as she could, and never told even to her aunt how very respectfully she had been addressed. One night when the house was crowded, she perceived the stranger in the royal box looking at her. She nearly screamed with joy, and made a dancer miss the proper time, who was just then whirling a pirouette.

"What's the matter?" said Nathalie, one of her friends who held the other end of a garland.

"'Tis he! there he is!"

"Is it possible! Count Arthur de V-, one of the young nobles of the Court of Charles X., and moreover the handsomest of them all! You have nothing to complain of with such a friend to see you every day." Judith made no reply. She was too happy. Arthur, to the great scandal of all who saw it, bowed to her from the King's box; and, better still, when the ballet was finished, just when she was about to ascend to her dressing-room, Arthur came to the side scenes, and said quite audibly, so as to be heard by the Lord Chamberlain who had the direction of the opera-" "Will you allow me the honour of conducting you home?”

"'Tis too much honour for me," stammered Judith, without perceiving what a laugh her answer excited.

"Make haste then. I will wait for you on the stage."

She lost no time, you may be sure, in changing her dress; and on returning she found Arthur in conver sation with a group of young fashionables, and with M. Lubert, the manager, to whom he recommended

Judith very warmly, and then openly gave her his arm before them all, and conducted her down the performers' staircase. At the door his carriage was ready to receive them; they got in, and, as it was cold, he pulled up the glasses, and put her shawl over her shoulders. How beautiful she was so glad-so gratified; but the gladness did not last long. The distance is so short between the Rue Grange Bateliere and the Rue de Provence, and the horses went so fast! The carriage stopped; Arthur got out and offered his hand to Judith. They went up stairs together, and arrived at the door of her apartments. He rang the bell, respectfully took his leave, and disappeared.

Judith could not sleep. The conduct of the Count appeared so rude. He might at least have entered her room, and sat down for a moment. She knew very little, to be sure, of the manners of high society; but she thought that would have been more polite than to leave her so suddenly at the door. She was feverish and disturbed; and at daybreak got out of bed and went to the window to get cool. There, before her door, still stood the carriage with the fast grey horses; they pawed the ground with cold and impatience; the coachman was asleep on his box.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," said the notary, when he had reached this part of his story; "the next act is just beginning, and I don't wish to lose a word of the opera-when the curtain falls"

THE next morning, and the next again, Judith opened her window at daybreak. The Count's carriage was always at the door! It was evident that he sent it in the same manner almost every night, and she could not imagine the reason of such a proceeding; and, as to asking him for an explanation, she could not have ventured on such presumption for the world. And, besides, she hardly ever saw him, except on opera nights in a box on the second tier, which he had taken for the season. He never came upon the stage; he never again offered to

Luckily for her, her companions did him an injustice, and accused him of treating her ill. She was delighted, for she had now an excuse for writing to him; and accordingly she indited an epistle, beseeching him to come to her apartments. It was by no means an easy task to write a letter; so it took poor Judith the whole day. She began it over and over again, and made fifty foul copies before she achieved one to her mind. One of these she must have dropped out of her

bag; for, in the evening, she heard the young authors and others who were free of the orchestra, laughing immoderately at an ill spelt, ill written note, as they handed it about from one to the other. She was forced to hear their explosions of merriment, their satirical remarks, and the resolution they came to, to insert the unsigned note (the author of which was luckily unknown) in one of the newspapers, as a model for the De Sevigues of the ballet. What were the terror and agony of Judith, not at hearing her letter turned into ridicule, but to think that the Count would have the same feelings of contempt when he read the unfortunate note, which she would have purchased back again with her life. She was accordingly more dead than alive, when, on the following morning, Arthur entered her

room.

"I'm come, dear Judith-I lost no time when I received your letter; and that fatal, that horrible letter he held in his hand-" What is it you require?"

What I require-Monsieur le Comte? I don't know how to tell it you-but that letter-itself—since you have read it—if indeed you have been able to make it out "

"Very easily, my dear girl," replied the Count, with a slight smile.

"Ah!" cried Judith, in despair, "that letter is enough to show you that I am a poor girl without talent, without education, who is ashamed of her ignorance and wishes to remove it. But how am I to do it? If you do not come to my assistance—if you refuse to help me with your advice-with your support"

"What is it you wish?"

"Give me masters, and you will see if I am not industrious, if I do not profit by their lessons."

"But when can they come to you?" "Any time-one thought keeps me anxious by day and sleepless at night." "What thought?"

"The thought of the opinion you must have of me. You must despise me, and look on me as unworthy of your notice; and you are right," she continued hurriedly." I know how contemptible I am-I know myself-and I wish, if possible, to have no cause to blush for myself or to be a disgrace to you."

The Count looked at her with amazement, and said, "I shall do as you require; you shall have any masters you want."

Next day Judith had a master to teach her writing, and history and geography. You should have seen the ardour she studied with; and her natural abilities developed themselves with incredible rapidity. At first she liked study for Arthur's sake, and then she liked it for its own. It was her pleasantest enjoyment, her consolation under all her anxieties. She submitted to the fines for absence, to stay at home and devote herself to her books all day. Her companions said, “Judith has gone mad-she will lose her engagement-she is very foolish."

But Judith worked the harder, say. ing, I shall make myself worthy of him at last; he will see what efforts I make to improve myself-but, alas! he could see nothing of the kind; for whenever he came Judith was so agitated, and stammered and hesitated so much, and became so confused, that he thought all the lessons were thrown away upon her. The effect of the knowledge she had acquired, was to make her feel more bitterly how stupid and ridiculous he must think her; and that conviction rendered her still more constrained and embarrassed, and hindered the display of her real sentiments, so innocent-and so tender; and Arthur, as might be expected, came but seldom. Sometimes he remained a short time with her after the ballet; but when twelve o'clock sounded he always took his leave. She ventured to ask him, "When shall I see you?"

"I will tell you at the Opera, tomorrow.'

But how was this to be done?-He was almost always in his box on the second tier; and when he intended to visit her on the following morning, he lifted his right hand to his ear, and that was as much as to say, I will come to the Rue de Provence.

And Judith would watch for him all the day-she admitted nobody-not even her aunt, that she might have the pleasure of seeing him entirely to herself.

In spite of the reserve of the Count she had made one discovery, and that was that he had some sorrow that weighed him down. What could the

sorrow be?-she could not bring herself to ask him, and yet she would have been so delighted to have been able to share it with him. But that was a happiness she did not dare to hope for and yet she shared it though she did not know what it was. So when the Count asked her, as he often, did, "What is the matter, Judith ?have you any grief to vex you?”—if she had dared she would have answered, "Yours!"

One day a horrible idea occurred to her she muttered to herself, in despair," He loves another-yes! yes, he loves another! and yet, if he does, why does he bring me here?what can be his object? It is from no love to me because, if he loved me -Judith fixed her eyes on a large mirror, and she certainly looked so young, so blooming, so beautiful-no wonder she remained sunk in a reverie. The door of her boudoir was opened quickly; Arthur walked in-he had an air of trouble and chagrin, such as she had never seen before.

"Judith," he said, "dress yourself immediately. You shall go with me to the Tuileries."

"Is it possible?"

"Yes. The weather is delightful all Paris will be there."

"And you will take me there!" cried Judith, enraptured; for the Count had never walked out with her, or given her his arm in public.

"To be sure! I will take you there before the whole world!-in the great avenue," said the Count, hurriedly walking about the room "Come along, Madame Bonnivet," he added quickly to the old aunt, who at that moment came in-" Dress your niece as splendidly as you can; and above every thing be quick!"

Madame Bonnivet made preparations for taking off the morning dress that Judith wore; but she blushed, and made a sign that Arthur was still in the room.

દ

Tush, tush!" said the aunt-" are we to be on such ceremony with Monsieur the Count?"-and without any more ado she unlaced the gown and it tumbled on the floor.

Judith did not know where to look, or what to do and was quite oppressed with shame.

But, alas! her modesty was altogether useless on this occasion. Arthur never looked near her. Absorbed by

one idea that seemed to excite his rage and indignation, he traversed the apartment with great rapidity, and in one of his turns threw down a little vase made of shells, which broke into a thousand pieces.

"Oh, what a pity!" exclaimed Judith, forgetting at that moment the state of her toilet.

"Yes, indeed," echoed the aunt"it cost five hundred francs at the least."

"Not for that! not for that!" said Judith "but because it came from him'

"

"Well, are you ready?" cried Arthur, impatiently, who had not heard a word of their reflections on the vase.

"In one moment-Aunt, my shawl; now, my gloves."

"And your mantle," said Arthur, you have forgotten it—and you will find it cold."

"Oh, no!"

"Your hand is burning," said Madame Bonnivet; "you are feverish, my child-I don't think you ought to go."

"I am well quite well," said Judith, hurrying on—“ Let us go-let us go: I would not stay at home for all the world."

The carriage was at the door-they got in, and drove down the Boulevardes -at noon-day-together! And, to complete the happiness of the elated Judith, she saw two of her companions in the Rue de la Paix, and bowed to them with the gracious condescension which extreme happiness produces-two principal performers, who on that occasion were trudging humbly on foot.

The carriage stopped at the gate of the Rue de Rivoli. Judith took the Count's arm, and they promenaded in the principal allée. It was a fête day

all the rank and fashion of Paris had assembled-the crowd was im

mense.

In a moment Arthur and his companion were the objects of universal observation. They were both so handsome it was impossible to avoid remarking them. Every one turned round to look at them, and ask who they were.

"'Tis the young Count Arthur de V."

"Are they married?"

Judith trembled at the question with

a sensation of pleasure-and of pain at the same time-that she could not account for.

"No, indeed," said a grand-looking old lady, in a disdainful tone-while she caressed a little spaniel in her arms, and was attended by two footmen in superb liveries-" Monsieur the Count is not married; my lord, his uncle, won't hear of it.'

"Then who is that beautiful creature with him?—his sister, perhaps?"

"O, you wrong him, I assure you she is his mistress-an opera girl-at least I think I have heard so.

Luckily Judith did not hear the old dowager's remarks; for at that moment the Baron de Blangi, who walked behind them, said to his brother the Chevalier-" "Tis little Judith." "What! the girl Arthur is so fond of?"

"He has gone mad about her-he ruins himself."

"He is quite right," replied the Chevalier Who would not do the same?-how beautiful she is!"

"Take care-you'll fall in love with her."

"I'm that already. Come, and let us see her close."

"If the crowd will let us."

And the crowd that kept following her went on making remarks of the same kind, and Arthur heard them. For the first time he looked at Judith as she deserved to be looked at, and was astonished to find her so beautiful. The walk, the company, and, above all, the consciousness of being admired, had given her cheeks and eyes an unusual glow; and then she was sixteen years old, and loved, and fancied, for the first time, that she was loved in return; and these are admirable reasons for looking one's best.

The sensation created by her appearance was immense; but when she saw the look of admiration that Arthur fixed on her, all her triumph sank into insignificance, the praises of the crowd were forgotten, and she went home that day exclaiming,"What a happy girl I am!"

Next morning Judith received two letters. The first was a carte blanche from the Baron de Blangi; she threw it into the fire and forgot it in a moment.

The second bore a signature which Judith read over twice, as she could hardly believe her eyes; but she could

not doubt the reality-it was signed "The Bishop of --," and was in these terms:

"Mademoiselle,-You appeared publicly yesterday at the Tuileries with my nephew, Count Arthur de V, and by so doing put the finishing-stroke to a scandal, the consequences of which are incalculable. Although, in punishment for the sins of men, God has permitted our ancient powers to be diminished, we have still enough left to enable us to punish your audacity. I therefore give you notice, that, if you do not put a stop to any similar scandal, I have sufficient credit with the Lord Chamberlain to have you dismissed from the Opera; if, on the other hand, you give up my nephew at once and for ever, we offer you (for the motive will sanctify the means) two thousand louis and the absolution of all your sins," &c. &c. &c.

Judith was at first annihilated on perusing that dreadful letter; but she soon took courage, and, collecting all her energies, replied in the following words :

"My Lord, You use me harshly, and yet I can declare before God and to you, that I have nothing for which to reproach myself. 'Tis so, I declare most solemnly; and yet, my lord, in this there is no merit attributable to me. I owe it entirely to him who has spared and respected me. Yes, my lord, your nephew is innocent of the wrongs you impute to him; and if to love be criminal in the sight of Heaven, it is a crime of which I am guilty, and in which Arthur is not an accomplice.

"Hear, then, the resolution I have taken.

"I shall say to him-what I have never ventured to say to him for myself-but for you, my lord, I will take courage and say to him, Arthur, do you love me?'-And if, as I believe, as I fear, he shall answer, No, Judith, I do not love you,'-then, my lord, I shall obey you, I shall separate myself from him, I shall never see him more; and I hope, my lord, you will think of me too highly to offer me any thing as a reward, and that you will not add degradation to despair. The latter is sufficient for one who resolves to die. But if Heaven, if my good angel, if the happiness of my life shall lead him to say, I love

you, Judith,'-ah! 'tis a sinful thing I am about to say to you, and you will most justly pour your maledictions on my head; but mark me, my lord, there is no power on earth that shall hinder me from being his-from sacrificing every thing to him. I will brave all, even your indignation; for, after all, what can you do?-at most you can take my life; and why should I hesitate to die if I could only feel assured I have been beloved?

"Pardon me, my lord, if this letter should offend you. It is written by a poor girl who is ignorant of the world and of her duty; but who hopes to find some mitigation of your anger in consideration of that ignorance-the openness of her confession-and, above all, in the profound respect with which she has the honour to remain," &c. &c. &c.

Judith sealed the letter and sent it without consulting with any one upon the subject; and from that moment, being determined to know her fate, she waited impatiently for the next visit of the Count. She saw him in his box, but he seemed sombre and pre-occupied. He made no sign to her he never looked near her. She was in despair. At last, on the following night, he made the usual signal, and Judith now felt certain that she should see him in the morning, and put an end to the state of suspense

and misery, which she felt was more intolerable than the worst that could befall her.

But in the morning the chasseur of the Count made his appearance with an apology from his master, on the plea of business of the most urgent importance, and with an intimation at the same time that he would come that night to supper-To supper! he who had always taken his leave so early.

The aunt seemed wonderfully pleased with the arrangement, and Judith remained sunk in deep thought.

At eleven o'clock the most elegant little supper that could be procured was all ready by the zeal of Madame Bonnivet. As to Judith she saw nothing-she heard nothing-she expected. She expected! All the faculties of her soul were absorbed in that one idea. But eleven o'clock camehalf-past eleven-twelve-and no Arthur. The whole night elapsed-he came not-and she expected still ;— and the next day passed, and the following days, and yet Arthur came not. She heard nothing of him—she saw him no more. What then was the meaning of all this? What had become of him?

"Gentlemen," said the little notary, interrupting his narration, "the curtain is just rising-After the next act."

family in the south. His mother, left a widow very young, had no child besides, and was poorly provided for ; but she had a brother who was immensely rich. This brother, Monseigneur the Abbe de V, was one of the most influential prelates at the court of Louis XVIII., and afterwards at that of Charles X.; and we know very well what was the influence of the clergy at that time-an influence that governed the kingdom, the sovereign himself, and even the army. The Abbe de V was of a cold and haughty disposition, selfish and se vere, but an excellent relation notwithstanding; for he was ambitious for himself and for every one that belonged to him. He charged himself with his nephew's education, introduced him at court, and procured the restoration to his sister of some por