cared for nothing that was not supernatural. In short I
became the patron saint of the house. The usual subject of my lectures
was the exaltation of human nature, and the intercourse of men with
superior beings; the infallible Count Gabalis was my oracle.

[A mystical work of that title, written in French in 1670 by the
Abbe do Villars, and translated into English in 1600. Pope is said
to have borrowed from it the machinery of his Rape of the Lock.-H.
G. B.]

"The young countess, whose mind since the loss of her lover had been more
occupied in the world of spirits than in that of nature, and who had,
moreover, a strong shade of melancholy in her composition, caught my
hints with a fearful satisfaction. Even the servants contrived to have
some business in the room when I was speaking, and seizing now and then
one of my expressions, joined the fragments together in their own way.

"Two months were passed in this manner at the marquis' villa, when the
chevalier one morning entered my apartment. A deep sorrow was painted
on his countenance, his features were convulsed, he threw himself into a
chair, with gestures of despair.

"'Captain,' said he, 'it is all over with me, I must begone; I can
remain here no longer.'

"'What is the matter, chevalier? What ails you?'

"'Oh! this fatal passion!' said he, starting frantically from his chair.
'I have combated it like a man; I can resist it no longer.'

"'And whose fault is it but yours, my dear chevalier? Are they not all
in your favor? Your father, your relations.'

"'My father, my relations! What are they to me? I want not a forced
union, but one of inclination, Have not I a rival? Alas! and what a
rival! Perhaps among the dead! Oh! let me go! Let me go to the end
of the world,--I must find my brother.'

"'What! after so many unsuccessful attempts can you still cherish hope?'

"'Hope!' replied the chevalier; 'alas! no. It has long since vanished
from my heart, but it has not from hers. Of what consequence are my
sentiments? Can I be happy while there remains a gleam of hope in
Antonia's heart? Two words, my friend, would end my torments. But it
is in vain. My destiny must continue to be miserable till eternity
shall break its long silence, and the grave shall speak in my behalf.'

"'Is it then a state of certainty that would render you happy?'

"'Happy! Alas! I doubt whether I can ever again be happy. But
uncertainty is of all others the most dreadful