tupor, of M. d'Harville's
guests.

[Illustration: _M. d'Harville had blown his brains out._
Original Etching by Mercier.]

Next day the following appeared in one of the newspapers:

"Yesterday an event, as unforeseen as deplorable, put all the
Faubourg St. Germain in a state of excitement. One of those
imprudent acts, which every year produce such sad accidents, has
caused this terrible misfortune. The following are the facts
which we have gathered, the authenticity of which may be relied
upon.

"The Marquis d'Harville, the possessor of an immense fortune,
and scarcely twenty-six years of age, universally known for his
kind-hearted benevolence, and married but a few years to a wife
whom he idolised, had some friends to breakfast with him; on
leaving the table, they went into M. d'Harville's sleeping
apartment, where there were several firearms of considerable
value. Whilst the guests were looking at some choice
fowling-pieces, M. d'Harville in jest took up a pistol which he
thought was not loaded, and placed the muzzle to his lips.
Though warned by his friends, he pressed on the trigger,--the
pistol went off, and the unfortunate young gentleman dropped
down dead, with his skull horribly fractured. It is impossible
to describe the extreme consternation of the friends of M.
d'Harville, with whom but a few instants before he had been
talking of various plans and projects, full of life, spirits,
and animation. In fact, as if all the circumstances of this sad
event must be still more cruel by the most painful contrasts,
that very morning M. d'Harville, desirous of agreeably
surprising his wife, had purchased a most expensive ornament,
which he intended as a present to her. It was at this very
moment, when, perhaps, life had never appeared more smiling and
attractive, that he fell a victim to this most distressing
accident.

"All reflections on such a dreadful event are useless. We can
only remain overwhelmed at the inscrutable decrees of
Providence."

We quote this journal in order to show the general opinion which
attributed the death of Clemence's husband to fatal and lamentable
imprudence.

Is there any occasion to say that M. d'Harville alone carried with him
to the tomb the mysterious secret of his voluntary death,--yes,
voluntary and calculated upon, and meditated with as much calm