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THE RAVEN'S HUT

【N 1848 I was at Ambach. The day is strongly impressed on my memory,-nature was in her kindest mood, the weather was favorable, and the harvest rich and flourishing.

Although Ambach is isolated from the world, yet he who has been there may remember that formerly, at the end of the village, and separated by a piece of water near the skirts of the forest, stood a hut, under a majestic beach-tree. A garden not much larger than a room was attached to this cabin, and yet no larger spot of ground could produce more beautiful carnations and roses.

This humble cot was the residence of a brother and sister, and willingly did I employ this young man to assist me in my professional vocations, because he was more active and less clurasy than the rest.

From the external appearance of this rough-looking stone building, hanging from the rock, with its wooden embrasures and moss-covered roof, like a swallow's nest, you could scarcely expect to find the internal comforts it contains-such as a good stove, sofa, table, chairs, glasses, coffee-pot, cups, &c. In a lock-up cupboard are two excellent guns, so that the Lieutenant has only, when he arrives at four or five o'clock in the morning, to open the embrasures and place out his decoy-bird to begin operations.

The sole protection that exists for the property contained in the Raven's Hut, is the honesty of the neighborhood, for if a thief chooses to enter, he can easily do so with a crow-bar, as the walls are not very thick.

Stephen is right," exclaimed another, across the table. "On Sunday we shall have a grand parade and consecration of the flags perhaps Frederick would meet us with his stick in rank-and-file-or even become our officer. That would look well; for we all know why you ridicule the civic guardyou wished to become the officer, but could not join us, because you had no musket, and are too poor to buy one. You need not open your mouth so wide."

Frederick's blood recoiled to his heart, and his countenance assumed a livid hue. Still he composed himself, and replied, with a steady voice--" I will come to parade on Sunday with a stick that will have a lock and a barrel inlaid with silver, so that your miserable old muskets shall be worthless before

The gipsy acted differently. He frequently ac-it. If I do not come, I will pay for half a barrel ; companied the Lieutenant's servant, whom he had and if I come, you will treat me with a whole one." known in the army, to the Raven's Hut; and, loitering about, he, one day, took an impression of the lock on a piece of wax.

He then went to the town, to a broker, from whom he procured a key, which he filed until he fitted it to his wax mould so dexterously that it would open and shut the lock without trouble.

It never entered his head to abstract the value of a pin from the shooting-box; nay, he even bought his own caps. He only wished in the evening, when the Raven's Hut was deserted, to make use of the guns, with which he roamed about the forest until two or three o'clock in the morning, though he was not always successful.

Several very peculiar circumstances attended the brother and sister. They might both have been happy, as nature had qualified each for service, had their inclinations so prompted them; but two great obstacles presented themselves-they objected to the restraints of servitude, and the world refused to employ the gipsy orphans. No one could say anything against them, especially regarding the girl; but it must be remembered how narrow-minded and bigoted are the peasantry. The continual inquiry was about their origin, and what might be their religious opinions. Public rumor merely ran thus The children had been born and baptized in the Then he replaced them again in the hut, and kept village, and received an education there; but the the piece that he had used so clean, that the officer peasants continued thus inveterate because the late never detected a difference. It is true that the Prince had compelled them to give shelter to the servant suspected something of the sort; for having father, and this they never could forget. neglected to wipe ont the gun, he was much surThe young men of the neighborhood soon per-prised to find it clean when it was wanted. But as ceived that she was the prettiest girl in the village, nothing was ever missing, he withheld from his with her ruby lips and soft, smooth skin; but they master the discovery he had made. did not venture to say this to each other, nor before their fathers or mothers; and she herself was quite inaccessible, for she never joined in their rus-ceived that, sub rosá, he poached, but I kept silence tic dances, although she excelled-for she had often on the subject, as I knew well that he was too fond been seen before her cottage door dancing to her of the game to shoot it out of season; moreover, own singing with her brother, as if she had three my silence was the less constrained, for had I times more life in her than other people. He, on the contrary, acted far differently. If he had a little money he would repair to the ale-house. He knew well that a superstitious fear existed towards him. It was exactly this belief that attracted him thither, and he gloated on the dread he inspired; for although he was not of athletic frame, yet his thews and sinews were of iron, like those of an Arabian horse; and whoever he came in contact with was sure to bear marks of the conflict.

At these words he thrust his hand into his pocket; and the company were well aware that he was seeking for his knife; they therefore turned the matter into a joke; and he treated it as such, for he continued cheerful till late in the night, and conversed on indifferent matters.

When, however, he got out into the open air, his head burned; and thoughts gave place to each other in rapid succession. He had promised to perform an act, and he knew not how to fulfil it. Yet he would have staked his life on the event, in order to gain a victory over his rustic antagonists.

the matter.

His sister was sleeping when he entered; he heard her quiet breathing through the thin wooden partition while he lay restlessly rolling on his bed. At last, a feasible plan struck him, by which he was so elated that he shouted aloud. This awoke his sister, who called to him to know if anything was He did not answer, pressed his head on the pillow, and was soon in a profound sleep. On the following morning he minutely explained what had happened. He seemed to be in good Thus it occurred for a whole half-year that Fred- spirits, and could not imagine why his sister aperick carried on his plans unmolested. I had per-peared so terrified about it; for he had only to go on the Saturday evening by the shortest way to the Raven's Hut, and take the lieutenant's double-barrelled gun, in order to gain his bet. On the Sunday evening he would carry back the piece, and thus the matter would be settled. He did not think it

attempted to discover him in the fact, there is no
doubt that I should have failed, as he was completely
my master in art and cunning. He knew every
stock and stone better than myself; his step was so
light that you could scarcely have heard him creep
through a bush; and, besides, he was useful to me.
It was, indeed, no great crime of the young man
to use the gun at the Raven's Hut for a few hours
without asking permission of the owner, who cer-
tainly would have given him leave to do so, for
Lieutenant Von Hahn was favorably disposed to-
wards the young man.

It would have been an easy matter for him to have
gained money by poaching, for he had frequently
liberal offers made to him by the game-dealers. He The evening before I had employed Frederick, he
had whimsical notions on this head. What he sat in the ale-house and joked at the expense of the

required for home-consumption he shot without re- other peasants, who were always being roused from
morse, as if the game belonged to him, because it their warm beds to do duty in the civic guard,
roams about free; but he would not have sold any although they had none but imaginary enemies to
for all the world.
fear.

All about here know that at half an hour's walk from Ambach, on the steep ledge of the mountain, which slopes down towards the river Saale, lies the Raven's Hut of Lieutenant Von Hahn. The proprietor keeps it in good repair, regardless of expense.

"By the way," said Stephen, a somewhat unruly villager, "we can make good use of you, as it is said that you can shoot hares with a stick; perhaps you may also be able to reach the aristocrats in the moon."

possible the officer would visit the Raven's Hut, as they would find plenty of attractions in town on

Sunday. The sister had risen in silence and entered the cottage. She searched about the room, and at last returned with something wrapped up in paper, on opening which four bright florins remained in her hand. These she pressed on her brother, saying

"I have saved this money in case of accidents. Go to the town and hire the handsomest musket you can find for a couple of days. Never mind if it costs the whole money. I entreat you!" she added, as he almost repulsed her with harshness.

He could not, however, bear to see his sister weep, and left the hut.

It was at that moment I beheld her in tears, while Frederick was employed measuring the land.

On the following Sunday he donned his best clothes, and proceeded with the handsome firelock to the consecration of the flags and parade, and acted his part so well that the young men who had insulted him were sorry, and endeavored to retain him

for the next day. It was harvest-time in Ambach your tongue. Frederick's possession of that musket cide the deceased must be interred before sunrise in and Hartrode; the Hartrodians had promised to is perfectly honorable, for the lieutenant has, through a particular corner of the churchyard, without tollmarch over to Ambach with arms and music, and it me, given him leave to use it whenever a paradeing of bell and unattended, she wept bitterly. was considered necessary to receive them with some takes place." She kept the door of the hut locked, in order to ceremony, to which end Frederick was invited. disappoint the curious, who having knocked and waited in vain, at length departed.

The day following the Hartrodians arrived; the firelocks were piled under the linden-tree; all drank deeply, and so did Frederick.

A multitude from the neighborhood, and a few visitors from the town, attended the meeting, as they had friends in the village. Among the company were two soldiers and Sergeant Bläser, with a letter for the mayor of the village; they likewise had assembled under the linden-tree to witness the joyous spectacle. The sergeant saluted the young man, who had formerly belonged to his division, inspected the firelocks from habit, and nodded in a friendly manner to Frederick, because he had always liked him whilst with the garrison.

Frederick passed the glass to the sergeant, who said—“ You would not feel so well-disposed towards me if you knew the contents of the letter which I have delivered. On account of the agitated appearance of affairs, the battalion to which you belong has been ordered out for active service: all on furlough are recalled, and to-morrow the mayor will inform you that you are to rejoin the regiment within eight days."

The face of the young man must have undergone a considerable change at these words, for the sergeant added, within hearing of the company, "You need not be downcast about this matter, for you have now the opportunity of distinguishing yourself, and will soon become a non-commissioned officer. At the same time it occurs to me that I have something else to add."

The worst feature in the affair had thus been settled; for the soldier durst not reply to his superior. The laughter ceased, and the multitude gradually dispersed, with the exception of two or three wondering chatterers.

The sergeant still remained by the side of the young man, and tried to console him; but Frederick soon disappeared with the musket, although it was broad daylight,-scarcely seven o'clock.

The people who met him on the road thought he was intoxicated, for his walk was unsteady, he took no notice of any one, and talked aloud to himself. When, however, he arrived at his home, and saw his sister sitting on the bench, tears dropped from his burning lids; he grasped her hand and said, "Misfortune is already on the threshold, for tomorrow I must return to the garrison and part from you. Pack up my bundle whilst I go and replace the musket in the Raven's Hut."

Yet he lingered by her side, and wiped the tears from her eyes. He had become somewhat more composed, saying,

I

46

'I must proceed; should I return late, go to bed. shall have to take a last long farewell of the forest, and should like once more to shoot a few birds."

He departed without looking round, mounted the hill at a rapid pace, and soon arrived at the Raven's Hut. On opening the door he gazed into the wide world. The rocks of the mountain bore a purple hue from the sinking sun, and on the meadows of the valley crows were seeking worms, but not a single one flew upwards.

He led him aside, and as the people could not hear what passed, said "How could you act in "It appears that I am not to shoot another bird," such a manner, Fred., as to allow people, if they said Frederick, as he deliberately loaded his gun, feel ill-disposed towards you, to brand you with the and rammed the ball down with precision. Then he epithet Thief?' You have Lieutenant Von Hahn's placed himself on the elevated door-step, cocked his musket; he became aware of the fact yesterday. piece, laid hold of the stock, so that the muzzle I am fully acquainted with his intentions: he has pointed directly to his heart, and said, smiling,— confided them to me, and has told me he will notWorld, farewell!" pulled the trigger, and fell stir in the matter if the gun is replaced to-night. But let it act as a warning; it might have embittered your whole life!"

The young man stood as if petrified; a stifling sensation came over him, he could not utter a word. What would he not have given had the sergeant spoken harshly to him, or the lieutenant branded

him as a thief?

His energies seemed crushed, and all he could do was to shake hands with the sergeant, and say— "Bear my thanks to the lieutenant."

dead!

His sister had on the same evening packed up his bundle, as well as the little money she had saved. Then she retired to bed, as it was late, and he did not come; but by the first dawn of morning she rapped at his chamber-door, in order that he might not loose time. Not receiving an answer, she entered, and found the bed undisturbed, just as he had left it the day before.

Her whole frame shook with terror, for she well remembered his strange demeanor on the previous

So far all would have been well, but for one little day. Yet a little while she waited for him, until word, and that word was "too late!"

The sergeant, as well as Frederick, were horrified in the midst of their conversation to find that a soldier who was descanting on the merits of a firelock, had seized that of Frederick in order to convince the multitude, and exclaimed, "Why this belongs to my lieutenant? Who has stolen it?"

Frederick became yet paler, and the laughter of the young men resounded on his ear like the trump of the Archangel on the Judgment day. The sergeant, however, hastily replied "Take care what you say, Burkert. Mind your words do not blister

suspense became intolerable, so she hastened to the Raven's Hut, and found him!

Agony set its seal upon her tongue; she could not for some time cry out for assistance, but at length she called two men, who were cutting grass near at hand, and they helped her to bear the corpse home.

The men placed the body on the bed, and tendered further services; she entreated them not to spread the news immediately in the village. Then she closed the cottage, went to the mayor to register the death, and to the minister about the burial.

Being informed by the clergyman that as a sui

This having taken place she re-opened the cottage, donned her best dress, and arming her hand with a sickle proceeded to the garden, cutting down all the choicest flowers like so much grass. She then proceeded to the shed, whence she took all the wood, piled it neatly up in the room, gathered together all the flowers and vegetation, strewed them on the pile, and laid her brother on the verdant couch. Under his head she placed his bundle, lit two lamps on either side of the pyre, and sat on the bench before the hut waiting for midnight, when all the village would be buried in sleep.

Then she arose, entered the room, addressed her dead brother, for the last time, a few words of endearing tenderness, and fired the pile in the four corners. She watched the flames until they had spread enough to consume the cottage before any assistance could arrive from the village to quench the conflagration.

With her bundle under her arm, she slowly directed her steps to the dark forest, while she sung in a mournful voice thus:

"Why did ye cast your brother forth!
A weary pilgrim he,
Scorn'd and rejected on the earth,
Where could the lone one flee?
"Of labour he has had his share,
And now he is at rest,

In lands both sorrowless and fair,
To mortals unconfess'd.

"Winter speeds before the Spring,
And Fire from the Flood,
Relentless world, how could ye wring
Your brother's best heart's blood!
"Begirt ye are with sinful pride,

Which Mercy does not know,
While Heaven's sweet love both far and wide
Sheds forth its saintly glow!"

The sister has never been heard of since.

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I

For the Illustrated New York Journal. SPIRIT BEAUTY.

BY M. T. CARPENTER.

HAVE seen many an eye more bright
Than stars which gem the brow of night;
Yet, were their lustre all combined,
They could not so enchant my mind,
And so entrance me with a spell,
More deep and strong than words may tell,
As have, when fell their glance on mine,
Those ever radiant eyes of thine.

And many a form of graceful mould,
Whose charms could scarcely half be told,
Admiringly I've gazed upon;

Yet were their beauties all in one,
That one, though it were passing fair,
With me, would suffer by compare,
With one, where all the graces shine,
As in that glorious form of thine!
Perhaps none will with me agree,
Because they see not as I sec;
Their eyes are clouded and behold
Thy form alone of earthly mould,
And may not on thy beaming face,
Thy spirit's inward beauty trace,
Which makes, to me, seem so divine,
That eye of light and form of thine!

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O. T., Junior. Although fond of Chess, Napoleon Bonaparte was by no means a great player. On the contrary, his force at the game was below estimate. It was not, however, considered a safe game by his officers to win of him.

K. S.-The "New York Spirit of the Times" was the first periodical publication in the United States which devoted regularly a portion of its space to the game of Chess. The other works named,-" Stanley's Chess Magazine,” and "Angel's Chess for Winter Evenings,”-can still be procured at the respective publishers, R. Martin and D. Appleton.

R. P. E., Agusta.-Mr. Orvis has communicated with you through the Post Office. About Chess works, there are none better extant than "Staunton's Handbook," and "Walker's Treatise."

PROBLEM NO. VI.

BY D. C.

Black.

White. White to play and checkmate in four moves.

DRAWN GAMES. RESULTING from the peculiarities and intricacies of the Game of Chess, it will naturally follow that, among players of equal, or even approximating force, a considerable proportion of undecided or drawn games must of necessity occur.

The circumstances under which games are usually drawn may be classified as follows; viz. :

By stalemate, as explained in our last number. By perpetual-check,-when a player is enabled to keep up a continuous check upon his opponent's King, which the latter can neither evade nor avert. It is obvious that, in a contingency of this nature, should the former persist in such a course of play, no more definite result than a drawn game could ever be attained; and that, if his opponent's forces are superior to his own, it is clearly his interest so to do.

By each player insisting on a repetition of the same moves; which is frequently done in cases where fears are mutually entertained of abandoning the particular position then held.

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THE TYRANNY OF FURNITURE.—It is a folly to suppose, when a man amasses a quantity of furniture, that it belongs to him. On the contrary, it is he who belongs to his furniture! He is bound hand and foot by it he is tied by the leg to his own mahogany! He cannot move anywhere without dragging his furniture after him-he cannot go abroad without previously finding a home for his furniture; he cannot be absent for any time without first taking every precaution that his furniture will be properly provided for in his absence. If he projects any little trip, the thought that always stops him at the door, is, "Whatever shall I do with my furniture?"

Many a man who boasts of his freedom is the secret slave of his furniture. No man can call himself perfectly free who, whatever he does, or wherever he goes, has always to carry in his mind so many chairs and tables!

HOW THE WORLD IS RULED.—(By an old School-master.)—The World, to my eyes, is divided into two classes-those whose province it is to dictate to others, and those (the more numerous class) who are bound to receive their dictation. It would do a great deal of good, if the two classes would occasionally change places, so that those who dictate might know that it is not always so agreeable to be dictated to.

A CONFECTIONER at the West End has brought his business to such perfection, that he is now offering to the public his candied opinion!

THE RACK.-The place where men who are in the habit of drinking generally keep their minds and their bottles.

THE WORLD'S ESTIMATE.-Estimates generally have one half knocked off when they come to be revised, and it is mostly the same with moral as with commercial estimates. No one is taken at his own estimate; so if you wish to be considered clever, you must pretend to be twice as clever as you are, By an insufficiency of force on the part of both and then the world will give you credit for one half players to effect checkmate.

By a want of knowledge on the part of the player having the mating power, so far as pieces are concerned, of the way in which checkmate can be be forced. In such cases, his opponent having the

of it.

PUZZLING QUESTION FOR THE ROYAL TOPOGRAPHICAL SOCIETY.-Whether it is easier for a person, who is on the High Road to Ruin, to pass a Note, or to meet a Bill?

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Gui's journey through Auvergne and Dauphiny was slow, owing to the increasing weakness of the wounded man. Adelma never left his side—an own son could not have experienced greater tenderness or more watchful care; but for some time every effort for his restoration appeared fruitless. The progress of the gypsies was continually interrupted by the illness of Gui, and so much discontent was expressed among the tribe, that Adelma came to the resolution of leaving the sick youth under the care of Rabaud and Salers. Who can describe the mingled joy and sorrow of the faithful servants at the sight of their beloved charge, so suddenly and unexpectedly restored to their humble roof, although, as it seemed, but to die Adelma still remained with the sufferer; and her efforts, united with those of Rabaud and Salers, were successful in restoring the failing strength. The surgeon whom Rabaud had summoned from Grenoble gave at first but faint hopes of his recovery, owing to the previous neglect of the wound, and its extremely dangerous position. When Gui awoke one day from a state of stupor, and perceived the familiar faces of his old friends bending over him, and the well-known room of the cottage, he thought it must be a feverish dream. His sufferings continued to increase, and his recovcry now seemed to his nurses to be almost impossible. Leaving him for a time in the lowly cottage in Dauphiny, we will return to the camp.

To avert the consequences with which the defeat at Dreux threatened the Huguenot party, Coligny united himself with the English in Normandy. His brother, D'Andelot, was intrusted with the command of Orleans. Mouvans and Du Plessis remained with their regiments, and the brave Maugiron was overpowered with grief and anxiety for his friend's fate, for he had entertained little doubt that Gui de St. Flore, if yet living, had been taken prisoner by the enemy. Mouvans, who was eloquent in praise of the young man's bravery, could not but encourage the hope that if, as he suspected, he were prisoner of war, some happy change in the fortunes of the Huguenots would restore him to them again. Scarcely was D'Andelot returned to Orleans than Francis of Guise, now sole commander of the royal army, appeared before its gate, and declared his intention to lay seige to it forthwith. His head quar

ters were at the Castle of Cornée, whence he conducted the seige of the town, which was opposed by D'Andelot with the utmost power and bravery. Meanwhile many strange reports were afloat of Guise's proceedings at the Castle of Cornée. A mysterious man, an astrologer, it was said, was continually with the Duke, and it was even hinted that he was initiating Francis into the secrets of the This was in reality the case. Acevedo had for some time been with Guise, who passed many hours during the night in consulting with his astrological teacher, who by this means acquired his entire confidence and trust. One evening the Duke expressed to Acevedo the long-cherished desire to convey a few lines into the hands of Montmorency, who was held prisoner by Andelot at Orleans.

stars.

never to take place. Before long the mystery was tence of winning him over to the Catholic faith, in
solved.
which he had been greatly shaken; and accompa-
nied by the weeping girl, he proceeded to the bed of
the dying man. It was a sorrowful interview, and
when Gabrielle laid her head on her father's bosom,
the grief of the two so soon to be separated was
touching to Acevedo. The excitement of the inter-
view brought on an accession of fever, and as it was
plain that the old man's day's were numbered, Ga-
brielle remained by his side, and Acevedo paid him
frequent visits.

On a mild, genial day in February, the Duke was returning from the camp at Orleans to his headquarters at Cornée, when Poltrot de Meré, as we have previously observed in the course of our narrative, sought this opportunity to assassinate him. Burning with a fanatical desire to destroy the leader of the royal army, and to display his zeal for the faith to which he had returned, he entered the Catholic army as a spy, and concealed himself until the moment was ripe for the execution of his murderous project. The moment came; a hedge offered a suitable place for his purpose. The dusk of the evening favored his concealment, and a white plume in the General's hat serving him as a mark. He took "I will undertake it," said the astrologer. "Only his aim, and the ball entered the Duke's shoulder. take care of my boy here, and to-morrow I will be In eight days after his assassination he breathed his at Orleans." last, testifying sincere sorrow for many circumstances "But how will you accomplish it?" inquired the of his violent and warlike life. Duke.

"Trust to me," replied Acevedo. "I have been long enough at Orleans with the Count to know a hundred places in the town strange even to many of its residents."

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The news of the murder aroused Acevedo from his lethargy. Farewell!" he said to Du Plessis. I must return to the camp to fulfil yet another duty, and then back again to Paris. I feel that the veil will soon be taken away from my country's eyes, Accordingly, when night drew on, the astrologer and peace and tranquillity shall be restored." Acedeparted on his hazardous commission.

To gain access to the place where he knew Du Plessis was stationed was the ardent desire of Acevedo, but he was too prudent to have testified any extraordinary gratification to the crafty Duke, when be condescended to entrust him with the despatch.

Du Plessis was seated alone in his chamber, and meditating on the unhappy position of the Huguenot affairs since the defeat at Dreux, when his door opened, and a man entered clad in a long white mantle. He did not at the first moment recognize the face of his old friend, but at the second glance Acevedo flew to his arms.

"Of Gui," replied the astrologer. "Nay, I expected to hear of him from thee." "Alas!” said Du Plessis, "is he not among the prisoners ?"

The knees of the poor man knocked together as he

vedo lost no time in returning to the camp, where
he found Gabrielle in extreme anxiety.

my last

"I have lost," he said to the maiden,
earthly joy, and am a stranger here."
"Let us, then," she replied, tenderly, "return
to Paris together," and hand in hand they left the

camp.

Improbable as the consummation of peace appeared between the rival parties, it was nearer at hand than might have been anticipated. In the meantime, Condé, who had returned to the allurements of the Court, used his utmost influence to effect an accommodation, and in Orleans hostilities seemed to be brought to a close; and Catherine, finding herself "Do you bring me news of Gui?" said Du at this juncture freed from two of her most dangerPlessis, anxiously. ous enemies, willingly agreed to a proposition to dispossess the English of Havre, which to this time had remained in their hands. Neither Coligny nor his brother were satisfied with Condé's tactics, especially objecting to the proceedings against Havre, which they justly conceived to be faithless and dishonorable in the highest degree. Justice and honor, however, formed no part of Catherine's schemes. Other plans now distracted her mind, and it was her object and interest to procure a short season of peace; but she dreaded Condé's interference in the government, as, after the death of the King of Navarre, his brother, he had assumed the right of directing political affairs. All circumstances taken into account, therefore, she summoned a parliament at Rouen, which was to declare Charles IX. of age in his fourteenth year; and this step taken, her ambition was gratified; her heart rejoiced, and Acevedo embraced the opportunity to make some efforts for D'Arbéque's release.

sank back on a chair.

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I have seen them all," he said. "I have wandered with a bursting heart over the field of slain, but Gui have I not discovered. My son-my son !" added the poor father, in heart-rending tones, "did I but find thee to remain a time unrecognised by thee,

and then to lose thee for ever!"

"Be a man, Viole!" said Alessis, tears however standing in his own eyes. "It seems to me that, notwithstanding his mysterious disappearance, there is a glimmer of hope."

CHAPTER XI.

DEATH OF ARBEQUE-GUI DE VIOLE RECOVERS, AND
SEEKS GABRIELLE.

Catherine betrayed no astonishment at his request; VAIN AIN was the attempt to console Acevedo, whose and although somewhat indisposed to it, gave her distress we have seen in our last chapter; his consent; but the act of mercy-if such it might be grief seemed uncontrollable, and he left the apart-called-v -was too late. D'Arbéque had sunk under ment of Plessis to give way to his sorrow. Every- his many sufferings in prison, and was on the brink thing was now in motion in the enemy's camp, of the grave. Acevedo, on learning his situation, in preparation for an attack, which was fated gained access to his place of confinement under pre

The days passed mournfully away. The astrologer, in his solitary chamber, still consulted the heavens, while his thoughts and aspirations soared to that land which he believed now to contain all his treasures. There was nothing to bind him to earth but his care for Gabrielle, who, in the event of her father's death, would be his charge; and his anxiety daily increased to make himself known to D'Arbéque, and, if possible, to convert his past hatred to love.

Whilst thus musing, he was summoned by Gabrielle to her father's dying bed. A glance told him that the hour was come.

“I feel,” said D'Arbéque, stretching out his hand to the astrologer, "that this is the last interview. But for my child, I would willingly leave the world; but, alas! Gabrielle is friendless."

"Not so," said Acevedo; "when you are gone she shall be my child."

A ray of joy illumined the face of the dying man as he said—

"Thank God for this! She has often told me of your compassionate care for her, and now I am persuaded that you will never forsake her."

Acevedo, solemnly taking his hand, replied— "As I hope for God's mercy, I swear to you to take care of your child."

The pressure was returned by the sick man as he said again, with deep emotion,

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May God bless you! You have, indeed, relieved my heart of a heavy load, and I can now die in peace."

There was a silence of a few moments, during which Acevedo's heart beat violently.

"D'Arbeque," he said at last, "thou art about to enter eternity, and I may not be long in following thee. I withdraw the veil-I am Viole de St. Flore."

D'Arbéque rose in his bed.

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Thou!" he said, trembling, and fixing his eye on
Viole. "Art thou really De Viole?" There was
no hatred in his tone now. "But, alas! thy son
have I spurned even when he saved my life and that
of Gabrielle.
The heart that loved her have I

wounded bitterly, and yet thou wilt be a father to
my child-
Gabrielle," he said, turning to his
daughter, "I die joyfully, for there is peace between
us. He is thy father and my friend.”

She laid her face on his shoulder for a moment, and when she looked up again she saw that the spirit was fled. The grief of the orphan maiden was inexpressible, and needed all Viole's efforts to soothe and to console. They were now all in all to each other, and when the violence of her sorrow abated and she gained confidence in her guardian, she told him of her hidden love to Gui, and of all her hopes and fears concerning him; but he could not

make up his mind to tell her that he believed her lover was dead.

The struggle of the young life in Gui's frame against the power of death and disease was long and bitter. A dangerous illness succeeded the fever, arising from his neglected wounds, and for some time every effort of art was unavailing, and he lay long in a hopeless condition. At length, when Spring's soft breath renewed hope and life in Nature's breast, and quickened the feeble pulse of each created being, Gui revived and shook off the chains which fettered him. Slow, and with many drawbacks, was his progress to health; and it was several months ere he regained his wonted strength. His heart yearned to see once more the place where the happiest hours of his life had been passed, and he prepared one morning to travel to the castle of Arbéque, where he hoped to receive some tidings of Gabrielle.

A surly old man appeared at the lodge in answer to his summons, whose face he did not recognize; but the man at once remembered Gui, and, with all the garrulity of age, related the luckless journey of his master, Gabrielle's depression after Gui's departure, the cause of which was mysterious, her unwillingness to prosecute the journey to Paris, and, finally, the event of the Baron's death; in anticipation of which, concluded the old servant,

"My lord put me in possession of his castle and effects, with the command to hold them in trust until the Lady Gabrielle herself should claim them."

"Do you know her place of abode?" said the youth, in a tone of extreme anxiety, as he pictured her dangerous and desolate position-a fatherless maiden in a strange city.

"Alas! no," replied the man. "She herself communicated the tidings of her father's death to me, and gave me all necessary directions. Her letter was dated from Paris, but contained no further particulars, nor gave me any clue to her retreat."

"And under whose care is she left?" said Gui. "I must at once depart for Paris, and search for her."

66

dissipation, the problem was discussed, the solving of which was to be the annihilation of the Huguenots. Alva now laid open his plans, the foundation of which was the destruction of the heretics, not by slow measures but by a single stroke; and although the Queen appeared at the time to take little heed of the proposition, it laid a firm hold of her heart, for she often referred in after life to the words of the Duke, that "the head of one salmon was worth ten thousand marsh frogs."

His wish was nearer its fulfilment than he appre- Queen Mother, and who set at naught all laws of hended, although from a different cause. His friends, humanity, was in constant communication with CaRabaud and Salers, could not resist the desire of therine; and while the Court revelled in luxury and seeing their beloved ward once again in possession of his father's castle, which had been held by the Crown since the notorious Diana of Poictiers, whose power was ended at Court, had been compelled to relinquish it. Now that peace was concluded appeared the favorable moment for the trial; for the Queen appeared disposed to conciliation, and Coligny was about to take up his temporary abode at Paris. The deeds and documents of the estate, which Rabaud's care had preserved at the time of flight, were accordingly handed over to Gui, and All these plots could not remain entire secrets from nothing was neglected to insure success; but some suspicious persons in the Court. Henry of although Gui's health was re-established, and his | Bearn,* although but twelve years of age, was shrewd strength regained, the bloom and joyousness of enough to discover the secret, and at once communiyouth had forsaken him utterly, and there was a cated it to his high-minded mother, the Queen of weight of sorrow on the young and noble brow which Navarre. The noble lady heard with feelings of horbelonged not to his age. ror and detestation of the atrocious scheme; and a warning which she dispatched to Condé aroused him from his state of inglorious repose, and quickened Coligny's vision as to the movements of the enemy.

Summer was now come, and he was pronounced in a condition to perform the journey with safety, he prepared to set out to Paris without delay. Rabaud would willingly have accompanied him; but Gui, justly considering that at his advanced age the fatigue of the journey would be too great, commenced his solitary expedition, his heart full of happy dreams and bright anticipations of the future.

The Court, in the meantime, was making a pro gress through France; Catherine's ostensible reason for the undertaking being that of showing the young king to his subjects, and thus cementing more closely the bond between him and his people; but in reality other motives lay hidden in her heart. She lost no opportunity of pointing out to her son the waste places, the mutilated churches and towns, which had been the consequence of the late tumults, shrewdly believing that such scenes were calculated to inflame the King's hatred of the heretics; and it was on this occasion that those seeds were sown, which, on the memorable day of St. Bartholomew, were to bear such fearful fruit.

The designs which Catherine secretly cherished were as inhuman as unwomanly, whilst all this time Have you ever been in Paris?" said the old man, she did not spare flattering promises to those whose doubtfully. "Never! although I accompanied Coligny's

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"It is no wonder, then," replied the steward, "that you account it so easy a matter to find the lady there. Believe me, my young lord, if I did not see more difficulties in the way, I would set off myself to bring her back; since I know Paris well, my chance would be better than yours; for you deceive yourself if you think to accomplish this matter so easily. One thing I may tell you for your comfort, however-she is not destitute; she speaks of the guardianship of a noble-hearted man who bas filled a father's place to her. I think some important reasons must exist, moreover, to render the concealment of her retreat necessary; although what they are cannot imagine."

destruction she meditated; and it was no motive of

benevolence, but the craft of a far-seeing policy,
which induced her to conclude the treaty between
the Pope, the Emperor, the Spaniards, and the
French, for the uprooting of the heretics. A favor-
able opportunity for the indulgence of her hatred
offered itself in Bayonne, where the royal family,
with the gentle wife of Philip II., of Spain, had met
together. But these days were not devoted to the
sacred claims of maternal or filial love.*
Alva, whose sympathies were entirely with the

"The Court arrived at Bayonne, 10th June, 1565, when the King was met by his sister, the young Queen of Spain, who had been sent by her husband, Philip II., an unconIscious instrument of his dark policy. Her principal attendant was the Duke of Alva, an envoy equal to his commission by his talents and bigoted disposition."-Brantome.

"The Queen wished it to be thought that her stay at Bay

Gui stood sorrowfully gazing on the ground. "She lives, at all events," he said, and the thought onne was only to divert her daughter. Her attention was, inspired him with courage, whilst a friendly inspira- however, directed to another object; for, under pretence of tion fanned the expiring hope in his heart, and quick-going to see her by a gallery which she had ordered to be ened his resolution to seek his first and only love through every difficulty and discouragement.

constructed to connect their apartments, she conversed
every night with the Duke of Alva."-De Thou, liv. 37,

vol. 5.

Still there was at present no pretence for an outbreak. The Court was to all appearance peaceful. Catherine yet wore her mask. The apparent reconciliation of the houses of Chatillon and Guise was a farce, and but caused the bitter sentiment of hatred to sink more deeply into the heart. Catherine, the more narrowly she watched the luxurious habits of the Court, the more entirely came to the conclusion that the only safety lay in a rupture.

The newly-concluded Treaty with the Pope and the Catholic cantons of Switzerland, and the impressment of 5000 Swiss Soldiers in the French service, plainly told the Protestants of the struggle they might anticipate, and they, in their turn, were not inactive.

Such was the position of political affairs when one day Gui de St. Flore rode into the court-yard of the Castle of Chatillon, where Coligny then resided. On entering his presence he found Mouvans and Du Plessis by his side, and the subject of their conference was, as usual, the aspect which the condition of the Huguenots had assumed.

Gui was announced. They all looked up incredulously at his name.

"Most marvellous things happen in our time," said Coligny; "the very dead risc——”

He had scarcely uttered the words when Gui entered, and greeted the Duke with the frank courtesy so peculiarly his own, with the veneration which the high character of Coligny warranted, and with the affection which he felt that he owed him. It was only the presence of Coligny which prevented him from indulging in a yet warmer greeting to his two friends, Plessis and Mouvans. The admiral rose to meet him, and, warmly pressing his hand, he said, with feeling

"Thank God that you live, St. Flore! We all believed you dead, and the loss of so brave a man, whose life and warlike career, although short, have been blameless, has been a sore trial to me. I bid you most heartily welcome!"

Mouvans could not restrain himself at this mo

ment.

* Henry of Navarre, Prince of Bearn, son of Anthony of Bourbon and Queen of Navarre, born at Pau, in Bearn.

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