. Since the departure of Legard, the gayeties of Paris
lost their charm for Evelyn, and more than ever she could appreciate the
society of her friend. He thus gradually lost his earlier fears of her
forming too keen an attachment to the great world; and as nothing could
be more apparent than Evelyn's indifference to the crowd of flatterers
and suitors that hovered round her, Maltravers no longer dreaded a
rival. He began to feel assured that they had both gone through
the ordeal; and that he might ask for love without a doubt of its
immutability and faith. At this period they were both invited, with the
Doltimores, to spend a few days at the villa of De Montaigne, near St.
Cloud. And there it was that Maltravers determined to know his fate!

CHAPTER IV.

CHAOS of Thought and Passion all confused.--POPE.

IT is to the contemplation of a very different scene that the course of
our story now conducts us.

Between St. Cloud and Versailles there was at that time--perhaps
there still is--a lone and melancholy house, appropriated to the
insane,--melancholy, not from its site, but the purpose to which it
is devoted. Placed on an eminence, the windows of the mansion
command--beyond the gloomy walls that gird the garden ground--one of
those enchanting prospects which win for France her title to _La Belle_.
There the glorious Seine is seen in the distance, broad and winding
through the varied plains, and beside the gleaming villages and villas.
There, too, beneath the clear blue sky of France, the forest-lands of
Versailles and St. Germains stretch in dark luxuriance around and afar.
There you may see sleeping on the verge of the landscape the mighty
city,--crowned with the thousand spires from which, proud above the
rest, rises the eyry of Napoleon's eagle, the pinnacle of Notre Dame.

Remote, sequestered, the place still commands the survey of the
turbulent world below; and Madness gazes upon prospects that might well
charm the thoughtful eyes of Imagination or of Wisdom! In one of the
rooms of this house sat Castruccio Cesarini. The apartment was furnished
even with elegance; a variety of books strewed the table; nothing for
comfort or for solace that the care and providence of affection could
dictate was omitted. Cesarini was alone: leaning his cheek upon his
hand, he gazed on the beautiful and tranquil view we have described.
"And am I never to set a free foot on that soil again?" he muttered
indignantly, as he bro