might have an injurious effect upon the mind of Adrienne; and he took care to assure her, when they were alone, that the felicity of that young creature had no durable basis; that the natural result of her fault would be the loss of her husband's esteem and confidence, and that her life might be for ever embittered by the reproach which would too deservedly rest upon her name.

Circumstances had steeled the mind of Adrienne against the impression he thought to make. She had not forgotten what her father had said of Madame du Barry ; and she had unfortunately an example nearer home, that infamy does not always follow the want of chastity. Words indiscreetly dropt in her hearing, had revealed to her the nature of the empire which the baroness constantly exercised over her father: thus worldly considerations had no power on her mind which already began to use that sublime right of reasoning which modern philosophy gives to its votaries. She saw in the weakness of Marie, not a crime, but a proof of her tenderness for her lover; and her attempt upon her own life, and that of her child, appeared a noble sacrifice of an existence which she could not retain without dishonour.

Very different were the sentiments of the poor girl herself. She had bitterly repented of her fall, and of the horrible step to which it led. Her penitence was accepted, her fall was a happy one. Pierre, persuaded that he alone was to blame for her fault, never reproached her with it; and her exemplary conduct to himself and to her children proved that her error was but for a moment, and that her heart had never been corrupted. But to return to Adrienne.

De Villars saw with pleasure, that she appeared from that time eager to perform acts of benevolence; and the Marquis's fortune, as well as the generosity of his disposition, gave her ample power to do good; but the pride which was the leading feature of the marquis's character, took every day a more pernicious influence on the mind of his daughter, who had unhappily inherited too much of it; and whatever pains her preceptor took to cure her of that defect, were rendered useless by the injudicious conduct of her father and her governess, who both joined in applauding what they termed the noble fierte of her character. The marquis, because he considered it as a necessary appendage to her noble blood, and expected to make it useful to his own views; and Mademoiselle d' Anvers, because she thought she saw in it a shield for her pupil from the then too general corruption of manners in France.

Among the objects who profited by the bounty of Adrienne, was a poor deaf and dumb girl, whom chance had thrown upon her protection. One evening as she was returning with Louise and De Villars to the chateau,

they saw this poor creature seated upon a stone and weeping bitterly. They questioned her, and soon perceived that she was deaf and dumb. Her youth, (she was but fourteen,) her mild countenance, and desolate situation, sensibly touched Adrienne. She took her to the chateau, where her industry, mildness, and intelligence, soon made her a general favourite. In a little time afterwards she took a fancy to have what she called a house of her own, and the marquis giving into her whim, made her a present of a gothic tower which was in the park, and a part of the ground that surrounded it. There she had a garden, cows, poultry, and a menagerie. She named it the Bower of Friendship. Her governess, Louise, and herself visited it frequently; no one else came without being expressly invited, not even her father. The young mute had the care of the dairy, and the basse cour, and acquitted herself with an activity and intelligence above her years.

Adrienne was now approaching fast to womanhood, and the marquis saw with undissembled pleasure that her beauty excelled even what her childhood had promised. On the day that she completed her sixteenth year, he said to her in the presence of De Villars,-" You are now, my daughter, no more a child. I wish, and I intend you to take your dear mother's place in my house, and perform henceforward the honours of it, which my sister-inlaw acquits herself so badly of. We will leave to her the domestic details, there she is at home; but in all else my Adrienne will enjoy her mother's rights. Take, my love, these diamonds, they were hers; her apartments shall be newly furnished for you, and in seeing you occupy them, I shall believe I have not lost her. You will have from this day two waiting women, two footmen, your own carriage, and an allowance of three hundred louis a year."

Adrienne threw herself into the arms of her too indulgent father. “No thanks, my daughter," said he; "you have it in your power to repay me for all that I have done, and all that I shall do for you. Yes, my Adrienne, it is to you that I look to obtain the object dearest to my heart. You are not ignorant that all my desires, all my wishes point to the ministry: the services I have rendered my august master, as well as my profound knowledge of political affairs, ought long since to have placed me at the head of it; and would have done so, but for the arts of my enemies. It is on thee, my Adrienne, that I found my hope of conquering them; thy wit and beauty, joined to the immense fortune thou wilt one day inherit, and the lustre of thy ancestry, will make thee sought in marriage by the most illustrious houses in France; but thy hand shall be the prize of him only who can aid me to accomplish my desire; a desire, the fulfilment of which will be as glorious for thee, as for myself. Yes, my Adrienne, thou shalt see thy father elevated to

the summit of political power, govern France under the name of the king; an elevation which will be sweeter to him, if he owes it to thee. It is necessary for the success of my plan, that thy charms and thy accomplishments should be noised abroad. I shall not hasten thy marriage, but from this day thou shalt enjoy in every respect the most absolute liberty; for I am well convinced that the noble pride which thy illustrious origin inspires, is a surer safeguard to thy virtue, than a surveillance as dishonourable to thee, as it would be to me."

As at that time the heart was rarely consulted in the marriages made between noble families in France, Adrienne was not at all surprised nor affrighted at the sacrifice which her father demanded of her. She embraced him tenderly, promised to be always worthy of him, and obedient to his will; and from that day she took her place at the head of his house with an ease, a grace, and a propriety, which enchanted every body except her aunt; who was incensed at seeing the privileges she so long enjoyed taken from her to be bestowed upon her niece, whom she affected to consider and to treat as a child.

The good lady's resentment made no impression on anybody. She was, in fact, a complete nonentity, and invariably treated as such by everbody but Louise and the abbé. We must, however, except those times when there were strangers at the chateau. On those occasions Adrienne knew how to raise her aunt, of whom she was ordinarily very negligent in the opinion of the company; or, at least, to oblige them by her manners to treat the comtesse with respect; but this conduct, which would have been so amiable had it sprung from a good motive, had its origin in that pride which influenced all her actions; she could not suffer any one that belonged to her to be treated otherwise than with respect.

When Adrienne was about seventeen, the nephew of the worthy abbe arrived with his regiment at Valenciennes, and directly paid a visit to his uncle; and about the same time the son of Captain de Chyny returned for a short time to his paternal mansion. Both the young men were received with kindness by the marquis; but his daughter made, even at first sight, a marked distinction between them. Nature had, in fact, done little for Jacques de Chyny, and education still less; not that he wanted the exterior polish of his profession; he was an officer, but it was easy to see that the attentions he showed to others were exacted by the forms of society, and that he was in reality a cold and selfish being, who cared but for himself, and regarded others only as they could or could not contribute to his amusement. He affected to throw his mild and amiable sister into the shade; and either took no notice of her, or addressed her with a tone of insolent

superiority, which thoroughly disgusted Adrienne, to whom he paid the most extravagant compliments.

The behaviour of Frederic De la Villetti was very different ;-respectful and attentive in his manners to the marquis, and particularly attentive to Louise; he spoke little to Adrienne, but that little would have prejudiced her in his favour, if his noble and expressive countenance had not already done it. He was then about five-and-twenty; nature had been prodigal of her gifts to him in every respect, and he had made the noblest use of them. Brave, generous, and humane, he was loved by all who knew him; yet Adrienne, for the first time in her life, hesitated when she was asked what she thought of him.

The question was put to her with seeming negligence, but real malice by the baroness; that heartless coquet had long been weary of her connexion with the marquis; a connexion which had its origin only in interest and vanity. Her husband, as contemptible as herself, was not ignorant of her infidelity; but he did not trouble himself with her pursuits, so long as she gave him no disturbance about his. The early days of their marriage had been embittered by frequent quarrels, owing to her desire to go to Paris. From the time that she meditated and made the conquest of the marquis these quarrels had ceased; and she left him at liberty to enjoy peaceably the field-sports in which he delighted, and which occupied nearly the whole of his time; while she occupied hers in coquetting with every handsome man who came in her way. The marquis, however, was the only avowed cicesbeo; though the scandalous chronicles of those days said that he was by no means her only favoured lover.

Struck with the manly graces of the young De la Villetti, she neglected no art to draw his attention; but her coquettish advances were lost upon him; he bore a charmed heart; for the first sight of Mademoiselle de Touranges had been fatal to his liberty. His coldness had no other effect than that of piquing the vanity of the baroness, who vowed to subjugate him; and the baron unknowingly aided her plans by inviting him to pass some days at his house, to enjoy the pleasures of hunting. We will not trace the disgusting picture of the arts which this modern Messalina employed to compass her aim; suffice it to say that they failed. De la Villetti terminated his visit abruptly, and took with him the everlasting hatred of the enraged baroness.

He spurred his horse unconsciously as he rode back to the chateau; unable to analyze the mingled sensations which agitated him. The most predominant of them was pleasure at the thought of seeing Adrienne again. He found her alone; and had he been capable of observing, be

would have seen that her manner was not less agitated and embarrassed than his own. The arrival of the marquis was a relief to both; he led the conversation to the visit which the young soldier had just been making, and spoke with warmth of the baroness. Adrienne's heart beat with a new and strange emotion as she listened for the reply of De la Villetti. The coldness of his tone, and the expression of his countenance reassured her, and she felt, without knowing why, delighted to see that the arts of that coquet had made no impression upon him.

Unfortunately, everything tended to increase the passion which from the first moment these young people had conceived for each other. De la Villetti, himself the most noble-minded of beings, was not less charmed with all that he heard, than with all that he saw of Adrienne. He saw in her the worthy dispenser of her father's wishes,-the friend, the protectress, the benefactress of all who wanted her assistance. Could he think, then, her mind was less angelic than her form; and is it wonderful that young, ardent, and romantic, he forgot, in gazing on an object so lovely and so worthy to be loved, the utter impossibility of their ever being united?

Had Adrienne at first been aware of the nature of her sentiments for Frederic, her excessive pride might have enabled her to resist the attacks of love; but she suspected not the state of her heart, till it was his beyond recall; and at the moment that accident revealed it to her, she acquired the certainty that his love equalled her own. Those ambitious projects of her father, to which she had till then so willingly lent herself, because they flattered the haughtiness of her own spirit, filled her with disgust. The family of De la Villetti, though not so illustrious as her own, was noble; his merit, his talents would justify her choice in the eyes of the world; and her father, who loved her so tenderly, would be unable to refuse his consent, when he found that it was her solemn purpose, if he did not grant it, to suffer the illustrious name of de Touranges to die with her.

Until then Adrienne and Louise had not had a thought concealed from each other, but the moment was arrived when confidence between them became, on the part of Louise, impossible. She had not seen Frederic with insensibility. Circumstances had, without the smallest intention on his part to deceive her, led her to think that she was the object of his preference. True and sincere love is always timid; thus Frederic, not daring to show to Adrienne the state of his heart, had no pleasure so great as that of talking to Louise about her; and Louise, on her part, was never tired of dwelling on the amiable qualities of Adrienne; and the warmth of her eulogiums drew