another trifling service easily rendered. should think."

Not a bad night's work, I

"Does your sick person live far from here!"

"At some distance. A carriage waits outside, in case you should accept, as you necessarily will, my proposal."

The young Doctor reflected for a few seconds. How came the stranger to know, or to pretend to know, something about him? These were times in which it was not very pleasant, but neither was it unusual, for the lives of the most obscure individuals to be familiar to the agents of the terrible committee. Suppose this were a plot to entrap him? But, per contra, who would be at the trouble of "entrapping" an individual who had nothing but his head to dispose of, an article which those authorized to demand it might obtain at any time without the smallest trouble? Was it not much more likely that a delicate case had occurred, where the parties concerned might be unwilling to call in a known physician? What other object could the stranger have? "Cantabit vacuus coram latrone viator," said he aloud, repeating to himself a line from Juvenal which seemed applicable to his present doubts.

"What is that you say?" asked the stranger.

"I beg pardon," replied Heinrich, "I was talking Latin to myself— a bad habit contracted in the lecture room. The French translation is, that I will accompany you, if you will have the goodness to show the way."

The Doctor accordingly rose from the table, and merely stopping for a moment to settle his score at the counter of the marchand de vin, followed the unknown into the street. The latter, after a few paces, turned rapidly down a narrow lane, leading in the direction of the Marais. The lane before long, opened into a broad place or square, at its junction with which was stationed a close coach drawn by a single horse. The driver on the box was so closely muffled up, that even had the light been greater it would have been impossible to distinguish his features; but this might be owing to the rigour of a winter's night. Heinrich had scarcely time to note this one incident, when he found himself seated beside his companion in the coach, which immediately set off at a round trot. The shutters on both sides were closed, thus effectually preventing him from guessing at the direction in which he was being taken. They went on at this pace, in perfect darkness, neither exchanging a word with the other, it might be for an hour, perhaps for more. The Doctor, who had resigned himself to the adventure, strove to wile away the time by gathering from external sounds, or from the turnings in and out of the coach, some clue to the route they were pursuing. Once he thought he heard the rippling of water, and a sharp turn which they took immediately afterwards, seemed like the passage over one of the bridges. One thing only was clear: they had not passed through any of the barriers, for they had not once been stopped. Then it suddenly occurred to him as a remarkable circumstance that the coach should have come thus far without hindrance-vehicles, with rare exceptions, not being allowed at that time in the streets of Paris. The recollection of this fact caused him some uneasiness, and he wished that he had thought of it before plunging into the adventure. Should he ask the stranger for an explanation?

Just at this moment, the coach did stop, and his companion lowering one of the blinds, invited the Doctor to descend.

He found himself in the courtyard of a huge, tall, dingy house, differing in no observable particular from the general pattern of Paris houses. It might be, indeed, that the staircase up which he followed his guide, was a trifle dirtier than the dirtiest which he had yet seen, which is equivalent to saying, that no besom or other abstergent appeared to have been applied to it since the epoch of its construction. The smells lingering about it were in unison with the filth. The house was evidently old, and tenanted by lodgers of a humble condition. They continued ascending till they had reached what seemed to be the highest story; there the stranger pansing before a small door, unlocked it with a key which he carried in his hand, and admitted himself and his companion into a narrow passage, lighted by a feeble candle. At the end of this passage was another door, which he instructed the Doctor to open without knocking. Then, to the great surprise of the latter, turning suddenly on his heel, he vanished through the entrance by which they had just come in, and the sound of the key outside, showed that he had locked it after him.

The abruptness of the action startled the young man, who reflected that he was a prisoner in a strange house, the first appearance of which was anything but prepossessing. There was clearly, however, nothing better to do than to follow his instructions, so, after a moment's hesitation, he pushed open the door indicated to him. He now found himself in a room somewhat larger than he had expected to see, and conveying to the eye a certain impression of faded elegance, being dotted over with old brocaded chairs and sofas, and here and there a cracked table or cabinet of buhl. Across the wall at the further end, opposite to where he stood, there hung a red curtain, most probably for the purpose of concealing a bed. The ceiling bore the traces of some allegorical painting-a goddess in a car drawn by two horses-but the horses' heads and part of the car had disappeared. The shadows rising and falling across this painted fragment, caused the Doctor to perceive that the room was lighted only by a wood-fire burning in the grate : there was neither lamp nor candle to be seen. Just so much as this, his eye took in at the first glance; the next instant it rested on a female figure seated in the shadow of the red curtain. Her face was buried in her hands, and from the motions of her frame, she appeared to be sobbing violently. He closed the door gently behind him, and moved up to within a few feet of her. Still, she did not look up, or change her position. The dress she wore was of coarse material, but notwithstanding this, a certain nameless grace in the pose of the figure, and the whiteness of the hands, the backs of which were turned towards him, conveyed to the young man, the idea that she belonged to the upper classes. It was no subject of wonder, in those days, for a duchess to be met with in a garret, or even under the rags of a poissarde. Heinrich, whose heart was a tender one, continued to watch the lady for some time with a feeling of pity, and then seeing that his presence was unnoticed, ventured to call attention to himself by the slight cough with which shy people affect to be taken on such occasions.

eye.

The lady, slowly withdrawing her hands from her face, looked up. Never, thought the doctor, had a more striking countenance met his She was a woman of about fifty, very handsome in spite of her years; more handsome possibly-as he could not help fancying at the moment than she had ever been, for her's was that majestic caste of beauty, which reveals itself most strongly in the matron, as there are certain styles of architecture which gain instead of suffering by the lapse of time. Her cold, classically moulded features might have served the great painter of the day, David, as a beau ideal for the head of a Roman mother; but as the deep gray eye encountered his own, the Doctor could not help thinking that even David would more readily have quailed beneath it than rendered its expression. Every glance of that eye, every motion of the thin tightly compressed lip, the quivering nostril, even the act of parting her long black hair from off her forehead -every movement of this woman bore the impress of a life-long habit of superiority and command. Such an one might be admired in her sufferings, but could scarcely be pitied. Accordingly Heinrich felt that at the sight of her face, his first sensations had, so to speak, receded into the background, leaving on his mind, no impression but one of admiration, and, in some degree, of fear.

After a few moments she had sufficiently composed herself to beg the Doctor to be seated. Her voice was of that deep, vibrating tone most suitable to her appearance, yet occasionally inclining to harshness. "You have cause to be astonished, Monsieur le Docteur," said she, after a short pause, "at the rather strange fashion in which you have been brought here, and are entitled to demand some explanation of the circumstances."

The person addressed bowed without speaking.

"That explanation," pursued the lady, "I am about to give you. It is needless to dwell further on the dreadful nature of the period in which we live, than to recall to you that precautions are sometimes rendered necessary now, which at other times would be simply absurd. I shall convince you, I am sure, that in concealing from you my name and the place of my abode, I have done no more than what my sad position renders strictly necessary for my safety-perhaps for our mutual safety, supposing you should accede to the request 1 shall shortly have to make to you."

Again the young Doctor bowed assent. He did not feel called upon to pronounce any opinion on the character of the times, and, besides, his rôle was evidently that of a listener.

"Ten short days ago," pursued the lady, "I was blessed with a child -an only daughter." Here a fresh outburst of tears checked for awhile her utterance. "Heaven knows, a precarious gift of Providence in times like these, when each night's parting leaves us all uncertain of a morrow. I need not tell you that I loved her-dearly-madly-as the miser loves his treasure purchased with a life-time. Perhaps I need hardly tell you that my affection was heightened by a very natural presentiment that she would be torn from my arms, to glut the fury of the wretches-God help us!-our only lords and masters, under heaven, for the hour. And so, alas, it happened! I have not strength, nor

would you, perhaps, have patience, for a long story. Mon Dieu! these events are too common to expect that even the most benevolent should feel a strong interest in an individual case. She was taken from meher crime was easily proved-for her crime was her noble birth. You are aware that for that offence, there exists, under the reign of fraternity, but one punishment."

Heinrich could not avoid feeling an unusual degree of interest, though the story to which he was listening was, indeed, a common one, and every story of the kind had the same easily foreseen denouement in those days. Something in the speaker's voice and manner-a certain studied tone and mode of expression, which sounded almost theatrical, and yet was not the less effective on that account-fascinated him strangely, spite of himself.

"Denounced by a personal enemy, she was taken. One afternoon that she had ventured out of our usual place of concealment, she was recognized-summoned before the dread tribunal;—it is needless to inform you of the result; Monsieur le Docteur, it is but three days since-"

Heinrich looked down on the floor.

"You know my meaning. I am childless now.' Her voice trembled, and there was a pause of a few seconds, as if for the purpose of regaining strength. Then she went on more calmly than before. "I weary you, do I not, with these details? But thus much was necessary in order to explain what I am now coming to. Doctor, I could not bear that my poor child's body should be treated like those of the other victims-the horrid pit, the quicklime !-You appreciate my feelings, and will spare me from adding more. If only she could repose amidst her native scenes, with the benediction of the church, where, one day, when these wild orgies are over, her mother might weep over her grave, and plant a humble cross there! When no other hope was left, the accomplishment of this last hope became my dream. You know that bodies have sometimes been recovered from the wretches who are set to guard them. Gold-gold is an object of the monster's thirst, to which even the lust for cruelty will sometimes give way. I succeeded. Doctor, my daughter's body was secretly conveyed to me last night, and lies in this house-here-in the alcove behind yonder curtain."

Heinrich could not help starting at these words, and his eyes turned instinctively to the folds of red damask which were indicated by a gesture of the speaker. He was conscious of being much more agitated than it becomes a medical man, under any circumstances, to appear. Accordingly, by way of showing his perfect self-possession, he began to falter out a few words of condolence, and, in his confusion, actually groped for an imaginary watch (alas, the real one had long since been dropped on his road to the philosopher's stone, at one of those way-side stations, known as the monts de piété) with a vague movement towards feeling the lady's pulse.

"Sufferings like these must indeed have shattered your nerves, Madame, and if I thought that any humble prescription such as I could dictate-"

She motioned him back quietly, somewhat imperiously. "It is not

to prescribe for any ailments of mine, sir, that I have invited your assistance. Such as they are, esteem it no bad compliment, if I say that they lie quite beyond the reach of your remedies. The service I have to ask of you concerns my daughter."

"Your daughter!"

"My daughter!"

"But she, alas!-have you not just informed me, Madame, that she too lies beyond the reach of my art?"

"Of the healing art, yes-but you still have it in your power to render a service to her remains, which her family are not likely to forget, or to leave without further recompense in happier times. Monsieur le Docteur, it is a purely business matter that I have to propose to you," it was astonishing with what a power of self-subjection she had triumphed over her grief, and how coolly and collectedly she spoke these words:- "On the one hand, there is some slight chance of peril to yourself, in case the scheme which I shall lay before you should fail of success; on the other hand, what I have to offer you is, a sum of one hundred écus, as an immediate inducement for the service I require; besides the prospective good fortune of ingratiating yourself with a noble family, who will not lose sight of you. Please to listen to me with attention. I have told you of my passionate desire to possess myself of the dear child's remains a desire so far happily gratified-but this is only the first, the least difficult step. It is my wish-our wish -that she should be laid in the grave of her fathers, with the rites of that church to which we still cling. A priest attached to our family, lingers, I must tell you, at the peril of his life, near the ruins of the chateau, and is prepared to perform the ceremony in the dead of the night. But the greatest difficulty in our way must have already occurred to you. How to procure the passage of the dear child's remains through the barrier of the city, and along the line of road? You know the vigilance of these diabolical people everywhere. You have, perhaps, heard that before now, coffins have been found, on a search, to hold concealed arms, sometimes the body of a living proscrit, who has attempted that mode of evasion. The exposure of a guillotined body would excite suspicion, and lead to enquiries involving those whom I have sworn not to betray. Besides, its further progress would be stopped-the person accompanying it infallibly arrested-and the body itself thrown into some pit or hole of the place where it was discovered. All the risk incurred would have been, after all, for nothing. To prevent this, to render matters tolerably sure, there is but a single plan possible, and all plans have been revolved in my mind."

"That plan is this," pursued the lady, after a pause, during which Heinrich's first feeling of surprise had given place to one of curiosity. 'I must first tell you that one of the terrible committee of public safety, to whom in former days the Duke, my husband, rendered an important service, is prepared to befriend me, and though powerless to save my daughter, has himself suggested the scheme by which we shall profit. There is but one exceptional case in which a body would be permitted to pass unmolested through the barrier, and along twenty leagues of road. That is the case where the remains of a female patriot,