iating with their neighbours. The count's brother, Baron Frederick
Rudolstadt, with his daughter Amelia, had for some time past taken up
their abode in the Castle of the Giants, and it was the hope of the two
brothers that Albert and Amelia would become betrothed. But the silence
and gloom of the place were hateful to Amelia, and Albert's deep
melancholy and absent-mindedness were not the tokens of a lover.

Albert, in fact, had so brooded over the horrors of the old wars between
Catholic and Protestant in Bohemia, that when the fit was on him he
believed himself living and acting in those terrible times, and it was
this kind of madness in his son which made Count Christian shun all
social intercourse. Albert was now thirty, and the doctors had predicted
that this year he would either conquer the fancies which took such
fierce hold on him, or succumb entirely.

One night, when the family were assembled round the hearth, the castle
bell rang, and presently a letter was brought in. It was from Porpora to
Count Christian, and the count, having read it, passed it on to Amelia.

It seemed that Christian had written to Porpora, whom he had long known
and respected, to ask him to recommend him a companion for Amelia, and
the letter now arrived not only recommended Consuelo, but Consuelo
herself had brought it.

The old count at once hastened with his niece to welcome Porporpina, as
the visitor was called, and the terror which the journey to the castle
and the first impressions of the gloomy place had struck upon the young
singer only melted at the warmth of Christian's praises of her old
master, Porpora.

From the first the whole household treated Consuelo with every kindness,
and Amelia very soon confided in her new friend all that she knew of the
family history, explaining that her cousin Albert was certainly mad.

Albert himself seemed unaware of Consuelo's presence until one day when
he heard her sing. Amelia's singing always made him uneasy and restless,
but the first time Consuelo sang--she had chosen a religious piece from
Palestrina--Albert suddenly appeared in the room, and remained
motionless till the end. Then, falling on his knees, his large eyes
swimming in tears, he exclaimed, in Spanish: "Oh, Consuelo, Consuelo! I
have at last found thee!"

"Consuelo?" cried the astonished girl, replying in the same language.
"Why, senor, do you call me by that name?"

"I call you Consolation, because a consolation has b