all know, to-morrow," said she; "but now you must do
as you are desired. To-morrow, I will be at home to no one but you."

Knowing Eugenia as I did, it was sufficient that she had decided.
There was no appeal; so, kissing her again, I wished her a good night,
quitted her, and retired to my hotel. What a night of tumult did I
pass! I was tossed from Emily to Eugenia, like a shuttlecock between
two battledores. The latter never looked so lovely; and to the natural
loveliness of her person, was added a grace and a polish, which gave
a lustre to her charms, which almost served Emily as I had served the
footman. I never once closed my eyes during the night--dressed early
the next morning, walked about, looked at Chateau Trompette and the
Roman ruins--thought the hour of ten would never strike, and when it
did, I struck the same moment at her door.

The man who opened it to me was the same whom I had treated so ill the
night before; the moment he saw me, he put himself into an attitude at
once of attack, defence, remonstrance, and revenge, all connected with
the affair of the preceding evening.

"_Ah, ah, vous voila donc! ce n'etoit pas bienfait, Monsieur_."

"_Oui_," said I, "_tres nettement fait, et voila encore_," slipping a
Napoleon into his hand.

"_Ca s'arrange tres-joliment, Monsieur_," said the man, grinning from
ear to ear, and bowing to the ground.

"_C'est Madame, que vous voulez donc_?"

"_Oui_," said I.

He led, I followed; he opened the door of a breakfast
parlour--"_tenez, Madame, voici le Monsieur que m'a renverse hier au
soi_."

Eugenia was seated on a sofa, with her boy by her side, the loveliest
little fellow I had ever beheld. His face was one often described,
but rarely seen; it was shaded with dark curling ringlets, his mouth,
eyes, and complexion had much of his mother, and, vanity whispered me,
much more of myself. I took a seat on the sofa, and with the boy on my
knee, and Eugenia by my side, held her hand, while she narrated the
events of her life since the time of our separation.

"A few days," said she, "after your departure for the Flushing
expedition, I read in the public prints, that 'if the nearest relation
of my mother would call at ----, in London, they would hear of
something to their advantage.' I wrote to the agent, from whom I
learned, after proving my identity, that the two sisters of my mother,
who, you may remember, had like sums left them by the will of their
relative, ha