The New York Herald Newspaper, December 28, 1861, Page 9

__ LITERATURE, To One Bereaved. veer BY ALICE CARY. t ‘Mhoy said to whom bis iif was known “"S good man from our rants 18 gone,” And closing up the gap, moved on, And you were with your dead alone, Another friend dis place might fill, or ho they mourned was bat a friend— No hope your bittorer griet could mand— On you had fallen & lile-lon; In Jooking on the sunniest spo From west to Kast, from Atnongat the bray. ‘You only saw that he was not. A shadow wild and wide and grim Evon yet, is ull your eyes can trace ‘The smiling of the friendliest tace ‘Seems Lo you like a wroug to him, And seving how the world has moved Away from him, how new names rise Jn th’ thoughts of mon, your full heart cries, q He was not ali enough Doloved! . But while you griove that change should fall, And while you almost disailow Their snuilés who loved him best, think thou ‘That he is changed the most of all. From atl our narrow gensca Bee ‘Lo higher, larger, clearer eight— From darkeat pain to peace and light From tune to immortality. oryeee wry | THE JEALOUS MARCHIONESS. ‘Translated trom the French of Countess D’Ash, BY JUL. @. DURANT. CHAPTER I. A MARCHIONESS’ CORONET. "fi was a resplendent and invigorating autumn taorning, in the month of October, 1831, as the clock annonneed the ninth hour, that a venerable old man rung for admission to an ancient hotel in the Rue de Vendome. The porter, rushing tomeet hina, placed his finger to his lips to enjoin silence whilst crossing the court yard. ‘ “Mademoiselle has not yet arisen, Monsieur le | .President, and you know how solicitous the vis- countess is that her daughter’s rest shall not be disturbed." ‘ “Spoiled child!” muttered the president, shrug- | «ging his shoulders, ‘* Perhaps T may find some one to announce me to her mother, or-are the servants, like their young mistress, asleep?” . “The footmen are certainly in the ante-chamber, ~sir, but I dare not ring, for Madame would repri- mand me,"” The old men, proceeding on his way, ascended the ateps of the porch, Me encountered in the | hall the aged housekeeper. stooping under’a large bundle of linen she was Bearibgs ‘Good morning, Mrs. Angile,’”’ exclaimed the president. coaresting her; ‘ you appear to be ex- tremelyabusy to-day. Can Madame be seen?’? “Madame la Viscountess in occupied inthe draw- ing room, arranging the bridal gilts and marriage | outfit, so that our young mistress may find them prepared when she awa’ By lace this mori friends } of madeinoiselte und the 'acqvaintances of Madame | will be-present to exauine our jificent pre- | sents, _Monsicur le President can, therefore, ima- { takes gine how busily we are now employed. If Monsieur wil! follow me, 1 will announce him; but please to sivp very gently—inademoiselle’s sleep is so light.’? “ Verily, Mrs. Angile, yon are here in the pa- Jace of the sleepi cuuty of the wood. You are ali governed by the whims of this little girl, who leads you about like so many simpletons, her mother at the head. Heaven forgive the truth!"’ At this instant the ringing of a bell echoed vio- Jently throughout the hoiel. “Thexe,’’. whispered the housekeeper, ‘‘Mon- sieur has awakened her. She must have detected a noise. What will Madame say?” “Rest assured,’ responred the president, ‘“ nei- ther younor T have waked her. She is aroused by thoughts of her marriage, and the desire to be- hold and admire her handsome presents! Alas, frivolous girls! human nabure is ever the same in You; revolutions effect no change in your whims or coquetries!"* - The housekeeper disappeared. Soon aliara dainty, genteel waiting maid crossed the ante-chamber, bearing in ber hand one of the choicest nosegays from Madame Prevost’s. She bent her steps towards an apariment commanding a view of the gurden, and whted wide doors, tapes- tried with velvet, intercepted at the same time the air and ie without. Entering cautiously, and by the vacillating light of the night lamp, she ap- proached the windows and slowly opened the shut- ters. A tay from the sun penetrated into the chamber, whea a fresh, silvery voice issued from it, Josephine?” » Miss,” « Has my bouquet arrived yet? Ts it pretty?” “eis magnificent, miss, and here it is.”” A pretty hand, slender aud white, separated the curtaing,,as f and white as the hand that moved them, and eagerly seized the camelias and violets. “‘Has Monsieur de Monza sent no message? Has he not written?! e is the letter?!” e has it.?? i Fetch it to me.’” iting-maid hurriedly departed to execute ard, scarcely bed she left the apartment ere another jerk at the bell sammoned her to re- ti “Is the drawing room prepared? Has my nup- tial outfit arrived yet?” “Tt wus brought this morning, and everything is now arranged.” “Ask my mother to come hither; I wish to gee her, Make haste! 1 am dying with impa- tience."? well. “Why did you not inform me? Be watchful of your heslth, Josephine; I wish it. But. call mother, A fow moments succeeded, when the Viscountess of Chamarante entered the apartment, and run- ning tovher danghter’s bedside, threw open the curtains. “Dear child o Mademoiselle will excuse me. I am not very 1 ave You slept well?” inquired she, “Who woke up? ‘Bek it was your guar- dian, who has just arrived; it is just like him.” “Dear moticr,”’ replied Beatrix, revelling like a pet kitten amoung her lace pillows, ‘the desire of seeing my wedding presevis waked me.’? “Everything is ready in. the drawing room, 1 y early, and have arranged the bridal gifts with Mrs, Angile. The presents of. the Marquis have buf 1 aprived.’’ “Are { beautiful 2? “They queenly! Come with me and examine thing before breakfnst,’? feel so much more comfortable in my bed! heless, I should like to see the gifts.’* leat would be rather difficult.” ‘\laspnol they might be brought here!’’ “Only think of it! Thave spent two hours in ar- ranging them nicely."? on’? ponted the spoiled child, ’ said the indaigent mother, un- easily, “go and askefrs. Angiie if it is possible to bring Ue wed ling presents to this room,’! nd the outfit also, J want all.” “Take my servants,’ continucd Madame, ‘and those of my danghter. ‘The latter will assist you.” Beatrix recovered her composure and continued ourding questions to which the viscountess answesed without interruption. Su the rich decorations of the boudoir, the mother and daughter formed a charming tableau—the former young and beautiful, tilled with joy and fondness; the latter, in her sixteenth year, blonde, delicate and plump, appearing, in the disorder of her night 1 ied with those brilliant lustrims, amidst attire, with her long hair unfastened, and her chemise drooping from her shoulder, as pretty and Iuscious as the roses of her bouqnet—both blithe and gleesome, cherishing bright and hopeful visions of the future. How glorious appeared the plea- fant prospect of life opening before them!”’ The presents and outfit were nlp and the Ned was speedily decked with the contrivances of f.shion and luxury—South Séa pearls, diamonds from Golconda, and the most precious tissues of Thibet, China and Europe. Anadmirable cashmere especially attracted the attention of Beatrix. “How exquisite this is, mother; don’t you think 60? Bht, alas! it is yellow—it's yellow! is can- not be for te; the marquis could not have intended a yellow cachmere for me, a blonde! Mother, do send to his honse. Wise mistake, no doubt. Let it bey - for a blue Ld “He will come, my dear; it is not worth the trouble of sending.” * Just think of it; "tis “He will arrive too late. this evening. Send for him—despatch quickly.’” The order was given, and a messenger iiume- diately despatched. The zoung girl rose, and hastily donning a morn- ing le one of those extemporaneous dis- habille the which, in fs bloom of youth, be- come an adornment, je marquis arti was Batic a ork trothed of sweet sixteen who desires to obtain favor from her intented lord and master," ® ‘The Marquis of Monza—twenty-six years of age— was an elegant and finely moulied man of medium stature, and features an'mated with the vigor of health. His life had been mostly spent in a cha- jau in the centre of France, where his edneation, with all the allurements of & be- | NEW YORK HERALD, SATURDAY, * LITERATURE. restrained him from pleasures of his caleulating disp Cold and methodical, of te ove all the slightly eoutracted countenance, aboye all, ig! lines about 1M mouth, indicated to the disorimina- ting observer one of those reset concen- trated natures which the instinct of their own me- dioerity maintains in defiance of whvever sppmoeek them, and in whom a burst of passion is the more to be feared, since it has been smouldering and checked so long. But those lines were now buried under the frank and shining smile of youth, and the leasurable satlotpations of an alliance in which 6 advantages of beauty, rank and fortune seemed to realize the ideal which the marquis had reared in his imagination. The son of one of the bravest marshals of the pope, the marquis was master of his fortune; for thongh his father still survived, grave wounds in the head had early de- prived him of his intellectual faculties. The Prince of Monza having at lepgth become insane, was in- terdicted from the management of his own aflairs, and inhabited one of his castles, under the superin- tendence of an old family servant, where he was the recipient of frequent and solicitous visits from his son, £ a tion of the be conjectured, the ampactant ques- faction of ‘ellow shawl was settled to the satis- ix, After having tenderly kissed the tips of the pretty fingers that she extend- ed to him, the marquis took his leave and returned to the business occupations in which he had been interrupted. He was not long awaiting a new message. afterwards during the day, and from mo- tives.as serious a9 that relating to the color of a et , Was he forced to return, On the first two he arrived apparently joyous and satisfied. The freaks of a pie sg ial numberless attractions. As long as rain those mincing manners seem exquisite! In the train of marriage, however, serious duties follow; to prove agreeable it must produce between hus- band and wife an ample harvest of mutual regarda. of reciprocal good deeds. If the young orchard bears nothing but barren flowers of brilliant colors and sweet perfume, what remains after the fruit is plucked? A few dry and leafles branches, Did this reflection present itself to the mindof the Marquis de Monza when, for the last time, he found himself recalled by a {aes Bote to the hotel of the viscountess? In such event, he did not broach the sentiment to Beatrix. His features merely appeared discomposed. He an- swered "with graceful politeness the questions addressed him, but in an absent, preccupied manner. He asked several times if no message had come for him—if no one had sought him, and ne requested not to be sent for again, since he would not be likely to return home. He left the hotel without pressing the hand which Beatrix, engrossed in admiring some trimmings, forgot at last to tender him. To Beatrix the impatience of her intended, in the distractions and excitements of the few days pre- vious to the consummation of the marriage con- tract, appeared quite natural, and she reasoned from the questions of the marquis that he was con- templating another si it she would be the recipient of another present. Her surmises did not prove ill founded. Shortly before dinner @ clerk from Fossin brosght a gigantic casket, bearing an order for its delivery to Mademoiselle de Chamarante. She hastened to open it, and after questioning the porter concern- ing its character, of which he knew nothing, re- mained ninpetied, before a piece of jewelry of ex- quisite workmanship. “What! this too!” exclaimed her guardian. “Monsieur de Monza goes on extravagantly.” “Extravagantly, sir! to have procured a march- foness’s coronet—a real corouet. Am I not enti- tled to it?” “Cousin Beatrix, you will be like the Princess of England at the coronation—the crown of your own house on your head,’ added her cousin, the young count Robert de Chamarante, who had just en- tered. The Connt Robert, who had been an orphan from his infancy, had been ‘brought up by Madame de Chamarante as her own child, and the fraternal friendship that had always existed between Beatrix and himself was increased by their confidence and his slight services on the occasion of the approach- ing nuptials. “You must try it on, Beatrix,” said the vis- countess, marvelling more and more at the splendor of the stones. “Qh! no, no, mother! I will not touch it! no one must disturb it! Amedic alone must crown me with this diadem. Why is he not here? Let him be sent for! Cousin Kobert, run and bring him. Be quick!” “What! Again?” said the President, crossly, ropa § the young count, who was about to exe- y cute gaily his cousin’s orders, ‘Monsieur de Mon- za cannot return before evening, and told you 60 when he left. You have already disturbed the fourth time to-day. Allow him to transact his business. Business before everything.” Robert again doffed Bigs and Beatrix, utter- cede heavy sigh, remained silent. The firm deter- mination of her pease always checked her. Like all weak and frivolous intellects, she desired an easy sway; but the least resistance, when it did not irritate to frenzy, subdued her immediately. A straw fire is as quickly yuenched as ignited. At dinner they conversed of the future. Does there exist a past on the cve of a wedding? Those smiling faces, refiecting their smiles in the features of the joyous Beatrix, that lovely child of sixteen summers, almost inebriated in her hopeful anticipation of that union in which erebyhing. foretold uninterrupted, unalloycd piness, formed a singular contrast with ‘the ala and severe countenance of the President Saint evre. That venerable relic of the Parliament of Paris was distinghished by inflexible features—de- noting that integrity of character which is an al- most universal type of the ancient magistrature, In spite of deep griefs and scarcely sufferable trials, seventy-three years hed left his countenance unclouded, his form erect, and his bearing a5 reso- lute as formerly in the seat of justice. When the company had repaired to the drawing room, the president surveyed with a sorrowful air the trinkets strewed around him, and particularly the unexpected crown. His ward inquired, in a wheedling tone— Will the marquis arrive soon, my good guar- dian?” “I have informed you already, Beatrix,” re- plied he, ‘‘that Monsieur de Monza is obliged.to transact with his notary some business for Madame Chamarante. But our friends are already tlocking hither and commencing to fill the rooms. All Par.s will be here to-night, at this rate.’’ “ Onur friends are anxiovs to examine my hand- some presents, sir, at which I am highly gratified. Amede isa long time;’’ added she, in a low yoice. ‘The crown has been here four hours, and I am not yet aware if it fits me well.” The spacious settee rooms were leat | filled with brilliant toilets, and several groups hai formed around the prodigies of taste and magnifi- cence that were artfully displayed over the furni- ture of the apartments. jo the viscountess was offering to the admiration of all present the marchioness’s coronet, which she drew from the casket and disposed on a velvet cushion, Beatrix, surrounded by her youthful friends, ardent to see it fitted, was resisting their pep uisiienese, though she was herself more impatient than they to enjo: the effect of the oruanment. She had made herself the childish promise to receive her coronet of marchioness from the hands of him who bestowed the title. She was listening to the entreaties of her companions with an absent air, her face turned towards the main entrance, beating her cushion with her dainty foot, and tearing with her small glistening teeth the rose leaves from her bouquet. All of u sudden the door opened noisily. “Tis he!’ exclaimed Beatrix. ‘1 hear him! Quick mother! ‘he crown! the crown!” And she ran to meet her intended. ‘he Marquis de Monza entered with marked pre- cipitation and embarrassment, of which his tardi- ness was received as a suflicient explanation. “Tam fate,’ said he. “No excuses. That crown! How beautiful, how costly! ButI had determined that my fore- head should receive it first from your hands. Be hand , therefore, Come sir, quick, quick. Crown me! Hnd inclining herself efully forward, she presented her pretty head to the Marquis, Those few words, pronounced with the excite- ment of impetuous youth, and the accompanying movement, Were rapid as lightning. The Marquis immediately accepted the dia lem which the Viscountess handed him, and adjusted it to the forehead of his betrothed. The crowd had formed a tablean, encircling that elegant group; the young girls in an attitude of curiosity and expectation amounting almost to ecstacy, the matrons Ly may anxiously behind their fans, and the men ina second circle, their eyes re par more by the fresh complexion and lovely features of the future marchioness than by the diamonds of her crown. ‘How superb! what gentleness! Happy couple!” whispered they. Andrthat elegant medley of beanty, luxury and coquetry offered a perfect tablean of gayety and oe tae ut when the betrothed rose, proud under the rich weight with which she was adorned, the smiles of the audience diseppeared. An unspeakable dis- miy had suddenly seized the assembly, who ut- tered a cry of terror at beholding the crowned forehead, and turned away surprised, disgusted, horrified. At chat cry, of which she conld not comprehend the cause, Peatrix felt rooted to the floor, her knees quivercd one against the other, and her fea- tures blanched white, as if reflected from the spec- , well aa the cares of his lands aud properties, had | tal countenauce of the marquis, whe stood dis- LITERATURE, composed in her nce. She beheld him look upon his on and exetaten in a stifled voice: At hat th, Bratety te It cold di Kling t, » Beatrix felt cold drops tric! slow! down her forehend, as if tears moe dropping froth her crown. With a wild bound, she forced a pass- exe through the shrinking crowd, and halting in e presence of a mirror, beheld her face and crewn spotted with blood. “ Ah!" cried she, in heart rending accents, “he aroundedt Amedie is wounded, mother! run to As her voice expired, her form grew rigid, and she fell lifeless into the embrace of oe ‘The heart of Beatrix had just afforded a natural explanation to thia strange incident; and in the midst of the general stupor Robert de Chama- rante and a few ‘intimates surrounded the mar- quis and conducted him to an adjoining room. “You are wounded!’ repeated they in sup- preased tones. “A duel, no doubt. Come, come. ‘Alas, nothing aila me! I feel nothing!" re- peated Monsieur de Monza, a prey to uncontrol able agitation, In the impossibility he experienced of offering any explana he allowed hinwelf mechanically to be led away. Beatrix, whom they were removing in a swoon, and the marquis in the charge of his friends, had scarcely issued from the drawing room, as the pale and excited crowd clustered about a friend of the farnily, just ente: from the street, and whose first words incre: twofold the anxiety and ter- ror of the immediate assembly. A numerous circle was speedily formed, every member fropennding a ore of noasnona in oe gi ea Ra ‘OU e crime just been prepe- trated rhs bone miei “ Five minutea ago ?"” “« And it is the next door?” “In the hotel itself—to the left of the carriage gateway*”” “What! What did you say? What is it?” re- peated twenty voices, “Tt ia this gentlemen:’’ resumed the narrator— “300,000 franca have just been stolen from the broker's office in front of this hotel, aud his daugh- ter is murdered.” CHAPTER I. THE SUSPICION. T¢ would be impossible to describe the surprise and horror with which the select society that crowded the drawing rooms of the Hotel de Cha- marante was seized at the tidings of the double crime, of which it bad just been the theatre. The Lews was received but an instant after the strange spectacle presented by the young and cheertul bride, suddenly stained with blood by the touch of the glove of her intended the “act of being crowned with the marchiove: idem, The blood upon the glove of ihe Marquis de Monza was fresh and livid. It yust, therefore, have been recently shed, News lad this moment arrived that a youvg girl had just suffered murder in the Lroker's office, which occupied @ portion of the same building. Monsieur de Monza had pre- viously entered behind time, and hurriedly, from the direction of the latter. ‘Those stains must have been with the blood of the broker's daughter, Under what circumstances could they have appear- ed on Monza’s glove, Thege reflections and strange coincidences op- pressed the minds and hearts of all present. No one dared to communicate to his neighbor the fatal suggestion—the dread suspicion that smouldcred at every tongue’s end, and might have been read in every eyv. The guests were parting in silence; the Iadies were hastily adjusting their mantillas; the husbands were urging their hurried valcts, who from the porch were summoning the cai- riages; the noise of wheels and tramping of horses resounded through the courtyard. In less than a quarter of an hour the hotel was empty. Monsieur de Monza, mute and absorbed, allowed i right hand to be divested of the blood stained glove. He had again repeated in a low tone of voice:— “The wretch !”” What indicated this utterance? Was it the re- action of a troubled conscience? Was it occasion- ed by the reco!lection of the scene in which he had lately participated, und for which he was unable to account? His pallor and agitation gave rise to a thousand conjectures, but explained nothing. After his companions had washed the hand and bared the arm of the marquis, not a scratch ap- peared. The blood, therefore, was not his! When there no longer existed a doubt on this subject, the news of the murder, which spread like wildfire through the hotel, reached the ear of one of the merquis’s assistants. The cflect waa clectric. His sign was communicated from one to another pro- sent, a few words were exchanged in an under- tone, and soon after the marquis remained with no one besides the young Count de Chamarante. “Hear me, Count,’’ at length <4 Monsieur de Monza, breaking the silence. ‘There is one whose searching look, whose inquisitorial mind would pursue me—would tire me with vain questions. I would not—I could not answer him. I mnst not meet him. Yet must I leave the hotel without parting with Beatrix and her mother? No, alas! No, I cannot. What a misfortune! What a { tality, my God! Go to them, Count. and say 1 was never more anxious to see them—that1 must see them without delay. Go! go!” “Ah! I understood it,'’ exclaimed Robert, im- petuously embracing the Marquis. “Yes, indeed! ‘ou will explain the whole affair, I trust my cousin ius recovered. I shall be back directly.” And he rushed from the room. The Marquis de Monza paid no attention to the language just recorded of Beatrix’s cousin; much lesa did he remark his puzzled look. He was care- fully examining every portion of his attire; but no where, not even upon the right sleeve of his coat, could he discover astain. He adjusted hia toilet and re-entered the deserted drawing room. “Thank heaven!” he muttered to himself, ‘the President has gone!’ and with » heart partially relieved, he bent his ste ps towards the apartment of the Viscountess. As he neared his place of des- tination, however, some one came forth therefrom and closed the door—it was the very person he hoped to avoid, the President de St. Sevre. At beholding himseif in the presence of the latter the Marquis retreated a step and remained immovable. He mastered himeelf, with a struggle, and, except- ing a slight chill that coursed his frame, it would have been impossible to know the deep emotions contending in his bosom. “Madame de Chamarante and her danghter are as yet unable to receive you,” culdly spoke Bea- trix’s guardian. ‘Until they shall have entirely recovered from thelr chock, Monsieur le Marquis, they have requested me to attend you.” “Is Mademoiselle de Chamarante aware of the impatience I experience?”’ “She knows it; and in an instant, no doubt, you will be able to see her. Butexplain(o me by what train of tatal circumstances that horrible ‘occur- rence transpired.’ “Alas! alter the news of the frightful crime that reached me & moment since, nothing appears more horrid, and, at the san me, 80 nittural ! on my yy, here. Knowing it was late, in order to avoid the windings of the streets, L had left my carriage on the Boulevard, near the entrance of the passage Vendome, and was walking hastily bat a few steps from the hotel when I noticed some one issuing from the broker's office, to the left of the carriage gateway. To this person, up to that in- stant, 1 had always attached the name of friend. A wretch !—a monster! But at first I did not re- rege, him, He was walking hurriedly, like my- self. He knew me, and extending his hand, pressed mine convuleively ; it was the work of & second. We had reached the door of the hotel. An instant after Lentered the drawing room. My glove pre- vented my feeling the mark of that man’s band. You know the rest.’ “You entertained some suspicion when you en- tered. I remarked your paleness and agitation,” said quietly M. de St. Sevre, without raising his eycs to those of the Marquis. “Knowing the vivacity of Mademoiselle Chama- rante, and preoccupied with my involuntary delay, during the short interval between that fatal en- counter and my entrance to the drawing room, 1 had no time for reflection. These circumstances, however, which remained inexplicable to me, had struck me forcibly, and incessantly recurred to my mind. The strange meeting itself, in such a place, at such an hour—the convulsive manner in which my hand was grasped—tinally, the complete dark- ness that involved the broker's office; while those surrounding were brilliantly lighted; all these cir- cumstances produced a painful impression on my mind. I knew the person I had just met was em- barragsed in money matters. I understood that he had lost, the day before yesterday, at play, a large sum. All this did not excite the suspicion of a catastrophe. But I cannot deny that in coming here I was the victim of a vague and melancholy presentiment.'” “And you are certain that you recognized the person coming from the office? Does a doubt re- main of his identity at this moment?’ “None, sii : ‘You can name him, then?” said the President with firmne: it this time fustening his look upon M. de Monza At this question the marquis started. Again re- suming the determination and calmness that had hitherto characterized his conversation, he con- tinued, after a violent efor “At the first ery of surprise and horror which escaped from iy lips, as well 28 from the compa- hy present, yon will recollect ovr looks met, sir. well knew the question you have just asked would be soon addressed to me, and I acknow* ledge that it involved me in But reflecton has at length de lution is now formed, an ¥ emuivocation. tor was to expinte alone the puuishment of his crime, | would uot DECEMBER 23, 186L—TRIPLE SHEET. Rr oS: 2S. a hesitate to divulge his nume; but the infamy he deserves would tarnish an honored, an illustiious name—by others creditably sustained. Have I the right to pronounce this name?—i aay reveal it, when [may avoid it by remaining silent? If that name esc: to the myrmidons of justice, why should say it, jocent family, whom I 1 dishonor and desolation? No! 1 shall refuse to answer your interrogation, and am certain that Madame de Chamarante will one day rejoice at mie ae lod ith these words the marquia turned towards the apartment of the viscountess, “One moment, Monsieur de Monza,” exclaimed the President. “Madame de hamarante is not the fee Sea interested in this matter. You have read her husband's will, and must recollect that my consent is not less necessary than hers to the marriage of her daughter, You know this.” “Just Heaven! and what do you intend, sir?” exclaimed the marquis, retreating towards St. wre, “Listen to me,’ resumed the President. “What occurs between us is more serious to your future than you may perhaps have imagined. You have looked at this cireuistance only in a worldly point of view. 1 appreciate the false delicacy, the com- monplace question of honor, the very dangerous seruple that have inspired you with the answer just made. ; Beliove me, society suffers only be- causo gentlemen indulge in these cowardly com- Pissed, ‘They prefer the privilege of honor to hose of education and fortune. The caste spirit stifles every sentiment of justice, Men do not perceive that the gangrene they dare not ex- tirpate involves the healthiest members and threatens the whole hody with death,’ “ You are severe, sir {"” “Thaye aright to be. T have broken my heart. Thave expelled my eniprit son. Severity is the soarce of ail justice aud all kindness! The duty I have performed ia my own finlly, let the nobili- ty--the new aa weil as tho old, since they mingle togother—fulfill towards each of its members, that it may be able to resist the degenerate spirit of the times. Nobilit; I then be safer, since it will be more respected in the point of view of the real ob- ligations which rank would impose. 1 cannot, therefore, approve your resolution; aud, as the second futher of Beatrix, mg a large responsi- bility in her future happiness, | must intimate to you the change that resolution would effect in my inind, should you persist in it.”? Had M. do St. Sovre remarked the strange look of surprise and compassion with which M. de Monza regarded him when the former alluded to his son, his conversation might perhaps lave taken @ different turn; but more intent upon following his present train of thought than upon the effect produced in the features of bis inter- locutor, the president had observed nothing of the latter. Monza, now threatened with a more sori- ous obstacle than he had anticipated to hie anion, on the part of a man who could In reality refuse him the hand of Beatrix, was careful not to delay the expiauation which the last words of the presi- dent announced. “Speak, sir,’ cried he; “speak !"? “Yes, my dear Marquis, 1 know Beatrix! L yy pret at ber birth! I am acquainted with her faults as well as her qualities. Whimsical and impetuous, of a naturally tender disposition—but restrained and lazy; withan obstinacy eho mistakes for character; of inveterate carelessness and com- lete ignorance of the duties of the mistress of a house-—owing to the blind solicitude of her mother to spare her the least trouble or aunoyance—sir, I exaggerate nothing. Yet her youth and beaut: vail ali with charming grace. Beauty and youth pass ray howere the faulis “are perma. el , notwithstandug these faults, h are those a spoiled child, 1 ve believed und still believe that Bea- trix may be happy, but it is under one condition, namely, that she shall inspive her husband with a deep, fervent passion—an affection superior to every other feel ings understand me well, an affee- tion that. sball cee guarantee that in the heart of the mau who becomes her guide and support she shall find united to firmncegs that induigence she will one day need, and which is bestowed only by that love which is prepared to sacrifice every- thing! Ihave hoped that such might bo tie feel- ing you would cherish for her; and with this trust I have consented to your marriage. Have I been mistaken? Does there remain anything more pre- cious tian the importance you attach to this alli- ance? If such is the case, 1, as the guardian of Mademoiselle de Chamwrante, as master of her destiny and responsible for her fut can no longer perceive in this union the chances of happi- hess that has induced me to approve it, and there- fore withdraw my consent}’! “A threat!”’ said M. de Monza, growing pale. “No, it is an altimatum! You will uw the murderer of the broker’s daughter; you will sacri- fice that wretch to your love, or you will give me reason to believe that love ha4 not the hold it should possess on yonr heart! You do not love Mademoiselle de Chamarante; there is some one dearer to you, otherwise, you would have already spoken!” “Ido not love Mademoiselie de Chamarant said the marquis, his eyes filling with ¢ 3. silence at this moment is the greatest proof 1 can give of that love. But let us say no more. That which you designate your ultimatum ia not one! Jt is but the delay of a few days, that ja all! You will yet restore me to your confidence! You will esteem me more than ever! You will bless me!"’ added he, giving emphasis to that word, “for my conduct at this moment, Until I name the culprit, I entreat you, do not seek bim, Monsicur de saint Sevrel The most upright disposition, the most ex- perienced mind may be the dupe of iftusious, One very naturally inclines to the belief that a man to whom he has never had any right to addr proach may suddenly fall into the vilest in reposing, without hesitation, susp stainjesa character, one may not distrust that be threatens a life, already committed Al “Sirl’? exclaimed M. de St in whom @ thonsand slumbering recoile a thousand vague impressions had just Veen galvanized as by a thunder shock. “Well,” calmly responded the marquis, ‘‘I have said nothing. 1 bave not named the culprit. But, before leaving, | again repeat to yon—do not seek him! do not seek him!” After these words the marquis, donning bis hat, departed avakiye ist the President de St. Sevre, tine es fixed, his nrind suddenly excited by a terrible apprehension, seized with twembling hands an arm chair, into he dropped. ich slowly CHAPTER IU. THR MURDERER. To comprehend the anensiness and apprehension with which the last words of the Marquis de Monza had inspired the soul of Monsieur de St. Sevre, it becomes necessary to explain what position the old president occupied with regard to his only son, Ernest de Saint Sevre, tormerly fellow atudent of M. de Monza, and associated with him as a mem- her of the Jockey Clab. Bereft, early in life, of the care and tenderness of a mother's affection, Ernest had been reared under the cold and austere control of an old man whose exterior preserved the traditions of a for- mer age, and who offered none of that sympathy which is calculated to attach a young man to the paternal hearth. That irresistible influence of womanly kindness and love, with which the bit- terest natures are impressible, Ernest had never ex- perienced. Though filled with respect for the sire whose name he inherited, bis aflection was con- strained by the latter, in whose presence he never felt himself free and composed. The presid: timidated him by a look, a remonstrance; pect aione was freezing. The result of this per- petual restraint was to develope pride, reckiess- ness and resolution in disposition natural; haughty and concentrated. Ernest had some incli- nation for the arts, an inordinate iove of pleasure, and a propensity for adventures and undertakings in which aieer audacity, self-reliance, a seductive manner, the charm and enticement of speech, and the power of combinations of the mind might be the means of aceomplishment. With the will he would have made « diplomatist or distinguished man of letters, His father was inflexible, and hence, in spite of his repugnance and dislike he entertained for court life ant, fe ‘al pursuits, Ernest waa forced to adopt the latter tor his profession. Introduced into the best circles of Paris, where his elegance and si periority in manners and personal mr er pos- sessed the irresistibie beauty and influence of a Lucifer, he soon exercised among the most fashion- able women a powerful fascivation; whence his mode of living became at length so expensive that he was discovered to have squandered and overrun the modest resources his futher had placed at his disposal. He contracted debts which the president relused to liquidate, Ernest, devouring his shame, became inspired with hatred of his father, and held the world and virtue in utter contempt. He grew desperate, and gambled; Incky at the outsct, he afterwards experienced bitter reverses and dis- asters, Short of resources, too proud to affront once more the remonstrances and refusals of his father, and nourighing a heart without faith, with- out love, without enthusiasm, without hope, he de- scended from fault to fault to the lowest resonrces of vice. Monsiour de St. Sevre received proof that his son had executed a forge: Ernest was then of age, After having stifled, large portion of the maternal heritag: about to. be placed in. the hands of just president banished Lia son from * * * » door of tie dKiw “Monsieur le Uresi Ce » jas! you will comprehend before long that my- LITERATURE, * the coroner and the anes of the peace await permission to speak with you.” XM. felt att his blood rush to his . de St. Sevre heart—a painful foreboding crossed his mind, He mastered imself, however, wud responded in a firm ’ Show the gentlemen in!’ CHAPTER Iv. THE INTERROGATORY. The footman introduced the two magistrates. ‘There followed an interval of silence, during which the steeled soul of the president—that man of the old regime—was enabled to retemper itself. With a determined effort, he composed his face, and when the magistrates entered the room he ad: vanced to meet them with more calmness than they possessed. They nodded silently to one another, accepted the seats which were brought forward, and were left alone by the retiring servant. ‘The coroner first broke silence. “It is not to you, Monsieur le President,’’ inter- Tupted he, bowing respectfully, “it is not to yon T ought to express how frequently painful it ‘be- comes to discharge the duties of Our profession,’’ “TI appreciate, sir, all that one performs to assist the administration of public justice, Seventy- three years of an irreproachable life—I say it un- hesitatingly--are there to attest my entire submis- sion to the laws of our country and tw the exigen- cies of my position. I await an explanation of your object in this visit.” “It relatos to the crime that has just been per- petrated at the broker's, You were'at the tine in ‘the hotel, attending the reception of Madame de Chamarante. It sppesse that on the arrival of her daughter's intended, astrange incident oer pu which is connected with this murder. Of this oir- cumstance you wero undoubtedly a witness; ‘and we hope to ‘obtain from you some information that will contirm (at least we fear so,) the very serious evidence that set the herria but a moment since, on the track of the culprit.” “The incident to which you allude,” responded the Pani “was indeed remarkable. Monsicur de Monza was expected impatiently by Mademoi- celle de Chamarante, who, having, during the duy received as a present from her betrothed, a mag- nificent diadem, desired to be adorned with the sume, for tho first time, only by the hand of the donor, The Crawing-room waa thronged with a brilliant concourse, when Monsieur de Monza ar- tived. He immediately accepted the crown of pre- cious stones that waa handed him, and placed it on the forehead of his betrothed, whicl received the marks of his glove, which was freshly stained with blood. You can comprehend the horror, the unutterable dismay with which every one present was seized. Such are the facts, Do you require me to answer further?” “such an event,’ answered the coroner, “could not have taken place without some expla: nations.” “Monsiour de Monza has narrated how, at the door of his hotel, he has shaken hands with a per- son at parting whom he had previously este as a friend, and who had just issued from the bro- kor’s office.” “Has he named the person, Monsieur le Presi- dent?” continued. the coroner. 1a Ee refused to do so, in spite of my entrea- ies.” At this juncture the coroner manifested peculiar arrassment; but, making another effort, he pursued hig interrogatories, “Did M. de Monza inform you whether the ind!. vidual from whom he was just separated was of Madame de Chomarante's society? Did he express surprise at having encountered him in the sireet, departing from the hotel at » moment when it was natural fe should have been repairing thither, in order to join his congratulations to those of the friends of the family?’’ “No, sir,” replied the old man. There aguin ensued a silence, which the coroner interrupted in a lowered voice, indicating deep emotion:— “You have a soa, Monsieur le President?" “T have.” “He resides at your hotel?!” “He has lived there since his infancy."* “Where did you lust leave him?” “He left the hotel early this evening," said M. de St. Seve, with some hesitation. “I did not see him before he departed, and am not at present aware whether he is at home or not.”’ “Then he wis not at the soiree of Madame de Chamarante?"’ This last question afforded » ray of light to M. de . Up to that time ouly the inflexible ma strate had shown himself, He had suppresse: fis fence sud horrid anxiety; but, finally, le expe- rienced the strong emotions of a father, and could master himself ao longer, Apprehending the direst of misfortunes, he rose quickly ond in- quired:— es “But wherefore all these questions, sir? What has my son to do with this murder in the Rue Ven dome?” The two magistrates regarded each other with- out answering. M. de St. Sevre stood before tiem, in his black attire, bis face blanched white as the powder of his wig, his voice extinct, his trembling hands stretched towards them, endeavoring to maintain the dignity of his age'and position, and yet painfully moved; his heart rending with un ir- repressible emotii fat inspired them with In- involuntary respect and pity. You maintain silence, gentlemen," he resumed. “You fear that | am weak; yon apprehend my anger, perhaps; but you are sadly mistaken. fam strong, and able to hear anything. Speak! [ en- treat you speak!” The president dropped heavily into his arn chair, incapable of retaining his feet, vet maintain. ing his dignity in spite of bis abjection. “Monsieur ie President,” replied the officer of Justi “I never telt more thoroughly the pon: sibilities of my position. be kind enough to fur nish us with all the information ou possess con- cerning your son, his habits—-” “Regular bab’ irreproachable habits up to within thé last eighteen montha. At least, I be Tieve 80,"" “Andeince that time hashe always lived with you? [Has he not been travelling” “He has not. “Then, Monsieur le President, we must beg per- mission to visit your hotel. We have orders tu search it.” ‘The coroner pronounced these words in a husky tone. He bowed bia head and added, slowly: “Arm yourself with fortitude, Monsieur le Preai- dent! This isa great trial! Yet we hove, wnfor- tunately, the most legitimate reasons for believing M. Bruest the culprit in the murder committed this evening on the persou of Sophie Herve, in the Rue de Vendome.” replied not asingle word, aor Ald ce , nor alter his attitude ; exoept- ing that a deathlike palonesa overspread his foe- ture: nd after a few minutes of silence, lis fixed eye gleamed with @ feverish fire, and two tears Hietted slowly down his marble cheeks, apparently us cold and inanimate as a statue of despair. The magistrates «gain regarded each other. ‘They respected the fir-t utterance of the father's if and waited until the unfortunate man should have recovered sufficiently his presence of mind to understand and attend them. But several minutes of dead silence intervened. The justice at length hazarded a question, but the old man did not seem to hear it. A few moments more passed in the same quiet, when the president rose and said:— “Let us go, gentlemen!” He pulled a bell and the footman entered. “Give my respects to Madame la Viscountess," he said, ‘‘nnd say that I shall be unable to visit her to-night. I ain obliged to leave the hotel im- mediately. Gentlemen,” he continued, turning to the magistrates, ‘‘my carriage is waiting you.” Never, perhaps, were paternal fortitude, the pride of noble blood and the remembrance of a stainless career put to a rader trial! Never did man experience greater snilering than the stoic resident in his effort to restrain his wickedness. He id the honors of his carrirge, but without pro- nouncing a word during their short journey. Arrived home, the carriage-way was closed, as the President, on the point of entering the hall, summoned the usher and gave the strict order that uobody should be Peat yo to leave the hotel un- til the departure of the magistrates, Hisutterance was stern, his haud steady; he was resolved. An old domestic—the housekeeper—with a large bunch of keys dangling at her belt, advancing to meet her master, waited his orders. “Babet,’! spake the President, addressing her, “you will conduct these gentlemen throughout the house, open for them al! the doors and every closet. You will obey without equivocation every com- mand they utter, and let them remove all they think proper to seize.’” "Heavens! Monsieur le President,’ exclaimed the old housekeeper, frightened. “fom ready to comply with the orders of monsicur; but 1 assure rou that nothing suspicious will be found here. lonsieur’s fd are all honest; I'll answer for them as I would for myself.”’ “jt does not concern my domestics, Babet. Do not fear for them, but prepare to follow the coro- nvr.” M. de St. Sevre preceded the magistrates. ‘They entered a dark and apart Toom on the round floor of the hotel. Wide and lojty oaken ookcases, packed with massive and dusty law tomes, a tapestry. representing Solomon's judg- ment on one side and that of Brutus on the other, added to the solemn aspect of the apartment, the centre an immense ebony writing table: wit! papers, notes and dusky doonments, ix that M. de St. Se: notrelinyuished th 2 Chanda: frentle- ‘avrg, JTTERATURE, plete Live eae ate a ee der your cognizance. What occasioned your ~" he hesitated an 'y t prouounce that son’? im enter the office, Mon- = ous in- “Some witnesses saw sicur de President; tho gas was matinguished ‘duri hin visit; he was mot at the time of his exit, a finally, from under the chair on which the victim was discovered in her death struggle, we picked up the sheath of a dagger. Behol the creat, Mon- sieur le President, M. de St. Sevre shuddered as he mechanically looked upon the instrument. x ‘That. poor girl,” added the coroner, ‘was the victim of M. Ernest. ‘This letter, found in her dross poeket, leaves ho doubt on the point.’ “He was jealous, perhaps,’ said tho old man, anxious to make an excuse for that abominable ertine, ‘Alas! it was not love thatled him astray—the cash safe of the broker, of which the door had beem opened, shows a defect of more than three hundred thousand francs in the accounts of the otvner.”* The president made a gesture of disgust, but quickly mastering the horror he felt, listened to the voroner, who added: “M, Ernest has lost at play, for some time considerable sums of money. Last night, am others, the Marquis de Monza won from him at club two thousand Louis, You are well aware, Monsieur le President, that he was unable to pay Ries “Enough, gentlemen,” cried the president, ‘de your duty—I will lead you mywelf"? Some police officers had previously arrived, and. walting in the ante-chamber. ‘fhe coroner made them a sign, and soon commenced, under the eyes the father, that chase of which his. only son was the object. He sided it silently, without mingling a sentence with the few official words pronounced by the officer No one was found on tho ground floor. There ré mained to visit the first floor, the second that wah inhabited. M. de St. Sevre, exhausted by his efforts, had re- sumed a seat. He rung the bell and requested the servant to send him the housekeeper, pe open a& the doors and closets in the ‘ch of the trates. Old Babet waa tar'y, but at last arrived, us, confused, and unable to pronounce a single word, _ ‘1 was coming—I was going. Excuse me, Mon- sieur le President, here | am.’ “This good woman is frightened,’ pursued the coroner, “she is so little accustomed to suck Calm yourself, Madame, we shall do you no harm, only show us the house.’? In adjusting the keys, Babet’s hand trembled, She opened, with an undecided step, tho door of the immense room which her master had not entered since the death of his wife, and, peering the door, allowed the officers to pass. ‘The prest- dent came last. She stopped him, end clasping hands in an attitude of ardent supplication, en- treated “Monsieur le President, in the name of his mother, do not deliver bita up. He is in the pa- vilion of a eed as The president retreated two steps. _ The above is all of this story that will be pub- lished in our columns, The continuation of it where it leaves off here can be found only in the New York Langer the great family ae er, which, is for sale at all the stores thro::ghout the city and country, where papers are sold. Remember and ask for the New York Ledger for January 11, and in it you will find the continuation of the story from where it leaves off here. ‘The Ledger is mailed to subscribers at $2 ayear, or two copies for $3, Addreas your letters to Ro- bert Bonner, publisher, 40 Park’ row, New York. Itis the handsomest and best family paper in the country, elegantly illustrated, and’ characterized by a high moral tone. Rev, MR, EVERETT ARTICLE ON MASON AND Sildell in the LEDGER for this week. Ray. M v Bi Re? MR. RVERETT'S ARTIOLE ON MASON AND V Slidell in the LEDGER for this week, DOME. BVERETTS ARTIC dell in the LEDGER for thin RAD ME EVERETTS ARTIOLR Sitdeli, in the LEDGER EAD MR. EVERETT’S ARTICLE ON MASON AND Slidell in dhe LEDGER for this week, EVE: in the LEDGER for this week, ON MASON AND or thin week. A ba MR. EVERETTS ARTICLE ON MASON AND Slidell, 18 the LEDGER for this week, Ts ARTICOUR ON MASON AND EDGER for this week, RE40.MS EVERETMS ARTICLE ON LY Slide, in the LEDGER for this week. RP, 28, RVERPTNS ART lideli, i the LEDGER tor RMA MS EVERETDS ARTICLE ON v he LEDGER for thi 3 Slideit, 4 MASON AND RAP ee EVERETT ARTIC Slidell, fn the LED: ——s MR. EVERETS ARTICLE ON MASON AND ol, in the LEDGER for this week, RD NR RETT'S ARTICLE ON MASON AND ‘Slide, tn th ER for thin week. K. EVERETT’S ARTIOLE ON MASON AND ide, in the LEDGER for this week, LE ON MASON AND ER for ihis week, ERETT'S ARTICLE ON MABON AND LEDGER for this week, ‘IT'S ARTICLE ON MASON AND GER tor this week. ON JER for this week, RRA, Me ell, in th ARTICLE ON MASON ANB for this week. GLE ON MASON AND ER for this week. TLS ARVOLE ON MASON AND in the LEDGER for this DMR, EVEREITS ARTICLE Hide, inthe LEDGER for this week, ARTICLE ON MASON AND IR for this we hi See. th a ~ PUAD MR. EVERETMNG ARTICLE ON MASON AND Kael, inthe LEDGER for this week, ARTICLE ON MASON AND Nn the LEDGER for this week. on eam, AD MR, EVERETI’S ARTICLE ON MASON AND lideil, ia the LEDGER for this week, Re EAD MR, EVERUTTS ARTICLE ON MASON AND R ‘Ruch th the LEDOER fr this weeks 91 QEAD MR. EVERETOS ARTICLE ON MASON AND’ React in the LEDGER for this week, = wer READ, ME EVE EPPS ARTICLE ON MASON AND i LEDGER for this week. READ. MR. EVERE’ RTLCLE ON MASON AN! R lids 1 the LEDGER for thls week, it = R722, MR. EVERETT'S ARTICLE ON MASON AND Siidel!, in the LEDGRR tor this week, READ, ME. RVBRETTS ARTICLE ON MASON AND Slideil, in the LEDGER for this week. RY, MR. EVERETT’S ARCICLE ON MASON AND ‘idell, in the LEDGER for this week, RESP Ae, EVERETES ARTICLE ON MASON AND ‘Slideti, in the LEDGER for this we R242, 2%, Ev Sl tn the ARTICLE for this week. ETT'S MASON DERR oul EAD MR. EVERETT’S ARTICLE ON MASON AND I Slidell, in the LEDGER for this week. a ogee MR. EVERETMS ARTICLE ON MASON AND Sitdell, in the LEDGER for this week. Rp. MR. EVERETT'S ARTICLE ON MASON AND Slidell, in the LEDGER for this week. EAD MR. EVERETT'S ARTICLE ON MASON AND Slidell, in the LEDGER for thisweok. Rv, MR. EVERETT’S ARTICLE ON MASON AND J Slideil, in the LEDGER for this week, EAD MR, EVERETT’S ARTICLE ON MASON AND Rosie inthe LEDGER tor tots week id RE, MR. EVERETTE ARTICLE ON MASON AND Slidell, ta the LEDGER for (his week. RR, MR. EVERETT’S ARTICLE ON MASON AND Sitdeil, in the LEDGER ior this week. FAD MR. EVERETT’S ARTICLE ON MASON AND Rive in the LEDGER tor this week. bigs R. EVERE@T'S ARTICLE ON MASON AND Slideti, in the LEDGER for this week. Re. MR. EVERETT’S ARTIOLE ON MASON AND Slidell, in the LEDGEN for this week. EAD MR. EVERET?’S ARTICLE ON M. iN Statttrin the LEDGER for this week, WASON AND AQEAD MR. EVERETTS ARTICLE ON MASON R ite 1, in the LEDGER for this week. ial Ree MR. EVERETI'S ARTICLE ON MASON AND Slidell, in the LEDGER for this week, ERETMS ARTICLE ON MASON AND LEDGER for this week, - EAD MR. EVERETT'S ARTICLE ON MASON I del}, 10 the LEDGER ir thie week, D MR. EVEREIT'S ARTICLE ON MASON ell, nt EDGER for this week. EAD MR, EVERET?’S ARTIC v in the LEDGER tor D MRe EVREETTS ARTS ell, in the LEDGER for th: KCTS. ARTIOL LEDGER tov thi EREITS ARTICLE ON MASO) JBUGEM tar t ERETS ARTICLE ON MASON AND |