ength in reaching a little
cottage having a garden planted with trees. The lightning had now
begun to play, and shewed him the white walls of the cottage streaming
with rain, and the drenched foliage that surrounded it. Guided by the
rapidly succeeding gleams, he was enabled to find the garden gate,
where, there being no bell, he remained for some time shouting in
vain. The light still beamed gently through one of the upper windows,
and seemed to tell of a comfortable interior and cosy inmates.
Giustiniani exerted his utmost strength of voice, and presently there
was a movement in the lighted chamber--a form came to the window; and,
after some delay, the door of the house was opened, and a voice asked
who demanded admittance at that hour, and in such weather. Our
traveller explained, and was soon let in by a quiet-looking old
gentleman, who took him up stairs into a little library, where a good
wood-fire was blazing. A young girl of remarkable beauty rose as he
entered, and received him with cordial hospitality. Acquaintance was
soon made. Giustiniani told his little story, and learned that his
host was M. Albert Brivard, a retired medical officer, who, with his
daughter Marie, had selected this out-of-the-way place for economy's
sake.

According to my informant, Giustiniani at once fell in love with the
beautiful Marie, to such an extent that he could scarcely partake of
the supper offered him. Perhaps his abstinence arose from other
reasons--love being in reality a hungry passion in its early
stage--for next day the young man was ill of a fever, and incapable of
continuing his journey. M. Brivard and his daughter attended him
kindly; and as he seemed to become worse towards evening, sent a
messenger to Maddalena. The consequence was, that on the following
morning Bartuccio arrived in a great state of alarm and anxiety; but
fate did not permit him again to meet his friend with that whole and
undivided passion of friendship in his breast with which he had
quitted him a month before. Giustiniani was asleep when he entered the
house, and he was received by Marie. In his excited state of mind, he
was apt for new impressions, and half an hour's conversation seems not
only to have filled him with love, but to have excited the same
feeling in the breast of the gentle girl. It would have been more
romantic, perhaps, had Marie been tenderly impressed by poor
Giustiniani when he arrived at night, travel-stained and drenched wit