ever blessed the eyes
of a parent; he is now in perfect health, and fast asleep--come
to-morrow, at ten o'clock, and you shall see him."

"To-morrow," said I, with surprise; "to-morrow, Eugenia? why am I to
quit your house?"

"That also you shall 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'etait pas bien fait, 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 qui m'a renverse hier au soir_."

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 relations
of my mother would call at, in