have reached her. The lover wrote again
and again without receiving an answer to letters which it is certain his
lost bride never received.

Captain de Volaski's three months' extended leave of absence had nearly
expired before he was in a condition to travel; and even then he had to
go by slow stages, riding only during the day and resting at night, until
they reached Warsaw.

He spent a week at his father's castle, watched and wept over by his
mother, who had not a reproach for her son, nor anything to offer him but
her sympathy and her services. Six months had now passed away since his
parting with his stolen bride; and it was the day before his expected
return to his regiment that a packet of newspapers arrived for him,
forwarded from St. Petersburg.

He tore the envelopes off them. They were English, French and German
papers. He threw all away except the French papers. He eagerly examined
them, in the hope of seeing the name of the Baron de la Motte, and
forming thereby some idea of the movements of the family, and the
whereabouts of Valerie.

The first paper he took up was _Le Courier de Paris_, and the first
item that caught his eye was this--

"MARRIED.--At the Church of Notre Dame, on Tuesday, March 1st, by the
Most Venerable, the Archbishop of Paris, the Duke of Hereward, to
Valerie, only daughter of the Baron de la Motte."

With the cry and spring of a panther robbed of its young, Volaski bounded
to his feet. His rage and anguish were equal, and beyond all power of
articulate or rational utterance. He strode up and down the floor like
a maniac; he raved; he beat his breast, and tore his hair and beard; and
finally, he rushed into the parlor where his father and mother were
seated together over a quiet game of chess, and he dashed the paper down
on the table before them, smote his hand upon the fatal marriage notice,
and exclaimed in a voice of indescribable anguish:

"See! see! see! see!"

"It is just as I thought it would be," said the count, as he calmly
read over the item, and passed it to his amazed wife. "The baron has
wisely taken the first opportunity of marrying off his wilful girl--the
best thing he could have done for her. I am sure I am glad she is no
daughter-in-law of mine! She who could so lightly elope from her father
might as lightly elope from her husband also."

Waldemar made no reply, but stood looking the image of desolation, until
his mother having read through the notice, and