Crown descend to a legitimate heir whose rights would be indisputable. This could never have been the case with the children of the Duchesse, and there is little doubt that in those fierce unbridled days the removal of an obstacle to the welfare of the people, even though it involved the murder under the most cruel circumstances of a helpless woman, would be regarded as a meritorious act rather than otherwise, and one in which the means were justified by the end.

That Gabrielle's death was a relief to the nation is apparent from the sequel. The whole circumstances were hushed up. A post-mortem examination of the remains was held, but the result was never allowed to be divulged. No one was brought to account for the murder, and even Zamet continued in high favour with the King. The funeral was celebrated with the utmost pomp and magnificence.

Henry, after being plunged in the most profound grief and melancholy after writing to his sister Madame Catherine that the root of his love was withered, never to revive again-Henry Le Grand-Henry the hero-without striking a blow to avenge the foul murder of the woman who had loved him too well-five weeks after her death under the most heartrending sufferingswas laying his heart (!), even his Crown, at the feet of Henriette de Balzac, Mademoiselle d'Entragues!

The Misadventures of an American Princess.

A NEAPOLITAN OPERA.

(Before the overture began they had, of course, to tune the violins; and it was done, discordantly, in this wise.)

"WHAT can you do for me, caro mio?" (caressingly.) "I am a most unhappy mortal! I can neither eat nor sleep. Day and night, there is the bad dream of my debts. Don't be hard on me! You have a soul; at least, I suppose you have!" (impudently.) "Souls are unlike titles, they don't run exclusively in particular families. So an inn-manager-oh, very well; if you prefer it, a quasi Padrone!-may have a soul. Now, for the love of your soul" (with a whine.)

About sleeping, I can't say! As for your not eating: don't tell me that! Whenever you dine here, you eat enough for ten!" "Then I eat like a Swiss, you'll say next-I? I? An Italian Prince."

"An end will come to it all pretty quickly, I can tell you! You must, and shall, pay up! You owe me hundreds of lire for wine, and cigars, and dinners, not to speak of an occasional advance for a cab. In the name of patience, have you nothing you can sell, Prince? Prince?" (sneeringly.)

"Just my title and myself! And you can be broker" (unblushingly). "That's what I came to talk about. But I must draw a prize, mind you, as well as get your receipt in full for the little I may have had in this hotel. Look here! you've done it for others; it is very much to your interest to do it for me. You shall have a handsome fee-you're dealing, you know, with a noble. Your part won't be difficult. I'm a fine young fellow Signor Giacomo's expression was eloquent and highly uncomplimentary" and if I'm not exactly a prince, I'm dei principi di Castelpisano; and foreigners never know the difference! Now, who have you got here? English fortunes? American?? and

what's your price???" (the violent gesticulation and rising querulousness are typified by the extra notes of interrogation.) "So fast? I must be very sure of my money! There is an English heiress, but she'd make two of you, my Prince" (with concentrated bitterness), "and she's not to be caught with chaff, either, I imagine

"Old birds are not to be caught--" began the Prince. "——and there are the two Americans!"

"Americans? much the best! They are the highest bidders of any for titles; and then, as a rule, they are neither ugly nor dowdy."

"But what am I to get out of the business? The Conde della Portapisarelli is something like a man! It would be some pleasure to push a suit for him. She's a sweet creature; and, they tell me, enormously rich!" (with a sigh.)

The scene was the inner office of a big Neapolitan hotel. The speakers were two- Castelpisano - a pasty-faced, undersized dandy, whose blood may have been as blue as skim-milk, but whose bone was clearly deficient; and the sly, fat, hand-to-mouth part-proprietor of the house.

(The fiddles tuned on discordantly.)

A pact between these worthies would naturally take long in the making. Castelpisano's time was absolutely valueless. He could consequently afford to be lavish with it. When the Padrone was called to other affairs, he left his client astride on the office chair-first thoughtfully locking up his cash-box, which held a few lire. When it suited him, he returned to re-open negotiations. There was plenty of precedent to go upon. He had been through the whole thing several times already, with other distinguished fellow-citizens. There was even a sort of understanding in the public mind, in certain quarters, as to the amount of commission due to such an amateur matrimonial agent as himself. But, of course, these two haggled; no Neapolitan would think he had done himself justice unless he haggled over a bargain. The younger man made, in the course of their debate, an observation or two respecting the personal charms of the lady; but this was, clearly, merely for form's sake. Finally, it was duly covenanted that our Prince should sit next the Americans that day at table-to make what running he could! Castelpisano drew six bills in the Padrone's favour, dependent, be it well understood, on caro mio Giacomo helping on his marriage with a The first bill was payable in two months'

time. Clearly it could be met only with the bride's months'

seeing

that the princely aspirant to the lady's dollars had not a soldo of his own, and had even sold his right to the allowance (£40 a year) his father made him, for six years to come: consequently, it may be safely inferred that this descendant of the ancient Romans meant to do his wooing with all warmth and speed.

(The tuning of the fiddles being at length over and done, there came the overture.)

The visitors were fluttering, or gliding, or pushing-as the case might be-into their places at the table d'hôte, and unfolding their half-wet—and only half-washed-table-napkins. A rather angular American of middle age had just piloted her very pretty niece down the long room, and, as she seated herself, Miss Vale, senior, said, across the table, addressing a compatriot: "Why, now, thank you, we had a reel good time to-day. I call it a vurrwy handsome lake. What was the name of it, Ada ?"

66

The one we came to first?" asked a clear, young voice with a superabundance of the distinctive Philadelphian accent.

"No, Ada dear! The one 'way up beyond the Temple and the women selling those things-sort o' mussy, I call 'em-in a plate." "Oh, of course, Auntie, you mean Fusaro!" (pronounced Few-say-ro.)

What does it matter how "sweet seventeen" pronounces? In Ada Vale's case, there were so many other things to take up an observer's attention-the small, shapely head,

"Like a bell-flower on its bed;"

the delicate outline of the profile; the even teeth, in quality like mother-of-pearl; the grey-blue eyes, as large as they make them in America,—and such a look of fresh feelings; such receptivity, intelligence, and brightness!

Impelled by patriotism and general benevolence, the American lady over the way caught the girl's eye, and said in a low, distinct tone "Fusaro."

Americans are noticeably teachable; in general, too, they are unaffected. Ada bent her mind to learn, and confessed her ignorance at the same moment.

"Foo-sah-ro! Thank you," with a grateful smile that set all the mother-of-pearl row flashing, just as a short, narrow-chested man-a certain acquaintance of Signor Giacomo's-slipped into the empty chair next the slender Transatlantic flower.

At first she scarcely noticed him. Her glance ran up and down the long table; she was pleased with the lights, with many of

the faces that bent over the board, with somebody's gorgeous black fan, with an Italian lady's splendid little fat hand, with that cunning waist (Anglicè, bodice) that has the big collar-" And oh, Auntie, that's the shade of red I wanted for my costoom, and Wörth would not let me have it!" A churlish person might have said

"She had

A heart-how shall I say?-too soon made glad,
Too easily impressed: she liked whate'er

She looked on, and her looks went everywhere."

They even fell approvingly upon the dusty plants in pots, intended as ornaments for the dinner-table, and on the pale, sour, and ungenerous oranges that did duty for dessert.

The elder Miss Vale had also admiring glances to bestowmany of them and ardent; but all her deepest rapture fell in proud and loving looks upon her sweet niece.

Meantime, Signor Giacomo did not neglect his part.

The head-waiter, much to his astonishment, was told to pay particular attention to Castelpisano. Mine host himself came bowing and hoping his Excellency was in need of nothing that the house could afford. The title of Principe was rained down in showers on the degenerate specimen of humanity that sat by the fair Ada's side.

"Auntie," said the girl, sotto voce, "this must be some great I guess Principe means Duke, or Baron, or something; and they're all so very attentive to him!"

man.

"He doesn't look like the I-talian royal family as I have seen them in pictures," said the sceptical elder lady, adding doubtfully -"I'm sure, anyway, he's very refined-looking. Dear me! I never thought of people of such high station dining at the public table." (All this was, of course, in a confidential undertone.)

Signor Giacomo himself brought his Prince's champagne a minute later; and, some of it overflowing towards Ada's plate, the host had to apologise to her for himself and the Prince; and his little Excellency fell to making his own excuses in very broken English. The fish course was only beginning, and they were already as good as introduced. His speech had, for Ada, the great charm of novelty; indeed, one who was thoroughly accustomed to broken English would still be constrained to admit that the language with a strong foreign accent is prettier and softer than the purest Philadelphian. When his English failed him, he eked it out with French, or his native tongue; and these new acquaintances, Auntie included, managed to misunderstand each other to their mutual satisfaction, not only through the whole