e ruined walls of a little
chapel. In the dilapidated vault close by lay buried many of his
ancestors, and under the little wavy hillocks of fern and nettles, slept
many an humble villager. He sat down upon a worn tombstone in this lowly
ruin, and with his eyes fixed upon the ground, he surrendered his spirit
to the stormy and evil thoughts which he had invited. Long and motionless
he sat there, while his foul fancies and schemes began to assume shape
and order. The wind rushing through the ivy roused him for a moment, and
as he raised his gloomy eye it alighted accidentally upon a skull, which
some wanton hand had fixed in a crevice of the wall. He averted his
glance quickly, but almost as quickly refixed his gaze upon the impassive
symbol of death, with an expression glowering and contemptuous, and with
an angry gesture struck it down among the weeds with his stick. He left
the place, and wandered on through the woods.

"Men can't control the thoughts that flit across their minds," he
muttered, as he went along, "anymore than they can direct the shadows
of the clouds that sail above them. They come and pass, and leave no
stain behind. What, then, of omens, and that wretched effigy of
death? Stuff--pshaw! Murder, indeed! I'm incapable of murder. I have
drawn my sword upon a man in fair duel; but murder! Out upon the
thought, out upon it."

He stamped upon the ground with a pang at once of fury and horror. He
walked on a little, stopped again, and folding his arms, leaned against
an ancient tree.

"Mademoiselle de Barras, _vous etes une traitresse_, and you shall go.
Yes, go you shall; you have deceived me, and we must part."

He said this with melancholy bitterness; and, after a pause, continued:

"I will have no other revenge. No; though, I dare say, she will care but
little for this; very little, if at all."

"And then, as to the other person," he resumed, after a pause, "it is not
the first time he has acted like a trickster. He has crossed me before,
and I will choose an opportunity to tell him my mind. I won't mince
matters with him either, and will not spare him one insulting syllable
that he deserves. He wears a sword, and so do I; if he pleases, he may
draw it; he shall have the opportunity; but, at all events, I will make
it impossible for him to prolong his disgraceful visit at my house."

On reaching home and his own study, the servant, Merton, presented
himself, and his master, too deeply excited to