hen he had
finished his repast, he laid his sword upon the table, and, not feeling
disposed to sleep, drew from his pocket the book he had spoken of.--It
was a volume of old Provencal tales. Having stirred the fire upon the
hearth, he began to read, and his attention was soon wholly occupied by
the scenes, which the page disclosed.

The Count, meanwhile, had returned to the supper-room, whither those of
the party, who had attended him to the north apartment, had retreated,
upon hearing Dorothee's scream, and who were now earnest in their
enquiries concerning those chambers. The Count rallied his guests on
their precipitate retreat, and on the superstitious inclination which
had occasioned it, and this led to the question, Whether the spirit,
after it has quitted the body, is ever permitted to revisit the earth;
and if it is, whether it was possible for spirits to become visible to
the sense. The Baron was of opinion, that the first was probable, and
the last was possible, and he endeavoured to justify this opinion by
respectable authorities, both ancient and modern, which he quoted.
The Count, however, was decidedly against him, and a long conversation
ensued, in which the usual arguments on these subjects were on both
sides brought forward with skill, and discussed with candour, but
without converting either party to the opinion of his opponent. The
effect of their conversation on their auditors was various. Though the
Count had much the superiority of the Baron in point of argument, he
had considerably fewer adherents; for that love, so natural to the
human mind, of whatever is able to distend its faculties with wonder and
astonishment, attached the majority of the company to the side of the
Baron; and, though many of the Count's propositions were unanswerable,
his opponents were inclined to believe this the consequence of their
own want of knowledge, on so abstracted a subject, rather than that
arguments did not exist, which were forcible enough to conquer his.

Blanche was pale with attention, till the ridicule in her father's
glance called a blush upon her countenance, and she then endeavoured
to forget the superstitious tales she had been told in her convent.
Meanwhile, Emily had been listening with deep attention to the
discussion of what was to her a very interesting question, and,
remembering the appearance she had witnessed in the apartment of the
late Marchioness, she was frequently chilled with awe. Several