scenes, and said quite audibly, so as to be heard by the lord chamberlain, who had "Excuse me, gentlemen," said the notary, when he had reached this part of his story; "the next act is just beginning, and I don't wish to lose a word of the operawhen the curtain falls—” The next morning, and the next again, Judith opened her window at daybreak. The count's carriage was always at the door! It was evident that he sent it in the same manner almost every night, and she could not imagine the reason of such a proceeding; and, as to asking such presumption for the world. And, besides, she hardly him for an explanation, she could not have ventured on ever saw him, except on opera nights in a box on the second tier, which he had taken for the season. He never her home. What, then, was to be done? came upon the stage; he never again offered to conduct Luckily for her, her companions did him an injustice, and accused him of treating her ill. She was delighted, for she had now an excuse for writing to him; and ac cordingly she indited an epistle, beseeching him to come to her apartments. It was by no means an easy task to write a letter; so it took poor Judith the whole day. She began it over again, and made fifty foul copies before she achieved one to her mind. One of these must have drop. ped out of her bag; for, in the evening, she heard the young authors and others who were free of the orchestra, laughing immoderately at an ill-spelt, ill-written note, as they handed it about from one to the other. She was forced to hear their explosions of merriment, their satiri. cal remarks, and the resolution they came to, to insert the unsigned note (the author of which was luckily unknown) in one of the newspapers, as a model for the De Sevignes of the ballette. What were the terror and agony of Judith, not at hearing her letter turned into ridicule, but to think that the count would have the same feelings of contempt when he read the unfortunate note, which she would have purchased back again with her life. She was accordingly more dead than alive, when on the fol bowing morning Arthur entered her room. "I am come, dear Judith-I lost no time when I received your letter;" and that fatal, that horrible letter he held in his hand-" What is it you require ?" "What I require-Monsieur le Comte? I don't know how to tell it you-but that letter-itself—since you havı read it-if indeed you have been able to make it out-" Very easily, my dear girl," replied the count with a slight smile. 66 "Ah!" cried Judith, in despair, "that letter is enough to show you that I am a poor girl without talent, without education, who is ashamed of her ignorance and wishes to remove it. But how am I to do it? If you do not come to my assistance-if you refuse to help me with your advice with your support-” "What is it you wish ?" "And will you take me there?" cried Judith, enraptured; for the count had never walked out with her, or given her his arm in public. "To be sure. I will take you there before the whole world—in the great avenue," said the count hurrie 'ly. walking about the room-" come along, Madame Bo "Give me masters, and you will see if I am not indus- || vet," he added, quickly, to the old aunt, who at that n trious, if I do not profit by their lessons." "But when can they come to you?" 66 Any time-one thought keeps me anxious by day and sleepless at night." "What thought?" "The thought of the opinion you must have of me. You must despise me, and look on me as unworthy of your notice; and you are right," she continued, hurriedly. "I know how contemptible I am-I know myself-and I wish, if possible, to have no cause to blush for myself or to be a disgrace to you." The count looked at her with amazement, and said— “I shall do as you require; you shall have any masters you want." ment came in; "dress your niece as splendidly as y u can; and, above every thing, be quick!" Madame Bonnivet made preparations for taking off the morning dress that Judith wore; but she blushed, a made a sign that Arthur was still in the room. "Tush, tush!" said the aunt, "are we to be on such ceremony with monsieur the count!" and without any more ado she unlaced the gown, and it tumbled on the floor. Judith did not know where to look, or what to do, and was quite oppressed with shame. But, alas! her modesty was altogether useless on this occasion. Arthur never looked ear her. Absorbed by one idea that seemed to excite as rage and indignation, he traversed the apartment with great rapidity, and in one of his turns threw down a little vase made of shells, which broke in a thousand pieces. Next day Judith had a master to teach her writing, and history, and geography. You should have seen the ardour she studied with; and her natural abilities developed themselves with incredible rapidity. At first she liked it for Arthur's sake, and then she liked it for its own. It was her pleasantest enjoyment, her consolation under all her anxieties. She submitted to the fines for absence, to stay at home and devote herself to her books all day. Her companion said, "Judith has gone mad-cause it came from him—” she will lose her engagement-she is very foolish." "Oh, what a pity!" exclaimed Judith, forgetting at that moment the state of her toilet. But Judith worked the harder, saying, "I shall make myself worthy of him at last; he will see what efforts I make to improve myself." But, alas! he could see nothing of the kind; for whenever he came Judith was so agitated, and stammered and hesitated so much, and became so confused, that he thought all the lessons were thrown away upon her. The effect of the knowledge she had acquired was to make her feel more bitterly how stupid and ridiculous he must think her; and that conviction rendered her still more constrained and embar rassed, and hindered the display of her real sentiments, so innocent and so tender: and Arthur, as might be expected, came but seldom. Sometimes he remained a short time with her after the ballette; but when twelve o'clock sounded, he always took his leave. She ventured to ask him-" When shall I see you?" "I will tell you at the opera, to-morrow." But how was this to be done? He was almost always in his box on the second tier; and when he intended to visit her on the following morning, he lifted his right hand to his car, and that was as much as to say, I will come to the Ruc de Provence. And Judith would watch for him all the day-she ad. mitted nobody-not even her aunt, that she might have the pleasure of seeing him entirely to herself. In spite of the reserve of the count, she had made one discovery, and that was, that he had some sorrow that weighed him down. What could the sorrow be? She could not bring herself to ask him, and yet she would have been so delighted to have been able to share it with him. But that was a happiness she did not dare to hope for-and yet she shared it, though she did not know what it was. So, when the count asked her, as he often did, "What is the matter, Judith ?-have you any grief to vex you?"-if she had dared, she would have answered, "Yours!" "Yes, indeed," echoed the aunt-" it cost five hundred francs, at the least." "Not for that!-not for that!" said Judith-" but be "Well, are you ready?" cried Arthur, impatiently, who had not heard a word of their reflections on the vase. "In one moment-aunt, my shawl; now, my gloves." "And your mantle," said Arthur; " you have forgotten it, and you will find it cold." "Oh, no!" "Your hand is burning," said Madame Bonnivet; "you are feverish, my child; I don't think you ought to go." "I am well-quite well," said Judith, hurrying on"let us go--let us go; I would not stay at home for all the world.” The carriage was at the door. They got in, and drove down the Boulevards-at noon-day--together! And, to complete the happiness of the elated Judith, she saw two of her companions in the Rue de la Paix, and bowed to them with the gracious condescension which extreme happiness produces-two principal performers, who on that occasion were trudging humbly on foot. The carriage stopped at the gate of the Rue de Rivoli. Judith took the count's arm, and they promenaded in the principal allée. It was a fête day. All the rank and fashion of Paris had assembled; the crowd was immense. In a moment Arthur and his companion were the ob jects of universal observation. They were both so handsome, it was impossible to avoid remarking them. Every one turned round to look at them, and ask who they were. ""Tis the young Count Arthur de V." Judith trembled at the question with a sensation of pleasure--and of pain at the same time-that she could not account for. "No, indeed," said a grand-looking lady, in a disdain. ful tone-while she caressed a little spaniel in her arms, and was attended by two footmen in superb liveries-"Monsieur the count is not married; my lord, his uncle, wo'n't hear of it." One day a horrible idea occurred to her: She muttered to herself, in despair-" He loves another-yes! yes! he loves another! Why does he bring me here ?-what can be his object? It is from no love to me; because, if he loved me " Judith fixed her eyes on a large mirror, and she certainly looked so young, so blooming, so beautiful, no wonder she remained sunk in a revery. The door of her boudoir was opened quickly; Arthur walked in-he had an air of trouble and chagrin, such as she had" never seen before. “Judith,” he said, “dress yourself immediately. You shall go with me to the Tuileries." "Then who is that beautiful creature with him? His sister, perhaps?" "O, you wrong him, I assure you. She is his mistress an opera girl. At least, I think I have heard so." Luckily, Judith did not hear the old dowager's re marks; for at that moment the Baron de Blangi, who walked behind them, said to his brother the Chevalier"Tis little Judith." "Wha "What! the girl Arthur is so fond of ?" "He has gone mad about her-he ruins himself." "He is quite right," replied the chevalier. would not do the same? How beautiful she is!" "Take care; you'll fall in love with her." "I'm that already. Come, and let us see her close." "If the crowd will let us." And the crowd that kept following her went on making remarks of the same kind, and Arthur heard them. For the first time he looked at Judith as she deserved to be looked at, and was astonished to find her so beautiful.The walk, the company, and above all, the consciousness of being admired, had given her cheeks and eyes an unusual glow; and then she was sixteen years old, and loved, and fancied, for the first time, that she was loved in return; and these are admirable reasons for looking one's best. The sensation created by her appearance was immense; but when she saw the look of admiration that Arthur fixed on her, all her triumph sank into insignifi. cance, the praises of the crowd were forgotten, and she went home that day exclaiming-"What a happy girl I am!" Next morning, Judith received two letters. The first was a carte blanche from the Baron de Blangi. She threw it into the fire, and forgot it in a moment. The second bore a signature which Judith read over twice, as she could hardly believe her eyes; but she could not doubt the reality. It was signed "The Bishop|| of," and was in these terms: "Mademoiselle,-You appeared publicly yesterday at the Tuileries with my nephew, Count Arthur de Vand by so doing, put the finishing stroke to a scandal, the consequences of which are incalculable. Although, in punishment for the sins of men, God has permitted our ancient powers to be diminished, we have still enough left to enable us to punish your audacity. I therefore give you notice that if you do not put a stop to any simiiar scandal, I have sufficient credit with the Lord Cham. berlain to have you dismissed from the Opera. If, on the other hand, you give up my nephew at once and forever, we offer you (for the motive will sanctify the means) two thousand louis, and the absolution of all your sins," etc., etc., etc. Judith was at first annihilated on perusing that dreadful letter; but she soon took courage, and collecting all her energies, replied in the following words: 66 My Lord, You use me harshly, and yet I can declare before God and to you, that I have nothing for which to reproach myself. "Tis so, I declare most solemnly and yet, my lord, in this there is no merit attributable to me. I owe it entirely to him who has spared and respected me. Yes, my lord, your nephew is innocent of the wrongs you impute to him; and 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. "Hear, then, the resolution I have taken. "I shall say to him-what I have never ventured to say to him for myself-but for you, my lord, I will take courage and say to him, Arthur, do you love me?'And if as I believe, as I fear-he shall answer, 'No, Judith, I do not love you,' then, my lord, I shall obey you. I shall separate myself from him-I shall never see him more and I hope, my lord, you will think of me too highly to offer me any thing as a reward, and that you will not add degradation to despair. The latter is sufficient for one who resolves to die. But if heaven, if my good angel, if the happiness of my life shall lead him to say, 'I love you, Judith,'-ah! '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 hisfrom sacrificing every thing to him. I will brave all, even your indignation; for, after all, what can you do? At most, you can take my life; and why should I hesitate to die if I could only feel assured I have been be loved? "Pardon me, my lord, if this letter should offend you. It is written by a poor girl who is ignorant of the world and of her duty; but who hopes to find some mitigation of your anger in consideration of that ignorance-the epenness of her confession-and, above all, in the profound respect with which she has the honour to remain," tc., etc., etc. Judith sealed the letter, and sent it without consulting with any one upon the subject; and from that moment, being determined to know her fate, she waited impatiently for the next visit of the count. She saw him in his box, but he seemed sombre and pre-occupied. He made no sign to her-he never looked near her. At last, on the following night, he made the usual signal, and Judith now felt certain that she should see him in the morning, and put an end to the state of suspense and misery, which she felt was more intolerable than the worst that could befall her. But in the morning, the chasseur of the count made his appearance with an apology from his master on the plea of business of the most urgent importance, and with an intimation, at the same time, that he would come that night to supper. To supper! he who had always taken his leave so early! The aunt seemed wonderfully picased with the arrangement, and Judith remained sunk in deep thought. At eleven o'clock, the most elegant little supper that could be procured was all ready by the zeal of Madame Bonnivet. As to Judith, she saw nothing-she heard nothing-she expected. All the faculties of her soul were absorbed in that one idea. But eleven o'clock camehalf past eleven-twelve-and no Arthur. The whole night elapsed; he came not, and she expected still; and the next day passed, and the following days, and yet Arthur came not. She heard nothing of him-she saw him no more. What then was the meaning of all this? What had become of him? "Gentlemen," said the little notary, interrupting his narration, "the curtain is just rising-After the next act" "Gentlemen," said the little notary, when the third act of the Huguenots was concluded, "I suppose you are anxious to make out what has happened to our friend young Arthur, and above all, to discover who he is." "You should have begun with that,” said I. "I have a right to arrange my story as I choose " "And besides," added the professor, "one shouldn't be very critical on the conduct of a story at the Opera: nobody attends to it." "A very lucky thing for the authors of the words," said the little notary, with a bow to me; and satisfied with his hint, he went on with his account. Count Arthur de V is descended from a very ancient and distinguished family in the south. His mother, left a widow very young, had no child besides, and was poorly provided for; but she had a brother who was immensely rich. This brother, Monseigneur the Abbe de V was one of the most influential prelates at the court of Louis XVIII., and afterwards at that of Charles X.; and we know very well what was the influence of the clergy at that time; an influence that governed the kingdom, the sovereign himself, and even the army. The Abbe de V. was of a cold and haughty disposition, selfish and severe, but an excellent relation notwithstanding; for he was ambitious for himself, and for every one that belonged to him. He charged himself with his nephew's education, introduced him at court, and procured the restoration to his sister of some portion 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 commands with the most unhesitating submission. Sedate, quiet, and bashful, yet full of courage and generosity, Arthur had always had a strong inclination for & 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 bishop ric, 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 “Take an opera girl for your mistress; everybody will know it." 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, sir. His majesty has deigned to overlook it, but insists on your entering the seminary in two days." 99 "I uncle? Imp"They are the king's orders; and your objections inust be made to him, not to me," said the prelate haughtily, and turned away. | "is left to me, I shall choose one where glory is to be gained." He went off at night with the utmost secrecy, for a 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 only to be absent a few days; but that note, insig nificant as it was, was intercepted, and never reached her. The bishop had great interest with the police. A week afterwards, Arthur was at sea. 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 became connected with the story, (said the notary, somewhat elevating his voice.) The count came to me about the suc cession. 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, "Ju. dith, danseuse à 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 no bleness! what generosity! what a treasure I possessed There, there!" he said to me, "read that ;" and when } came to the sentence-"If to love be criminal in the sight of heaven, it is a crime of which I am guilty, an in which Arthur is not an accomplice" ""Tis true!" exclaimed Arthur, who had tears glisten ing 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!-fo you have no idea, M. Baraton, how beautiful she is—th most beautiful woman in Paris." "I have no manner of doubt of it,” I replied; “but, is you please, we will go on with the inventory." "As you please;" and he continued to read fragment: of the letter aloud. "If heaven, if my good angel, if the happiness of my life shall lead him to say, I love you Judith-ah! '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 eart that shall hinder me from being his-from sacrificin every thing to him.” "And I misunderstood her! I rejected a love like this I only was to blame: but I will repair my fault-I wil sacrifice my life to her-I will own her before the world. I shall be proud of her, and introduce her to my friendsto you yourself, M. Baraton-who don't listen to a sylla ble I am saying, but keep poring over those musty pa pers!" Papers, indeed! It was his uncle's will I had discov ered, which disinherited him, and disposed of his enor meus fortune among hospitals and other charitable foun dations. I told Arthur the contents-but he did no show the least disappointment, and began to read Judith'› letter again and again. 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 l'aris 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 he following night with the expedition to Algiers. "Well-I have nothing more to do with them," hr "Since the choice of the place of my exile," he said, I said, with a smile; "but Judith will love me. Adicu "You shall see her, M. Baraton-you shall see m beautiful Judith-you shall dine with her this very day!" "But these papers-this will," I said. |