ONE DOLLAR PER ANNUM, INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.
Saturiun) fllormng, 3uae 2, 1855.
Sclcttfi)
FAREWELL.
BY PRKNTICK.
Mr soul thy sacred image keeps.
My midnight dreams are ail of thee ;
For nature then in silence sleeps.
And silence broods o'er land and sea.
Oh, in that still, mysterious hour,
How oft from waking dreams 1 start,
To And thee but a fancy flower,
Thou cherished idol of my heart.
Thou hast each thought and dream of mine—
Have 1 in turn one thought of thine ?
Forever thine my dreams will be,
Whate'er may be my fortune here ;
I ask not love—l claim from thee
Only one boon, a gentle tear;
May e'er bright visions from above
Play brightly round tliy happy heart,
And may the beams of peace and love.
Ne'er from thy glowing soul depart ,
Farewell! my dreams are still with thee,
Ha.it thou one tender thought of me ?
My joys like summer birds may fly.
My hopes like summer blossoms depart,
Est there's one flower that cannot die —
Thy holy memory in my heart:
No dews that flower's cup may AH,
No sunlight to its leaves be given,
But it will live and flourish still,
As deathless as a thing of Heaven.
My soul greets thine, unasked, unsought,
Hast thou for me one gentle thought ?
Farewell! farewell! my far off friend!
Between us broad blue rivers flow.
And forest wave, and plains extend,
Aud mountains in the sunlight glow,
The wind that breathes upon thy brow
Is not the wind that breathes on mine,
The star-!)eams shining on thee now
Are not the beams that on mc shine,
But memory's spell is with us yet—
Canst thou the holy past forget?
The bitter tears that you and I
May shed whene'er by anguirh bowed,
Exhaled into the noontide ky,
May meet and mingle in the cloud ;
And thus, my much beloved friend, though wc
Far, far ap irt must live and move,
Our souls, when God shill set thee free.
Can mingle in the world of love.
This was an testacy to me—
Say—would it be a joy to thee ?
jlclcttci) Calf.
Charlotte I)e Montmorenci.
A TALE OF THE FRENCH CHRONICLES.
BY AGNES STRICKLAND.
It was the second morning after Charlotte
de Montmorenci's first ball ; but the enchant
ments with which that memorable evening had
been fraught still floated before her youthful
fancy. She had thought of nothing hut the
Louvre and its glittering pageantry all day ;
and her pillow had been haunted with dreams
of Henri Quartre, and the gay and gallant no
bles <of his court who had vied with each other
in offering the most iutoxicatinghomage to her
charms. Charlotte de Montmorenci was the
most beautiful girl in France, and the sensa
tion produced by her first appearance at court,
was enough to dazzle the mind of a damsel on
ly just emancipated from the sober restraints
of a conventual education. She had danced
the pawn* with Henri himself, who had been
lavish, on that occasion, of the seductive flat
tery which he was so well skilled to whisper in
a lady's ear. Charlotte had found this incense
only too agreeable ; but the pleasure with which
she was disposed to listen to the compliments
°f royalty, received something very like a check
from the impertinent espionage of a pair of pene
trating dark eyes, which, whenever she raised
her own, she encountered, fixed upon her with
h".'ks expressive rather of reproof than admi
ration.
How dared any eyes address language so dis- j
pleasing to the reigning beauty of the evening, '
• specially when her affiauced lover, the spright-1
ly heir of Bassompierre, appeared highly gra-j
' ne<i with the brilliant success that had atteri- '
o d her pr. - -Ration at court ? Bassompierre j
the handsomest and most admired of all
■ peers of France. He stood very high in
biyor of his sovereign ; and so generally
'"wtible was he considered by the ladies,that
">choice of .Mademoiselle de Montmorenci had
v.ibtlod her to the envy of half the females of
c °urt, who had vainly endeavored to fix i
•J:- 5 roving heart.
Charlotte, in accepting him, had driven aliun
-1! -vers to despair ; for the beautiful aud i
• 'ibhy daughter of the most illustrious peer
■ iranec from the moment she quitted her
' ' i.t, hail been surrounded by suitors. The
dark eyes, whose impertinent obser
'lHf' annoyed and offended her in the
|"'" u r, e- danse, did not belong to any of
. :n T ,: "'kless gallants. It would have bceu
' perhaps, for any lady, however fair, to
' bjyi'ircss' s of a man with such a pair of;
r , • owner had rendered them as elo
!!•" pleading as they were in
o.'ril?" rjoso unauthorized monitors, too,
o-'M 10 ' 1 n ,°' t0 the grave and stately Sully,
.j* ■' Hie elder worthies of the court, whom
v-m virtue, and mature years, might euti-
I ,v tho moralist, but to a pale, mclan
ao who engaged the attentiou of
IR'-of u/' I '' flittering circle but the neglected
Liff! ' ie a I'P *° he on terms
Rivl 1 tlo r* con fidence ; and it was from be
, j l< r / that he directed those glances
'V f.' the surprise and displeasure of
.j." 4 r -Montmorenci.
of tV ' *' )reSß ' oa those eyes, to say nothing
hr s ' n^u ' ar beauty, haunted Charlotte af
d • j, r ', turn to the hotel de Montmorcn
she regretted that she had not asked
: e who the person was that had
conducted himself in so extraordinary a man
ner. She had thought of propounding the in
quiry more than once during the evening, but
was unwilling to call her lover's attention to a
circumstance that was mortifying to her self
love. She fell asleep with the determination
of amusing Bassompierre, when he called to
pay his devoir to her the next morning, with a
whimsical description of the pale dark-eyed
boy ; trusting that her powers of mimicry would
elicit from her sprightly lover the name of the
person she sketched, without betraying her cu
riosity.
The following day, at as early an hour as
courtly etiquette permitted, the salons of the
Duchess de Montmorenci were crowded with
visitors of the highest rank, all eager to offer
their compliments to her beautiful daughter.
He of the mysterious dark eyes, and Francois
Bassompierre, were, however, not among the
visitors. Charlotte was surprised and piqued
at this neglect on the part of her lover, and re
solved to punish him by a very haughtv recep
| tion the next time he entered her presence ; but
i he neither came nor sent to inquire after her
j health that day.
The next morning the Duke de Montmoren
! ci, after his return from the king's levee, said
, to his daughter :
" Charlotte, the king has forbidden your mar
j riage with young Bassompierre."
J " Very impertinent of the king, I think !
I W hat reason does he give for this unprecedent
j ed act of tyranny ?"
" That you are worthy of a more illustrious
; alliance."
" I wish King Henri would, tnind his own bu
| sincss, instead of interfering in mine," said Char
lotte, angrily.
"My dear child, you arc ungrateful to our
gracious sovereign, who has expressed his in
tention of marrying you to his own kinsman,
1 the first prince of the blood."
j " And who may he be V'
" The young Prince de Conde, the illus
trious descendant of a line of heroes, and, af- j
, tar Henri's infant sons, the heir-presumptive to
the throne of France. Think of Chat, mv daugh
! ter !" I
"I will not think of any thing hut Bassom- j
! pierre," replied Charlotte, resolutely. "It is !
very barbarous of the king to endeavor to sepa- ;
rate tiio.se whom love has united."
i " Love 1" repeated the duke. " Bah ! you
canuot say that you seriously love young Bas
sompierre. .j
" I think him very handsome and agreeable,
at any rate ; and I am determined to marrv
him, and no one else. Ah ! I comprehend the
reason of his absence now. He has been for
bidden to see mc by that cruel Henri."
I " on are right, Charlotte ;itis in obedience
to the injunctions of the sovereign, that Bas- :
sompierre has discontinued his visits to you. — i
You will see him no more."
" Have I not said that I will not resign ;
, him ?" |
i " Yes, my daughter, but he has resigned j
you."
" Resigned me 1" exclaimed Charlotte, start
ing from her chair with a burst of indignant j
surprise ; " Xay, that is impossible ; unless, in- |
deed, you have told him that lam faithless,or ;
that I wish him to sacrifice his happiness in j
order to contract a nobler alliance."
"On the word of a Montmorenci, lie has !
heen told nothing, except that it was the king's
pleasure that lie should relinquish his engage
ment with you, and marry the heiress of the
Duke d'Aumale."
" llow, marry another ? But I know Bas
sompierre too well to believe he will act so
basely."
" My poor Charlotte, you arc little acquain
ted with the disposition of men of the world
and courtiers, or you would not imagine the
possibility of your hand being placed in com
petition with the loss of the royal favor. Bas
sompierre, instead of acting like a romantic
boy, and forfeiting the king's regard for the
sake of a pretty girl, who cares not a whit more
for him than he does for her, has cancelled his
contract with Charlotte Marguerite de Mont
morenci, and affianced himself to Mademoiselle
d'Aumale."
"The heartless minion!" cried Charlotte, '
with flashing eyes ; " would that. I had some i
means of evincing my scorn aud contempt for
his baseness !"
" The surest way of doing that, my child,
will bo to accept the illustrious consort whom
the king has been graciously pleased to provide
for you."
" I think so too," replied Charlotte, after a
pause ; " lmt what sort of a man is the Prince
de CondeV
"He is said to possess great and noble
qualities," said the duke ; " but he is at pres
ent only in his minority, and is withal of a re
served disposition. There is, however, no doubt
but the companionship of a wife of your brilliant
wit and accomplishments will draw out the fine
talents with which this amiable prince is endow
ed, and render him worthy of his distinguished
ancestry."
"I confess," observed Charlotte, "that I
should prefer a man whose claims to my respect
were of a less adventurous character. I should
like to be the wife of a hero."
"S<> you will, in all probability, if you marry
Henri de Conde. He is the last representative
of a line whose heritage is glory, and of whose
alliance even a Montmorenci might be proud;"
returned the father.
He then hastened to communicate to the
king the agreeable intelligence that his daugh
ter had offered no objections to a marriage with
his youthful ward and kinsman, the Prince de
Conde.
" It is well," replied the monarch ; " I will
myself present the Prince de Conde to his fair
bride, and the contract shall be signed in my
presence this evening."
The Duke and Duchess de Montmoreoci
were charmed at the idea of an alliance that
offered to their only daughter no very remote
prospect of Rharing the throne of France. As
for the fair Charlotte, her pride alone having
been wounded by the desertion of Bossompierre,
she took the readiest may of dissipating auy
chagrin his defection bad caused, by making
uvc g* idc t<ritr*fe for the reception of the new
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH.
candidate for her hand. So long was she en
gaged in this interesting occupation, that a
pompous and continuous flourish of trumpets
announced the arrival of the royal cortege at the
hotel de Montmorenci, before she had conclud
ed the arrangement of ruff aud fardingale to
her own satisfaction.
Her entrance was greeted with a suppress
ed murmur of admiration, and the graceful
manner with which she advanced to offer
her homage to her sovereign, e.vcited fresh ap
plause.
" Ah, my cousin," cried the enamored mon
arch, turning to the Prince de Conde, " what
an enviable man am I not about to render you,
in uniting you to so charming a bride ! By the
mass, if I were a bachelor, 1 must have kept
her for myself, and laid my crown at her feet:
and, even as it is, I feel more pain than I am
willing to confess in bestowing her upon an
other."
Henri Quartre felt the hand of the youthful
beauty, which he had retained in his own, while
addressing this high-flown compliment to her
furture husband, tremble in his grasp. Char
lotte was conscious that her sovereign was
availing himself of his opportunity of pressing
her fairy fingers, with more ardor than became
the paternal character he had assumed. A deep
blush overspread her countenance as the ques
tion suggested itself to her mind. " Wherefore
has he taken so much pains to separate me from
Francois Bassompierre ?" and, at the same mo
ment, she stole a furtive glance at him, whose
destiny was, from that hour, to be so closely
connected with her own, and encountered the
dark penetrating eyes, whose scrutiny had so
much disturbed her at the Louvre, They were
still bent on her face with the same grave,
mournful expression, as if intended to pierce
into her very soul. Those beautiful and .search
ing eyes belonged to Henri de Conde. Scarce
ly had she made this startling discoverv, when
the king, assuming the imposing characteristics
of majesty, which so much better became his
mature age than the light and reckless tone
of gallantry in which he had before indulged,
presented the Prince de Conde to her in °dae
form. Then, putting her hand into that of his
pale, thoughtful kinsman, he pronounced the
patriarchal blessing of the suzerain on their ap
proaching union.
Charlotte started, and impulsivelv drew back
from the icy touch of the cold hand that then
faintly closed on hers. There was nothing of
tenderness, or encouragement, in the sternly
composed features of Coude ; no trait of that
silently expressive homage, which is so dear to
the heart of woman ; nothing, in fact, to com
pensate for the absence of manly beauty and
courtly grace in a very young man. Though
the habits of politeuc\ss aud self-control, which
are so early impressed upon the daughters of
the great, prevented the fair Montmorenci fjom
betraying her secret dissatisfaction, she ven
tured to direct an appealing look to her pa
rents, as if to implore their interference ; but
her mother turned away, and her father gave
her a glance which intimated that it was too
late to recede.
I The marriage contract was rend, and sub
, scribed by the king in his three-fold capacity
| of suzerain, or paramount liege-lord of the con
tracting parties ; and also as the next of kin
aud guardian of the illustrious bride-gToom,
who was an orphan and a minor. It was next
witnessed by the parents of the bride. The
pen was next presented to the Prince de Con
de. He paused, and appeared irresolute : dar
ted a glance of suspicious inquiry at the king,
and bent one of his searching looks on the face
of her to whom he was required to plight him
self. Mademoiselle de Montmorenci was un
conscious of his scrutiny. Overpowered bv the
strangeness and agitating nature of the scene,
she stood, with downcast eyes and a varying
color, leaning her clasped hands for support on
the shoulder of her only brother, afterwards so
celebrated in the aunals of France, as the illus
trious and unfortunate Henri de Montmorenci.
Never had she appeared so charming as at that
moment, when the feminine emotions of fear
and shame had lent their softening shade to
beauty, which was, perhaps, too dazzling in its
faultless perfections, and calculated rather to
excite wonder and admiration, than to inspire
tenderness. The stern expression of Conde's
features relaxed us he gazed upon her, and ob
served the virgin hues of "celestial rosy red,"
and " angel whiteness," that came aud went in
her fair cheek. His countenance brightened,
lie took the pen with sudden animation, and,
with a firm hand, and in bold characters, sub
scribed his name to the contract.
" Charlotte Marguerite de Montmorenci,
your signature is required," said the duke, her
father, to the evidently reluctant damsel.
" I have a great mind not to sign," said
Charlotte, in a confidential tone aside to her
brother, who was two years younger than herself.
" Are you minded to offer an unprovoked
affront to an honorable gentleman, and to af
ford a triumph to a recreant lover ?" was the
whispered response of the youthful heir of Mont
morenci.
Charlotte advanced to the tabic, and signed
the instrument. She received somewhat coolly
the congratulations with which her friends and
relations overwhelmed her ; and when the
folding doors of the saloon were thrown open,
and the king gave his hand to the Duchess de
Montmorenci to lead her into the banqueting
rooni, where a sumptuous entertainment had
been laid out in houor of the occasion, she took
the offered arm of the uiau to whom she had
just affianced herself, with an averted head, and
a sigh escaped her.
* I fear," said he, in a low voice, " that you
have bceu compelled to do violence to your feel
ings in signing that contract."
These were the first words that Conde had
ever addressed to his beautiful fiancee, and
there was a deep and tender melody in the rich
but melancholy tones of his voice, that thrilled
to her heart not less strangely than the pene
trating glances of bis fine dark eyes had previ
ously done.
" I shall not hate him quite so much as I
thought I should," was her mental response to
this considerate question ; but instead of an
swering the jirince with reciprocal frankness,
| che replied with iome havtru-
" R.EWARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER."
" I am not accustomed to do anything on
compulsion, Monsieur."
It was now Conde's turn to sigh—he did so
from the bottom of his heart; and Charlotte
felt angry with herself for the perversencss
which had prompted her to repel his first ad
vance towards a confidential understanding.
A ball succeeded the banquet. The Prince
de Conde did not dance, though reminded that
courtly etiquette required that he should at
least tread one measure with his bride elect ;
and Charlotte found a more gallant, if not a
more suitable partner, in her admiring sover
eign, with whom she once more danced the
graceful jxirmi, and bounded, with flying feet,
through the light courant, heedless of the grave
looks of disapprobation with which her viva
cious enjoyment of her favoritcamusementwas
regarded by him to whom her hand was now
plighted.
An early day had been fixed by the king for
the nuptials of Bassompierre and Mademoiselle
d'Aunale. Charlotte expressed a wish that
her marriage should precede theirs, ahd, in the
meantime, the Prince de Conde availed himself
of the privilege of a betrothed lover, in passing
much of his time at the hotel de Montmoren
ci ; but when there, his attention appeared
more engrossed by the parents and the youth
ful brother of his fiancee, than by herself. In
conversation with them, the "shy reserved bov
of Cande," as Henri Quartre was accustomed
to call his studious cousin, could be eloquent,
graceful, and even witty. He possessed talents
of the finest order ; his mind had been highly
cultivated, and there was sound sense, anil
beautiful morality in every thing he said.
Charlotte, seated at her tapestry frame, beside
her mother, could not help listening, at first
with girlish curiosity, but, by degrees, with
profound attention, to the observations which
he addressed to her brother on the course of
history he was reading ; and when she saw
his pale cheek kindling with the glow of virtu
ous and heroic feeling, and his dark penetra- 1
ting eyes beaming with intellectual brightness,
she blushed at the thought that those eyes
should have witnessed so much vanity and fri
volity in herself.
Sometimes she felt mortified that lie address
ed so little of his conversation to her ; and
then, without reflecting that she had chilled
and repelled him in the first instance, she was
piqued into a haughty imitation of his reserve
when alone with him ; and when surrounded bv
the gay crowd of iier courtly admirers, she en
deavored, by the exercise of coquetry, to shake
his equanimity, and provoke him either into a
quarrel, or an acknowledgment of love.
She was convinced that he had ceased to re
gard her with indifference ; for she had more
than once detected his lustrous dark eyes fixed
upon her with that intense expression of pas
sionate feeling, which can never be mistaken
by its object ; yet he had resolutely refrained
from giving to that feeling words ; and it seem
ed hard to the most beautiful girl in France,
that she should be wedded, unwooed, bv him
of all others, from whom she most desiied to
hear the language of love.
" If I could but once see tliis youthful stoic
at my feet, 1 should fee! prouder of that tri
umph than of all the homage which lias been
offered to me this night by " him of the white
plume," and his gallant peers," sighed Char
lotte to herself, as she was returning from the
last ball at the Louvre at which she was to
appear as Mademoiselle de Montmorenci.
It was the most brilliant she had ever at
tended ; and though on the eve of her bridal,
Charlotte ventured on the hazardous experi
ment of exciting the jealousy of her betrothed.
Sbe succeeded only too well, and Conde, una
ble to conceal his emotion, quitted the roval
saloon at an early hour. All Hie interest that
the beautiful and admired Mademoiselle de
Montmorenci had taken in the gay scene, de
parted with the pale agitated stripling, whom
every one present suspected of being the ob
ject of her aversion ; and pleading a headache
to excuse her from fulfilling her engagement
of dancing a second time with the king, she re
tired almost immediately afterwards.
On entering her own apartment her attend
ant presented her with a billet. It was from
the Prince de Conde—the first he had ever ad
dressed t<> her.
To every woman of sensibility it is delight
ful to see her name traced, for the first time,
by the hand of the object of her secret regard.
Who can describe the sweet suspense of that
agitating moment which must intervene ere
the seal can be broken, and the thrilling mys
tery unfolded ? Alas, for Charlotte de Mont
morenci ! Her recent conduct rendered her
feelings on tills occasion the very reverse of
those blissful emotions. Her color laded, her
knees shook, and it was with difficulty that her
agitated hand could open the letter. It con
tained only these words :
" CHARLOTTE DE MONTMORENCI :
" Late as it may l>e when you receive thi. I must see
you Wore you retire to rest! You will find me in the cast
saloon. " HENRI PF. CONDE."
"Not even the common forms, unmeaning
though they he, which courtesy requires, ob
served in this his first, his only communication
to me !" thought Mademoiselle de Montmoren
ci as she crushed the paper together in her
hand. She turned her eyes upon the dial that
surmounted her tall dressing glass.— it still
wanted live minutes to midnight. Those, five
minutes decided her destiny. She took the
silver lamp from the toiiet, and dismissing her
damsel, repaired to the appointed trysting place;
then, unclosing the door with a tremulous hand,
she stood before Conde with a cheek so pale,
that, when he caught the first glimpse ot her
dimly shadowed reflection in the cold glassy
surface of the mirrored panel, opposite to which
he was standing, he absolutely started ; so dif
ferent did she look from the sparkling, anima
ted beauty, whom he had left, scarcely an hour
ago, leading off the dance with royalty in the
glittering saloons of the Louvre. Conde had,
in fact, neither anticipated her early return
home, nor the prompt attention she had paid
to his somewhat uncourteous summons ; far
less was he. prepared for indications of softness
and sensibility, wbere be had expected to en
counter only coldness and pride. He advanced
a L'tep—one step only—'.o meet her ; then
paused, and silently awaited her approach.—
The glance which Charlotte ventured to steal
as she placed her lamp on the marble table at
which he stood, revealed to her the air of steru
resolve with which his lofty brow was compress
ed ; the only trace of the passionate emotion
that had so recently shaken his firm spirit, was
a Might redness about his eyes.
" Charlotte de Montmorenci/' said headress
ing her in a low deep voice, " I hold in my
hand the contract of our betrothment. That
contract was signed by you with evident re
luctance, aud it will cost you no pain to cancel
it." He paused, and fixed his dark penetrat
ing eyes ou her face as if to demand an an
swer.
Charlotte tried to speak, hut there was n
convulsive rising in her throat that prevented
articulation. The glittering carcanet that
encircled her fair neck appeared, at that
moment, to oppress her with an insufferable
weight, and to have suddenly tightened almost
to suffocation. She drew a deep respiration,
and raising her trembling hands, essayed to
unloose the clasp, hut in vain. It seemed to
her that the hysterical emotion thut oppressed
her was occasioned by the weight of this costly
ornament and its rich appendages, and that
her life depended on her instant release from
their pressure ; and after a second ineffectual
attempt to unclasp the jewelled circlet, she
I actually turned an imploring glance for help
i upon the real cause of her distress, hei offended
I lover. Conde's assistance was promptly ac
! corded ; but, either through the intricacy of
spring, or his inexperience in all matters relating
to female decorations, or, it might be, that he
was at that moment not less agitated than his
pale and trembling fiancee, his attempts to nn
j clasp the carcanet were as unsuccessful as her
I own. While thus employed, her silken ringlets
I were mingled with his dark locks, and more
than once his brow came in contact witu her
polished cheek ; and when, at last, by an effort
of main strength, he succeeded in bursting the
fastening of the jewelled collar, she sunk with
a convulsive sob into the arms that were in
voluntarily extended to receive her. For the
first time, Conde held the form of perfect love
liness to his bosom, and forgetful of all the
stern resolves that had, for the last few hours,
determined to part with her for ever, —forget-
ful of pride, anger, jealousy, ami reason itself,
he covered her cold forehead with passionate
kisses, and implored her, by every title of fond
endearment, to revive. Those soothing words,
those tender caresses, recalled her to a sweet
but agitating consciousness ; and when she
perceived on whose breast she was supported,
a burst of tears relieved her full heart, and she
sobbed with vehemence of a child that cannot
cease to weep even when the cause of its distress '
has been removed.
"Speak but one word," cried Conde.— ]
" Have I occasioned this emotion—these
tear* ?"
Charlotte could not speak, but Uer silence
was eloquent.
" Xay, but I must bo tokl, in explicit terms,
that you love uic," cried Conde ; " it is a point
on which 1 dare not suffer myself to be de
ceived."
" Mighty fine !" said the fair Montmorenci,
suddenly recovering her vivacity and smiliug
through her tears ; " and so you have the
vanity to expect that I am to reverse the order i
of things, and play the wooer to you, for your
more perfect satisfaction, after you have in
formed ine of your obliging intention of can- (
celling our contract of betrothment."
" Ah, Charlotte ! if yoijdidbut know much j
I have suffered before I could resolve to resign
the happiness of calling you mine !"
" Well, if you a>c resolved, I have no more
to say," rejoined Charlotte, proudly extricating
herself from his arms.
•' But I have," said Conde, taking her by
both her hands, which he retained in spite of
one or two perverse attempts to withdraw them.
" Fie, this is childish pctulence !" cried lie, i
pressing them to his lips ; " but, my sweet
Charlotte, the moment is past for trifling ou
either side. These coquetries might have cost J
us both only too dear." His lips quivered with |
strong emotion, as he spoke, and the large tears
stole from under the downcast lashes of Made
moiselle <le Montmorenci. "We have caused
each other much pain for want of a little
candor," pursued he.
• " Why, then, did yon not tell mc that yon
loved me ?" whispered Charlotte.
" Because I dared not resign my heart into
your keep before I was assured that I might
trust you with my honor."
" Oh, heavens !" exclaimed Charlotte, be-j
coming very pale ; " aud is it possible that you |
could doubt, ?"
" Charlotte, I was to well acquainted with i
the king's character to behold the undisguised
manifestations of his passion for my affianced
bride with indifference. The attentions of a
roval lover were flatfering, I perceived, to the
vanity of a young and beautiful woman. The
complacency with which they were, at times,
received, and my knowledge of the motives
which induced the king to break your first en- j
gageinent witii Bassompierre, were sufficient t<
alarm a man of honor," said Conde with a
darkening brow.
" You are talking in enigmas, Henri de
Conde," replied Mademoiselle de Monteino
renei.
" If you are ignorant of the fact, that Henri
of France soperated you from his handsome '
favorite, because lie feared that such a husband |
would be a formidable rival to himself, no one I
else is ; for Bassopicrrc has made the particulars 1
of his sovereign's conversation with him on '
that subject too public for it to remain a*
matter of doubt. You look incredulous,
Charlotte, but you shall hear the very words 1
in which the king made this audacious decla- j
ration—" I am, myself," said he to Bassom
pierre, " madly in love with 3*our beautiful
Montmorenci."
" Ha ! did he, a married man, dare toujakc
such an acknowledgment. . •
" Yes, Chifiotte; aucj, moreover, imprudently
added, " If she loves you I frbull detest you
You must give up either her or me. You will
not of course risk the loss of my favor I
shall mary her to my cou. in Coadc." Yes,
VOL XT. >TO. 51.
Charlotte, the plain "shy hoy of Conde," us
he generally styles me, was designed for the
honor of being this husband of convenience ;
but had I known his guileful project ut the
time when he required ine to sign the contract,
not all the powers of France, nor even the
influence of your charms, should have bribed
ine to subscribe that paper."
" It is not now irrevocable/' said Charlotte,
proudly.
" It is if you are willing to accede to the
conditions on. which I am ready to join in its
fulfilment."
" Name thorn."
" You must see the king no more after our
marriage."
" That will be no sacrifice ; nnd, after your
communication, I could not look upon him with
out indignation. llow little did I imagine that
such baseness could sully the glory of him of
whom fame has spoken such bright things ?"
" Charlotte, it is his prevailing foible. °The
sin that was unchecked in youth, gained
I strength in middle age, and now amounts to
madness. There will be no security for our
, wedded happiness if we remain in "his domiu
j ions ; but can I ask you to forsake frieuds and
j country for rac ?" said Conde.
" Shall I not find all these things, and more
also, in the husband of my heart V returned
Charlotte, tenderly.
" Ah, Charlotte, can you forgive my ungentle
doubts ?" said Conde, throwing himself at her
feet.
" Yes, for they are proofs of the sincerity
of your affection ; and had you been less jeal
ous of my honor, I should not have loved you
,so well," said she. " From this hour we are
as one ; and it will be the happiness of my life
to resign myself to your guidance."
" Then, mv sweet Charlotte. I must, for the
sake of the fading roses on these fair cheeks,
dismiss you to your pillow, without farther
parlance," returned Conde. They exchanged
a mute caress, and parted.
The marriage was celebrated with royal pomp
on the following day, at high noon, in the
church of Notre Dame. Conde received Lis
lovely bride from the hand of his royal rival ;
but the king's exultation in the success of the
deep laid scheme, by which he had seperated
the object of his lawless passion from her first
lover, to unite her with one from whom he
vainly imagined he should have little to fear,
was of brief duration. The nuptial festivities
received a sudden interruption on the follow
ing morning, in eonsequeuce of the disap
appearancc of both bride and bridegroom ;
and what was stranger still, it was soou dis
covered that they had eloped together. The
good people of Faris were thrown into the
most vivacious amazement at an event so
eutirely without parallel, cither in history,
poetry, or romance, as the first prince of the
blood running away with his own wife ; and
lIPR t hft (*jp.
cuinstance of this lawful abduction transpired,
by which it appeared that the Prince de Conde,
accompanied by his illustrious bride quitted
their chamber an hour before dawn, and, that
he had actually carried her off, riding behind
him on a pillion, disguised in the grey frieze
cloak and hood of a farmer's wife.
The enamored king, transported with rage at
having been thus outwitted by the boy-bride
groom gave orders for an immediate pursuit.—
The wedded lovers were, however, beyond his
reach. They had crossed the Spanish frontier
before their route was traced, and Philip the
Third afforded them a refuge in his dominions.
The refusal of that monarch to give up these
illustrious fugitives, produced a declaration of
war from Henri, lie was, in fact, so pertina
cious in his attempts to obtain possession of the
object of his lawless passion, that it was not
till after his death that Conde ventured to
return, with his lovely wife, from the voluutarv
exile to which they had devoted themselves as
a refuge from dishonor. The splendid talents
and noble qualities of Henri do Conde have
obtained for him so distinguished a place in the
annals of his country, that the title of the
" Great Conde" would undoubtedly have per
tained to him, if the renown of his illustrious
son, by Charlotte de Montmorenei, had not,
in after years, transcended his own.
History has, with her usual partiality, pass
ed lightly over this dark spot in the character
of the gay, the gallant, the chivalric Henri
Quartro, without bestowing a single comment
on the lofty spirit of honorable independence
that characterised the conduct of his youthful
kinsman on this trying occasion ; and has left
wholly unnoticed the virtue and conjugal hero
ism of the high-born beauty, who nobly pre
ferred sharing the poverty and exile of her hus
band, to all the pomp nnd distinctions that
were in the gift of a rovnl lover.
ftdy- " Sambo I'sc got a couumbidus to pro
mulgate to you."
" Propel, darkey."
" Well, den, why am you like a tree?"
" Why am I like n tree? 1 gib dat up."
" De reason why you am like a tree is be
cause you am tier green ! Yah ! yah !
"Clem, I'sc got a coimmdibus to propound
to you."
"Expatiate den, Sambo."
" Well, den, why is you like a tree?"
" I gibs dat up for sartin, darkey."
"Den, Clem, I can demonstrate de fact.—
Dc reason why you am like a tree is because
you am a loir . r '
"Good-bye, darkie, 1 exchangeuomorosalu
tatious wid you."
BSAP-" SAM, why am your head like de moon ?"
" Ise give dat up, child ! Prognosticate."—
" Because, it is supposed to be inhabited
Yah, yah !" Sam turned up the white of his
eyes, aud scratched his—wool!
It is on excellent rule to, be observed
in ell disputes, that men should give soft words
aud hard arguments ; that they should not so
much strive to vex, as to convince each other.
God hears the heart without worde but
he never hears word suithout the hHrt.