t we may always be accompanied by them. I
have two friends, who in this way never depart from me; the one who gave
me being, and the other who conferred knowledge and intelligence on me.
Their spirits live in me. I consult them when doubtful, and if I ever do
any good, it is due to their beneficent counsels. Listen to the voice
of your heart, Morrel, and ask it whether you ought to preserve this
melancholy exterior towards me."

"My friend," said Maximilian, "the voice of my heart is very sorrowful,
and promises me nothing but misfortune."

"It is the way of weakened minds to see everything through a black
cloud. The soul forms its own horizons; your soul is darkened, and
consequently the sky of the future appears stormy and unpromising."

"That may possibly be true," said Maximilian, and he again subsided into
his thoughtful mood.

The journey was performed with that marvellous rapidity which the
unlimited power of the count ever commanded. Towns fled from them like
shadows on their path, and trees shaken by the first winds of autumn
seemed like giants madly rushing on to meet them, and retreating
as rapidly when once reached. The following morning they arrived at
Chalons, where the count's steamboat waited for them. Without the loss
of an instant, the carriage was placed on board and the two travellers
embarked without delay. The boat was built for speed; her two
paddle-wheels were like two wings with which she skimmed the water like
a bird. Morrel was not insensible to that sensation of delight which is
generally experienced in passing rapidly through the air, and the wind
which occasionally raised the hair from his forehead seemed on the point
of dispelling momentarily the clouds collected there.

As the distance increased between the travellers and Paris, almost
superhuman serenity appeared to surround the count; he might have been
taken for an exile about to revisit his native land. Ere long Marseilles
presented herself to view,--Marseilles, white, fervid, full of life
and energy,--Marseilles, the younger sister of Tyre and Carthage, the
successor to them in the empire of the Mediterranean,--Marseilles, old,
yet always young. Powerful memories were stirred within them by the
sight of the round tower, Fort Saint-Nicolas, the City Hall designed
by Puget, [*] the port with its brick quays, where they had both played
in childhood, and it was with one accord that they stopped on the
Cannebiere. A vessel was settin