eus is freed from the annoyance of a rival. He reigns by
the divine right of his violin, the undisturbed monarch of his native
plains. His name is pronounced with enthusiasm from one flat end of
Holland to the other. In the splendour of his triumphal condition, he
has forgotten his compact with Beelzebub; but Maina reminded him of it
one day, when she told him he was about to become a father.

A father!--ha!--Frederick! That word which brings such rapture to the
newly married couple--which presents such radiant visions of the
future--that word freezes the heart of the _artiste_ and stops the blood
in his veins.

It is only now when Maina is so happy that he knows the enormity of his
fault.

He is about to be a father--and he--beforehand--basely, cowardly--has
sold the soul of his son who is yet unborn--before it can shake off the
taint of original sin. Shame! shame! on the proud in heart who has
yielded to the voice of the tempter--to the wretch who, for a little
miserable glory, has shut the gates of mercy on his own child--shame!
shame!

If Satan would consent to an exchange--if--but no--'tis impossible. The
"archangel fallen" had explained himself too clearly--no hope! no hope!
From that hour there was no rest, no happiness for the protege of the
Stadtholder--sleep fled from his eyelids, he was pursued by perpetual
remorse, and in the agonies of his heart deserted the nuptial bed: while
light dreams settled on Maina's spirit, and wove bright chaplets for the
future, he wandered into the midnight fields--across the canals--any
where, in short, where he fancied he could procure forgetfulness; but
solitude made him only feel his misery the more. How often he thought of
going to the gloomy lake where he had first encountered the Unknown! How
often he determined to complete the resolution he had formed on the day
of Castero's triumph! But Satan had said to him, "The suicide is
condemned--irrevocably condemned;" and the condemnation of which _he_
would be sure, would not bring a ransom for his first-born.

The fatal time draws on--in a few minutes more Maina will be a mother.
Frederick, by some invisible impulse, has chosen from among the laces of
his wife a rich Mechlin, which she wore round her neck on her
wedding-day. It is now to be the diabolic standard, and he goes with it
towards the door of his house, pensive and sad. When he got to the
threshold he stopped--he raised his eyes to heaven, and from his heart
an