hed me, and,
with something like his usual tone of familiarity, said,--

"Ah, Carl!--you here? You have, of course, heard of our sad
disappointment?"

"No, my lord," I replied, with some bitterness of tone, "I have scarcely
had time, for I have not been yet an hour in Dresden."

Without noticing either the manner of my answer or the allusion to my
absence, the Count continued,--

"This evening we were to have had the happiness to have amongst us one
who seems to be gifted with some magic power of diffusing delight and
ecstasy on every side where she appears. Those whose hearts were cold to
beauty in all others, have yielded to the fascination of hers; and the
soul that never before was touched by melody has thrilled with transport
at her heavenly voice. Divine La Mercia! the paragon of beauty and the
soul of song! There, there stands her harp, and here you see her music;
but she is absent. Alas! we have only the wand of the magician--the
spell is not there."

In an instant the veil was lifted from my eyes; the whole truth burst on
me like a lightning flash--the course of my popularity was run, the sun
of my favour had set for ever.

The fatigue of my journey, the heat of the salon, the confusion of my
mind, and the bitter conflict of my feelings, all conspired to unman
me, and I sank upon a sofa. As I sat thus unnoticed (for the tone of the
Count's manner had divested the few who were previously attentive of all
interest for me), I overheard the conversation of those around me. But
one name was mentioned, but one person seemed to engross every tongue or
heart--that was La Mercia.

From what I could collect it appeared that she, a most beautiful and
interesting girl, had appeared at the Opera a few evenings since, and by
the charms of her surpassing beauty, as well as the surprising richness
and clearness of her voice, had captivated the whole city, from the
palace to the cottage. The enthusiastic repetition of her praises
gradually led to regrets for her absence, and surmises as to the cause,
while a young nobleman, who had just joined the circle, said,--

"Trust me, La Mercia would have come if _she_ alone were consulted;
but I fear that ill-tempered looking old fellow, whom she calls her
'Dottore,' has had much to say to this refusal."

"Yes," said another; "so late as yesterday evening, at the palace,
when she was surrounded by several members of the royal family, eagerly
pressing her to repeat a song she