A little burnt powder is but a trifle, and I am under a good buckler,' returned Master Loubet, drawing his cloak over his shoulder. 'Say rather an ægis,' interrupted the Basochian, gaily; an ægis, that is the word.' Be it so; but as I find it rather heavy just now, I think I will go in and cool myself a little. Keep a brave heart; and a pleasant night to you, Marius Magis.'

He bowed to the Basochian, and proceeded toward a small mansion which faced the Rue du Portalet. Like its neighbors, the house was barricadoed as in time of civil warfare, and no light was visible from any of the front windows. The advocate gently unlocked the door and stepped into a narrow passage which served as a porch, and opened upon a little court-yard. He had scarcely closed the door behind him, when a petard exploded at its threshold.

'What a silly, noisy amusement!' murmured Jaques Loubet, as he gained his office, a small apartment situate on the ground-floor.

Curtains of blue buckram were drawn closely before the windows; a lamp was burning upon a writing-desk, covered with papers and packages of pleadings; a few stuffed benches and straw-bottomed chairs were ranged along the white-washed walls; some hundred well-thumbed volumes ranged upon a couple of black shelves, and a wooden-clock, completed the furniture of this apartment, where the advocate, Master Jaques Loubet, was wont to receive his numerous clients.

Having speedily disembarrassed himself of his cloak, he sat down in a large arm-chair of red leather, which seemed the most antique piece of furniture in the office, and then dipped his pen into a horn inkstand, from whence the Loubets, advocates for three generations, had drawn many a long and learned plea. But on this occasion, inspiration seemed to fail the votary of Themis; an insurmountable fit of abstraction caused the ink to dry in his pen, and the large sheet of paper which lay before him remained in its original whiteness. He soon wearied of this contest between his powers of volition and the fixed idea which seemed to possess his mind; and throwing down his pen, he passed his hand through the thick locks that clustered around his temples, and yielded himself up to his revery. His eye wandered vacantly over the written papers which lay spread before him; he read mechanically the titles of his cases: The heirs Chapins versus the heirs Fouqueteau, damages twenty pounds;' The Sieur Girard, assessor, against the Township of Nans, for a water-course,' etc. But presently a deeper and more tender sentiment than the love of legal lore seemed to animate the dark blue eyes of the advocate, and a faint smile, index of a precious remembrance of the heart, passed over his care-worn features. Soon however a bitter change came to dispel this silent feeling of exaltation; and then Jaques Loubet pressed his clasped hands upon his forehead, and murmured :

'Oh GOD! what thoughts are these! Where will they terminate? It is folly, it is madness, thus to give way to them!'

Once more he essayed to peruse his papers; but the fixed idea which possessed his mind soon returned, powerful and tenacious, and the advocate again relapsed into a fit of abstraction.

'Cousin Jaques!' cried in a low tone the gentle voice of a young girl at the door of the study; will you come to supper?'

The advocate started up, and thus suddenly recalled to his usual occupations, began to arrange his papers.

'My aunt is waiting for you; will you come, cousin?' said the same voice, in a timid tone.

'I am coming, Catharine,' said he, taking his lamp and following the young girl.

In those days advocates were not the lordly characters they now are, nor did their residences resemble the hotels of the nobility. The best apartment was usually occupied as the office, with rarely any ante-chamber except the corridor; and the family were wont to take their meals in the kitchen. It was here that the mother and the young cousin of the advocate Loubet were sitting. Every thing seemed neat, suitable, and well-ordered; and one might readily perceive in all the little household details, of which the mistress of the family never lost sight, the modest opulence of a respectable citizen.

A huge dresser, filled with plates and dishes, stood opposite the fireplace, whose lofty mantel-piece was ornamented with vases of painted china-ware and pots of flowers tastefully arranged. There was no silver on the walnut table where the cover was spread; but forks and drinking cups of plated ware, and linen of the finest texture and purest whiteness, betokened the easy circumstances of the family. A leathern arm-chair marked the place, as head of the household, of the advocate Loubet; the old female domestic had also her stool at a respectful distance from her employers, with whom she took her meals.

The mother of the advocate was a woman of strong sense and piety, and much respected in the neighborhood for her exemplary life and deeds of charity. Although the possessor of a dowry of three thousand crowns, she had not ventured to assume the title of Madame, but was known simply as Mistress Loubet. Her niece, Catharine Loubet, was eighteen years of age; a lovely girl, fair and delicate, and a creature so pure and gentle that in her daily intercourse with the world she seemed to inspire even the wicked with good thoughts. For many years an orphan, she was now betrothed to Master Loubet, and it was arranged that she should become his spouse at the end of the year.

'Cousin Jaques,' said Catharine, fixing upon him her soft blue eyes, 'you study too much; you will injure yourself; your poor eyes look as if they had been weeping

It is nothing-nothing,' briskly interrupted the advocate; I was awake all last night, but I am going now to take some repose.'

The young girl seated herself at the table by the side of Mistress Loubet, and mechanically unfolded her napkin; then turning her eyes toward a vacant seat next the advocate, she burst into tears.

'Come, come, Catharine,' said he, in a sad and almost stern voice, 'we have mourned enough for this unfortunate girl. May God help her! We can do no more for her.' ·

'My poor sister!' interrupted Catharine; 'who knows what has become of her? Who can say that she is not more to be pitied than blamed? Ah! cousin Jaques! if you could only bring us some tidings of her!'

The advocate and his mother exchanged a look of deep sadness. 'You can never see her more, my child,' said Mistress Loubet; she is now to us as one dead. She left our roof when she became of age; we could not detain her against her will. May GoD protect and save her! Beauty is a fatal gift, my dear Catherine, when unaccompanied with a love of duty and dread of crime !'

'Let us talk no more of this,' added Master Loubet; the name of Clara must no more be mentioned in this house; and henceforth, Catharine, you must forget that you ever had a sister. Will you promise me this, cousin?'

'I promise never to think of her but in my prayers,' replied she, with a sigh.

During this conversation the noise and tumult without continued; the explosion of petards, shouts and outcries, seemed to increase; and the clamor extended even into the little street of Portalet.

Holy Virgin!' exclaimed the old domestic; 'grant that no harm befals any one to night!'

'The year the late king died,' said Mistress Loubet, a clerk was struck in the face by a petard, which caused his death.'

At this instant there was an increased commotion in the street. Hootings and bursts of laughter were heard. Evidently some one was pursued. An explosion of fire-works was heard, and then a female cry, which was succeeded by a violent knocking at the door. Loubet arose, and hastened on tiptoe to open it. Scarcely had he drawn the bolt, when a female rushed into the house, and closing the door, exclaimed in a breathless voice:

'Are we alone, Master Loubet ? Not for worlds must any one see me here!'

The advocate stood trembling, and as if stupified; then, without uttering a word, he seized the new comer by the arm and drew her into his study. Catharine arrived with a lamp; he took it from her.

'Go, cousin,' said he hurriedly, go to my mother; I wish to be alone.'

The cries and hallooings in the street still continued. Jaques Loubet locked the door of his study. The female to whom he had given shelter had fallen half lifeless into the large arm-chair, and was listening with intense terror to the voices which still seemed to pursue her. The advocate, pale and lost in astonishment, remained standing near his desk. There was a moment's silence; he then exclaimed:

'How! Madame the Marchioness, you here at this hour? Good heavens! what has happened at the house of the First President?

-

'Nothing nothing,' replied she, in a scarcely articulate voice; 'I will tell you why I came out. It was a piece of folly-madness!'

The person who uttered these words was a young female, of such small stature and delicate frame that, without seeing her face, one might have taken her for a child; but her features, of rare and striking beauty, indicated a riper age. The gleams of a fiery spirit and violent passions flashed from her eyes of dark hazel; a line, already well defined, divided her forehead between the eye-brows, and gave an expression of severity to her countenance, which was softened by a profusion of fair

glossy locks which fell around her temples. She was clad in deep mourning, and enveloped in a large black mantle and hood.

'Master Loubet,' continued she, making an effort to overcome her agitation, I fortunately found myself before your house. Some insolent fellows pursued, insulted me. But I think they did not recognize me.'

'Madame, my astonishment at hearing your voice was extreme. But how could you have ventured out, and alone, on such a night as this?' 'I did not remember that it was Saint John's night,' replied she, in a quick, hurried voice, stopping between each word, as if life was almost failing her; after the sad event which happened to day, I had a desire to see my sister. At night-fall, I left the house by the little garden gate, without telling any one. They thought I was shut up in my oratory. I passed an hour at the Visitation, and as I was returning, these rude men overtook and tried to frighten me.'

'Monsieur the President will have the scoundrels punished!'

No, no!' interrupted she, quickly; 'do not think so, Master Loubet! I shall be ruined, undone, if they discover that I have been out this evening! My father-in-law will never forgive me! His son, my husband, dying to day! the body still in the hotel, and I gone out! Oh! my GOD! my GOD! and how shall I now return?'

She clasped her hands in agony, and seemed to listen; the noise became more distant; no one was now heard in the street. The advocate, leaning against his desk, mechanically grasped the papers that were lying scattered beneath his hand; he trembled as he gazed upon the Marchioness. Suddenly he exclaimed, approaching her with a gesture of affright: 'Good heaven! Madame, there is blood upon your arm!' One of the arms of the Marchioness, bare to the elbow, was dabbled with red and ill-effaced spots; the other, covered with a black silken glove, was stiff with blood. She hastily drew her mantle over her bosom; her face became of a livid paleness, and her lips moved without uttering a sound.

'You are wounded!' continued the advocate, 'you are wounded in the arm, Madame !'

'It is nothing; I fell in attempting to escape from these men. Leave me-leave me, Master Loubet! I am well, very well; I do not feel at all ill.'

As she spoke, she endeavored to draw off her glove; but her trembling hands could not accomplish their purpose; she seemed seized with a dreadful vertigo. At length, tearing off the silken net-work which covered her arm, she murmured :

This blood terrifies me! Loubet, I am suffocating here; my heart is bursting.'

The advocate approached to support her. It is nothing,' replied she, repelling him with dread, it is nothing!-a mere scratch! Do not regard it, Master Loubet.'

Ah! if I knew who it was that dared to lay his hand upon you, Madame!' exclaimed he, with flashing eye.

At this moment the clock struck eleven: the Marchioness shuddered as she counted the strokes.

'I must return!' exclaimed she; I must; but how cross the square amid this shower of wild-fire? I regard not the danger of being burnt; but if any one should recognize me!'

'Heavens!' said the advocate, what a situation! The Basochians and the Royal Guards will be there till morning.'

'I must return!' exclaimed she. Oh! I would give my fortune, rank, all that I have, to be once more in my oratory! It is only to cross the square to reach the gate of my garden. But how?'

She began to pace to and fro in a sort of bewilderment. The advocate in consternation peered into the street through the crevices of the shutters. In a few moments, the Marchioness approached him with a quick movement :

'I may yet be saved!' cried she. 'Loubet, listen to me. Look you, I am small, you are of large stature; we may both go out under this cloak. You can carry me.

The advocate turned pale; a thrilling emotion made his knees bend beneath him. Answering not a word, he threw his cloak over his shoulders. The Marchioness, pale, trembling, with fixed and excited look, placed herself upon the arm of Master Loubet, and drew her mantle closely around her. He raised her gently. She kept her head entirely hidden, and her small feet touched not the ground.

'Make haste!' said she, for Heaven's sake, make haste!' Jaques Loubet pressed her to his bosom with a timid embrace; then cautiously opening his study door, he gained the passage. Catherine was crossing the court.

'I will return presently,' cried he to her: then sallying forth, with noiseless step, he found himself in the street.

A few timid spectators were standing near the door; farther on, upon the square, a constant firing was kept up between the combatants. The Basochians had taken their position upon a stone scaffold permamently erected in front of the palace, where they defended themselves as in a fortress. The officers of the Royal Guard made frequent assaults, and * often retreated with loss. The entire square presented the appearance of a huge conflagration, and large flakes of fire rained incessantly among the trees.

The advocate glided stealthily along by the Church of the Dominicans, and slowly pursued his way in full view of both parties. Little recked he at this moment of the danger of being burnt or wounded by the fiery missiles which flew around him. More profound was the cause of his alarm, and deeper the source of the emotion which shook his frame. His fair charge lay motionless upon his breast; he inhaled the perfume of her golden tresses which fell upon his cheek; it seemed as if the violent throbbings of her heart would burst its frail enclosure; he clasped with intense anguish to his bosom the slight form which he dreaded every moment would escape from his grasp. For an instant, yielding to these emotions, at once so delicious and so fearful, he stopped. the Marchioness gently pressed his arm, and murmured in a scarcely audible voice:

'Go on, Loubet! in the name of Heaven, go on!'

Then

They at length reached the entrance of a little street on the opposite