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me, drive me from your presence for ever! Oh, wisest and best for both! Man never loved more devotedly, more nobly than Rosenfeld; never more fatally, more desperately than myself. Honor and all pure joys are with the one-shame and misery with the other. Oh, Clotilde! you are unconscious of the precipice before you. I see it, I shudder at it; but with you I rush into the terrible abyss beyond, regardless of the present, and despairing of the future. Is this a love to satisfy you, Clotilde? is this total prostration of all pride, honor, hope, in time, now and to comethis entire abandonment-sufficient to prove to you the unequalled energy of my passion?Silent, Clotilde ?" "No," she slowly and bitterly replied, not silent; but did you feel for me as I require, you would see no sacrifice, no prostration, no abandonment in all this frensied devotion. This pervading love would of itself exclude all thoughts of common friendships, regrets for the past, fears for the future; it would be self-sufficing; and absorbing these numerous sources of imaginary obligation, impossible duties, and fantastic gratitude, would exult in the fulness of its giant will, till in one engrossing object all meaner, weaker impulses were forgotten."


There was a strange mixture of con

"My dear H," said a young friend to me, one evening, while passing near the Palais Royal, "you are the best guide to Paris in every way; the safest as well as the most indulgent of companions, and so knowing in everything,

could you not give me a glimpse, without shocking even the Bishop's notions, into Frascati's? Come let us enter into the Inferno, and yet leave not all hope behind. I will look on, or play for just as much as you think proper.

I consented-thinking that when an ingenuous young person asks a favor, which in itself there is nothing absolutely wrong in granting, it is better to gratify his natural curiosity, and secure his confidence by never denying such temporary indulgence, when under certain restrictions. "You must not exceed 1000 francs," I said; "that is enough for experience, and I hope for curiosity also."

centrated passion, national phlegm, and wild mysticism in her words and manner; but saying thus, she coldly complained of weariness, and haughtily accepting the services of her singular Cavaliere, left the loggia, and me to the solitude of my recess, and to the unusually painful ideas arising from this unexpected renewal of my interest in the bride of Strasburg.

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I afterwards learned from the Marchesa T-, that Madame Rosenfeld lived some miles from Milan; and being in the city for a few days, had that evening, at her request, occupied her loggia, the Marchesa being prevented accompanying her from sudden illness. Of course I was cautious in my inquiries about this lady, but I heard enough to verify her own intimations, that she was an unhappy wife. Five years had then elapsed since I had seen her a bride. She had no child; her husband was apparently neglectful. She lived retired, but it was surmised in her seclusion she had a dangerous companion. Poor Luigi !—had I dared to speak, I might have said he was



more sinned against than sinning." Weakness and crime were strangely compounded, in various proportions, between them. I need not pause to analyze those respective proportions,each reader must do it for himself.

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mummy-looking, imperturbable Croupier.

An old withered, shrunken sharper, with parchment face, seamed in minute wrinkles, his small, reddish eye obliquely regarding both the victim and the cards, stood beside him who had drawn my attention. They were betting deeply; the young man, a slight, dark-eyed, handsome fellow, had evidently come to his last stake. He clenched his hands tightly on the back of a chair, set his teeth, breathing hard through his distended nostrils. damp sweat of uncontrollable agony stood like dew on his forehead. His curling hair fell heavily in wet masses on his cheeks. A dark, purple flush and deadly paleness passed in rapid succession over his countenance. Every nerve and muscle seemed in the extremity of tension. It was a cast for life or death.


"Poor fellow," said I, musingly, "there is something familiar in his air, -a faint reminiscence I have, of seeing him, but where, but when I feel really interested in his success.'



Apparently Monsieur comprehends the present arrangement ?" half interrogated the gentleman.

"How, is there anything new in it?" I asked.

"Ah, c'est selon," returned the Frenchman gaily; "fine apartments, fine equipage, fine jewels, a pensionAh, my dear sir, these are temptations!"

"That is a last stake," whispered a gentlemanly person to me, observing the exceeding interest with which I watched the game; "he has lost immense sums here within a week; old Lavaure is the winner. A most unequal match the young fellow is, for one who has studied the chances of gaming, the science in theory and practice for twenty years."

At this instant the young Italian turned suddenly from the table.

"C'est fini," drawled the old Lavaure, with seeming indifference. He then spoke apart to the Italian, on

"Ah, Monsieur," replied the stranger, smiling, "one can never be sure while fortune is of le beau sexe; but I fear it, I assure you; and though he is unknown to me, I should regret his ruin for several reasons."

"You are sure he will lose ?" I half whose face the tortures of the doomed inquired, anxiously. were vividly traced by the finger of despair. He replied in a hoarse, unnatural tone, and waving to the gambler to follow him, passed on to the ladies, pointed out to me by the stranger. Pushing in recklessly-almost rudely -among them, he stopped before a lady sitting; who rose as he approached, and offered him her hand with indescribable grace, (the French gentleman, R- and myself, had followed also,) but without taking it, he coldly bent his head, saying:


"Madame, Monsieur Lavaure" (introducing him) "will attend you to your carriage.'

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Assuredly; the lady in questionthe friend of the Italian-is a magnificent creature. I think," said he, looking around, "she is there, in the centre of that group of ladies laughing so gaily."

"Good God!" I exclaimed, " is the. unfortunate woman to be so shamelessly transferred to that hideous spectre, without being consulted ?"


"Why, the young man has just staked his chère amie," he said in a low voice. "What!" said I, indignantly, that old wretch playing for a woman ?"



"Oh, I presume not," returned my informant; "doubtless all was settled before. He loves her passionately; and how he has been urged by this demon vice, to fling her from him, is the problem to solve."

"Can it be possible any woman would agree to this? Set aside the dreadful bartering of her liberty, only look at the contrast! could she be induced to separate from that man, and associate with such a horror as the other, be she as degraded as she may?"

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"Monsieur Lavaure ?" she repeated,
throwing her superb eyes on the cower-
ing animal bowing before her.
you not leave now, Luigi? It is


Monsieur Lavaure-Monsieur Lavaure"-chokingly reiterated the Italian; "go with him-go-I will see you. soon-you understand, Madame," he gasped, you remember-I will explain again all to-morrow."


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"To-morrow!" she gravely repeated in a very low tone. "Monsieur Lavaure, I accept your escort. Luigi, be early to-morrow!"

One glance she gave of mingled pity and contempt, then calmly permitted the old gambler to lead her from the apartment.

"To-morrow!" murmured the Italian in a voice almost plaintively sweet; "To-morrow!" he paused for an instant, looking around fiercely, like a wild animal at bay, then rushing from the salon, before he could be followed, he had reached the grand entrance. A crash-the click of a pistol-a report —a heavy, dull fall on the marble pavement-a mingled cry of horror and commiseration, told us the common consummation of the gambler's fate.

Apparently he had hastened to catch a last look of the lost and loved, but her carriage had driven off, and, as even in that dreadful moment I was rejoiced to see, had left behind Monsieur Lavaure, who now stood shivering among the crowd collected round his victim's corpse. Life was extinct; the unfortunate youth had paid the penalty of his criminal love and ingratitude, not even having been able to profit by the warnings of the woman for whom he destroyed himself. Such is the downward path!

The story of the elopement from Milan, I learned some days after this dreadful dénouement, from the quiet, young, civil-spoken clerk who had first mentioned to me the nuptials of Mademoiselle Heiligthal. I met him in a Restaurateur's; he was on business in Paris. His story ran, that after the first year of residence in Italy, Madame Rosenfeld returned to Strasburg on a visit, having in so short a time lost altogether the fresh and vivacious buoyancy of girlhood, without acquiring the tranquillity and repose of manner usually attendant on happy wedded life. She appeared preoccupied, nervous, and languid. Her good parents strongly expressed disappointment at her too apparent ennuyeuse expression. She heard them with indifference, and gave no explanation; while Rosenfeld was as incomprehensible as herself. From that time she never again revisited her native city. About a year before her elopement, reports reached the brothers Heiligthal, that Rosenfeld, through his influence over a favorite mistress of a

certain powerful prince, was secretly. managing great speculations in Austria. He made frequent journeys from home, was long absent, leaving his young wife in complete solitude. They who well knew Rosenfeld's deep and ambitious character, were satisfied political views were concealed beneath this esclandre; but his wife had not been trusted with the real purpose that gave cause for it, nor, if she had, could she have believed the singular infatuation. A youth of some fortune, and carefully educated by Rosenfeld, was her only companion; what I had heard in La Scala, explained their subsequent intimacy, and who was the tempter, who the victim. In some moment of frenzied jealousy or wounded pride, Madame Rosenfeld left her home with the unfortunate Luigi. Rosenfeld was just returned from one of his long, unaccountable absences. He heard of his dishonored betrayal without making reply to the informant, composedly arranged the day's busi-ness, destroyed innumerable papers, drove out to his villa, and next morning was found in his bed as it seemed calmly sleeping. From that sleep he never awakened. Many said that some curious developments of dangerous state transactions, which might have sent him to a dungeon in a Silesian fortress, was the cause of his supposed suicide, rather than the desertion of his once beloved and beautiful wife.

Poor old Monsieur and Madame Heiligthal, after trying every means their great wealth could put in operation to discover their daughter, sank under the cruel calamity. The father died in a few months after the blow was stricken.. My acquaintance, the clerk, had just followed the remains of the poor mother to the grave, previous to being sent to Paris by the youngest Heiligthal, who still continued the business of the senior partners in Strasburg-the second brother having withdrawn from the banking-house, after the death of the elder and dearly beloved brother. He it was who had commissioned this young man to seek out his neice in Paris, where they were informed she had of latebeen seen. And subsequent to the affair which had brought the names of the wretched pair into public notice, Mons. Sand, the clerk, had obtained an interview with Madame Rosenfeld. But after arranging everything for her immediate departure to her uncle's

chateau near Zurich, he found that she had mysteriously disappeared, and where she had gone he could not discover. The cause of the young Luigi's desperate act he partially explained. Having, in two years since their flight from Milan, expended his own small property, and the lady, always accustomed to indulgence, being unable to exist without her most extravagant wishes being gratified, Luigi sought fortune at the gaming table; had various success; became marked by Lavaure, and entrapped by the experienced sharper; and after losing even Madame Rosenfeld's jewels, as a last effort to retrieve his losses, he borrowed money, for which Madame

THE ORGAN-GRINDER'S COMPANION. ferably warm. To avoid the inconveniences of sultry heat, I visited a friend, who had a pretty place within a few miles drive of town. It was a sweet, quiet, embowered cottage, overlooking a broad estuary, and though near the public avenues, secluded almost as a hermitage.

I CAN imagine nothing so exquisitely delightful, so nearly approaching the felicity of the first dwelling in the verdant shades of Eden, as the gentle reveries of a quiet summer's day in the country, when, happily exempt from care for the present, or fears for the future, the mere consciousness of existence suffices for the perfection of enjoyment.

I had returned from Europe. My health and spirits having been deeply impaired by some private sorrows, I had sought relief in travel, in long years of absence; and in some degree resignation, if not tranquillity, was obtained in the course of my wanderings. I do not quite agree with one who has said,

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Rosenfeld gave her name as security. Lavaure possessed himself of the bond for fifty thousand francs, and in a moment of madness and despair, Luigi staked what Lavaure called his interest in her, for that bond-and, as we have seen, lost. From this, Mons. Sand supposed, that too proud in all her misery and guilt, to become a dependent on her rigid uncle, (for the fortune of the elder Heiligthal was bequeathed without reservation to the second,) and fearing the legal claim against her, held by Lavaure, she had fled either to England or America; if to the latter place, Mr. Sand entreated, should I hear of her, to immediately communicate it to the house in Strasburg.

In the large city where I usually reside, the summer months are insuf

One glorious June day as I reclined in my easy chair, dropping the book I had been reading from my hands, and being absorbed in memories still dear, though less painful than formerly, I sank in half repose, while the balmy air waved rich blossoms of acacia against the light Venetian blinds, breathing around cool delicious perfume, peace-bestowing as if the wafting of some passing angel's wing. Everything both within doors and without was so perfectly still, that no sound but the warble of a bird, the hum of glittering insects, or the light rustle of fresh green leaves disturbed the dominion of silence. Suddenly a clear female voice, accompanied by the tuneless tinkle of a common grinding organ, burst forth in the joyous Swiss air I first heard in that splendid salon by the banks of the far distant Rhine-" Die Gedanken Sind Frey." Oh, that melodious voice, that fresh, heart-stirring air, like flashes of sunshine on deep shadow! I started up at once, and looked eagerly out on the lawn; but I sat in an upper chamber, and the thick branches of trees interlacing before the window, intercepted my view directly in front, while the portico roof prevented my

seeing beneath, where, as it seemed, the performers were stationed opposite the hall door.

I ran down stairs, and found my host's wife and daughters had likewise hastened at the sound of that enchanting voice to the verandah. Unwilling to be seen or recognized, if it were as, with rapid and most painful reminiscence, I supposed, I went into a parlor, and through the jalousies had a full view of the musicians.

On the gravel walk fronting the window, under the shade of broad green trees, stood a young man, slender, pale, rather good looking, in a coarse summer dress, with a straw hat placed carelessly on one side, his dark heavy curls covering a frowning brow, and his large black eyes glaring around with a singular expression of scorn and disgust. He turned mechanically the handle of the organ; not as if voluntarily, but as if, being set in motion, he was somehow compelled to go on,as his companion occasionally whispered to him. And that companion-oh the change, the wild, sad, pitiable change, from that bridal veil, those crowning roses, that gorgeous apartment, those joyous friends, that calm stately husband, to the immeasurable desecration of the present time!

She was greatly altered in appearance. Exposure, evil passions, and gross habits, had almost destroyed her former beauty. Her skin was brown and coarse, her face flushed and swollen; her eyes dim, with dull reddish lids, but boldly gazing with a reckless gaiety; her mouth yet retaining its treasure of pearls, which she failed not to display in smiles intended to be courteous, and still fascinating. Her hair was roughly gathered up under a large French cap, and in her hand she held a man's coarse hat, the substitute for the more seemly bonnet of woman. Her gown of flaring chintz, her gay colored shoes, dusty stockings, her loose gaudy shawl flung back from her sun-burnt bosom, panting with the excessive heat

of the day, all told a melancholy tale of woman's error and woman's unspeakable misery and irretrievable disgrace.

THERE is no time in which I am so deeply impressed with the prevalence of evil, the weary destiny of our fellow beings, the bitterness of poverty, the agonies of want and suffering, the temptations to crime, and the hor

She continued to sing; and again and again, her voice, still beautiful, but strained, and sometimes harsh and broken, poured forth the rolling melody of that well-remembered air. Evidently pleased with the admiration of the innocent and happy creatures listening to her, she became more animated, and sang several French songs with inimitable grace and expression. Yes, even there, in that mean attire, conscious of her degradation, and bitterly sensible of the lapse from innocence to guilt, the exquisite elegance of manner of that singular woman was still discernible. Song after song was given, and concluding with a graceful bend, as she finished "Si vous m'aimez," she waited for the gratuity usually bestowed. Meantime, I desired one of the children to inquire where the woman lived. He did so, and I heard the address given. Turning to the young man, whose exact relation to her I could not of course ascertain, she handed him the money just received; then smiling her thanks, and kissing her hand repeatedly, and courtesying, she turned away, and followed the surly organ-grinder the gate. In another moment I heard her carolling a wild Troubadour air as she trudged along the hot, dusty road. Oh, what strange beings we become when once we violate, or abandon the laws of morality and society, to enter on the paths of temptation and crime!

Early the next day I went to the street where Clotilde said she lived. No one resided in the lodging she mentioned. I sought for her everywhere. I advertised, but I saw her no more at that time. An old Italian once answered the advertisement, and said a friend of his had married such a woman as I described; that finding they could not make much in the city, they had gone through the country towns. He promised to inform me when they returned; but I never saw him again.


rors of despair, as on a winter's night in the streets of a large city. The fearful inequality of station, the terrible preponderance of misery, the innumerable victims of delusion, folly, vice, all going the onward course, but whi

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