ion to die rather than yield, I could see confusion growing
among the spectators. I heard the hurried trampling of cavalry through
the streets. Drums and trumpets began to sound in all quarters. The
tumult evidently increased. I could perceive even in the stony features
of Montrecour, his perplexity at being detained from showing himself at
the head of the troops; and with senses wound to their utmost pitch by
the anxiety of the moment, I thought that I could perceive the distant
shouts of an immense multitude advancing to the walls. Aide-de-camp
after aide-de-camp now came hurrying in--each with a fresh summons to
the general. He alternately threatened, insulted, and implored me. But
no measure or entreaty on earth could make me consent. At length I heard
a heavy fire of cannon, followed by the shattering of houses and the
outcries of the people. The batteries of the town soon returned the
fire, and all was uproar. Montrecour, gnashing his teeth, and with the
look and fury of a fiend, now rushed towards me, and bore me to the feet
of the priest. I felt the light leaving my eyes, and hoped that I was
dying. At that moment a cannon-shot struck the roof, and dashed down a
large portion of its fragments on the floor. The priest and his
attendants, thinking that the whole fabric was falling, made their
escape. Montrecour, with an exclamation full of the bitterness of his
soul, flung me from him, and swearing that my respite should be brief,
darted from the chapel, followed by the soldiers. What words ever
uttered by human lips can tell the gratitude with which I saw myself
left alone, and knelt before the altar covered with ruins!----

"I am now on my way once more, I know not whither. The battle continued
during the day; and the sights and sounds were almost too much for the
human senses to bear. At night the Royalists stormed the outworks of the
fortress; and, to prevent our release on the capitulation, the prisoners
were sent away in the darkness. As our carriage passed the gates, I saw
Montrecour borne in, wounded. The spirit of the insulter was in him
still. He ordered the soldiers to bring his litter near me, and in a
voice faint through pain, but bitter with baffled revenge, he
murmured--'Countess, you shall not have long to indulge in your
caprices. My hurts are trifling. You are still in my power.'

"What a hideous desolation is war! We have just passed through one of
the forest villages, which, but a few days sinc