Vivian called at the Palace, but the fatigues of the preceding night prevented either of the ladies from being visible. In the evening he joined a small and select circle. The party, indeed, only consisted of the Grand Duke, Madame, their visitors, and the usual attendants, himself, and von Sohnspeer. The quiet of the little circle did not more strikingly contrast with the noise, and glare, and splendour of the last night than did Vivian's subdued reception by the Baroness with her agitated demeanour in the garden. She was cordial, but calm. He found it quite impossible to gain even one moment's private conversation with her. Madame Carolina monopolised his attention, as much to favour the views of the Field Marshal as to discuss the comparative merits of Pope as a moralist and a poet; and Vivian had the mortification of observing his odious rival, whom he now thoroughly detested, discharge without ceasing his royal salutes in the impatient ear of Beckendorff's lovely daughter.

Towards the conclusion of the evening a chamberlain entered the room and whispered his mission to the Baroness. She immediately rose and quitted the apartment. As the party was breaking up she again entered. Her countenance was agitated. Madame Carolina was in the art of being overwhelmed with the compliments of the Grand Marshal, and Vivian seized the opportunity of reaching the Baroness. After a few hurried sentences she dropped her glove. Vivian gave it her. So many persons were round them that it was impossible to converse except on the most common topics. The glove was again dropped.

"I see," said the Baroness, with a meaning look, "that you are but a recreant knight, or else you would not part with a lady's glove so easily."

Vivian gave a rapid glance round the room. No one was observing him, and the glove was immediately concealed. He hurried home, rushed up the staircase of the hotel, ordered lights, locked the door, and with a sensation of indescribable anxiety tore the precious glove from his bosom, seized, opened, and read the enclosed and following note. It was written in pencil, in a hurried hand, and some of the words were repeated:—

"I leave the Court to-night. He is here himself. No art can postpone my departure. Much, much, I wish to see you; to say, to say, to you. He is to have an interview with the Grand Duke to-morrow morning. Dare you come to his place in his absence? You know the private road. He goes by the high road, and calls in his way on a Forest Councillor: it is the white house by the barrier; you know it! Watch him to-morrow morning; about nine or ten I should think; here, here; and then for heaven's sake let me see you. Dare everything! Fail not! Mind, by the private road: beware the other! You know the ground. God bless you:

"SYBILLA"



CHAPTER XII

Vivian read the note over a thousand times. He could not retire to rest. He called Essper George, and gave him all necessary directions for the morning. About three o'clock Vivian lay down on a sofa, and slept for a few hours. He started often in his short and feverish slumber. His dreams were unceasing and inexplicable. At first von Sohnspeer was their natural hero; but soon the scene shifted. Vivian was at Ems, walking under the well-remembered lime-trees, and with the Baroness. Suddenly, although it was mid-day, the Sun became large, blood-red, and fell out of the heavens; his companion screamed, a man rushed forward with a drawn sword. It was the idiot Crown Prince of Reisenburg. Vivian tried to oppose him, but without success. The infuriated ruffian sheathed his weapon in the heart of the Baroness. Vivian shrieked, and fell upon her body, and, to his horror, found himself embracing the cold corpse of Violet Fane!

Vivian and Essper mounted their horses about seven o'clock. At eight they had reached a small inn near the Forest Councillor's house, where Vivian was to remain until Essper had watched the entrance of the Minister. It was a few minutes past nine when Essper returned with the joyful intelligence that Owlface and his master had been seen to enter the Courtyard. Vivian immediately mounted Max, and telling Essper to keep a sharp watch, he set spurs to his horse.

"Now, Max, my good steed, each minute is golden; serve thy master well!" He patted the horse's neck, the animal's erected ears proved how well it understood its master's wishes; and taking advantage of the loose bridle, which was confidently allowed it, the horse sprang rather than galloped to the Minister's residence. Nearly an hour, however, was lost in gaining the private road, for Vivian, after the caution in the Baroness's letter, did not dare the high road.

He is galloping up the winding rural lane, where he met Beckendorff on the second morning of his visit. He has reached the little gate, and following the example of the Grand Duke, ties Max at the entrance. He dashes over the meadows; not following the path, but crossing straight through the long dewy grass, he leaps over the light iron railing; he is rushing up the walk; he takes a rapid glance, in passing, at the little summer-house; the blue passion-flower is still blooming, the house is in sight; a white handkerchief is waving from the drawing-room window! He sees it; fresh wings are added to its course; he dashes through a bed of flowers, frightens the white peacock, darts through the library window, and is in the drawing room.

The Baroness was there: pale and agitated she stood beneath the mysterious picture, with one arm leaning on the old carved mantelpiece. Overcome by her emotions, she did not move forward to meet him as he entered; but Vivian observed neither her constraint nor her agitation.

"Sybilla! dearest Sybilla! say you are mine!"

He seized her hand. She struggled not to disengage herself; her head sank upon her arm, which rested upon his shoulder. Overpowered, she sobbed convulsively. He endeavoured to calm her, but her agitation increased; and minutes elapsed ere she seemed to be even sensible of his presence. At length she became more calm, and apparently making a struggle to compose herself, she raised her head and said, "This is very weak let us walk for a moment about the room!"

At this moment Vivian was seized by the throat with a strong grasp. He turned round; it was Mr. Beckendorff, with a face deadly white, his full eyes darting from their sockets like a hungry snake's, and the famous Italian dagger in his right hand.

"Villain!" said he, in the low voice of fatal passion; "Villain, is this your Destiny?"

Vivian's first thoughts were for the Baroness; and turning his head from Beckendorff, he looked with the eye of anxious love to his companion. But, instead of fainting, instead of being overwhelmed by this terrible interruption, she seemed, on the contrary, to have suddenly regained her natural spirit and self-possession. The blood had returned to her hitherto pale cheek, and the fire to an eye before dull with weeping. She extricated herself immediately from Vivian's encircling arm, and by so doing enabled him to have struggled, had it been necessary, more equally with the powerful grasp of his assailant.

"Stand off, sir!" said the Baroness, with an air of inexpressible dignity, and a voice which even at this crisis seemed to anticipate that it would be obeyed. "Stand off, sir! stand off, I command you!"

Beckendorff for one moment was motionless: he then gave her a look of piercing earnestness, threw Vivian, rather than released him, from his hold, and flung the dagger with a bitter smile, into the corner of the room. "Well, madam!" said he, in a choking voice, "you are obeyed!"

"Mr. Grey," continued the Baroness, "I regret that this outrage should have been experienced by you because you have dared to serve me. My presence should have preserved you from this contumely; but what are we to expect from those who pride themselves upon being the sons of slaves! You shall hear further from me." So saying, the lady, bowing to Vivian, and sweeping by the Minister with a glance of indescribable disdain, quitted the apartment. As she was on the point of leaving the room, Vivian was standing against the wall, with a pale face and folded arms; Beckendorff, with his back to the window, his eyes fixed on the ground; and Vivian, to his astonishment, perceived, what escaped the Minister's notice, that while the lady bade him adieu with one hand she made rapid signs with the other to some unknown person in the garden.

Mr. Beckendorff and Vivian were left alone, and the latter was the first to break silence.

"Mr. Beckendorff," said he, in a calm voice, "considering the circumstances under which you have found me in your house this morning, I should have known how to excuse and to forget any irritable expressions which a moment of ungovernable passion might have inspired. I should have passed them over unnoticed. But your unjustifiable behaviour has exceeded that line of demarcation which sympathy with human feelings allows even men of honour to recognise. You have disgraced both me and yourself by giving me a blow. It is, as that lady well styled it, an outrage; an outrage which the blood of any other man but yourself could only obliterate from my memory; but while I am inclined to be indulgent to your exalted station and your peculiar character, I at the same time expect, and now wait for, an apology!"

"An apology!" said Beckendorff, now beginning to stamp up and down the room; "an apology! Shall it be made to you, sir, or the Archduchess?"

"The Archduchess;" said Vivian. "Good God! what can you mean! Did I hear you right?"

"I said the Archduchess," answered Beckendorff, with firmness; "a Princess of the House of Austria, and the pledged wife of his Royal Highness the Crown Prince of Reisenburg. Perhaps you may now think that other persons have to apologise?"

"Mr. Beckendorff," said Vivian, "I am overwhelmed; I declare, upon my honour—"

"Stop, sir! you have said too much already—"

"But, Mr. Beckendorff, surely you will allow me to explain—"

"Sir! there is no need of explanation. I know everything; more than you do yourself. You can have nothing to explain to me! and I presume you are now fully aware of the impossibility of again speaking to her. It is at present within an hour of noon. Before sunset you must be twenty miles from the Court; so far you will be attended. Do not answer me; you know my power. A remonstrance only, and I write to Vienna: your progress shall be stopped throughout the South of Europe. For her sake this business will be hushed up. An important and secret mission will be the accredited reason of your leaving Reisenburg. This will be confirmed by your official attendant, who will be an Envoy's Courier. Farewell!"

As Mr. Beckendorff quitted the room, his confidential servant, the messenger of Turriparva, entered, and with the most respectful bow informed Vivian that the horses were ready. In about three hours' time Vivian Grey, followed by the Government messenger, stopped at his hotel. The landlord and waiters bowed with increased obsequiousness on seeing him so attended, and in a few minutes Reisenburg was ringing with the news that his appointment to the Under-Secretaryship of State was now "a settled thing."



BOOK VIII

CHAPTER I

The landlord of the Grand Hotel of the Four Nations at Reisenburg was somewhat consoled for the sudden departure of his distinguished guest by selling the plenipotentiary a travelling carriage lately taken for a doubtful bill from a gambling Russian General at a large profit. In this convenient vehicle, in the course of a couple of hours after his arrival in the city, was Mr. Vivian Grey borne through the gate of the Allies. Essper George, who had reached the hotel about half an hour after his master, followed behind the carriage on his hack, leading Max. The Courier cleared the road before, and expedited the arrival of the special Envoy of the Grand Duke of Reisenburg at the point of his destination by ordering the horses, clearing the barriers, and paying the postilions in advance. Vivian had never travelled before with such style and speed.

Our hero covered himself up with his cloak and drew his travelling cap over his eyes, though it was one of the hottest days of this singularly hot autumn. Entranced in a reverie, the only figure that occurred to his mind was the young Archduchess, and the only sounds that dwelt on his ear were the words of Beckendorff: but neither to the person of the first nor to the voice of the second did he annex any definite idea.

After some hours' travelling, which to Vivian seemed both an age and a minute, he was roused from his stupor by the door of his caleche being opened. He shook himself as a man does who has awakened from a benumbing and heavy sleep, although his eyes were the whole time wide open. The disturbing intruder was his courier, who, bowing, with his hat in hand, informed his Excellency that he was now on the frontier of Reisenburg; regretting that he was under the necessity of quitting his Excellency, he begged to present him with his passport. "It is made out for Vienna," continued the messenger. "A private pass, sir, of the Prime Minister, and will entitle you to the greatest consideration."

The carriage was soon again advancing rapidly to the next post-house, when, after they had proceeded about half a mile, Essper George calling loudly from behind, the drivers suddenly stopped. Just as Vivian, to whose tortured mind the rapid movement of the carriage was some relief, for it produced an excitement which prevented thought, was about to inquire the cause of this stoppage. Essper George rode up to the caleche.

"Kind sir!" said he, with a peculiar look, "I have a packet for you."

"A packet! from whom? speak! give it me!"

"Hush! softly, good master. Here am I about to commit rank treason for your sake, and a hasty word is the only reward of my rashness."

"Nay, nay, good Essper, try me not now!"

"I will not, kind sir! but the truth is, I could not give you the packet while that double-faced knave was with us, or even while he was in sight. 'In good truth,' as Master Rodolph was wont to say—!"

"But of this packet?"

"'Fairly and softly,' good sir! as Hunsdrich the porter said when I would have drunk the mulled wine, while he was on the cold staircase—"

"Essper! do you mean to enrage me?"

"'By St. Hubert!' as that worthy gentleman the Grand Marshal was in the habit of swearing, I—"

"This is too much; what are the idle sayings of these people to me?"

"Nay, nay, kind sir! they do but show that each of us has his own way of telling a story, and that he who would hear a tale must let the teller's breath come out of his own nostrils."

"Well, Essper, speak on! Stranger things have happened to me than to be reproved by my own servant."

"Nay, kind master! say not a bitter word to me because you have slipped out of a scrape with your head on your shoulders. The packet is from Mr. Beckendorff's daughter."

"Ah! why did you not give it me before?"

"Why do I give it you now? Because I am a fool; that is why. What! you wanted it when that double-faced scoundrel was watching every eyelash of yours as it moved from the breath of a fly? a fellow who can see as well at the back of his head as from his face. I should like to poke out his front eyes, to put him on an equality with the rest of mankind. He it was who let the old gentleman know of your visit this morning, and I suspect that he has been nearer your limbs of late than you have imagined. Every dog has his day, and the oldest pig must look for the knife! The Devil was once cheated on Sunday, and I have been too sharp for Puss in boots and his mouse-trap! Prowling about the Forest Councillor's house, I saw your new servant, sir, gallop in, and his old master soon gallop out. I was off as quick as they, but was obliged to leave my horse within two miles of the house, and then trust to my legs. I crept through the shrubs like a land tortoise; but, of course, too late to warn you. However, I was in for the death, and making signs to the young lady, who directly saw that I was a friend; bless her! she is as quick as a partridge; I left you to settle it with papa, and, after all, did that which I suppose you intended, sir, to do yourself; made my way into the young lady's bedchamber."

"Hold your tongue, sir! and give me the packet."

"There it is, and now we will go on; but we must stay an hour at the next post, if your honour pleases not to sleep there; for both Max and my own hack have had a sharp day's work."

Vivian tore open the packet. It contained a long letter, written on the night of her return to Beckendorff's; she had stayed up the whole night writing. It was to have been forwarded to Vivian, in case of their not being able to meet. In the enclosure were a few hurried lines, written since the catastrophe. They were these: "May this safely reach you! Can you ever forgive me? The enclosed, you will see, was intended for you, in case of our not meeting. It anticipated sorrow; yet what were its anticipations to our reality!"

The Archduchess' letter was evidently written under the influence of agitated feelings. We omit it; because, as the mystery of her character is now explained, a great portion of her communication would be irrelevant to our tale. She spoke of her exalted station as a woman, that station which so many women envy, in a spirit of agonising bitterness. A royal princess is only the most flattered of state victims. She is a political sacrifice, by which enraged Governments are appeased, wavering allies conciliated and ancient amities confirmed. Debarred by her rank and her education from looking forward to that exchange of equal affection which is the great end and charm of female existence, no individual finds more fatally and feels more keenly that pomp is not felicity, and splendour not content.

Deprived of all those sources of happiness which seem inherent in woman, the wife of the Sovereign sometimes seeks in politics and in pleasure a means of excitement which may purchase oblivion. But the political queen is a rare character; she must possess an intellect of unusual power, and her lot must be considered as an exception in the fortunes of female royalty. Even the political queen generally closes an agitated career with a broken heart. And for the unhappy votary of pleasure, who owns her cold duty to a royal husband, we must not forget that even in the most dissipated courts the conduct of the queen is expected to be decorous, and that the instances are not rare where the wife of the monarch has died on the scaffold, or in a dungeon, or in exile, because she dared to be indiscreet where all were debauched. But for the great majority of royal wives, they exist without a passion; they have nothing to hope, nothing to fear, nothing to envy, nothing to want, nothing to confide, nothing to hate, and nothing to love. Even their duties, though multitudinous, are mechanical, and, while they require much attention, occasion no anxiety. Amusement is their moment of great emotion, and for them amusement is rare; for amusement is the result of equal companionship. Thus situated, they are doomed to become frivolous in their pursuits and formal in their manners, and the Court chaplain or the Court confessor is the only person who can prove they have a soul, by convincing them that it will be saved.

The young Archduchess had assented to the proposition of marriage with the Crown Prince of Reisenburg without opposition, as she was convinced that requesting her assent was only a courteous form of requiring her compliance. There was nothing outrageous to her feelings in marrying a man whom she had never seen, because her education, from her tenderest years, had daily prepared her for such an event. Moreover, she was aware that, if she succeeded in escaping from the offers of the Crown Prince of Reisenburg, she would soon be under the necessity of assenting to those of some other suitor; and if proximity to her own country, accordance with its sentiments and manners, and previous connection with her own house, were taken into consideration, an union with the family of Reisenburg was even desirable. It was to be preferred, at least, to one which brought with it a foreign husband and a foreign clime, a strange language and strange customs. The Archduchess, a girl of ardent feelings and lively mind, had not, however, agreed to become that all-commanding slave, a Queen, without a stipulation. She required that she might be allowed, previous to her marriage, to visit her future Court incognita. This singular and unparalleled proposition was not easily acceded to: but the opposition with which it was received only tended to make the young Princess more determined to be gratified in her caprice. Her Imperial Highness did not pretend that any end was to be obtained by this unusual procedure, and indeed she had no definite purpose in requesting it to be permitted. It was originally the mere whim of the moment, and had it not been strongly opposed it would not have been strenuously insisted upon. As it was, the young Archduchess persisted, threatened, and grew obstinate; and the grey-headed negotiators of the marriage, desirous of its speedy completion, and not having a more tractable tool ready to supply her place, at length yielded to her bold importunity. Great difficulty, however, was experienced in carrying her wishes into execution. By what means and in what character she was to appear at Court, so as not to excite suspicion or occasion discovery, were often discussed, without being resolved upon. At length it became necessary to consult Mr. Beckendorff. The upper lip of the Prime Minister of Reisenburg curled as the Imperial Minister detailed the caprice and contumacy of the Princess, and treating with the greatest contempt this girlish whim, Mr. Beckendorff ridiculed those by whom it had been humoured with no suppressed derision. The consequence of his conduct was an interview with the future Grand Duchess, and the consequence of his interview an unexpected undertaking on his part to arrange the visit according to her Highness's desires.

The Archduchess had not yet seen the Crown Prince; but six miniatures and a whole length portrait had prepared her for not meeting an Adonis or a Baron Trenck, and that was all; for never had the Correggio of the age of Charles the Fifth better substantiated his claims to the office of Court painter than by these accurate semblances of his Royal Highness, in which his hump was subdued into a Grecian bend, and his lack-lustre eyes seemed beaming with tenderness and admiration. His betrothed bride stipulated with Mr. Beckendorff that the fact of her visit should be known only to himself and the Grand Duke; and before she appeared at Court she had received the personal pledge both of himself and his Royal Highness that the affair should be kept a complete secret from the Crown Prince.

Most probably, on her first introduction to her future husband, all the romantic plans of the young Archduchess to excite an involuntary interest in his heart vanished; but how this may be, it is needless for us to inquire, for that same night introduced another character into her romance for whom she was perfectly unprepared, and whose appearance totally disorganised its plot.

Her inconsiderate, her unjustifiable conduct, in tampering with that individual's happiness and affection, was what the young and haughty Archduchess deplored in the most energetic, the most feeling, and the most humble spirit; and anticipating that after this painful disclosure they would never meet again, she declared that for his sake alone she regretted what had passed, and praying that he might be happier than herself, she supplicated to be forgiven and forgotten.

Vivian read the Archduchess's letter over and over again, and then put it in his breast. At first he thought that he had lived to shed another tear; but he was mistaken. In a few minutes he found himself quite roused from his late overwhelming stupor. Remorse or regret for the past, care or caution for the future, seemed at the same moment to have fled from his mind. He looked up to Heaven with a wild smile, half of despair and half of defiance, it seemed to imply that Fate had now done her worst, and that he had at last the satisfaction of knowing himself to he the most unfortunate and unhappy being that ever existed. When a man at the same time believes in and sneers at his Destiny we may be sure that he considers his condition past redemption.



CHAPTER II

They stopped for an hour at the next post, according to Essper's suggestion. Indeed, he proposed resting there for the night, for both men and beasts much required repose; but Vivian panted to reach Vienna, to which city two days' travelling would now carry him. His passions were so roused, and his powers of reflection so annihilated, that while he had determined to act desperately, he was unable to resolve upon anything desperate. Whether, on his arrival at the Austrian capital, he should plunge into dissipation or into the Danube was equally uncertain. He had some thought of joining the Greeks or Turks, no matter which, probably the latter, or perhaps of serving in the Americas. The idea of returning to England never once entered his mind: he expected to find letters from his father at Vienna, and he almost regretted it; for, in his excessive misery, it was painful to be conscious that a being still breathed who was his friend.

It was a fine moonlight night, but the road was mountainous; and in spite of all the encouragement of Vivian, and all the consequent exertions of the postilion, they were upwards of two hours and a half going these eight miles. To get on any farther to-night was quite impossible. Essper's horse was fairly knocked up, and even Max visibly distressed. The post-house was fortunately an inn. It was not at a village, and, as far as the travellers could learn, not near one, and its appearance did not promise very pleasing accommodation. Essper, who had scarcely tasted food for nearly eighteen hours, was not highly delighted with the prospect before them. His anxiety, however, was not merely selfish: he was as desirous that his young master should be refreshed by a good night's rest as himself, and anticipating that he should have to exercise his skill in making a couch for Vivian in the carriage, he proceeded to cross-examine the postmaster on the possibility of his accommodating them. The host was a pious-looking personage, in a black velvet cap, with a singularly meek and charitable expression of countenance. His long black hair was exquisitely braided, and he wore round his neck a collar of pewter medals, all of which had been recently sprinkled with holy water and blessed under the petticoat of the saintly Virgin; for the postmaster had only just returned from a pilgrimage to the celebrated shrine of the Black Lady of Altoting.

"Good friend!" said Essper, looking him cunningly in the face, "I fear that we must order horses on: you can hardly accommodate two?"

"Good friend!" answered the innkeeper, and he crossed himself very reverently at the same time, "it is not for man to fear, but to hope."

"If your beds were as good as your adages," said Essper George, laughing, "in good truth, as a friend of mine would say, I would sleep here to-night."

"Prithee, friend," continued the innkeeper, kissing a medal of his collar very devoutly, "what accommodation dost thou lack?"

"Why" said Essper, "in the way of accommodation, little, for two excellent beds will content us; but in the way of refreshment, by St. Hubert! as another friend of mine would swear, he would be a bold man who would engage to be as hungry before his dinner as I shall be after my supper."

"Friend!" said the innkeeper, "Our Lady forbid that thou shouldst leave our walls to-night: for the accommodation, we have more than sufficient; and as for the refreshment, by Holy Mass! we had a priest tarry here last night, and he left his rosary behind. I will comfort my soul, by telling my beads over the kitchen-fire, and for every Paternoster my wife shall give thee a rasher of kid, and for every Ave a tumbler of Augsburg, which Our Lady forget me if I did not myself purchase but yesterday se'nnight from the pious fathers of the Convent of St. Florian!"

"I take thee at thy word, honest sir," said Essper. "By the Creed! I liked thy appearance from the first; nor wilt thou find me unwilling, when my voice has taken its supper, to join thee in some pious hymn or holy canticle. And now for the beds!"

"There is the green room, the best bedroom in my house," said the Innkeeper. "Holy Mary forget me if in that same bed have not stretched their legs more valorous generals, more holy prelates, and more distinguished councillors of our Lord the Emperor, than in any bed in all Austria."

"That, then, for my master, and for myself—"

"H-u-m!" said the host, looking very earnestly in Essper's face; "I should have thought that thou wert one more anxious after dish and flagon than curtain and eider-down!"

"By my Mother! I love good cheer," said Essper, earnestly, "and want it more at this moment than any knave that ever yet starved: but if thou hast not a bed to let me stretch my legs on after four-and-twenty hours' hard riding, by holy Virgin! I will have horses on to Vienna."

"Our Black Lady forbid!" said the innkeeper, with a quick voice, and with rather a dismayed look; "said I that thou shouldst not have a bed? St. Florian desert me if I and my wife would not sooner sleep in the chimney-corner than thou shouldst miss one wink of thy slumbers!"

"In one word, have you a bed?"

"Have I a bed? Where slept, I should like to know, the Vice-Principal of the Convent of Molk on the day before the last holy Ascension? The waters were out in the morning; and when will my wife forget what his reverence was pleased to say when he took his leave; 'Good woman!' said he, 'my duty calls me; but the weather is cold; and between ourselves, I am used to great feasts, and I should have no objection, if I were privileged, to stay and to eat again of thy red cabbage and cream!' What say you to that? Do you think we have got beds now? You shall sleep to-night, sir, like an Aulic Councillor!"

This adroit introduction of the red cabbage and cream settled everything; when men are wearied and famished they have no inclination to be incredulous, and in a few moments Vivian was informed by his servant that the promised accommodation was satisfactory; and having locked up the carriage, and wheeled it into a small outhouse, he and Essper were ushered by their host into a room which, as is usual in small German inns in the South, served at the same time both for kitchen and saloon. The fire was lit in a platform of brick, raised in the centre of the floor: the sky was visible through the chimney, which, although of a great breadth below, gradually narrowed to the top. A family of wandering Bohemians, consisting of the father and mother and three children, were seated on the platform when Vivian entered; the man was playing on a coarse wooden harp, without which the Bohemians seldom travel. The music ceased as the new guests came into the room, and the Bohemian courteously offered his place at the fire to our hero, who, however, declined disturbing the family group. A small table and a couple of chairs were placed in a corner of the room by the innkeeper's wife, a bustling active dame, who apparently found no difficulty in laying the cloth, dusting the furniture, and cooking the supper at the same time. At this table Vivian and his servant seated themselves; nor, indeed, did the cookery discredit the panegyric of the Reverend Vice-Principal of the Convent of Molk.

Alike wearied in mind and body, Vivian soon asked for his bed, which, though not exactly fitted for an Aulic Councillor, as the good host perpetually avowed it to be, nevertheless afforded decent accommodation.

The Bohemian family retired to the hayloft, and Essper George would have followed his master's example, had not the kind mistress of the house tempted him to stay behind by the production of a new platter of rashers: indeed, he never remembered meeting with such hospitable people as the postmaster and his wife. They had evidently taken a fancy to him, and, though extremely wearied, the lively little Essper endeavoured, between his quick mouthfuls and long draughts, to reward and encourage their kindness by many a good story and sharp joke. With all these both mine host and his wife were exceedingly amused, seldom containing their laughter, and frequently protesting, by the sanctity of various saints, that this was the pleasantest night and Essper the pleasantest fellow that they had ever met with.

"Eat, eat, my friend!" said his host; "by the Mass! thou hast travelled far; and fill thy glass, and pledge with me Our Black Lady of Altoting. By Holy Cross! I have hung up this week in her chapel a garland of silk roses, and have ordered to be burnt before her shrine three pounds of perfumed was tapers! Fill again, fill again! and thou too, good mistress; a bard day's work hast thou had; a glass of wine will do thee no harm! join me with our new friend! Pledge we together the Holy Fathers of St. Florian, my worldly patrons and my spiritual pastors: let us pray that his reverence the Sub-Prior may not have his Christmas attack of gout in the stomach, and a better health to poor Father Felix! Fill again, fill again! this Augsburg is somewhat acid; we will have a bottle of Hungary. Mistress, fetch us the bell-glasses, and here to the Reverend Vice-Principal of Molk! our good friend: when will my wife forget what he said to her on the morning of last holy Ascension! Fill again, fill again!"

Inspired by the convivial spirit of the pious and jolly postmaster, Essper George soon forgot his threatened visit to his bedroom, and ate and drank, laughed and joked, as if he were again with his friend, Master Rodolph but wearied Nature at length avenged herself for this unnatural exertion, and leaning back in his chair, he was, in the course of an hour, overcome by one of those dead and heavy slumbers the effect of the united influence of fatigue and intemperance; in short, it was like the midnight sleep of a fox-hunter.

No sooner had our pious votary of the Black Lady of Altoting observed the effect of his Hungary wine than, making a well-understood sign to his wife, be took up the chair of Essper in his brawny arms, and, preceded by Mrs. Postmistress with a lantern, he left the room with his guest. Essper's hostess led and lighted the way to an outhouse, which occasionally served as a coach-house, a stable, and a lumber-room. It had no window, and the lantern afforded the only light which exhibited its present contents. In one corner was a donkey tied up, belonging to the Bohemian. Under a hayrack was a large child's cradle: it was of a remarkable size, having been made for twins. Near it was a low wooden sheep-tank, half filled with water, and which had been placed there for the refreshment of the dog and his feathered friends, who were roosting in the rack.

The pious innkeeper very gently lowered to the ground the chair on which Essper was soundly sleeping; and then, having crossed himself, he took up our friend with great tenderness and solicitude, and dexterously fitted him in the huge cradle.

About an hour past midnight Essper George awoke. He was lying on his back, and very unwell; and on trying to move, found that he was rocking. His late adventure was obliterated from his memory; and the strange movement, united with his peculiar indisposition, left him no doubt that he was on board ship! As is often the case when we are tipsy or nervous, Essper had been woke by the fright of falling from some immense height; and finding that his legs had no sensation, for they were quite benumbed, he concluded that he had fallen down the hatchway, that his legs were broken, and himself jammed in between some logs of wood in the hold, and so he began to cry lustily to those above to come down to his rescue.

"O, Essper George!" thought he, "how came you to set foot on salt timber again! Had not you had enough of it in the Mediterranean and the Turkish seas, that you must be getting aboard this lubberly Dutch galliot! for I am sure she's Dutch by being so low in the water. Well, they may talk of a sea-life, but for my part, I never saw the use of the Sea. Many a sad heart it has caused, and many a sick stomach has it occasioned! The boldest sailor climbs on board with a heavy soul, and leaps on land with a light spirit. O! thou indifferent ape of Earth! thy houses are of wood and thy horses of canvas; thy roads have no landmarks and thy highways no inns; thy hills are green without grass and wet without showers! and as for food, what art thou, O, bully Ocean! but the stable of horse-fishes, the stall of cow-fishes, the sty of hog-fishes, and the kennel of dog-fishes! Commend me to a fresh-water dish for meagre days! Sea-weeds stewed with chalk may be savoury stuff for a merman; but, for my part, give me red cabbage and cream: and as for drink, a man may live in the midst of thee his whole life and die for thirst at the end of it! Besides, thou blasphemous salt lake, where is thy religion? Where are thy churches, thou heretic?" So saying Essper made a desperate effort to crawl up the hold. His exertion set the cradle rocking with renewed violence; and at lust dashing against the sheep-tank, that pastoral piece of furniture was overset, and part of its contents poured upon the inmate of the cradle.

"Sprung a leak in the hold, by St. Nicholas!" bawled out Essper George. "Caulkers ahoy!"

At this moment three or four fowls, roused by the fall of the tank and the consequent shouts of Essper, began fluttering about the rack, and at last perched upon the cradle. "The live stock got loose'" shouted Essper. "and the breeze getting stiffer every instant! Where is the captain? I will see him. I am not one of the crew: I belong to the Court! I must have cracked my skull when I fell like a lubber down that confounded hatchway! Egad! I feel as if I had been asleep, and been dreaming I was at Court."

The sound of heavy footsteps was now over his head. These noises were at once an additional proof that he was in the hold, and an additional stimulus to his calls to those on deck. In fact, these sounds were occasioned by the Bohemians, who always rose before break of day; and consequently, in a few minutes, the door of the stable opened, and the Bohemian, with a lantern in his hand, entered.

"What do you want?" cried Essper.

"I want my donkey"

"You do?" said Essper. "You're the Purser, I suppose, detected keeping a jackass among the poultry! eating all the food of our live stock, and we having kid every day. Though both my legs are off, I'll have a fling at you!" and so saying, Essper, aided by the light of the lantern, scrambled out of the cradle, and taking up the sheep-tank, sent it straight at the astonished Bohemian's head. The aim was good, and the man fell; more, however, from fright than injury. Seizing his lantern, which had fallen out of his hand, Essper escaped through the stable door and rushed into the house. He found himself in the kitchen. The noise of his entrance roused the landlord and his wife, who had been sleeping by the fire; since, not having a single bed beside their own, they had given that up to Vivian. The countenance of the innkeeper effectually dispelled the clouds which had been fast clearing off from Essper's intellect. Giving one wide stare, and then rubbing his eyes, the truth lighted upon him, and so he sent the Bohemian's lantern at his landlord's head. The postmaster seized the poker and the postmistress a faggot, and as the Bohemian, who had now recovered himself, had entered in the rear, Essper George stood a fair chance of receiving a thorough drubbing, had not his master, roused by the suspicious noises and angry sounds which had reached his room, entered the kitchen with his pistols.



CHAPTER III

As it was now morning, Vivian did not again retire to rest, but took advantage of the disturbance in the inn to continue his route at an earlier hour than he had previously intended.

Essper, when he found himself safely mounted, lagged behind a few minutes to vent his spleen against the innkeeper's wife.

"May St. Florian confound me, madam!" said Essper, addressing himself to the lady in the window, "if ever I beheld so ugly a witch as yourself! Pious friend! thy chaplet of roses was ill bestowed, and thou needest not have travelled so far to light thy wax tapers at the shrine of the Black Lady at Altoting; for by the beauty of holiness! an image of ebony is mother of pearl to that soot-face whom thou callest thy wife. Fare thee well! thou couple of saintly sinners! and may the next traveller who tarries in the den of thieves qualify thee for canonisation by thy wife's admiring pastor, the cabbage-eating Vice-Principal of Molk."

Before the end of an hour they had to ford a rivulet running between two high banks. The scenery just here was particularly lovely, and Vivian's attention was so engrossed by it that he did not observe the danger which he was about to incur.

On the left of the road a high range of rocky mountains abruptly descended into an open but broken country, and the other side of the road was occasionally bounded by low undulating hills, partially covered with dwarf woods, not high enough to obstruct the view of the distant horizon. Rocky knolls jutted out near the base of the mountains; and on the top of one of them, overlooked by a gigantic grey peak, stood an ancient and still inhabited feudal castle. Round the base of this insulated rock a rustic village peeped above the encircling nutwoods, its rising smoke softening the hard features of the naked crag. On the side of the village nearest to Vivian a bold sheet of water discharged itself in three separate falls between the ravine of a wooded mountain, and flowing round the village as a fine broad river, expanded before it reached the foundation of the castled rock into a long and deep lake, which was also fed by numerous streams, the gulleys only of which were now visible down the steep sides of the mountains, their springs having been long dried up.

Vivian's view was interrupted by his sudden descent into the bed of the rivulet, one of the numerous branches of the mountain torrent, and by a crash which as immediately ensued. The spring of his carriage was broken. The carriage fell over, but Vivian sustained no injury; and while Essper George rode forward to the village for assistance, his master helped the postilion to extricate the horses and secure them on the opposite bank. They had done all that was in their power some time before Essper returned; and Vivian, who had seated himself on some tangled beech-roots, was prevented growing impatient by contemplating the enchanting scenery. The postilion, on the contrary, who had travelled this road even day of his life, and who found no gratification in gazing upon rocks, woods, and waterfalls, lit his pipe, and occasionally talked to his horses. So essential an attribute of the beautiful is novelty! Essper at length made his appearance, attended by five or six peasants, dressed in holiday costume, with some fanciful decorations; their broad hats wreathed with wild flowers, their short brown jackets covered with buttons and fringe, and various coloured ribbons streaming from their knees.

"Well, sir! the grandson is born the day the grandfather dies! a cloudy morning has often a bright sunset' and though we are now sticking in a ditch, by the aid of St. Florian we may be soon feasting in a castle! Come, my merry men, I did not bring you here to show your ribbons; the sooner you help us out of this scrape the sooner you will be again dancing with the pretty maidens on the green! Lend a hand!"

The caleche appeared to be so much shattered that they only ventured to put in one horse; and Vivian, leaving his carriage in charge of Essper and the postilion, mounted Max, and rode to the village, attended by the peasants. He learnt from them on the way that they were celebrating the marriage of the daughter of their lord, who, having been informed of the accident, had commanded them to go immediately to the gentleman's assistance, and then conduct him to the castle.

They crossed the river over a light stone bridge of three arches, the key-stone of the centre one being decorated with a splendidly sculptured shield.

"This bridge appears to be very recently built?" said Vivian to one of his conductors.

"It was opened, sir, for the first time yesterday, to admit the bridegroom of my young lady, and the foundation stone was laid on the day she was born."

"I see that your good lord was determined that it should be a solid structure."

"Why, sir, it was necessary that the foundation should be strong, because three succeeding winters it was washed away by the rush of that mountain torrent. Turn this way, if you please, sir, through the village."

Vivian was much struck by the appearance of the little settlement as he rode through it. It did not consist of more than fifty houses, but they were all detached, and each beautifully embowered in trees. The end of the village came upon a large rising green, leading up to the only accessible side of the castle. It presented a most animated scene, being covered with various groups, all intent upon different rustic amusements. An immense pole, the stem of a gigantic fir-tree, was fixed nearly in the centre of the green, and crowned with a chaplet, the reward of the most active young man of the village, whose agility might enable him to display his gallantry by presenting it to his mistress, she being allowed to wear it during the remainder of the sports. The middle-aged men were proving their strength by raising weights; while the elders of the village joined in the calmer and more scientific diversion of skittles, which in Austria are played with bowls and pins of very great size. Others were dancing; others sitting under tents, chattering or taking refreshments. Some were walking in pairs, anticipating the speedy celebration of a wedding day happier to them, if less gay to others. Even the tenderest infants on this festive day seemed conscious of some unusual cause of excitement, and many an urchin, throwing himself forward in a vain attempt to catch in elder brother or a laughing sister, tried the strength of his leading-strings, and rolled over, crowing in the soft grass.

At the end of the green a splendid tent was erected, with a large white bridal flag waving from its top, embroidered in gold, with a true lover's knot. From this pavilion came forth, to welcome the strangers, the lord of the village. He was a tall but thin bending figure, with a florid benevolent countenance, and a quantity of long white hair. This venerable person cordially offered his hand to Vivian, regretted his accident, but expressed much pleasure that he had come to partake of their happiness. "Yesterday," continued he, "was my daughter's wedding day, and both myself and our humble friends are endeavouring to forget, in this festive scene, our approaching loss and separation. If you had come yesterday you would have assisted at the opening of my new bridge. Pray what do you think of it? But I will show it to you myself, which I assure you will give me great pleasure; at present let me introduce you to my family, who will be quite happy to see you. It is a pity that you have missed the Regatta; my daughter is just going to reward the successful candidate. You see the boats upon the lake; the one with the white and purple streamer was the conqueror. You will have the pleasure, too, of seeing my son-in-law; I am sure you will like him; he quite enjoys our sports. We shall have a fete champetre to-morrow, and a dance on the green to-night."

The old gentleman paused for want of breath, and having stood a moment to recover himself, he introduced his new guests to the inmates of the tent: first, his maiden sister, a softened facsimile of himself; behind her stood his beautiful and blushing daughter, the youthful bride, wearing on her head a coronal of white roses, and supported by three bridesmaids, the only relief to whose snowy dresses were large bouquets on their left side. The bridegroom was at first shaded by the curtain; but as he came forward Vivian started when he recognised his Heidelburg friend, Eugene von Konigstein!

Their mutual delight and astonishment were so great that for an instant neither of them could speak; but when the old man learnt from his son-in-law that the stranger was his most valued and intimate friend, and one to whom he was under great personal obligations, he absolutely declared that he would have the wedding, to witness which appeared to him the height of human felicity, solemnised over again. The bride blushed, the bridesmaids tittered, the joy was universal.

Vivian inquired after the Baron. He learnt from Eugene that he had quitted Europe about a month, having sailed as Minister to one of the New American States. "My uncle," continued the young man, "was neither well nor in spirits before his departure. I cannot understand why he plagues himself so about politics; however, I trust he will like his new appointment. You found him, I am sure, a delightful companion."

"Come! you two young gentlemen," said the father-in-law, "put off your chat till the evening. The business of the day stops, for I see the procession coming forward to receive the Regatta prize. Now, my dear! where is the scarf? You know what to say? Remember, I particularly wish to do honour to the victor! The sight of all these happy faces makes me feel quite young again. I declare I think I shall live a hundred years!"

The procession advanced. First came a band of young children strewing flowers, then followed four stout boys carrying a large purple and white banner. The victor, proudly preceding the other candidates, strutted forward, with his hat on one side, a light scull decorated with purple and white ribbons in his right hand, and his left arm round his wife's waist. The wife, a beautiful young woman, to whom were clinging two fat flaxen-headed children, was the most interesting figure in the procession. Her tight dark bodice set off her round full figure, and her short red petticoat displayed her springy foot and ancle. Her neatly braided and plaited hair was partly concealed by a silk cap, covered with gold spangled gauze, flattened rather at the top, and finished at the back of the head with a large bow. This costly head-gear, the highest fashion of her class, was presented to the wearer by the bride, and was destined to be kept for festivals. After the victor and his wife came six girls and six boys, at the side of whom walked a very bustling personage in black, who seemed extremely interested about the decorum of the procession. A long train of villagers succeeded.

"Well!" said the old Lord to Vivian, "this must be a very gratifying sight to you! How fortunate that your carriage broke down just at my castle! I think my dear girl is acquitting herself admirably. Ah! Eugene is a happy fellow, and I have no doubt that she will be happy too. The young sailor receives his honours very properly: they are as nice a family as I know. Observe, they are moving off now to make way for the pretty girls and boys. That person in black is our Abbe, as benevolent, worthy a creature as ever lived! and very clever too: you will see in a minute. Now they are going to give us a little bridal chorus, after the old fashion, and it is all the Abbe's doing. I understand that there is an elegant allusion to my new bridge in it, which I think will please you. Who ever thought that bridge would be opened for my girl's wedding? Well! I am glad that it was not finished before. But we must be silent' You will notice that part about the bridge; it is in the fifth verse, I am told, beginning with something about Hymen, and ending with something about roses."

By this time the procession had formed a semicircle before the tent, the Abbe standing In the middle, with a paper in his hand, and dividing the two hands of choristers. He gave a signal with his cane, and the girls commenced:—

Chorus of Maidens

Hours fly! it is Morn; he has left the bed of love! She follows him with a strained eye when his figure is no longer seen; she leans her head upon her arm. She is faithful to him as the lake to the mountain!

Chorus of Youths

Hours fly! it is Noon; fierce is the restless sun! While he labours he thinks of her! while he controls others he will obey her! A strong man subdued by love is like a vineyard silvered by the moon!

Chorus of Youths and Maidens

Hours fly! it is Eve; the soft star lights him to his home; she meets him as his shadow falls on the threshold! she smiles, and their child, stretching forth its tender hands from its mother's bosom, struggles to lisp "Father!"

Chorus of Maidens

Years glide! it is Youth; they sit within a secret bower. Purity is in her raptured eyes, Faith in his warm embrace. He must fly! He kisses his farewell: the fresh tears are on her cheek! He has gathered a lily with the dew upon its leaves!

Chorus of Youths

Years glide! it is Manhood. He is in the fierce Camp: he is in the deceitful Court. He must mingle sometimes with others, that he may be always with her! In the false world, she is to him like a green olive among rocks!

Chorus of Youths and Maidens

Years glide! it is Old Age. They sit beneath a branching elm. As the moon rises on the sunset green, their children dance before them! Her hand is in his; they look upon their children, and then upon each other!

"The fellow has some fancy," said the old Lord, "but given, I think, to conceits. I did not exactly catch the passage about the bridge, but I have no doubt it was all right."

Vivian was now invited to the pavilion, where refreshments were prepared. Here our hero was introduced to many other guests, relations of the family, who were on a visit at the castle, and who had been on the lake at the moment of his arrival.

"This gentleman," said the old Lord, pointing to Vivian, "is my son's friend, and I am quite sure that you are all delighted to see him. He arrived here accidentally, his carriage having fortunately broken down in passing one of the streams. All those rivulets should have bridges built over them! I could look at my new bridge for ever. I often ask myself, 'Now, how can such a piece of masonry ever be destroyed?' It seems quite impossible, does not it? We all know that everything has an end; and yet, whenever I look at that bridge, I often think that it can only end when all things end."

In the evening they all waltzed upon the green. The large yellow moon had risen, and a more agreeable sight than to witness two or three hundred persons so gaily occupied, and in such a scene, is not easy to imagine. How beautiful was the stern old castle, softened by the moonlight, the illumined lake, the richly-silvered foliage of the woods, and the white brilliant cataract!

As the castle was quite full of visitors, its hospitable master had lodged Vivian for the night at the cottage of one of his favourite tenants. Nothing would give greater pleasure to Vivian than this circumstance, nor more annoyance to the worthy old gentleman.

The cottage belonged to the victor in the Regatta, who himself conducted the visitor to his dwelling. Vivian did not press Essper's leaving the revellers, so great an acquisition did he seem to their sports! teaching them a thousand new games, and playing all manner of antics; but perhaps none of his powers surprised them more than the extraordinary facility and freedom with which he had acquired and used all their names. The cottager's pretty wife had gone home an hour before her husband, to put her two fair-haired children to bed and prepare her guest's accommodation for the night. Nothing could be more romantic and lovely than the situation of the cottage. It stood just on the gentle slope of the mountain's base, not a hundred yards from the lower waterfall. It was in the middle of a patch of highly-cultivated ground, which bore creditable evidence to the industry of its proprietor. Fruit trees, Turkey corn, vines, and flax flourished in luxuriance. The dwelling itself was covered with myrtle and arbutus, and the tall lemon-plant perfumed the window of the sitting-room. The casement of Vivian's chamber opened full on the foaming cataract. The distant murmur of the mighty waterfall, the gentle sighing of the trees, the soothing influence of the moonlight, and the faint sounds occasionally caught of dying revelry, the joyous exclamation of some successful candidate in the day's games, the song of some returning lover, the plash of an oar in the lake: all combined to produce that pensive mood in which we find ourselves involuntarily reviewing the history of our life.

As Vivian was musing over the last harassing months of his burthensome existence he could not help feeling that there was only one person in the world on whom his memory could dwell with solace and satisfaction, and this person was Lady Madeleine Trevor!

It was true that with her he had passed some agonising hours; but he could not forget the angelic resignation with which her own affliction had been borne, and the soothing converse by which his had been alleviated. This train of thought was pursued till his aching mind sunk into indefiniteness. He sat for some little time almost unconscious of existence, till the crying of a child, waked by its father's return, brought him back to the present scene. His thoughts naturally ran to his friend Eugene. Surely this youthful bridegroom might reckon upon happiness! Again Lady Madeleine recurred to him. Suddenly he observed a wonderful appearance in the sky. The moon was paled in the high heavens, and surrounded by luminous rings, almost as vividly tinted as the rainbow, spreading and growing fainter, till they covered nearly half the firmament. It was a glorious and almost unprecedented halo!



CHAPTER IV

The sun rose red, the air was thick and hot. Anticipating that the day would be very oppressive, Vivian and Essper were on their horses' backs at an early hour. Already, however, many of the rustic revellers were about, and preparations were commencing for the fete champetre, which this day was to close the wedding festivities. Many and sad were the looks which Essper George cast behind him at the old castle on the lake. "No good luck can come of it!" said he to his horse; for Vivian did not encourage conversation. "O! master of mine, when wilt thou know the meaning of good quarters! To leave such a place, and at such a time! Why, Turriparva was nothing to it! The day before marriage and the hour before death is when a man thinks least of his purse and most of his neighbour. O! man, man, what art thou, that the eye of a girl can make thee so pass all discretion that thou wilt sacrifice for the whim of a moment good cheer enough to make thee last an age!"

Vivian had intended to stop and breakfast after riding about ten miles; but he had not proceeded half that way when, from the extreme sultriness of the morning, he found it impossible to advance without refreshment. Max, also, to his rider's surprise, was much distressed; and, on turning round to his servant, Vivian found Essper's hack panting and puffing, and breaking out, as if, instead of commencing their day's work, they were near reaching their point of destination.

"Why, how now, Essper? One would think that we had been riding all night. What ails the beast?"

"In truth, sir, that which ails its rider; the poor dumb brute has more sense than some who have the gift of speech. Who ever heard of a horse leaving good quarters without much regretting the indiscretion?"

"The closeness of the air is so oppressive that I do not wonder at even Max being distressed. Perhaps when the sun is higher, and has cleared away the vapours, it may be more endurable: as it is, I think we had better stop at once and breakfast here. This wood is as inviting as, I trust, are the contents of your basket!"

"St. Florian devour them!" said Essper, in a very pious voice, "if I agree not with you, sir; and as for the basket, although we have left the land of milk and honey, by the blessing of our Black Lady! I have that within it which would put courage in the heart of a caught mouse. Although we may not breakfast on bridecake and beccaficos, yet is a neat's tongue better than a fox's tail; and I have ever held a bottle of Rhenish to be superior to rain-water, even though the element be filtered through a gutter. Nor, by All Saints! have I forgotten a bottle of Kerchen Wasser from the Black Forest, nor a keg of Dantzic brandy, a glass of which, when travelling at night, I am ever accustomed to take after my prayers; for I have always observed that, though devotion doth sufficiently warm up the soul, the body all the time is rather the colder for stopping under a tree to tell its beads."

The travellers accordingly led their horses a few yards into the wood, and soon met, as they had expected, with a small green glade. It was surrounded, except at the slight opening by which they had entered it, with fine Spanish chestnut trees, which now, loaded with their large brown fruit, rich and ripe, clustered in the starry foliage, afforded a retreat as beautiful to the eye as its shade was grateful to their senses. Vivian dismounted, and, stretching out his legs, leant back against the trunk of a tree: and Essper, having fastened Max and his own horse to some branches, proceeded to display his stores. Vivian was silent, thoughtful, and scarcely tasted anything: Essper George, on the contrary, was in unusual and even troublesome spirits, and had not his appetite necessarily produced a few pauses in his almost perpetual rattle, the patience of his master would have been fairly worn out. At length Essper had devoured the whole supply; and as Vivian not only did not encourage his remarks, but even in a peremptory manner had desired his silence, he was fain to amuse himself by trying to catch in his mouth a large brilliant fly which every instant was dancing before him. Two individuals more singularly contrasting in their appearance than the master and the servant could scarcely be conceived; and Vivian, lying with his back against a tree, with his legs stretched out, his arms folded, and his eyes fixed on the ground; and Essper, though seated, in perpetual motion, and shifting his posture with feverish restlessness, now looking over his shoulder for the fly, then making an unsuccessful bite at it, and then, wearied with his frequent failures, amusing himself with acting Punch with his thumbs; altogether presenting two figures, which might have been considered as not inapt personifications of the rival systems of Ideality and Materialism.

At length Essper became silent for the sake of variety, and imagining, from his master's example, that there must be some sweets in meditation hitherto undiscovered by him, he imitated Vivian's posture! So perverse is human nature, that the moment Vivian was aware that Essper was perfectly silent, he began to feel an inclination to converse with him.

"Why, Essper!" said he, looking up and smiling, "this is the first time during our acquaintance that I have ever seen thought upon your brow. What can now be puzzling your wild brain?"

"I was thinking, sir," said Essper, with a very solemn look, "that if there were a deceased field-mouse here I would moralise on death."

"What! turned philosopher!"

"Ay! sir, it appears to me," said he, taking up a husk which lay on the turf, "that there is not a nutshell in Christendom which may not become matter for very grave meditation!"

"Can you expound that?"

"Verily, sir, the whole philosophy of life seems to me to consist in discovering the kernel. When you see a courtier out of favour or a merchant out of credit, when you see a soldier without pillage, a sailor without prize money, and a lawyer without paper, a bachelor with nephews, and an old maid with nieces, be assured the nut is not worth the cracking, and send it to the winds, as I do this husk at present."

"Why, Essper!" said Vivian, laughing, "Considering that you have taken your degree so lately, you wear the Doctor's cap with authority! Instead of being in your noviciate, one would think that you had been a philosopher long enough to have outlived your system."

"Bless you, sir, for philosophy, I sucked it in with my mother's milk. Nature then gave me the hint, which I have ever since acted on, and I hold that the sum of all learning consists in milking another man's cow. So much for the recent acquisition of my philosophy! I gained it, you see, sir, with the first wink of my eye; and though I lost a great portion of it by sea-sickness in the Mediterranean, nevertheless, since I served your Lordship, I have resumed my old habits, and do opine that this vain globe is but a large football to be kicked and cuffed about by moody philosophers!"

"You must have seen a great deal in your life, Essper," said Vivian.

"Like all great travellers." said Essper, "I have seen more than I remember, and remember more than I have seen."

"Have you any objection to go to the East again?" asked Vivian. "It would require but little persuasion to lead me there."

"I would rather go to a place where the religion is easier; I wish, sir, you would take me to England!"

"Nay, not there with me, if with others."

"With you, or with none."

"I cannot conceive, Essper, what can induce you to tie up your fortunes with those of such a sad-looking personage as myself."

"In truth, sir, there is no accounting for tastes. My grandmother loved a brindled cat!"

"Your grandmother, Essper! Nothing would amuse me more than to be introduced to your family."

"My family, sir, are nothing more nor less than what all of us must be counted, worms of five feet long, mortal angels, the world's epitome, heaps of atoms which Nature has kneaded with blood into solid flesh, little worlds of living clay, sparks of heaven, inches of earth, Nature's quintessence, moving dust, the little all, smooth-faced cherubim, in whose souls the Ring of stars has drawn the image of Himself!"

"And how many years has breathed the worm of five feet long that I am now speaking to?"

"Good, my Lord, I was no head at calculating from a boy; but I do remember that I am two days older than one of the planets."

"How is that?"

"There was one born in the sky, sir, the day I was christened with a Turkish crescent."

"Come, Essper," said Vivian, who was rather interested by the conversation; Essper, having, until this morning, skilfully avoided any discourse upon the subject of his birth or family, adroitly turning the conversation whenever it chanced to approach these subjects, and silencing inquiries, if commenced, by some ludicrous and evidently fictitious answer. "Come, Essper," said Vivian, "I feel by no means in the humour to quit this shady retreat. You and I have now known each other long, and gone through much together. It is but fair that I should become better acquainted with one who, to me, is not only a faithful servant, but what is more valuable, a faithful friend, I might now almost add, my only one. What say you to whiling away a passing hour by giving me some sketch of your curious and adventurous life? If there be anything that you wish to conceal, pass it over; but no invention, nothing but the truth, if you please; the whole truth, if you like."

"Why, sweet sir, as for this odd knot of soul and body, which none but the hand of Heaven could have twined, it was first seen, I believe, near the very spot where we are now sitting; for my mother, when I saw her first and last, lived in Bohemia. She was an Egyptian, and came herself from the Levant. I lived a week, sir, in the Seraglio when I was at Constantinople, and I saw there the brightest women of all countries, Georgians, and Circassians, and Poles; in truth, sir, nature's masterpieces. And yet, by the Gods of all nations! there was not one of them half so lovely as the lady who gave me this tongue!" Here Essper exhibited at full length the enormous feature which had so much enraged the one-eyed sergeant at Frankfort.

"When I first remember myself," he continued, "I was playing with some other gipsy-boys in the midst of a forest. Here was our settlement! It was large and powerful. My mother, probably from her beauty, possessed great influence, particularly among the men; and yet I found not among them all a father. On the contrary, every one of my companions had a man whom he reverenced as his parent, and who taught him to steal; but I was called by the whole tribe the mother-son, and was honest from my first year out of mere wilfulness; at least, if I stole anything, it was always from our own people. Many were the quarrels I occasioned, since, presuming on my mother's love and power, I never called mischief a scrape; but acting just as my fancy took me, I left those who suffered by my conduct to apologise for my ill-behaviour. Being thus an idle, unprofitable, impudent, and injurious member of this pure community, they determined one day to cast me out from their bosom; and in spite of my mother's exertions and entreaties, the ungrateful vipers succeeded in their purpose. As a compliment to my parent, they allowed me to tender my resignation, instead of receiving my expulsion. My dear mother gave me a donkey, a wallet, and a ducat, a great deal of advice about my future conduct, and, what was more interesting to me, much information about my birth.

"'Sweet child of my womb!' said my mother, pressing me to her bosom; 'be proud of thy white hands and straight nose! Thou gottest them not from me, and thou shalt take them from whence they came. Thy father is a Hungarian Prince; and though I would not have parted with thee, had I thought that thou wouldst ever have prospered in our life, even if he had made thee his child of the law and lord of his castle, still, as thou canst not tarry with us, haste thou to him! Give him this ring and this lock of hair; tell him none have seen them but the father, the mother, and the child! He will look on them, and remember the days that are passed; and thou shalt be unto him as a hope for his lusty years and a prop for his old age.'

"My mother gave me all necessary directions, which I well remembered, and much more advice, which I directly forgot.

"Although tempted, now that I was a free man, to follow my own fancy, I still was too curious to sec what kind of a person was my unknown father to deviate either from my route or my maternal instructions, and in a fortnight's time I had reached my future Principality.

"The Sun sank behind the proud castle of my princely father, as, trotting slowly along upon my humble beast, with my wallet slung at my side, I approached it through his park. A guard, consisting of twenty or thirty men in magnificent uniforms, were lounging at the portal. I—but sir, sir, what is the meaning of this darkness? I always made a vow to myself that I never would tell my history. Ah! what ails me?"

A large eagle fell dead at their feet.

"Protect me, master!" screamed Essper, seizing Vivian by the shoulder; "what is coming? I cannot stand; the earth seems to tremble! Is it the wind that roars and rages? or is it ten thousand cannon blowing this globe to atoms?"

"It is, it must be the wind!" said Vivian, agitated. "We are not safe under these trees: look to the horses!"

"I will," said Essper, "if I can stand. Out of the forest! Ah, look at Max!"

Vivian turned, and beheld his spirited horse raised on his hind legs, and dashing his fore feet against the trunk of a tree to which they had tied him. The terrified and furious creature was struggling to disengage himself, and would probably have sustained or inflicted some terrible injury, had not the wind suddenly hushed. Covered with foam, he stood panting, while Vivian patted and encouraged him. Essper's less spirited beast had, from the first, crouched upon the earth, covered with sweat, his limbs quivering and his tongue hanging out.

"Master!" said Essper, "what shall we do? Is there any chance of getting back to the castle? I am sure our very lives are in danger. See that tremendous cloud! It looks like eternal night! Whither shall we go; what shall we do?"

"Make for the castle!" said Vivian, mounting.

They had just got into the road when another terrific gust of wind nearly took them off their horses, and blinded them with the clouds of sand which it drove out of the crevices of the mountains.

They looked round on every side, and Hope gave way before the scene of desolation. Immense branches were shivered from the largest trees; small ones were entirely stripped of their leaves; the long grass was bowed to the earth; the waters were whirled in eddies out of the little rivulets; birds deserting their nests to shelter in the crevices of the rocks, unable to stem the driving air, flapped their wings and fell upon the earth: the frightened animals in the plain, almost suffocated by the impetuosity of the wind, sought safety, and found destruction: some of the largest trees were torn up by the roots; the sluices of the mountains were filled, and innumerable torrents rushed down before empty gulleys. The heavens now open, and lightning and thunder contend with the horrors of the wind!

In a moment all was again hushed. Dead silence succeeded the bellow of the thunder, the roar of the wind, the rush of the waters, the moaning of the beasts, the screaming of the birds! Nothing was heard save the splashing of the agitated lake as it beat up against the black rocks which girt it in.

"Master!" again said Essper, "is this the day of doom?"

"Keep by my side. Essper; keep close, make the best of this pause: let us but reach the village!"

Scarcely had Vivian spoken when greater darkness enveloped the trembling earth. Again the heavens were rent with lightning, which nothing could have quenched but the descending deluge. Cataracts poured down from the lowering firmament. In an instant the horses dashed round; beast and rider, blinded and stifled by the gushing rain, and gasping for breath. Shelter was nowhere. The quivering beasts reared, and snorted, and sank upon their knees. The horsemen were dismounted. Vivian succeeded in hoodwinking Max, who was still furious: the other horse appeared nearly exhausted. Essper, beside himself with terror, could only hang over his neck.

Another awful calm.

"Courage, Essper!" said Vivian. "We are still safe: look up, man! the storm cannot last long thus; and see! I am sure the clouds are breaking."

The heavy mass of vapour which had seemed to threaten the earth with instant destruction suddenly parted. The red and lurid Sun was visible, but his light and heat were quenched in the still impending waters.

"Mount, Essper!" said Vivian, "this is our only chance: five minutes' good speed will take us to the village."

Encouraged by his master's example, Essper once more got upon his horse, and the panting animals, relieved by the cessation of the hurricane, carried them at a fair pace towards the village, considering that their road was now impeded by the overflowing of the lake.

"Master!" said Essper, "cannot we get out of these waters?"

He had scarcely spoken before a terrific burst, a noise, they knew not what, a rush they could not understand, a vibration which shook them on their horses, made them start back and again dismount. Every terror sank before the appalling roar of the cataract. It seemed that the mighty mountain, unable to support its weight of waters, shook to the foundation. A lake had burst on its summit, and the cataract became a falling Ocean. The source of the great deep appeared to be discharging itself over the range of mountains; the great grey peak tottered on its foundations! It shook! it fell! and buried in its ruins the castle, the village, and the bridge!

Vivian with starting eyes beheld the whole washed away; instinct gave him energy to throw himself on the back of his horse: a breath, and he had leaped up the nearest hill! Essper George, in a state of distraction, was madly laughing as he climbed to the top of a high tree: his horse was carried off in the drowning waters, which had now reached the road.

"The desolation is complete!" thought Vivian. At this moment the wind again rose, the rain again descended, the heavens again opened, the lightning again flashed! An amethystine flame hung upon rocks and waters, and through the raging elements a yellow fork darted its fatal point at Essper's resting-place. The tree fell! Vivian's horse, with a maddened snort, dashed down the hill; his master, senseless, clung to his neck; the frantic animal was past all government; he stood upright in the air, flung his rider, and fell dead!

Here leave we Vivian! It was my wish to have detailed, in the present portion of this work, the singular adventures which befell him in one of the most delightful of modern cities, light-hearted Vienna! But his history has expanded under my pen, and I fear that I have, even now, too much presumed upon an attention which I am not entitled to command. I am, as yet, but standing without the gate of the Garden of Romance. True it is, that as I gaze through the ivory bars of its Golden Portal, I would fain believe that, following my roving fancy, I might arrive at some green retreats hitherto unexplored, and loiter among some leafy bowers where none have lingered before me. But these expectations may be as vain as those dreams of Youth over which all have mourned. The Disappointment of Manhood succeeds to the delusion of Youth: let us hope that the heritage of Old Age is not Despair.

THE END